#so now you have to hope that the planet is still life sustaining when the ship arrives

[happypeachsludgeflower]

I’m not really one to enjoy proving other people wrong. Simply knowing they’re wrong and I could is usually enough for me, (i.e. my dad’s insistence that Spock and Kirk are straight when we ALL know they’re not),

but last night I was given the immense satisfaction of explaining to my step father why his opinion was wrong is such detailed that the Asshole Who Knows Everything actually said, “You’re right.”

I shall be lording it over him for the rest of existence.

essay in the tags

[thefrogdalorian]

Battered & Bruised

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: As you sit side by side on the porch outside your cabin, gazing at the stars, the stunning sight leaves you and Din reflecting on your pasts. The danger and punishing existence he once led is a lifestyle that you are so grateful he left behind to live happily with you and Grogu.

Word Count: 2.3k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Din sustaining injuries in the past briefly mentioned but not described in any detail, hinted that reader had a traumatic past but nothing explicit... other than that it's pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: Started off as a musing on Din being injured but enduring it for the one he loves after watching The Fall Guy (of all things) and finally ended up as pure fluff. I'm pretty exhausted after arriving home from my recent trip but managed to finish this WIP today. Hope you enjoyed, Din deserves peace and quiet and HAPPINESS... if we don't get it in canon we'll always have the fics :')

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

One of the rare occasions Din feels comfortable enough to leave the cabin you share without his helmet is when the stars twinkle high in the sky above Nevarro. At night, when it is too dark to see more than the length of a womp rat’s tail, he feels relaxed enough to join you outside without the protection of his impressive suit of armour.

You find yourself giddy each time with delight at the thought of him joining you outside, with his face briefly bared to the galaxy 

Usually, the two of you sit quietly on the porch while Grogu sleeps soundly inside, perched on the wooden bench you chose from the weekly market that passes through the town at the heart of this volcanic planet. After you moved in, Din realised that the seating arrangements on his porch could only accommodate one.

Buying it was another reminder that Din is far from alone.

So you lounge there on the bench night after night, hand in hand. Only unlacing your fingers to pour a glass of the latest exotic beverage donated by the ever-generous High Magistrate of Nevarro. 

Tonight is no exception.

Grogu was surprisingly quick to settle. Satisfied that his son was fast asleep, Din did not even have to ask whether you cared to join him for a drink on the porch. A simple look and nod were enough to convey the question. 

You know Din enjoys the peace and quiet the porch affords. Especially after long days spent raising a Mandalorian child so strong with the Force. Even though he no longer retains employment in the traditional sense – save from occasionally helping Greef Karga whenever he calls for help – raising Grogu is as demanding as any full-time job. Din rarely has a chance to relax. 

Stopping and staying still for a moment has never been particularly in his nature. Even though he is technically retired now, he would still shun such a term.

Instead, Din always seems to have a job on the go. There is always a now seldom-used blaster to clean, or a piece of armour now worn only occasionally to be polished, or maintenance for the ageing N-1 to carry out. The cabin has had more renovations and furniture rearrangements than you can count. But you never stop him. It gives him a sense of purpose, away from raising Grogu.

Despite your lives being far less busy than when you first met, evenings, where you pause on the porch, are a rare moment of relaxation for both Din and you. Alone with your thoughts, with only the faint sounds of creatures chirping across the lava flats and your even breaths for a soundtrack.

The stillness of the night appears to have left your favourite Mandalorian in a pensive mood.

Din gazes upwards towards the dark sky with a curious look in his eyes. As he surveys the stars, his brown eyes twinkle with an emotion you cannot quite place.

You watch him for a few moments; scanning his face for the slightest tell. A task which has increased in difficulty with the more time that passes.

When Din first began to remove the helmet, it had been easy to read his emotions. A life of obscuring his features beneath beskar meant that he was unaware of how expressive his face was.

Still, the cycles spent together mean that his handsome features and brown eyes are still relatively easy to read for someone who knows Din as well as you. Yet, much to your disappointment, Din has become more adept at hiding his emotions.

You wait a few minutes, gauging whether he will break the silence. Until you can take it no longer:

“What’s on your mind, riduur?” you finally ask, desperate to understand what thoughts linger behind those brown eyes.

Din turns to look at you, his eyes meeting your gaze as his plush lips curve into a half smile, “Thinking about the odds of us meeting, how there were as many chances our paths never crossed as there are stars above us.”

“Din…” you whisper, touched by the sentimental side of the man you love.

“You must think about it too…” Din asserts.

“I do,” you confess, “I wonder how a chump like me was ever lucky enough to capture your heart. How is it even possible that the tall, mysterious Mandalorian, who so intrigued me when our paths first crossed back on Coruscant, was equally infatuated with me?”

“I was,” Din whispers, “From the moment I saw you.”

You nod, squeezing Din’s hand tightly. 

“I know,” you add, your chest swelling with pride at his admission. 

You sit there for a few more moments, enjoying the silence and the security you feel from his love as the realisation that you have captured his heart hits you all over again. 

It is Din, this time, who breaks the silence: 

“Do you ever miss that planet? Your life there?” Din asks.

Clearly, your mention of your first meeting on the planet at the centre of the galaxy has caused him to cast his mind back over your life together. 

“I haven't thought about it for a long time,” you shrug, pausing for a few seconds to consider your reply, before continuing, “I suppose, if anything, I miss the eternal busyness of Coruscant. There was less silence to sit in, to be alone with my thoughts. The hustle and bustle kept me occupied, and there was always something exciting going on.”

Din raises an eyebrow quizzically at your admission, and you realise how those words could have inadvertently made it appear that your life here on Nevarro is boring somehow. That could not be further from the truth. 

You quickly move to reassure him, “Now, of course, I realise I was so keen to stay busy because I was not comfortable in my own skin. I could not bear the thought of feeling, certainly not of loving anyone. You changed that, Din. I have found joy even in the quietness here on Nevarro with you and Grogu.”

Din nods, apparently satisfied with your answer. You breathe a sigh of relief. Then, you feel your tenseness give way to softness as you melt at how his eyes suddenly appear glassy, shimmering even in the darkness. Your words have clearly affected him. 

Din squeezes your hand before he brings it to his lips, pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of your hand. You chuckle lightly at the way his moustache bristles against your soft skin. 

The moment is sweet, but you do not intend to let it pass entirely. You are curious whether Din misses his past life, or whether he is as content as you are. Happy to peacefully sit here on your porch together.

“What about you, Din? Do you ever miss your old life?” you question.

“Parts of it,” Din nods, “I suppose I miss the thrill of the chase. The constantly changing scenery. But not so much the violence and injuries that lifestyle entailed.”

“I bet,” you smirk, “You must have sustained some grisly injuries over the years…”

Din tilts his head back slightly, shuts his eyes and sighs deeply; as though he is placing himself back somewhere he has not thought of for a long time. 

“I did,” he finally murmurs, slightly wincing at the thought, if you are not mistaken, “Nothing hurts quite like a cracked rib,” Din confesses. 

“Awwww, my poor Mandalorian,” you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek, his stubble rough against the palm of your hand. 

“Don’t baby me!” Din huffs affectionately, sticking his bottom lip out in an adorable pout.

“Never,” you smirk, leaning in to gently press a kiss against the tip of his prominent nose; strong and proud just like the man you love so much. 

You stay there for a few moments, your thumb stroking his cheek softly as you gaze at his handsome features; at the scars and lines that characterise his face. There is a certain ruggedness to him now. He is slightly greyer, with more wrinkles than when you first met him. Yet, you are still as attracted to him as you were that day when you first laid eyes upon him in a New Republic office building on Coruscant. 

When you finally break the moment and lean back in your seat, Din announces that he needs to use the 'fresher. He grunts slightly as he stands, the movement placing strain upon his battered and bruised body, still scarred from his many years following such a brutal way of life as a nomadic warrior. 

That small sound reminds you of just how much lingers below the surface. Usually, Din can hide it with an effortlessness that never even makes you consider the many lingering injuries he must be carrying. But your earlier conversation has brought it to the forefront of your mind. So many legacies of Din’s former way of life are imperceptible to the naked eye. So much pain you will never know about, because he keeps it to himself. 

You wonder how much longer he would have lived had he continued leading that life. You wince as you consider what quality of life he would have had if he had continued even slightly longer. If he had waited until a particularly bruising skirmish, you are sure that he would have been plagued by his injuries, chronic pain and fatigue.

Choosing to live a different Way, while still respecting his duties as a Mandalorian, means that life looks rather different for Din now.

You are certain that leaving his demanding line of work was a decision which will allow him to live many more years happily, with both you and Grogu. A quieter life with his riduur and the boy who saved him from a life of such violence.

You are so absorbed in your thoughts that you do not hear Din's footsteps until they echo across the porch. The sound startles you slightly. You hastily wipe the few tears which had sprung at your waterline before you turn to look up at him curiously as he makes no move to return to his seat. When you fully appraise the scene before you, you realise he is clutching the blanket you throw on your bunk during the cooler months. You shoot him a quizzical look. 

“Come on, I want to try something,” Din says as he jerks his head towards the lava flats that lie just beyond the porch. 

“But... Grogu?” you question hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. We aren’t going far,” Din reassures you as he holds his hand out to you.

You take it and follow him as he pulls you by the hand towards your intended destination which is, as promised, only a few paces away. Din has selected flat ground to spread the blanket on. He drops your hand momentarily to smooth out the coarse material, before Din laces his fingers through yours once more.

“Looking up at the stars before didn't just make me nostalgic. It also made me consider how nice it would be to lie out here with you. It’s so dark here, far away from the town, that I bet we can see every single star in the galaxy,” Din explains, “Maybe some comet storms if we’re lucky.”

As your eyes fill with tears, you slowly shake your head, “Din,” you whisper, touched by his sentimental side, “It sounds like a perfect idea.”

Din does not hesitate a second longer, clearly eager to gaze at the skies and appreciate all the sights the night sky has to offer. He lies back on the blanket, leaving enough space for you to join him.

You lean your cheek on the expanse of his firm chest, feeling the warmth through the thin cotton shirt he wears despite the slight chill in the air. Din’s arms wrap around your waist.

A feeling of security envelops you. 

You never feel more protected from all the monstrousness in the galaxy, all the evil that you and Din are only too aware of from your past lives than when you are lying in his arms. As you nuzzle into his chest, you feel his heart thumping rhythmically against your ear. You are grateful that it still beats; that you have captured his heart. 

Who knows if he would even still be here if it wasn’t for that encounter with Grogu on Arvala-7? That the brutal pace of his life and the numerous enemies he had made would not have eventually caught up with him?

You are about to remind him of how grateful you are that the most punishing combat he has become embroiled in recently is with Grogu when he seems more intent on eating frogs than his vegetables when Din’s husky voice breaks the silence.

“You know, I would take all of those injuries again in a heartbeat if I knew it was you and Grogu that my life was leading me to,” Din whispers.

He has shared many touching words with you this evening, but this one may have finally rendered you entirely speechless. You push yourself up on his chest, able to make out the faint silhouette of his face even in the darkness. 

In the time since your first meeting, you have discovered that the Mandalorian warrior who once struck fear into your heart has a surprisingly soft side. Still, Din’s sentimentality does not stun you any less each time you are privileged to glimpse it. 

You lean down to capture his lips with yours, hoping to convey with the gesture what you cannot with words.  You are just glad that he does not have to choose. 

Din is no longer battered and bruised. Instead, he shares a peaceful, happy life with Grogu and you. 

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[au-sonic-smackdown]

AU Sonic Smackdown- Round 3, Right Side

Click to see full size image

Gaia Born AU belongs to @juliemultiverse (art by @thefantasylife)

Words Hurt AU belongs to @oddogoblino

Learn more about them under the cut!

Gaia Born AU-

Sonic is like a big gold retriever. He’s happy to make friends where ever he goes. He was made on the ARK but was immaturely taken out of his incubation tank as an infant. He was raised by his brother tails on bygone island before they moved 5 years later.

His abilities include, Shadow Melding, Super strength, elastic arms and has the ability to sense others emotions.

Words Hurt AU-

In this au, Earth is decaying, the planet slowly losing its ability to sustain life due to mankind’s lack of care to it. To try and survive, they attempted to move people to planet mobius as it held similar conditions as earth. The mobians at first welcomed them happily, happy to help those in need. Eventually, the humans began trying to repeat their old mistakes and began digging into mobius and setting up machines to harvest from it to try and save Earth. The planet didn’t handle this as well as earth once did, machines quickly backfiring and any mobians nearby during the incidents quickly falling ill. That’s how the infections started.

