#the way he’s floating through space and time with a ship full of strays

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]

i’m sorry but no tardis crew quite lives up to the ‘peter pan and the lost boys’ allegations like team five

[littleladymab]

FebruarOC - Uriah

Hey hi hello did you know i'm obsessed with this guy? As I said in SWBC, I can't stop spinning him around like a rotisserie chicken in my head. 

I created his counterpart Kaedmon a few months ago (and I'll talk about her at the end of the month as a bonus character) and came up with Uriah in January! He's only slightly less new than Quin and Horatio, but I named them all at the same time. 

For January in SWBC, we read Phasma. My thoughts on the book aside, the framing narrative was someone in the First Order apprehended a Resistance pilot and then fudged the paperwork or something I guess so that there was no record of her being arrested and held on the ship and dragged her away to question her about Phasma. I have so many questions, but the biggest one came down to: Why are you going to nickname your rival Resistance spy/pilot Starling and the all-red armored NOT Elrik Vonreg from SW Resistance First Order guy Cardinal and NOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT THAT? Honestly I got a lot more mad about that than I did anything else in the book, because everything else I just shrugged off but that was the biggest missed opportunity. Also his "I love the First Order and everything it stands for" to "what am I doing with my life (but I still love the first order)" took a grand total of like 48 hours TOPS and wasn't... good. It just wasn't well done. 

So I came away from that book CRAVING spy v spy content. And, well, my Jedi OC is also a Fulcrum agent, so like, it made sense, right, to then make an ISB agent to be against her? 

I settled on his ISB designation before I did a name and it was mostly as a joke that had made sense to me at the time?? But now he's ISB-789 and Kaedmon calls him "Hungry 8's" and when he goes "???" she says "you know, because seven ate nine?" and he asks "Not to encourage this but then shouldn't I be hungry 7's?" and she says "No :)"

He's 20 at the end of the clone wars, and a full agent of ISB by 25, so that makes him about 40 by the end of the galactic civil war. He's from a planet at the far end of the Outer Rim, close to Wild Space but still part of the imperial "jurisdiction" (I haven't settled on any currently existing planet or not), but because he's great with accents to help him blend in, he's able to immediately adapt the core world accent. (he's not that great with the languages tho) He has a younger sister who he helped put through a fancy school on Coruscant and she's a nature photographer; their parents still live back on their home planet, despite Uriah offering to help them live in the Empire. 

More recently for SWBC we read Battlefront II: Inferno Squad and that is truly what made me start rotating him around even faster in my brain -- they're not ISB, but they're working for ISB and they go undercover into a rebel op to try and destroy it and/or find a data leak and now THAT IS THE SPY SHIT I WANTED and so instead of creating a character out of frustration I just started spinning him at warp speeds to pick up any of the stray pieces of inspo floating around. But more to the point, it was a good exercise at listening to Imperial minds in a way that didn't make them see like big joke clowns like can happen. 

So it'll be fun to lean into that when writing for Uriah because you get to see him fully believing in what he's working for, as a field operative infiltrating smuggling rings and drug gangs etc to make the galaxy a better place in the early part of the Empire -- but then as it goes on longer and longer and he gets more involved (tangentially) with the rebellion through Kaedmon, and ISB/the empire being less and less interested in investigating corruption in certain aspects, that building disillusion with their place and so on. 

And not to "diversity win!" the empire, but he's a trans guy! He gave himself the gift of top surgery after being accepted into the Imperial Academy. 

In my thoughts about how they interact with canon, I did jot down that Uriah probably knows Kallus as they're about the same age and ISB agents -- though while