Sonic’s parents were one of the few first mobians infected, having lost them due to them going into the second form of the illness that’s caused from starvation. They’d been “quarantined” and left without food or an energy source for too long. He was only a toddler when this happened. He’s now part of Vanilla’s secret organization that helps infected mobians survive outside of the homes they’d been kicked out of due to fear. Sonic himself works as a secret delivery boy and tends to travel to make sure infected mobians have access to food and water and even just simple pleasantries like games and toys. He met Tails as a 4 yr old who’d been born from infected parents, taking care of him when they weren’t. Currently Sonic is 17 and Tails is 8.

Sonic is mostly his same ole usual self except he’s a lot less social. He doesn’t talk to anyone except for Tails, Vanilla, and sometimes Cream. He was naturally born with his super speed but keeps it hidden due to not wanting to be mistaken as an infected. He still has to fight Eggman as the mad doctor tries to manipulate both uninfected and infected mobians’ fears and resentment toward each other. He has a civilian disguise named Nicky so no one recognizes him as the superspeedy hero. He’s a bit more easily agitated but only because he doesn’t get enough sleep with his work.

Sonic’s right eye is always tearing up, not because he’s emotional but because of repeated exposure to infectious spores. The spores can only infect others if inhaled or through exposed open wounds. Hes naturally immune to the illness, but he doesn’t know that, and wouldn’t ever take chances on it. Whenever he gets injured, he disinfects the wound immediately and patches it up like others would in hopes to avoid spore-infection.

Infected mobians tend to live in abandoned spaces that their cities and towns assigned for them to live. Infected mobians feed off energy, whether that be electricity, emotions, powerful items, etc, but can also eat normal foods just fine. They need normal food to keep sane and prevent them from going into the second form that attacks anything with energy in it. Only the second form can infect others directly, making it the most dangerous and is an automatic kill-on-sight if seen. No one knows yet if you can change infected back to normal after they’ve transformed. Vanilla takes care of transformed infected when Sonic reports the incidents.

Mobians aren’t the only things infected, plant and wildlife have been mutated by the illness aswell. The symptoms of the infection is body mutations, a blue tongue, and increased hunger and thirst. Mobians born from infected parents can’t go into the second form but they become feral without food. Bites from hostile born-infected mobians are less likely to spread the infection but it isn’t impossible.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Waltzing Waves

Author’s note: This is the song this is based off of. More Mermay, with dear Reader. It's a lovely bop.

Warnings: gender neutral reader, threats, allusions to death, and murder, drowning, let me knows if I need to add more.

Summary: Reader barely survived encountering a wave-soaked mer-astartes. Reader hadn’t realized they were real and not folk tales, or legends told by the sailors to frighten and impressive those who are land dwelling.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog

Tagged Again: @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

You were on your fishing boat, it had been in your family for years, patched and faded in some places, but well loved and cared for so that it would take care of you. The sea gives and takes, is one of the lessons that your parents had taught you. Memories of your father’s calloused hands gently guiding yours in how to cast the nets from the boat. How to be patient, quiet and watch the sea and skies for the changing, dangerous nature of the weather in the area where you lived out amongst the waves.

You felt the tugs and carefully grabbed up the net, and groan a little, both with effort and hope, it had been a week with very little to show for fishing, so to have the net so heavy was a boon and a blessing, even if it was really heaving and struggling against you with the weight of the fish that you caught. You almost dropped the net back into the water and lost the catch but with a heavy and a curse you pull the catch inside the boat and look to see what’s in your net. What would have to be tossed back, after all, sustainable fishing practices, as well as being concerned about the planet, despite the fact that it meant less money in your coffers, the fish would replenish in the seas better that way.

Your heart drops when you notice something tangled up amongst the fish is something that glints like metal. It was massive and large, with scales that you trace from an aquatic life form to something that looks far more human and your stomach clenches and you gulp in air as you realize what, it was that you caught. He had fins where his feet should be, and his eyes were red as blood, hair as gold as the sun, his features, were hauntingly beautiful, and his angry hissing sound, and the growls as she skitters back a bit. Oh no. You’d accidentally caught an Astartes, this was a very dangerous situation and not dying or being brutally maimed was now your goal. Hopefully he might forgive you if you are very careful.

“Come closer, Human,” The Astartes croons at her in heavily accented language of the locals. “And I’ll eat you alive, like you would have done to me.”

“Please don’t feast upon my flesh,” Your lips tremble and your legs buckle as they gaze upon his massive irate form and you plead, “If I return you to the sea, please let me live?”

The Astartes glares down at you impassively with a sneer, his teeth look terribly sharp. The Astartes glares down at you haughtily from where he’s been tangled in the net, likely still only in it for… some reason. You know that they can, or at least so you heard, can swim through the seas and air.

“I will let you go, but quickly leave these waters,” The Astartes hisses out you with a vicious glare. “If you drop your nets amongst these waves, then my brother’s and I will take you down with us.”

You gulp and nod, quickly and as carefully as you can dump the net, fish and Astartes both back in, barely reeling the net back in to your boat. Before you can start to roar, a massive, clawed hand, from the Astartes you’d accidentally caught. You yelped as he tugged you close with a sharp glare.

“I want something in return for not harming you human,” He hisses.

“W-what?” You ask nervously, he’s so handsome and terrifying at the same time.

“A kiss,” He says, he’d noticed the mixture of terror and attraction in your scent with a slight smirk.

You blush and nod and he press a swift, hard kiss to your lips and then lets you go as fast as he had grabbed you. Your cheeks are pink as you start to head back to the dock as fast as you could safely. Occasionally glancing back at where the Astartes was, or possible still is lurking under the waves. You unintentionally like your lips, they taste of salt and iron as you rub your face and hook your boat up to the dock and stagger down the docks, perhaps, you should let your younger brother take over the family business- and have him go to a different fishing spot while you took over more of the administrative duties.

Sleep is hard to come by that night, and the next several weeks you are haunted by the Astartes in the water that you had accidentally caught. His red eyes and golden hair. His large, long, muscular form. He’d look like a gorgeous statue glittering in the sun, as much as he’d terrified you. And that kiss it haunted you, his lips had been softer than you’d expected, and of that salt and iron. You groan and rub your face, unable to sleep as you stagger to the shore and stare into the water, your joints had been aching something fiercely recently, and the water looked so inviting right now.

[softevnstan]

pairing. matt murdock x gender neutral! reader

summary. you have a tendency of nightmares due to one reason or another in your life. one night, when spending the evening with matt, you have a nightmare. matt, your loving boyfriend, is straight to the rescue to help ground you.

warnings. pet name here is used as a gender-neutral time - angel. deals with nightmares, but nothing too heavy. standard religious mention given it is matt - not mainly focused and no religious imagery, just briefly mentioned.

a.n. some fluffy matt x reader while i've been having nightmares and while i'm still working on a few requests as asks - i know it's not spicy but i still hope it makes people smile

words. 1.5k (shorter side)

You recognize your childhood home; standing out on the curb and feeling small at the front of a place that now holds an eerie air to it. Something about it feels wrong, but you can’t place it. The sun is peeking out over the top of the roof, casting you into a dark shadow that adds a gloom to a place that once felt so secure and protected. 

The rising bubble of anxiety in your stomach wells more and more. Deep in your gut, you can feel it. How everything feels uncomfortably silent - not so much as a passing car or a bird in the air. When your eyes lift to squint at the sky to search for clouds, you see it. The slowly sliding disk that is overtaking the sun. The star sustaining life to your planet slowly dying as it’s devoured by the endless abyss, sending the world into a quickly spreading darkness. It spills over the land and while someone else could argue it’s a solar eclipse, there is a more sinister energy to it. Evil.

You can’t breathe. Your body feels like lead when you turn to race away before you can be swallowed into the dark – despite your best efforts you can’t outrun it. You can see yourself running. Moving as fast as you can, feel your heart hammering in your chest and your lungs aching for air. You’re running for your life, but it’s not enough, it’s gaining on you–

You jump up in a cold sweat; sucking in a shrill gasp with a tremor through your body. Fingers white-knuckling the sheets as you jerk upward – confused and startled, you’re immediately brought back to reality by the familiar voice calling out to you.

“Angel? It’s me, shh... Yeah, it’s me, Angel,” your boyfriend’s voice – Matt’s voice.

“Shh, it was just a bad dream… I’ve got you, sweetheart..” His voice was rough from sleep but he'd sobered himself of his exhaustion enough to sound warm and inviting. Composed and fluid. Making himself into something stable and firm for you to lean on at that moment.

The panic of being nearly engulfed by the ebony black blocking out the sun still feels like a genuine threat. Your heart drumming in your ears and leaving you short of breath like the bumps in the car that take you unexpectedly and your stomach swoops. Matt notices the crossroads you’re at between fight or flight and tries to coax you before your body can react too harshly.

“Breathe with me, angel.” His voice is even, thick like honey as lips coast the shell of your ear. Typically it’d give you chills, but right then it feels comforting to be surrounded by someone else.  Matt is sat up with you, tight against your side and arm wrapped around you. The other comes to lay his hand flat on your sternum. You feel the warmth of his palm; the weight of it feels grounding in an odd sense. A comforting pressure.

You practice deep breaths with Matt – in through the nose, out past chapped lips. Your throat feels tight, and a bottle of water is absolutely in your future.

Matt doesn’t ask - he knows you’ll talk about it when you’re ready. And given the way he’d heard your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to burst free of its cage goes to show it was an intense dream. That’s not even counting the light rustling he’d started to feel and what had initially stirred him. Could hear every struggling, quivering breath. The near silent whimpers that pulled from you. Matt is more than relieved that moment has passed; pressing an encouraging kiss to your temple.

“There you go, that’s right.. I’ve got you.” Rubbing his hand sympathetically up and down your arm from where it rests on your shoulder farthest from him. You gravitate to Matt naturally, leaning your weight into him to feel small and protected. Matt would protect you from anything; Maybe even God himself. 

Tucking away, you hide against the crook of Matt’s neck. Still deliberately trying to focus on your breathing and quell the deep unease from within. His hand on your arm lifts, letting knuckles softly brush the slope of your jaw. “You’re tight, sweetheart… Can you unclench your jaw for me? Yeah, just like that, perfect…” Going out of his way to assure that you’re not holding anything unnecessarily tight.

So intune with your body, it’s one of those things that always made Matt so considerate and gentle to you. His attentiveness, to the way he goes out of his way to listen for any discomfort or unease.

By the time he’s done with you, you’re jelly in his lap. Soft sniffles from tears you hadn’t even realized you’d almost shed. You were lucky enough they only watered; no need to suffer the embarrassment of crying over a nightmare that wasn’t even all that scary looking back on it. It was just the energy it emitted. How sick it felt; an imminent doom. It was scary. After a moment of calm quiet and deep breaths, Matt speaks up. “Do you want to try laying back down, angel…? Or are we staying up?” We. Matt really was with you for better or for worse, even in little insignificant moments like these.

You swallow hard around the lump, searching for your voice: “I… I don’t want to go back to sleep. Not yet…” You don’t mean to sound so quiet or rough; Matt picks up on it and his lips can’t help but curl into a soft smile. “Sounds like you need a drink anyways… How about we make some tea? I think we still have a box in the cabinet.”

You’re out in the living room with Matt. Both of you on the couch, Matt is more towards the corner seat so he can prop his elbow up on the arm. You, on the other hand, are pressed right against his side. The plaid throw blanket from the back of the couch draped over your lap - your legs are tucked up to keep your body closed up. Leaned right against Matt, where he has an arm stretched around you. In both your hands you nurse mugs of warm tea. 

Fidgeting quietly with the tea bag – steeping it to make sure it’s thoroughly flavored.

“I didn’t believe Karen when she said these teas would change our lives,” Matt jests softly with an airy chuckle, lifting to take a languid sip from his mug.

“I still think it was a sweet gift; she knows you have a hard time sleeping,” You reply quietly - the corners of your lips curling into a delighted smile all the same as you watch the liquid in your cup.

“Seems I’m not the only one, though.”

That sours your mood briefly - eyes lifting to look at Matt’s dead eyes that stare at nothing. 

The lights from across the road bleed in and dance across his skin, but even in the dark you make out the dusting of freckles. His dark ginger hair is a mess from bed head and having no one else to look presentable for. No reason to comb it out with his fingers.

“Yeah, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Cheek squished against Matt’s shoulder as you peer up at him.

“Don’t worry about that; I don’t ever want you to struggle alone. I’d rather lose a little sleep if it means I get to make you feel better…”

The words melt your heart. You can feel the genuineness dripping from the statement. Matt never makes you feel like a burden for your struggles; supportive and caring the whole while even if he’s not the best at doing it for himself. Who knew the Devil of Hell’s kitchen was such a sweet lover?

“...Thank you for staying up with me, then, in that case.” You amend - you’ve been trying to incorporate more positive connotations anyways, and apologizing all the time isn’t good. Thanking Matt is a better alternative.

“Always. It’s more time I get to spend with you, anyways. I wouldn’t give that up for anything…”

Matt’s fingers brush back through your hair so he can press his lips to your forehead. Tangle fingers into your hair after just to rub and massage at your scalp with his fingers. You slump against his side and the quiet evening doesn’t feel so miserable anymore with your boyfriend there.

Chit chat ensues for about a half hour. Matt tells you about the couple he can hear a few apartments over and the stray kitten they found outside and are excited to take in. You smile as you go back and forth. Both voices hushed; the calm you need to unwind again and not stay the night awake and in fear. Matt makes it easy to not be so afraid of the dark…

You both go to sleep not long after. Sleepytime tea managed to lull you back into a state of relaxation, and when Matt felt you dozing, he carefully took your empty mug from your hands. Sitting it on the coffee table, he’d then move to gingerly pick you up bridal style and carry you back to bed. Matt spoons you, crowded against your back, and arms wrapped around your waist. Nosing into your hair and always there to protect you from the things that bump in the night - even if they’re inside your head.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Runner, Pt. 3

We follow Lorne and McKay through the deep dark woods and Sheppard seems to have been correct about not being able to be very stealthy with McKay around. Like he tells Sheppard later in Tao of Rodney (S03E14), not talking makes him anxious. Babbling about something helps him keep his fear at bay. Now, he could just be making inconsequential small-talk because he doesn't know Lorne and probably isn't that interested in getting to know him either, but he seems to take this opportunity to learn something about Sheppard. He asks Lorne about something that he would know that pertains to Sheppard but that he had never either asked Sheppard or got Sheppard to answer him:

McKay: So exactly what kind of, uh, special training do you guys have to go through to get this sort of mission? Lorne: ‘You guys'? McKay: Yeah, you know. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, it's a great place to start!

He's being smooth about it by not mentioning Air Force first, even though that's what he is definitely most curious about (and, unlike Sgt. Bates, Lorne actually is Air Force, further indicating he was Sheppard's choice for the position).* And this is not about getting to know Lorne because he's not that keen to get to know new people. He can barely remember the names of members of his own science team, it even took him weeks to learn Zelenka's name and he respects him as a scientist. He is asking because, be things as they may between them, Sheppard is still the centre of his universe. Lorne, however, seems unwilling to share personal details about his life with this scientist that is not his scientist (we did see him share personal things with Parrish before), opting for sarcasm instead:

Lorne: And by ‘this mission' you mean hunting down a skilled weapons expert hopped up on wraith drugs in the pitch black of an alien planet? McKay: Yes! Lorne: Actually, I skipped that course in Major school. McKay: Yeah, I was afraid of that.

It is interesting that Lorne's initial reaction was to question which group of men McKay was actually putting him into. He says "You guys?" like he needs to make sure what McKay is talking about. Because he is member of more than one group of men. And whether he realizes it or not, his sexual orientation did play a part in why Sheppard chose him for the mission. It's not inconsequential. Also, even though McKay is a professional when it comes to staying in the closet with military types, it's entirely possible Lorne had clocked McKay as a gay man the moment he walked into Weir's office because, again, it's easier to see from the inside out.

With Sheppard, it's not as obvious. Given that Lorne doesn't know either of them, he might actually think that it's McKay's sexual orientation that is making Sheppard treat him with the disdain that he now seems to be treating him with. It's not a huge logical leap to make, just observing the two of them. And while he certainly hopes this isn't true about his new CO, it does make him more careful around him. To perform more masculine, to behave more military. To show McKay the same disdain he thinks Sheppard does. But he's not a bad guy and he is also trying to get along with McKay:

Lorne: I was hoping Lieutenant Ford might recognize a friendly face and just turn himself in. McKay: What, you mean me?! Lorne: Well, you were friends, weren't you? McKay: Oh, yeah! When we weren't out on harrowing missions, we used to hang out together. I'd share my dreams of a self-sustaining fusion and he, he would talk of how you could sever a man's torso with a P90!

What's interesting here is that this could just as well be true about McKay and Sheppard. McKay is a scientist, Sheppard is a career soldier. On the face of it, they should have nothing in common. And yet we did see them grow very close during the first season, and that their closeness was something Ford was actually envious about, a closeness he desired to have with Sheppard. Now, at this time we don't actually know what Sheppard and McKay talk about when they're alone together, because we haven't been given many chances to observe them when they are not around other people and not in the middle of some kind of an emergency. The last time we (along with Weir) walked in on them talking, they were discussing how big something is, and we never did find out what. They have a different taste in movies. They like different sports. But they do have things in common too, and they are still curious about each other, learning each other, as evinced by McKay's line of questioning here. They're different, but in many ways complementary, too. McKay wants to learn what makes Sheppard Sheppard.

But it's interesting they bring up the topic of friendship here, for the second time in this episode. Lorne assumes McKay and Ford had been friends, McKay isn't sure they were quite that close. He doesn't really have a lot of friends, and certainly not outside of work. Beckett is the closest thing to a best friend he's ever had. Because John Sheppard is not his friend (and even here, as he contrasts himself and a military type, he is saying he and Sheppard are not friends; they will never be friends). He might have considered Sheppard a friendly face waiting for him to come home before, but he never placed him into the mental category of friend.

They were something different. They were something closer than that. They were something more. And now, they weren't, not any more. They were trying to be friends and they were failing miserably because they just couldn't keep from making these little digs at each other constantly, all the time. They might have loved each other but right now it seemed like they didn't even like each other, and that's a minimum requirement for friendship.

But McKay does mention a few interesting things. First, the severing of a torso with a P-90, since we just saw Sheppard attach his P-90 to his tac vest, grunting sensually as he did it. As far as Sheppard was concerned, McKay had ripped his heart right off of his chest so he wasn't a stranger to severing a man's torso, metaphorically speaking. And second, he mentions sharing his dreams. With Ford, he didn't share his dreams. But he had been sharing his dreams with Sheppard; Sheppard knew about his nightmares. Later, in Doppelganger (S04E04), they will both literally share each others' dreams but given that by this time McKay seems to already know what Sheppard's nightmares are like, it seems like they had both been doing this long before that time.

Also, the fact that he mentions self-sustaining fusion in particular as one of the dreams he had shared becomes important as we come to Trinity (S02E06), but more about that later. Point is, with Sheppard he had shared his dreams. And apparently Sheppard had shared some of his experiences in the military with McKay too, as it seems like he misses that here. He's asking Lorne to tell him about his training because he misses Sheppard talking to him about it. He misses Sheppard.

The fact that Sheppard had not only talked to him about military stuff but had been teaching him things like tactical signs (and forward rolls) is underlined by his reaction to Lorne suddenly throwing his fist up:

McKay: What -- that means quiet, right? Lorne: Get down, get down, get down! McKay: What? What? Lorne: I thought I saw something move.

We are also able to see how different McKay's communication is with Lorne as compared with Sheppard. McKay has real trouble understanding the Major, whether he's using his tactical signs or his words, having to repeat the question "What?" several times, and still not quite getting on the same page with him. Similarly, he doesn't seem to understand Lorne's sarcasm and it takes him quite a while to notice that Lorne seems extremely displeased by his company.

In contrast, McKay reads Sheppard extremely well. His body, his facial expressions, his tone of voice, the whole nine yards of him. But this does not translate to being able to understand other people, and his limited people skills are clearly on display here. A point of comparison is also the fact that Lorne seems pretty handsy with people, manhandling both McKay and Parrish. He is not afraid of touching them to move them around. We did see Sheppard touching McKay from pretty early on (even though he was initially protected by a personal shield) but he was very careful about it. As though he wasn't quite sure he was allowed, like at the end of Hide and Seek (S01E02) as he steals a touch when McKay is passed out.

At the same time elsewhere in the forest, Sheppard and Teyla are tracking something, and we can compare their interaction to McKay and Lorne. They are entirely professional. The little that they talk is all business. In fact, Sheppard has very seldom asked Teyla anything personal and he doesn't seem that interested in her as a person. Sheppard could show some interest in Teyla, or her culture, or her galaxy, he could be trying to get to know her better--but he doesn't. Sure, over the years they get to know each other fairly well but they neither of them get very personal. Sheppard just isn't interested in her like that.

With McKay, they have a whole world of context between them. They're able to have conversations so intimate and idiosyncratic even the audience doesn't necessarily get what they're talking about. They don't even need words to talk, and they can hurt each other with a mere syllable. Even when they are trying to remain professional, like now, they can't help but get personal with each other.

We have seen private moments between Sheppard and Teyla, scenes very erotic even when they've been sparring, but neither of them seems interested in the other, not in getting to know the other person and not sharing things about themselves; not even when Teyla was basically in Sheppard's subconscious in Home (S01E08). While Teyla is much more empathic than Sheppard, their interpersonal relationship is cool and professional.

As it happens both teams, Sheppard and Teyla as well as Lorne and McKay, think that they hear something move in the bushes and take after them. Lorne and Sheppard are in radio contact, and they hear Sheppard tell them that Teyla has been "hit" before they lose radio contact with them entirely.

It seems as though many of the reactions in the episode are slightly off, or subdued. For one, Sheppard doesn't even know whether Teyla was killed by what ever hit her, but his reaction to this is pretty underwhelming, and this is relevant for later. He sees Teyla fall down from shot in the back, and he's immediately in survival mode, scanning his environment for the threat. But McKay's reaction to them suddenly losing radio contact after hearing that Teyla has been taken down is similarly subdued.

Let me also point out this: Lorne thinks McKay is out of shape and for sure, he's not an athlete. He's not trained to traipse through the jungle. But for sure he's in better shape than most of the science team, and he not only manages to somewhat keep up with Lorne here, he later spends several hours wading through the woods in a rubber suit with nothing to drink the whole time. We saw Sheppard running to keep up after Teyla the same as McKay was running to keep up with Lorne, so he's really not as bad as Lorne seems to think.

For some reason, probably due to the influence of Sheppard's current disposition toward McKay, Lorne has just decided to dislike McKay. And when someone does that, everything about the other person becomes annoying and suddenly you're just looking for reasons to hate them. It's not exactly fair toward McKay, but it is important for later.

When they lose radio contact to Sheppard, we see Lorne call out to him several times. He's much less used to exploring alien planets than McKay is, and he seems to be freaking out, having lost contact to his CO who was supposed to tell him what to do in a situation like this. He seems to be close to hyperventilating, his breath coming out fast. He's so lost that he looks at McKay for what to do in this situation.

In contrast, McKay does not appear to react at all. He barely moves, he just watches on. But the thing is, this is on brand for him. This is what McKay looked like when he thought Sheppard had died flying the puddle jumper to the hive. He is very similar to how he seemed back then, up to him wanting to look away from Lorne but forcing himself to look dead on.

McKay also looks lost but what they are feeling is very different. McKay isn't the least bit afraid of being lost in the deep dark woods of an alien planet with an unknown assailant bearing down on them. Lorne seems to be freaking out because he's out of his depth, he doesn't know what to do. Major school definitely hadn't prepared him for this. But as freaked out as Lorne is, McKay is terrified. Not of losing contact with his commander but of losing John.

What ever comforting lies he might have told himself for the past few months, he was not ready to be here again. He was not ready to lose Sheppard. Not again.

Continued in Pt. 4

-* McKay is quoting a slogan from a recruitment ad for the US armed forces that was used in 1982-1987, which would have been during his teenage years (he would have been 14-19 years old when the ads were in active use). Now, this is not the first time that McKay seems to dig something out of his past seemingly at random, it's clear that the associative links his mind makes don't always make sense to other people. He's intelligent and idiosyncratic, is the thing.

Now, there are a few reasons he might have referenced this. For one, they're roughly the same age so he might have assumed that this ad had been among the reasons Lorne had chosen to become career military. It's also possible it had something to do with Sheppard's choice to join the military, which McKay might even know about. It could be something Sheppard had shared with him.

And given that these recruitment ads are, albeit completely unintentionally and due to the homosocial environment of the military, extremely homoerotic (in fact, when we look at gay fetish tropes, the military features heavily in these, and e.g., the leather daddy archetype ultimately derives from Hells Angels, who had their genesis in veteran fighter pilots of WW II. The Village People are a good example of the use of gay macho fantasy characters, and "men in uniforms" feature heavily in these fetishes). So, in the 1980s when internet pornography was a thing of the distant future, adolescent homosexuals frequently used such ads for... unintended purposes (the same as straight teens would use department store catalogs advertising women's apparel).

So, McKay may have intended this as a coded message here, a kind of a "secret handshake". To confirm his suspicion that this man is "one of us". His entire line of questioning is digging for information about Sheppard, and knowing whether his new second in command was a friend to Dorothy or not is a pretty important piece of information to know, all things considered. So, he's testing the waters.

But, there may have been other reasons for this particular recruitment ad to have stayed in McKay's memory and to have had meaning for him. The TV version says: "We're not a company but outstanding people come to us every day, people who want to make a contribution to a team, and do work that really counts. People eager to see new places, do the unusual, and find the unusual. People who become your friends for life, people just like you." A teenage McKay may have found this extremely appealing, and it may have contributed to his decision to start contracting for the US military instead of the private sector, like his alternate self in the SG-1 episode The Road Not Taken. He might have had a more illustrious career working for the private sector but for some reason, he had chosen the military. He probably found the routine of it comforting, given his confession that he likes military food, as told to Zelenka in Suspicion (S01E04).

McKay wants to be a part of something, wants to explore the world, wants to find people like him. All of this would have sounded very exciting to him. But at the same time, it contains things that would have been appealing to Sheppard in particular, especially the part about finding friends for life. That's what Sheppard is searching for, someone to stand by his side. Given that they are roughly the same age, the ad may have left an impression on both of them, and it may even have come up as a topic of conversation at some point.

But it might be more than that, even. The print version of the add seems to contain many things that a teenage McKay, coming from a broken home environment where his parents hated each other and took it out on him, might have found extremely appealing:

Looking for an opportunity to develop and grow as a person? You'll find it in the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines. And that's especially true if you're smart enough to graduate from high school. You can earn responsibility in the Services. Learn to lead. Prove that you can make it. In fact, there are all kinds of opportunities for advancement. The Armed Forces can bring out the best in you -- actually help you grow better. For instance, there's even a program in which the government contributes money toward a college education. Serving in the Armed Forces is an adventure and a challenge. There are new places to see. And new friends to make. Pay is higher than ever--more than $550 a month to start. And you earn 30 days of vacation each year. Plus, the Services take care of your food, uniforms, housing and medical needs. But above all, you'll gain new confidence. Stand a little taller. Walk a little prouder. All while serving your country. And that's one of the finest things a person can do.

McKay very likely went to college on a scholarship because even if they had the means, it does not seem as though his father cared about him enough to contribute to his education. He also seems to have completed his degrees in the US, which is much more expensive than in Canada. The idea that if you're smart enough, you will be taken care of would have been comforting to teenage McKay. These are things that would not have meant as much to Sheppard, who came from a much more financially secure background. Sheppard joined the military as an act of rebellion, not out of necessity. But it's entirely possible that having read this ad as a teenager, perhaps more than once if he used what ever magazine it had come in for... other purposes, it might well have contributed, consciously or subconsciously, to McKay's decision to start contracting for the US military. It's a great place to start!

[embeanwrites]

Yours & Mine - Hunter x Reader

Clone Fic Gift Exchange

Prompt: “I’m yours and you are mine” with Hunter (with a mention of “don’t go far from me”) 

A/N: Here’s my piece for the @cloneficgiftexchange! I’m so nervous to write/post this since @photogirl894 is one of my favorite authors here on Tumblr, so to write a piece for them, I was NERVOUS! I hope you enjoy this 🥺 Special thank you to @kakyoweeniesdump and @pinkiemme for editing and feedback! (I’ll post this to AO3 once I get home from Star Wars Celebration!) 

Word count: 2047

Some days Hunter couldn’t believe his luck. To have his squad. To have Omega. To have her. He was created in a lab on a rainy planet, meant to die in a war he was created for, to serve a master he had no control over, and now his life has done almost a total 180. After retiring from working with Cid, the group had decided to settle down on a little planet in the Outer Rim that Rex had found and had been helping clones resettle who were tired of fighting away from the Empire. Between all of them, they had been able to make a fairly sustainable home. For the first time in their lives, they had the true freedom to choose. 

Omega was able to go to school and make friends, something she thoroughly loved. She was frequently up before the boys in the morning, ready to go. Hunter thought the excitement would wear off, but as she entered her 60th rotation of school she still seemed to find wonder in school every day. Tech had gotten a job with a local mechanic shop after he had fixed some farming equipment for a farm nearby in record time. Wrecker had been loving helping some of the local farms with their animals and taking care of the livestock, he had been in the process of trying to convince Hunter that they needed some cattle for their farm, but Hunter wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with the smell every day. Hunter had found himself helping the townspeople with hunting and tracking and somehow, teaching some of the younger kids how to survive in the woods nearby. And unsurprising to Hunter their medic had quickly settled into helping with the local clinic. 

Hunter had been very well aware of his feelings for her before the group had settled down, but with them always on the run from the Empire, he had no desire to tie her in with their group in any way that could get her hurt or worse. He tried pushing her away or at the very least get her to understand the danger she would be in by running with them. Cid had essentially forced them to have a real medic join the crew after too many missions had gone sideways due to injuries. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful to have a medic with knowledge that wasn’t learned from the holonet five minutes before putting it into practice like Tech used to do, but Hunter felt weird about any civilian traveling with them. The team warmed up to her quickly, especially Omega, and it was shortly after she had gone out of her way to get colorful band-aids for Omega did Hunter allow himself to start to give in to these feelings. The warm feeling her smile and gentle touches gave him kept him up at night, thoughts of her would circle his mind and on the rare occasion, he’d allow himself to think of a peaceful future with her. 

He thought he hid his feelings well. 

He did not.

It was clear to everyone, including her, almost immediately that his feelings for the medic were stronger than just another crew member. He frequently tried to push his feelings away, denying them or not even affording himself to indulge in them, but she had none of it. Every idea to dissuade her from a relationship with him seemed to do nothing but persuade her more. She reminded him almost daily of her own feelings, either intentionally or unintentionally, until he let his heart thaw out. She loved him unconditionally and he couldn’t help falling for her deeply and wholeheartedly. 

Hunter still remembered the moment he decided that it was time to take that chance with her. When she had finally convinced him it was worth it. She had just patched up Wrecker and had been softly arguing with Tech that he needed more rest when she had sat next to him on his bunk, surprising him. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened out there?” She asked him softly and he fought back a sigh. 

“Nothing happened out there.” He replied, going back to sharpening his vibro blade, avoiding eye contact. 

“Oh really?” She taunted. “Was it not you, pulling you behind me in the middle of the mission saying ‘don’t go far from me’?” He clenched and unclenched his jaw, he knew this had been coming and that she wouldn’t let this go. 

“That wasn’t-” He tried. 

“Hunter, how long are we going to dance around this?” She muttered, he could hear her heart pounding and the frustration in her words, he felt his hands grow clammy. This was a conversation that had long been coming. “It’s not fair to either of us. Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? What are you so scared of?” He slowly sheathed his blade and turned to face her, not allowing himself to look her in the face just yet. 

“What if I fail and lose you.” He finally muttered, feeling as if a tank was sitting on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost any of the squad, but you? Darling, I don’t think I could come back from that.” He groaned and dropped his head in his hands, hunched over in embarrassment and frustration. 

“But Hunter-” Her voice raising, ever so slightly. 

“How do you not understand that I’m doing this for you!” He dropped his hands and looked at her from the corner of his eye, unable to face her fully. “I don’t ever want you to hurt, don’t ever want to see you in pain, and the odds of me living through the Empire? Living through dealing with Cid’s missions? Not great. All I want is to see you happy, and I’d love for you to be happy with me, but that will no doubt be brief and I can’t leave you hurting without being there to help.” He looked away, not eager to see her face when she responded. 

“Well that’s very morbid and a bit arrogant.” She snorted. Hunter turned to face her scowling, ready to retort. “But even more infantilizing. If anything happened to either one of us, not just you, I think we would both grieve, but never take for granted any of the time we shared, or the care we had for each other. I’m not so fragile that your loss would break me, sure it would hurt, and I’d be heartbroken, but I have more respect for you, your memory, and for myself than to let that misery take hold forever, and I think you are stronger than that too.” She grabbed his hands, pulling him to face her. “You are letting fear keep you from living, and there is a lot of that to do outside of the war. You can be afraid, but don’t be a coward. Bravery isn’t the opposite of fear, it’s being afraid, but going for it anyway. You’re so brave out there, be brave here, with me.” She smiled, small and hopeful, but her eyes never left his, steely and determined to sway him. “And you know your brothers won’t stop giving you shit if you-“ he cut her off, his hand holding her cheek, thumb pressed against the apple, roving over her cheekbone. He was a breath away from her, his nose brushing against hers, watching her closely, waiting for her to push him away. He knew she wouldn’t push him away, not after that speech, not after everything, but some part of him still wanted to run, wanted her to run. But running wasn’t her and he was tired of trying to fight off his feelings. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or not, Sarge-“ and cutting her off once more his lips were on hers, and it was everything she’d wanted for months. 

She was so soft against him, it was startling how right she felt in his arms, but when her lips demanded more from him, pressing back harder and forcing what a sweet, chaste gesture to a passionate embrace one he knew she was anything but. He broke their kiss, moving back a hair's breadth to look at her. He was mesmerized by the way her eyes fluttered open, her mouth slightly agape and flushed. 

“You won’t take no for an answer, will you darlin’?” He chuckled, his hand ghosting down her face to grasp her jaw. 

“Absolutely not.” She smirked, then her hand weaved into his hair and pulled him in for another kiss. And that was that, she made no room for any further argument between them.

And that kiss is what led the two of them to now, roughly one standard cycle (and many kisses) later in their very own home. The two of them were currently lying on a soft rug in front of their fireplace, fully clothed and just enjoying the ability to have some serenity near each other. The night was quiet and having her so close made Hunter feel more warmth than any heat the fire could provide. He willed himself to hear her soft heartbeat, to smell the gentle shampoo she used in her hair, the feel of his hands on her cheek. He wanted so desperately to freeze time and live in this moment forever. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He let out a gentle sigh as he looked over at her face, ever caring and ever wondering about his well-being over her own. 

“I was just thinking about everything we had to go through to get here.” He murmured, she gave him a small smile, knowing the pain the entire batch went through to get to this peaceful time in their life and it was clear to all of them, even if they didn’t discuss it, that there was still a fear in each of them that this life may come to an end abruptly the moment they get too comfortable. “Sometimes I worry I’m going to wake up back in our barracks on Kamino and after everything that’s happened…I just fear that I don’t deserve this.” He closed his eyes as she moved her hand to cup his tattooed cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. 

“Hunter, honey, of course, you deserve happiness.” She gave him a soft smile before continuing, “Plus I’m not complaining about having an absolute hunk of a man on my arm.” She joked, causing Hunter to let out a slight laugh. 

“I’m glad you find me nice to look at.” He responded, still stuck in his thoughts. 

“Among other things, you know.” She leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth, his stubble rubbing against her. “I love how kind and protective you are. I always feel so safe when you’re around.” She murmured, moving ever so slightly to kiss his tattooed cheek. “I love when you’re watching Omega and you have this dad pose-”

“Dad pose?” He questioned. 

“You know, the one you do with your hand on your hip and you lean against the wall, watching her with a small smile. You do it all the time, you did it today when she was playing with her friends after school!” She teased while she resumed her soft kisses along his face. “I love that even when we’re out of missions you’re doing everything you can to make sure everyone’s safe. I love when I’m cooking and you come up behind me to hold me. I love-” 

“Alright, alright! I get it, you love me.” He chuckled, face burning bright from all the compliments, so unused to any form of love outside his brothers. 

“But do you know what I love the most?” She asked, moving so she was now on top of him, playfully pinning him.  

“Now, what would that be, sweetheart?” 

“That I’m all yours and you’re all mine.” She responded before leaning down to kiss him. And for once, Hunter allowed himself to relax in this moment, because she was right. While his fear of losing her was still there, he knew that at this time in his life, they had each other and nothing was going to change that. 

[sockodot]

shattered remains

Shepard goes to Alchera for her crew. And maybe for herself.

Word Count: 1,785

Warnings: angst of course but also description of dead bodies that hit a planet. its not entirely/super graphic but its stated if anything.

now on ao3!

Everything is still and quiet as Shepard looks around. The only sound is the crunch of snow under her boots when she manages to move her feet, the heaviness of her breath trapped in her helmet. The skeleton of the Normandy curves over her like a shadow, thick cords dangling like oil drips, one that cuts into her bones like the Collector ship did to herself, to her ship. The remnants of her past life, what she lost—her ship— home, crew, time, her body—lay here, forever immortalized in this frozen wasteland. This frozen graveyard. 

This is what happened to her. Her crew. And she failed them.

HELP US.

She failed all of them.

For the first time since her reanimation, she’s cold. 

The Normandy’s logo lays in front of her, and the time she first saw it back in dry dock on Earth overtakes her. The paint was so fresh, so pristine. Perfect for not only a maiden voyage but for the symbolism it represented. Now it’s burned and scratched and half of it buried in snow. Ruined and killed.

It’s then that she notices the suit of armor that’s also halfway in the snow. Her breath catches. She goes to her crew member, kneeling in front and hands carefully going to their shoulders. Their stiff body moves with her gentle push, and they straighten out of their slump.

Their dark visor meets hers.

Heart rate picking up, shaking fingers fiddle for the quick release. The chest plate loosens, and she has to lean them forward to pry the back plate off. Their head falls to her shoulder, and she grinds her teeth together, focusing on the task at hand. That’s all she can focus on. Helping them. She unzips the kinetic suit, searching for the chain of their dog tag.

Finding it, she yanks it off them. Pakti, Abishek.

She stares at the shiny metal in her hand. It glints in the light. Running her thumb over the engraved name, she takes in a shuddering breath. Her chest is tight.

“I hope you found your god, Pakti. And are drinking something that’s actually good.”

Carefully, she puts the suit back on and lays Pakti against the hull once more. Before moving on, she reactivates the suit with her own power and downloads the last logs.

Biometrics, comms, logs. Saved under Pakti. Along with their location.

“This is servicemen Abishek Pakti,” the log starts playing automatically on her comm. In her head. Their voice is weak and frail and shaking just like her. Shepard’s body is just as frozen as Pakti’s; she can’t stop the log. “1952-AM-8546. On April sixth, twenty-one eighty-three of the Earth calendar,” there’s only staticky heavy breathing for a long moment, “the SSV Normandy was… patrolling the Amada system in—Omega cluster. It was attacked by an unknown vessel, unprovoked. It—” a wet breath, “sustained heavy damage, along with unplanned planetary entry. I—have been injured. I don’t—I can’t really feel anything.” They cough. “I don’t—if it’s the cold but…” they make a gurgling noise and Shepard closes her eyes as they cough again. “I can’t raise anyone either. If anyone gets this— Commander, if you’re listening to this… if you made it out, thank you.” 

She brushes off the stubborn snow that remained on their shoulders. “I’m sorry, Abishek.”

They don’t respond to her.

THEY ARE COMING.

Tucking the necklace securely in her belt pouch, she stands. She curves around a wall of ice, hopping up onto a ledge.

All she sees is an arm sticking above the frozen ground.

Shepard digs. Throws handfuls of snow away, cracks her way through ice to get to her crew member. She unburies them and ignores the pain in her hands. 

It’s the same thing, a frozen corpse. She has to break their armor apart, yank them out of the snowbank with their body audibly cracking. She winces. Still, her hands peel away their suit and collect their tag. She needs to help them. 

HELP US.

Tanaka, Raymond. She downloads the data, marks his location.

“Engineer Raymond Tanaka, 2032-AE-85. April sixth, twenty-one eighty-three of the Earth calendar. The SSV Normandy was attacked by—by an unknown vessel in the Amada system. Heavy damage—” he coughs. “To the hull. Planetary entry occurred. I—” he rapidly sucks in multiple breaths. “I— am not going to last long. I cannot move. Please, if anyone finds th—my family I love them.”

He had a wife and twins, aged five. Seven now, their birthday was three weeks ago.

“They already know, Raymond.”

The crew deck lays in disarray in front of her. She stands from her kneeling position and walks to it. Wind blows in front of her, whipping the little loose snow into swirls before her. Glittering specters dance around her.

Meals in the mess hall flash in her head, her ground and ship crew all mingling together, being loud and laughing louder.

Another body that’s been almost covered by a landslide of snow. She swallows at the dichotomy of it being charred and frozen at the same time. She shovels the snow away from them, and given the degree of burns, she can’t identify them.

Shepard moves what little remains of their uniform away from their chest and peels the almost burnt metal of their tag off. Dubyansky, Alexei. A med tech. He’d been the only one that Wrex allowed to use needles on him. Entered the medical field to help his aunt. She ended up getting that surgery that was needed and completely recovering. Alexei wasn’t alive for it.

Neither was she. 

Shepard documents.

A foot gives her a sign for the next one. A mere dark outline buried by snow and debris; a pipe being stabbed into the ground.

Hands throbbing, she continues to break the ice. She reveals their purely frozen body, face down and limp with the pole impaling them. She reaches for their tag.

Lowe, Helen M.

Another med tech. All too happy to learn more about aliens’ biology and always with the weird questions. Mordin reminded Shepard of her. She wanted to help people when medics saved her after a colony raid.

Sliding down a slope, her foot catches on a chunk of ice and sends her falling face first down the rest of it. As she lays in the snow for a moment, irrational embarrassment warms her from the deadly cold.

Hands dig into the snow as she pushes up, and when she lifts her head, she’s face to face with a burnt body. Empty eye sockets stare at her. She shouts, scrambling backwards. There’s barely anything left of their charred remains. There’s frozen organic material splattered around them.

Shepard swallows.

Slowly, she crawls back over to them. Their tag in a frozen puddle of their own goo. Most of it is melted so she has to peel it off ground. All she gets is a couple of spaced-out letters, but she can fill in the rest.

Negulesco, Monica. Shepard’s cook. One who tried her best to make asari food after Noveria. Another frozen tomb. Because of her wife’s dietary needs, she became diverse. Perfect for the Normandy.

The sleeper pods are right next to her. Never have they looked so much like caskets. Frost has crystalized on the glass, spreading over it. One of them has a red stain. Wiping the glass reveals a body inside. Laflamme, Orden. The blood on the glass seems to have come from him hitting his head on it. A drop that was running down has been frozen in time. This entire place has been. Her once home. Her once crew. Her once life.

Laying a hand on it, she uses her other to search for the latch. She has to break the lid off, tossing it away entirely and catching the body that falls out. Movements careful, she lays him on the ground. 

She pulls the tag out from his clothes. He was the second duty engineer chief. Adam’s mentee. The two were practically joined at the hip when they were awake at the same time. 

There’s a chasm that she rounds, and there’s another hard-suit at the end of the ledge. They’re face down, one arm outstretched towards the rest of the wreckage. Despite the snow having covered any type of tracks, she can’t help but note that it looks like they were trying to crawl towards the Normandy. 

Disengage the armor, open the suit, collect the tag. Download the logs.

On her way back, it plays. “Emerson, Hector, 3084-AM-7133. SSV Normandy was attacked in the Amada cluster, April sixth, twenty-one—calendar. Unknown vessel, unprovoked. My suit is damaged—barely move. I can only feel pain. I am—” a grunt of effort, of pain. “Trying to reach my crew. I cannot hail anyone. Cannot see anyone. I’m trying to get to them.”

The log continues with Emerson’s sounds of movement and bitten back ones of pain. He pleads for someone to come for him. It continues until he stops.

She finds another body.

“Greico, Marcus, 2129-AN-9094. April sixth, twenty-one eighty-three of the Earth—Earth calendar. The SSV Normandy was attacked by an unknown vessel. Crashed on—Don’t know if there are survivors. No contact, cannot move. Awaiting—awaiting help. Mom—”

And another.

“Barrett, Germeen. 4757-AM-5787. SSV Normandy attacked—April sixth—don’t know what happened. So much pain—can’t move. I don’t want to die—”

“Felawa, Robert. 524–Attacked by—unable to contact—don’t know if the Commander made it—”

“Rahman, Mandira, 9930-AC-26–Normandy attacked—heavy damage—no contact—Commander, are you out there?”

“Grenado, Caroline, 491–unknown vessel. Crashed on—no contact. Cannot—my sister I love her. I—the Commander needs to survive. Nothing else matter—”

Gladstone, Harvey J.

Crosby, Silas.

Chase, Addison.

Bakari, Jamin.

Tucks, Carlton.

Draven, Rosamund.

Draven, Talitha. 

Waaberi, Amina.

She finds all of them.

An N7 helmet stares up at her. Half buried in the ground and glass empty from the visor. Shepard can almost picture herself in the snow, her head right there. A snowy grave and her armor a coffin. Cerberus recovered her right here. She lost two years of her life right here. Broken hands curl into fists and by now, she can’t feel the pain.

Two years and nothing done against the Reapers. Two years and her body’s different. Two years and she’s still fighting the Reapers. She failed when she died. Failed her crew, failed the Protheans. She died and didn’t take the Reapers with her. She died with failure yelling in her head and twisting her chest and settling into her bones.

She died and nothing came of it.

The Reapers killed her crew. They killed the Protheans.

THEY ARE COMING.

Shepard won’t lose time again. If she dies again, she will come back. She must. There is no rest until the Reapers are dead.

“I’m sorry,” she tells her helmet, her past self, the dead crew around her. The thing in her head.

The Commander steps into the shuttle with helmet in hand and a pocket heavy with tags. The door closes behind her, sealing her off from what should have been her resting place.

[mycraftingjourney]

Introduction post

I wanted to give a bit of an introduction to why I'm here, what I'm doing and so on.

tl;dr: I like clothes and I'm into sustainability, so I started (visible) mending a few month or so ago. I also crochet, although not as much as I'd like to, and I dabble a bit in embroidery. My goal is to kind of document my journey with these crafts and maybe inspire people to give some of these a try.

I'd also love to talk about all things (visible) mending, crochet, embroidery and fiber arts in general and share the knowledge I have / point people who want to start to some resources that helped me.

I've been into fashion/clothes and styling them on and off for a big part of my life. A few years ago, I also got into sustainability, learning about how buying new fast fashion damages our planet and exploits other human beings, and what may be good alternatives.

This path, inevatibly, lead down to getting curious about mending. I learned basic sewing skills when I was a child, but I never altered any clothes and apart from a few tiny things never mended anything.

However, this year, I wanted to change that. I've heard about visible mending before and I really liked it. I had a pair of jeans when I was a teenager that was patched (by someone else) that was my favourite pair. Unfortunately, I managed to ruin it beyond repair and also grew out of it, but this stuck with me. I always liked to express myself creatively, and in recent years, what I wear has become a big part of that. The idea that by visibly mending my clothes I express my passion for sustainability feels really good (and punk!) to me. The idea of altering clothes that I don't currently love but could love if something about them was changed is also a nice one.

I only darned my first sock a few months ago. My goal with this blog is to share this first darn as well as the progress I make, because I want to encourage other people. You don't have to make perfect mends to be sustainable. On the contrary, mend imperfectly, mend messy, but DO MEND. Even if you'll have to redo it at one point, when you have more skill, even if you don't end up redoing it and instead use that piece of clothing for something else, you still gave it another wear, or two, or three (or fifty) - and that's what this is all about.

I tend to be an extreme perfectionist and it's hard for me to deal with a situation where I'm not perfect at a first try. Surprise surprise, I am not when it comes to mending, or embroidery, or crochet, or anything at all really. But I'm trying to let that go and concentrate on what I achieve rather than what I did "wrong" or imperfectly. I want to share my messy bits and the things I'm proud of, and I want to update how the mends I did held up. As i mentioned above, I hope that maybe I'll inspire some people to pick up a needle as well. Even if you "only" fix that button or a ripped up seam. Every mend counts!

When I get into altering or even making clothes, I will share those projects too, but that will have to wait a bit since I don't currently have any space to put up my sewing machine and I do simply not have the energy nor patience to hand sew bigger things.

Apart from mending I also crochet. Talking more about that feels like a bit of an overkill here, I'll make a new post for that.

Recently I also started to embroider, with the idea of using embroidery in my (visible) mending and to embellish clothes. Here again I decided on a project where I just start and don't try to be perfect from the beginning on, I'll share more about that as well as my crochet project(s) soon.

I think this should be enough for the moment with the introduction. One thing about me, as you probably got by now, is that I'm really bad at being brief with my writing. I have no idea how often I will manage to make posts on here due to work and life, but I will try to do them quiet regularly, as well as sharing things I see that might be helpful / interesting / that inspire me. I also think I'll probably only write more for bigger projects but also just share stuff I'm working on / finished recently.

Maybe I'll also share other DIYs that are not really crafts/fiber arts related but I think are cool.

This isn't my main blog (thats @merryfromthestars), so if I follow I follow from there.

I'm also always open to questions, discussions etc. so just send me an ask or dm if you want! Just, I might take a moment to answer them, because life and work :) I'm excited to see where this journey takes me, and I hope some people will come along and maybe get inspired.

[is-there-an-echo-in-here]

I Would Give You the Sky

Full story available to read here on Tumblr, or on my Ao3

. . .

His Love (3/3)

They were alone.

It had taken Obi-Wan a few days to realise what that meant, to understand the true isolation they found themselves in. Their survival took precedence over any confusing feelings he may harbour towards his commander—who was doing an excellent job of keeping them alive—and the first few days on this hostile planet were spent in scavenging supplies from their crashed escape pod, fighting to communicate with the rest of the fleet, patching up each other’s injuries, and finding and fortifying shelter. Cody hunted them food from the unforgiving wilderness.

He did his best with what they were given. Obi-Wan picked the grisly meat from the leg bone of some manner of bird that Cody had shot earlier in the day. They had roasted it over a fire and swiftly packed up camp, moving before they could eat, unable to let their guard down in the same place after so publicly announcing their position. A cave made them at home, a place higher into the mountains of the unnamed planet.

Cody kept readjusting the dial and antenna on their scavenged communicator. The sound of static bounced off the rocks.

“You should eat something,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyeing the meagre shreds of meat that filled the ration pack between them.

“We have to contact the others,” said Cody. “Some may have crashed here too if the other pods were as damaged as ours.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, eyes narrowing in a moment of concern. “Cody,” he said, as plainly as he could, waiting for the man to look his way before gesturing to their food supply. “Eat.”

His commander sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and set the communicator down. “Yes, sir,” he murmured, shifted his jaw when the Jedi gave him a look, and corrected himself. “Obi-Wan.”

He came and sat on the floor opposite the Jedi, taking a scrap of meat from the pack. A thoughtful furrow pinched his brow as he chewed on it, gaze focused on the floor of the cave.

“They will find us,” said Obi-Wan, hoping to ease those lines of worry from his face.

“I’m not worried about us; I’m worried about my men.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head in acknowledgement. He should have known that his commander’s forefront concern would never be with himself. Cody was not a man who greatly valued his life, not as such. He was aware of his skills, Obi-Wan knew, aware of his value to the republic in his leadership capabilities, but deemed it unimportant in the grand scheme of the battalion. The mission and the lives of his men came before everything. It was the reason for that scar that Obi-Wan knew was still visible beneath his hair.

He could feel it sometimes, when he reached to the force, to his commander’s light, this wound he had sustained in his self-sacrificial heroics. It seemed a dark stain on an otherwise bright soul.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody’s voice broke through, drawing the Jedi’s attention to him. His commander had a softer look to him now. “You’re drifting off again.”

“I’m sorry,” said Obi-Wan.

They both knew his mind had been wandering with greater frequency since they had taken the tower, since Cody had been wounded. The pull of the force was stronger now from his commander, and Obi-Wan could not explain it—or, rather, he did not care to. To delve into his connection with Cody would be to admit there was one. An acknowledgement of such closeness would be a betrayal of everything the Jedi had ever known, everything Qui-Gon had tried so hard to distil in him.

Obi-Wan would have rejected him properly the second Cody had been cleared for active duty, but it seemed that, whenever he looked at his commander these days, he lost his breath.

Cody had not mentioned their conversation in the infirmary—nor the other acts that took place there. He kept his word and gave him time, dutiful in this as in everything he did. Obi-Wan would have preferred to be pushed. It would surely make it easier for him to cast his rejection.

Looking over at Cody then, eating scarcely and slowly, thoughtful eyes fixed on the floor of the cave, his commander did not make it easy to reject him. A softness crept to Obi-Wan’s expression; he felt it tug the corners of his mouth up into a gentle curve, banishing it too late to avoid Cody’s attentive eyes.

The commander watched him a moment in silence, turned his gaze away slowly. Obi-Wan’s fingers twitched. He clenched his fist to quash the action, the unconscious pull towards his commander, because it could not be. He must have restraint. He must remember his duty.

It was difficult with his commander here, his competency in the wilderness, his kind eyes and gentle smile, the unstyled locks curling at his hairline. Obi-Wan tried not to look at him, but his gaze wandered to the man as much as his mind. Cody’s magnetism could not be denied. Obi-Wan had tried. It remained a troublesome feat to avoid his commander with a pull so strong.

“We could stay here tonight,” said Cody, an offer, not an order. “It’s well protected and in a good position.”

“You aren’t concerned with the cold that will settle in as night falls?”

Cody hummed, looked to the open mouth of the cave. “It will be more prominent up here, I suppose. We can head downhill if you’d prefer, but our defensive position will suffer.”

Obi-Wan considered this for a moment. “You’re right,” he decided. “We’ll stay here tonight, move again in the morning.”

The commander pushed himself up. He had only been sat for a few minutes, Obi-Wan noted, but said nothing to deter him in the knowledge that his arguing would make no impact on Cody’s mind.

“I’ll fix up the entrance,” he said, not an offer now, and exited the cave before Obi-Wan could speak—though he didn’t know what he would have said.

They needed to talk, Obi-Wan knew as much. He was avoiding the conversation, he knew this as well and so, it appeared, did Cody. He would be a fool not to see it and his commander was no fool, that was certain.

Obi-Wan laid out their sleeping mats while Cody was gone, making himself useful in what little ways he could; Cody had been working nonstop as usual, leaving the Jedi very small amounts to do. His commander was a man who needed to be busy, who needed to feel as though he was doing everything within his power to keep them alive and get them home. Obi-Wan was both grateful and concerned for his behaviour.

Cody returned before sunset, building up the entrance of the cave to a smaller target, sealing in the heat with branches and bracken he had scavenged from the woods. Cody took first watch, encouraging Obi-Wan to sleep and trying the communicator as dusk was falling. Obi-Wan could hear the static crackle outside. The commander adjusted and readjusted the dials, angled the antenna in every possible direction, spoke every known code in attempt to get a reply from their men or, in fact, any cruiser that may be in the area.

The moon was high and bright when Obi-Wan crawled out of the cave and took the communicator from Cody’s hands.

“It hasn’t been four hours, sir,” said the commander, shifted his jaw, corrected himself, “Obi-Wan.”

“I can’t sleep anyway,” Obi-Wan uttered, setting the communicator aside.

Cody watched him take a seat on the rocks outside the cave, choosing one that ensured a fair gap between himself and his commander. “Was I keeping you awake?”

“No,” Obi-Wan lied.

He turned his gaze to the sky, the treetops below and the mountains beyond, and breathed in the cooling air. In his peripheral, Cody angled his face upwards too and Obi-Wan risked a sideways glance over to him, a small smile twitching the corner of his mouth to see his commander without his helmet, free of armour. The republic insignia was splashed across his chest, but Obi-Wan wasn’t looking at that, elected not to be aware of it.

Moonlight struck Cody’s eyes when he turned his head. Obi-Wan’s lips parted unconsciously.

“Do you remember the tower?” Cody murmured suddenly, and Obi-Wan turned his head to squeeze his eyes shut at the memory of it, flashes of Cody lying there, bloody and bathed in the light of his saber, flitting behind closed eyes.

“I could not forget,” he said, managing to keep his voice somewhat regular.

He watched Cody shift in his peripheral. “Do you remember what you told me?”

“Cody…” Obi-Wan began, reluctance bleeding through in his voice because this was the conversation he had wished to avoid, and rejecting his commander here, while they were in survival mode, had the possibility to be detrimental to them both.

“You said you’d tell me about the stars.”

A silent breath left Obi-Wan’s chest, realisation and relief, and he cast his eyes up to the clear sky. “Yes, I did, didn’t I. Let’s see now…” He studied the sky, pointed across to the first that caught his eye. “There, do you see those three in a line, just above the mountain?”

Cody cast his gaze where Obi-Wan was pointing, paused a moment. “Yes.”

“And there’s a small cluster just below the leftmost star.”

“I see it.”

“I’m sure there are many names for it, but I learned it first as the sheath. The three larger stars mean to represent the belt itself, and the small cluster a dagger of some kind.”

Cody nodded. “You have fanciful names for them, I suspected as much.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile. “I know that you’re aware of their real names, so I did believe that you wished to know them in an informal light.”

Another nod from Cody encouraged him on. Obi-Wan mapped out the constellations for him, as best he could. There were sections unfamiliar to him; the galaxy was a large place and they were a ways out. The stars changed frequently in their numerous locations, but, thankfully, Obi-Wan knew this sky with some depth.

Cody was quiet throughout, speaking only in answer to Obi-Wan queries, and remaining silent otherwise. The Jedi edged closer to him, half unconscious in his movements, finding himself at one point sat beside the commander, having the man follow his pointing finger to a particularly shy set of stars halfway off the horizon. In the closeness, he felt Cody’s eyes on him as he talked through the falling night.

Those eyes were a difficult thing to avoid. Obi-Wan could stomach it when he had his helmet on—when those kind, expressive eyes were safely hidden behind a visor—but now, with his helmet in the cave and moonlight bathing the world in silver, Obi-Wan could not help himself.

Cody didn’t turn away from him. Another man would have shunted his gaze away in embarrassment at being caught staring or a concern to maintain his subordinate position. Cody was not that man. Cody held his gaze with a softness that stole Obi-Wan’s breath yet again. Restraint and propriety faded in Cody’s eyes, like the sun hitting fog and burning it to dew.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody uttered, barely above a whisper, and the reminder of reality should have scared him off.

Instead, Obi-Wan found his hand lifting to the commander’s face, fingers tracing over his temple, pushing into his hair and drifting over the scar. He felt the disturbance of skin beneath his fingertips.

“Obi-Wan,” said Cody again, softer now, if at all possible. “It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t…” Obi-Wan began and his voice caught in his closing throat. “We shouldn’t…”

Those eyes again, rounding in sympathy, in kindness. “It’s okay. Tell me no. Back away. You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, struggling to speak. “That’s just it,” he whispered, not trusting his voice to go louder. “I am never more comfortable than when I’m with you.”

It was over already—Obi-Wan knew it from the start—but when Cody lifted his hand, bare fingers cradling his cheek, he knew there would never be any going back. He closed his eyes into it, losing himself in Cody’s touch, allowing his head to be guided forward. His forehead rested against Cody’s own.

“Then be with me,” Cody said, such simplicity that Obi-Wan had to lead himself from tears.

“I…” he began, and didn’t need to explain because Cody knew, he knew what the Jedi were, what Obi-Wan was, knew their rules and their beliefs.

“It’s your decision,” said Cody, passing the pad of his thumb over the Jedi’s cheek, “but, please, make it for yourself, not for anyone else.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, pulling back a fraction from Cody just so he could look at him, at his face that he saw in a hundred different men who were never identical no matter what anyone may think, who all had their own glow in the force. No one shined brighter than Cody, not in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

All his life, people had told him what to do. Joining the Jedi order, taking the trials to become a master, even his apprentice, none of the biggest choices in Obi-Wan’s life had been his own. His world was decided for him and, for the most part, he was content; he liked being a Jedi, he had cherished his time as Anakin’s master.

Looking at Cody now, he realised that he would not be content to allow this man and his affection to slip through his fingers.

“I want…” Obi-Wan began, swallowed hard because it was not right. These words must be right. “I’m ready to give you an answer now, and the answer is yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, I hope to always love you. Yes, Cody. I’m saying yes.” The word had lost all meaning yet, at the same time, it never had so much. “Yes.”

Cody kissed him.

The touch of his mouth was gentle, lips tentative against his own, but his hands were cradling the Jedi’s face and Obi-Wan felt wanted; not for his power or his wisdom or any other trait learned through work and loss, but because he was Obi-Wan and his commander loved him for everything that name entailed.

His hands fisted into the neck of Cody’s blacks, pulling him in, holding him close. A weakness took him when the action coaxed a soft gasp from Cody’s flaring lips and Obi-Wan had to stop, had to push his forehead to the commander’s again, holding him close, unable to continue their intimacy because he knew he would fail this test of control.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody whispered, thumb smoothing across his cheekbone.

The Jedi swallowed thickly. “Don’t…” he began, having to pause for breath before continuing, thinking out his words again. “Don’t let this happen unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” Cody replied, so soft. “I mean it, Obi-Wan. I love you too.”

“I don’t mean… I know that, I mean…” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, shaking his head as much as he could while still keeping in contact with his commander. “I want to be closer to you, and you need to tell me if that’s not what you’re looking for. I can love you in other ways, I do love you in every other way I know of, but, right now, there’s a particular way I want to show it—”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said, firmer now, deliberate in his interruption, “I understand. I want that. Trust me.”

His choice of words touched Obi-Wan’s heart, softened his anxiety and his gaze. “I trust you,” he uttered, and hoped that he conveyed the weight properly because trust was a powerful and dangerous thing, and he gave it to Cody completely.

His commander cupped a hand to the nape of his neck, holding him close a moment, before pulling away, releasing him entirely, and Obi-Wan felt the loss of his light for only the briefest moment. Cody turned for the cave entrance, moved the enter and paused before he did so, looking back at the Jedi with meaningful eyes, such emotion there in his gaze that Obi-Wan so often did not have the pleasure of seeing. He saw it now and he followed it, and Cody, into the cave.

Neither of them took the watch that night.

The cave remained unguarded until the first light of dawn was turning the Eastern sky a milky pink. If either of them had cared to listen to the communicator during the night, they would have heard delayed responses to Cody’s earlier calls. As it was, Obi-Wan awoke to the sound of a transport vessel coming in to land.

His face was buried in Cody’s neck, the man having fallen asleep with his arm wrapped around the Jedi’s shoulders, holding him against his side. His robe was covering the both of them beneath a regular issue blanket they had scavenged from the escape pod. The commander’s bare skin was warm pressed against his own, but he stirred now and sat up in a rush, and the intimacy was lost.

A soft curse broke Cody’s lips, clearly also hearing the ship outside, and he scrambled to reclaim his clothes. Obi-Wan followed his lead.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” Cody was saying, and it took the Jedi a moment to register his words. “I���m sorry. I should have gone back to watch duty as soon as…”

He trailed, giving his general a sheepish look, seeming to understand the absurdity of his own words.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan murmured, watching the commander huff as he heaved his chest plate on. “Here.”

The commander allowed him close; it was a relief in truth, as Obi-Wan had half expected him to flinch away. He fixed Cody’s arm bracers on in deft movements. Such a duty had often been practiced and, although he knew Cody didn’t strictly need the help, he cherished the quiet trust that helping the man with his armour conveyed.

Cody met his gaze briefly as he was finishing, fitting the second bracer on with ease. Obi-Wan could have sworn he saw a faint blush darken his commander’s cheeks before he turned away, took his helmet up and tucked it under his arm.

“It sounds like a republic transport,” said Cody, and headed for the exit, ducking his head out briefly and calling back with his answer. “It’s Rex and General Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth. He wanted more time, but it was fruitless to say so when he knew it was a luxury they could not claim. Some absurd instinct of his wanted to thank Cody for the night they had shared.

“Cody,” he uttered, unsure of the words even as he began the sentence.

Cody waited, watched. His eyes were soft.

“Obi-Wan,” he replied and said nothing further.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted and he scarcely knew the words, something instinctive and intuitive speaking for him. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum… cyar’ika.”

Cody stared. He remained silent for so long that Obi-Wan began to worry he had mispronounced the words so horribly that he had said something entirely wrong. Then, that smile. Cody’s smile, that barely there, but gentle and painfully genuine smile, was like nothing else.

He approached deftly, footsteps somewhat muted by the thundering of Obi-Wan’s own heartbeat in his ears. Gloved fingertips skimmed the edge of his jaw.

“I love you too, Obi-Wan,” Cody uttered, scarcely a whisper, not joining him in mando’a, but offering him the same courtesy of his native language, the words of his people.

He was kissed, softly, sweetly, and only for a second. When he pulled away, Cody gently hooked the side of his finger under Obi-Wan’s chin, as if to tilt his head up, but the movement was swift and soft and with no real pressure. It felt like praise, or gratitude, perhaps. Either way, Obi-Wan was certain he must appear rather flushed.

Voices outside coaxed Cody away from him—the commander moved to roll up their bedding—and Obi-Wan shook himself from his stricken daze to meet Anakin’s eyes when the younger Jedi poked his head through the cave entrance.

“So,” he greeted with a lopsided grin, “not dead then.”

“Certainly not,” replied Obi-Wan.

“Well, you didn’t answer your comms. Figured you must have run into some trouble.”

Obi-Wan gave him an easy smile as his former apprentice entered the cave. “Technical difficulties.”

Anakin hummed, froze a moment, and looked him up and down, practically side-eyeing him. Obi-Wan lifted his chin, determined not to allow his apprentice to detect anything untoward. He was very conscious of Cody, behind him, gathering up their bedding, all too aware of how the arrangement would look to someone who noticed it.

Anakin, thankfully, went through bouts of incuriosity, not noticing that which was right in front of him when he had something else on his mind. Obi-Wan supposed the young man had been worried for him, not Cody, and therefore only had eyes for his former master. Though he disapproved of the lack of care for his commander, he could appreciate that it had its uses at this precise moment.

“Come on then,” said Anakin, gesturing to him. “The ship’s waiting.”

He exited the cave. Obi-Wan cast a look back at Cody, who quirked a faint smirk, before hauling the pack over his shoulder. Obi-Wan took his own bedroll from Cody, tucking it under his arm and leading the way from the cave.

Outside, Anakin was halfway to the transport, that had landed on an outcrop a little ways down the hill. Rex was waiting for them at the cave entrance. He gave Cody a once over as he emerged. One brow raised, just a fraction.

“What happened to you?” he asked, though his tone was not one of concern, rather tinged in knowledge, and Obi-Wan purposefully walked ahead a little, not wishing to intrude on such a conversation.

“Escape pod malfunctioned,” said Cody in brief explanation.

“You get hurt?”

“No.”

“So that limp’s just for fun?”

Obi-Wan blinked hard, forcing himself not to freeze in his tracks, to keep going. He ached to glance back, to gauge Cody’s reaction to such an thinly veiled insinuation, but he could not, lest he risk confirming it.

“Hardly a limp,” said Cody.

Rex hummed, some mischief there in the sound. “Shall I call ahead to medical?”

“That’s unnecessary.”

Cody’s answer was too quick, too hinted in warning, and Obi-Wan knew he would not have been so transparent if he didn’t already know that their dalliance had been discovered. Rex knew. There was nothing they could do to change that now.

Obi-Wan heard Rex huff in soft amusement, heard the soft clank of armour knocking together, and risked a glance back to see Rex giving Cody’s shoulder a playful smack with his forearm. He said something in mando’a, something that Obi-Wan could not decipher, but his eyes were bright and there was a smile on his lips, flashing his teeth, as if the captain was unable to contain himself. He was happy.

A smile of his own took Obi-Wan’s expression, stifled, but unstoppable. Cody met his gaze, pulling his attention away from Rex for a moment to cast soft eyes over his Jedi, a curl to the corners of his mouth and the softest light in his eyes and Obi-Wan knew, inexplicably, in his heart, that they were going to be alright.

[ntls-24722]

flock of planetnids. Each one actually wasn't bullshitted, they all have a key design element or are pre-existing, pre-designed ones!

Frontmost one is this preexisting one, i just took off his helmet.

The one on the right of the front is actually the most accurate prototype since it's Comet's actual original unmasked design!

The one on the left facing the right is a planetnid that was designed after the creation of the steeldrakes in the hope that it would share their low mortality rate. It did, but it also didn't have a bunch of the key organs that was the whole point of the planetnids so it got scrapped

The one on the leftmost just barely poking out doesn't have a mask, that's its actual face! Scrapped due to looking too organic rather than the robotic animatronic appearance they're going for. Cruel.

So @artastic-friend suggested I make an AU where over 99% of planetnids didnt totally die and as i was desperately trying to imagine an au how that could work i went "aliens" last ditch possibility but then i started looking into it and now this is... actually probably the direction i'm going with this.

Lore/notes i had thought up:

Evolved from communal, social organisms that would spontaneously metamorphize due to traumatic stress/emotion than from pupa to an imago form. This would become more complex when intelligence began to develop more and this is where shapeshifting became a thing and became the basis of this species.

Part of the shapeshifting evolved because of selective mating. their ancestors were monsterfuckers - the freakier and weirder the things that you could turn into were, the more bitches you got

A mass extinction event that almost led to this planet being unable to sustain life ever again led to groups of comids literally playing god to ressurrect their planet - being solely responsible for kickstarting life again and leading to the creation of the modern comids and immobiles to pass on into their world. The ecosystems they made millions are still in motion today.

Comids (Comet planetnids) (transformative sophonts, however they have a cap on their size)

Immobiles (steeldrakes)(Non-transformative sophonts, are larger than Comid's max size and are meant to kinda. keep the comids in place a little and to pass on the image of their ancestors)

Planet's gravity is lower than it is on earth, contributed to the gargantuan sizes of the comids and steeldrakes

Comid/immobiles have ruled their planet for 82 million years, though their ancestors had been around for way longer before the extinction. It's actually rather fascinating because they still have cave paintings of their ancestors designing the world they live in. It is their most sacred relics because they have both historical and religious value.

i think this is it. i think this is the nail in the coffin where i can no longer call this fnaf.

i can still call it music man, it's an au of an au of music man and the concept of music man came into this when comids/immobiles encountered humanity but its not fnaf anymore

[au-sonic-smackdown]

AU Sonic Smackdown - Round 4, Right Side

Words Hurt AU belongs to @oddogoblino

Infested AU belongs to @hejjhug

Learn more about them under the cut!

Words Hurt AU-

In this au, Earth is decaying, the planet slowly losing its ability to sustain life due to mankind’s lack of care to it. To try and survive, they attempted to move people to planet mobius as it held similar conditions as earth. The mobians at first welcomed them happily, happy to help those in need. Eventually, the humans began trying to repeat their old mistakes and began digging into mobius and setting up machines to harvest from it to try and save Earth. The planet didn’t handle this as well as earth once did, machines quickly backfiring and any mobians nearby during the incidents quickly falling ill. That’s how the infections started.

Sonic’s parents were one of the few first mobians infected, having lost them due to them going into the second form of the illness that’s caused from starvation. They’d been “quarantined” and left without food or an energy source for too long. He was only a toddler when this happened. He’s now part of Vanilla’s secret organization that helps infected mobians survive outside of the homes they’d been kicked out of due to fear. Sonic himself works as a secret delivery boy and tends to travel to make sure infected mobians have access to food and water and even just simple pleasantries like games and toys. He met Tails as a 4 yr old who’d been born from infected parents, taking care of him when they weren’t. Currently Sonic is 17 and Tails is 8.

Sonic is mostly his same ole usual self except he’s a lot less social. He doesn’t talk to anyone except for Tails, Vanilla, and sometimes Cream. He was naturally born with his super speed but keeps it hidden due to not wanting to be mistaken as an infected. He still has to fight Eggman as the mad doctor tries to manipulate both uninfected and infected mobians’ fears and resentment toward each other. He has a civilian disguise named Nicky so no one recognizes him as the superspeedy hero. He’s a bit more easily agitated but only because he doesn’t get enough sleep with his work.

Sonic’s right eye is always tearing up, not because he’s emotional but because of repeated exposure to infectious spores. The spores can only infect others if inhaled or through exposed open wounds. Hes naturally immune to the illness, but he doesn’t know that, and wouldn’t ever take chances on it. Whenever he gets injured, he disinfects the wound immediately and patches it up like others would in hopes to avoid spore-infection.

Infected mobians tend to live in abandoned spaces that their cities and towns assigned for them to live. Infected mobians feed off energy, whether that be electricity, emotions, powerful items, etc, but can also eat normal foods just fine. They need normal food to keep sane and prevent them from going into the second form that attacks anything with energy in it. Only the second form can infect others directly, making it the most dangerous and is an automatic kill-on-sight if seen. No one knows yet if you can change infected back to normal after they’ve transformed. Vanilla takes care of transformed infected when Sonic reports the incidents.

Mobians aren’t the only things infected, plant and wildlife have been mutated by the illness aswell. The symptoms of the infection is body mutations, a blue tongue, and increased hunger and thirst. Mobians born from infected parents can’t go into the second form but they become feral without food. Bites from hostile born-infected mobians are less likely to spread the infection but it isn’t impossible.

Infested AU-

Sonic, under the influence of a mysterious alien brain parasite, has become unpredictable and very, very dangerous. While all his powers remain the same, he now uses his speed to maim and kill anyone who moves. Sonic’s mental state has devolved to basic instinct, and, thanks to the parasite, he is in a near-constant state of feeling like a wild animal trapped in a corner. As a result, he will call upon impossible strength, reserved only for life-or-death scenarios. Pray you don’t catch his attention. You can’t outrun the fastest thing alive.

[galaxywhump]

Stargazing

[An Immortal Among Stars Masterlist]

A new story for the Whump Girl Summer event hosted by @whumpawoman, Day 1: Environmental Whump. I probably won't be able to fill too many of the prompts because of a lack of time, but I still wanted to share at least this short piece, even though it's mostly introspection.

contents: lady whump, immortal whumpee, imagined death.

~~~

Centuries too late, people gathered to see a dying star.

The explosion had wiped out some nearby planets, but that was back when most of the universe was out of reach. Several diviners attempted to establish a link to the area, and found that among the debris that was left behind there was nothing hinting at previous life, or even at the planets being able to sustain it at all. No guilt was involved in enjoying the spectacle, and everyone treated it as such.

There were vendors, music, laughter, mouth-watering smell of food permeating the air; those were contained in a smaller area, while the rest, a huge open field, was left for the crowd to gather, to stand or to sit down, and watch the clear night sky.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Daria's eyes reflected the stars. "It happened so long ago, long before any of us were born, and we only get to see it now."

Karita nodded. She realized that the arm she'd wrapped around her partner had tensed up, and she forced herself to relax her grip, not wanting it to become painful. Her gaze stayed fixed on the burst of light.

"It's weird," she said, "that there's a whole festival around it. It feels wrong."

"I felt that way too." Daria shrugged, then reached up to hold Karita's hand and keep her arm wrapped around her shoulders. "But there had been no one and nothing there, right? So try to think of this as a… show, I suppose. Everyone treats it that way, anyway."

I could've been there, Karita thought, but didn't say it out loud, and instead nodded again, hoping that her silence would be taken as a sign of amazement.

Well, not there. She hadn't been there for this particular star's explosion, though Daria would have been surprised to learn that less time had passed between that event and Karita's birth than she would've thought.

But she could have been there to witness other stars dying. She could still experience it. She stared at the explosion in the sky until her eyes became dry and she had to blink, and she couldn't help but imagine being there.

The explosion getting closer, blinding her. The ground shattering beneath her. Dying, multiple times, coming back to life and-

She inhaled sharply and shuddered, and Daria looked at her with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Karita sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead. "I think I'll go grab something warm to drink, it's… kind of chilly." At least that wasn't a lie. "Do you want anything?"

"Hmm… Spiced hot chocolate. You should try it if you haven't already, it's amazing."

Karita mirrored her smile and gave her a kiss quick enough so Daria couldn't feel the tension that filled every nerve in her body.

"I'll be right back."

Even when she stopped looking at the star, it was still on her mind, fire, burning her to death, then leaving her at the mercy of space, ice, ice and loneliness, and vast emptiness all around her that she couldn't escape.

She hugged herself as she maneuvered among the other spectators. People. There were people around her, both a risk and a soothing constant. They didn't matter to her as much as they used to, but she found their presence calming regardless. For now she wasn't alone. For now she got two cups of spiced hot chocolate, returned to Daria, and smiled when she saw the way her face lit up.

Karita sat down behind her to wrap her hands around her and bury her face in the back. She heard Daria giggle.

“Wouldn’t you rather watch? It’s a once in a lifetime experience.”

“I know,” she muttered. “I just love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She could hear a smile in Daria’s voice.

She had eternity to watch stars die, but if she didn’t change her mind on keeping her immortality a secret, she had a few more years at most to be with Daria. The choice was obvious.

Holding Daria was like holding an anchor. There were other anchors before her, there would be many more after her, but that didn’t make it any more shallow. It was like a burst of love in Karita’s life, short but intense, like an exploding star, and then it would be gone.

The hot chocolate was heavenly. The night breeze made her skin rise in goosebumps.

Her mind and heart were heavy with memories and worry, no matter how much she tried to shut them out, but she was never going to stop trying.

[calliecwrites]

The Stuff of Nightmares

Final transmission from scout on Planet Theta-B-49. Priority: ultra.

Do not come to this planet. Initiate maximum isolation protocol. Use lethal force against anyone who has been here. Stay away at all costs.

Initial evaluation exceeded all expectations. The creatures here dream more profusely than anything we have ever encountered. Creativity, variety and realism are all off the scale. Consuming one of their dreams sustained me for weeks, with minimal effect on the creature. They dream so much, every time they sleep, and with such bad recall, that they don’t even notice something’s missing. A dozen of these creatures could sustain us for years, and there are billions of them here.

I was about to submit the highest recommendation, and propose immediate migration to Theta-B-49, when I discovered something troubling. A subset of their dreams are terrifying, horrifying, beyond anything they encounter in waking life. For some, these dreams are rare; for others, they’re a constant torment. I don’t understand why their minds would do this to them, but it’s common enough they have a word for it, which translates as ‘nightmares’. It’s perhaps not surprising the creatures’ history is full of bouts of unrestrained violence, seeing how deranged their dreams can become. I decided to wait before submitting my recommendation, pending investigation of this phenomenon.

I sought out these ‘nightmares’ on purpose. Consuming such a dream is both repulsive and fascinating. I wanted more, and this disgusted me. The nutritional content of such dreams is minimal, but I rationalised my actions as ‘research’. I sought out the creatures whose nightmares were the most vivid.

I should have seen right away that this planet was too good to be true. That was my first mistake. This was my last.

I was observing an especially vivid nightmare when something happened that I still can’t explain. The creature saw me in the dream, and in an instant, it knew that it was dreaming, and that I was something from outside. All the principles of theoretical oneirology say this is impossible, but, somehow, this creature did it.

It questioned me – who was I, how had I come here? I tried to leave, but it reshaped the dream to hold me. In a panic, I tried to devour the dream all at once, but it saw what I was doing and blocked me. It followed my mind back to the source, shut me away in a dark corner of its dreams, and claimed my body for its own.

I’d thought these creatures were weak, but this one overpowered me in seconds.

I could feel what it felt, even though I had no control. With my body’s abilities, the creature feasted on the dreams of those around it, heedless of the damage it was doing. I’d never felt such a hunger for dreams as it had. If these creatures’ bodies had any psychic ability at all, evolution would have tempered this hunger, otherwise they would have consumed each other long ago. But they don’t.

With my body’s abilities, it can do whatever it likes. It had trained itself to recognise when it was dreaming, and to control its dreams, because it wanted more and more. Now it can take dreams from others, directly. The more it eats, the more it wants. It’s insatiable.

It isn’t the only one on the planet that can do this. It wants to empower the others, too, and for that, it needs more of us. It plundered my memories, and plans to go to space. I cannot over-emphasise how much chaos this creature could cause. It’s been all I can do to assemble this message, bit by bit, in moments when it’s distracted and I can exert some subconscious control. I only hope this reaches you before it’s too late.

If you find me, shoot first, ask questions later. That thing in my body isn’t me. It’s a human, and a lucid dreamer. Pray you never have to find out what that means.

Also on Reddit.

[stillsolo]

@desiccation moved & cont. from [ x ]

– Teshin does not need to watch Han to notice how restless he is. Hunger gnaws at his stomach too but risking a journey down to the jungle floor was something he would rather avoid. While Teshin was more than capable of defending himself, it was not that which worried him. If the Infested came across him the entire hive-mind controlling them would drag a horde to their location, and not even the tallest branches of the trees would stop them then. – “When the sun rises we must move quickly. If we clear the trees before the Grineer awaken, walking across the plains will be unnecessary.” – How tiring this was for him, and completely unusual. If Han had been any other person from within the system then the chance of Teshin stopping to help him survive were slim. But, Han Solo was something else, for sure. He only hoped that this endeavor would not be for nothing. If there were other worlds out beyond the Sol system then maybe there was hope for the colonies that could not survive under the constant war between factions. – “I recommend trying to sleep, if you can. There is not much time left and you will need your energy.” – Though he does not take his own advice, restlessness is contagious and not even a Dax could be immune. Sitting back on his heels where he kneels, Teshin draws out a single Nikana. His gaze wanders over the blade and looks for the smallest of imperfections across it. Nicks are brought on from cutting through metal and bone alike. Even so, the edge still managed to continue on just fine and serve its purpose. Teshin was almost the same. Sharp and willing to kill, but not without his flaws. – Frowning to himself at the aching reminders of his wrong doings, the weapon is sheathed once more. Stray judgement of himself lead to the conclusion that he is no blade, because unlike the tempered metal, he cannot be mended. – Hearing the distant sound of a departing Eidolon draws Teshin’s attention away from himself and to the land laid out before them. Now there was no time to sleep. Rocking back on his toes Teshin stands up and looks down to Han. Seeing him in a daze and simply staring to the water below makes the Dax wonder if he is going to have to carry him out to the plains. – “It is time to leave.”

             ❝𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴,❞ 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙰𝚂𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝙽 who could use several days of uninterrupted sleep.  ❝feels like i’ve been losin’ my mind up here.❞

their descent to the forest floor was as han had predicted: leaden and tedious, more strain than it was worth, really.  by the time his boots hit the parched sod of earth, fresh blood saturated the sleeves of his tunic, blotting up the last of the already faded crème color.  anchored to solid ground, he could feel it now; thick and warm, crimson rivulets streaked down exposed forearms and wet his hands chilled by dawn’s early bite.

SITHFIRE—!  slapdash brushes over the singed fabric of his trousers produced him no favors, as what open wounds that had scabbed over amid the night split anew, dotting red beads over dirtied gashes—a perfect adhesive for dirt and filth.   great.   han wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but if the inhabitants of this backwater planet didn’t land him a snug resting place six feet under, an infection would.        should’ve known better.

although deemed inane in hindsight, han was quick to accuse both hunger and a lack of rest for his disquietude, yet soon found he couldn’t overlook the crash and the injuries sustained upon impact, the blood loss that had driven him to the very brink as he stared down at the dark precipice.  han pushed aside the thought, unwilling to recall balancing atop that razor-thin edge of life and death—a hairsbreadth away from no return—or TRINITY PRIME, and her incomprehensible feat—

   THE ERUPTION OF LIGHT WHICH SWEPT HIS MIND              REBORN, LIKE A PHOENIX, HE’D COME ALIVE AGAIN.

in the wake of stinging pain, crawling self-derision curdled into something borderline venomous.  for the first time since this ordeal began, han longed for the weight of his blaster in his hands, to wrap his fingers around its durasteel grip and welcome the comforting press of security at the back of his mind.

❝don’t suppose your pal could come back ’n patch me up?❞ solo groused as he reared both palms for a quick inspection, flexing flesh torn by the sharp edges of petrified bark.  ❝’been gone an awful long while.❞    they didn’t have much time.    by the look of it, earth’s imminent daybreak was scant minutes away, commencing a forenoon that allowed no sanctuary from the vigilant eyes of THE GRINEER.     first light would bode well for neither of them.

[francology]

Riding the Wave of Ocean Heroes: Conservation & Sustainability

Hello lovelies ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა I hope you've been doing great since the last entry hehe. I just wanted to express my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you for your ongoing support and interaction with my weekly updates. This post will be my last (at least for a while). I really hope you've managed to pick up a thing or two from my blog. Thank you for being here, and I appreciate all of you (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

Now, let's dive into something super cool today – marine conservation and how we can be kinder to our oceans.

Did you know? Around half of the world's population lives within 100 kilometers of the coast. That's a lot of people living near the sea, right?

Coastal places by the sea are like gold mines for our planet. They help out the global economy, and they do some pretty amazing stuff, like storing carbon (which is great for the environment), protecting our shores, and providing us with yummy food (Mcleod et al. 2011; Barbier et al. 2011).

You see, more than 775 million people really rely on the sea and its coastal wonders (Selig et al. 2018). For example, fish is a big deal, giving about 3.2 billion people some of their protein. It's even more crucial in places where people are still developing their countries (FOA 2018). Plus, it's not just food; it's like a vitamin boost in your meal. And, tons of people make a living out of fishing and farming seafood, almost 57 million of them! (FOA 2018).

Now, when we talk about tropical spots near the sea, they're like treasure chests. There are amazing places like coral reefs, mangroves, and seagrasses that are teeming with life, and they help out our planet in so many ways. That's why a bunch of groups and campaigns are working hard to keep these places safe and sound.

Let's focus into how people in Malaysia are doing for a sec. Here are some rock stars doing their part to save these coastal wonders:

ICRI (International Coral Reef Initiative) Malaysia: These people are all about creating safe spaces in the sea for our underwater buddies to thrive. Right now, only 1.4% of Malaysia's waters are protected. They're on a mission to change that!

The Dugong & Seagrass Conservation Project: This one's all about saving dugongs (those adorable sea cows) and the seagrass they munch on in the Bay of Brunei, Lawas, Sarawak East Malaysia. It's a big deal because these seagrasses need some protection from overfishing and other stuff that could hurt them. The locals are getting in on the action too.

Tropical Research and Conservation Centre: These ocean heroes are based in the Celebes Sea, and they're all about saving sea turtles and fixing up coral reefs that got bashed up by fish bombing practices in Malaysia. They're on a mission to keep our underwater world vibrant and healthy.

So, there you have it! These incredible peeps are working hard to make sure our oceans stay awesome. It's all about taking big steps and little steps, but together, we can keep those secret underwater gardens thriving 🌊⋆｡°்⋆

Author's note: One of my all-time favorite YouTube channels recently released a new video that I believe is absolutely worth your time. His videos are like compelling stories paired with stunning cinematography. In this latest video, he highlights the alarming issue of the world's coral reefs deteriorating. It's crucial to shed light on real-world issues that are overlooked.

References:

Barbier, EB, Hacker, SD, Kennedy, C and Koch EW 2011, ‘The value of estuarine and coastal ecosystem services’, Ecological Monographs, vol. 81, no. 2, pp. 169 - 193. 

FOA 2018, The state of world fisheries and aquaculture 2018 (SOFIA), Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, Rome, Italy.

Mcleod, E, Chmura, GL, Bouillon, S, Salm, R, Bjork, M, Duarte, CM, Lovelock, CE, Schlesinger, WH and Silliman, BR 2011, ‘A blueprint for blue carbon: toward an improved understanding of the role of vegetated coastal habitats in sequestering CO2’, Frontiers in Ecology and the Envinronment, vol. 9, no. 10, pp. 552 - 560.

Selig, ER, Hole, DG, Allison, EH, Arkema, KK, McKinnon, MC, Chu, J, Sherbinin, Ad, Fisher, B, Glew, L, Holland, MB, Ingram, JC, Rao, NS, Russell, RB, Srebotnjak, T, Teh, LCL, Troeng, S, Turner, WR, and Zvoleff, A 2018, ‘Mapping global human dependence on marine ecosystems’, Conservation Letters, vol. 12, no. 2, p. E12617.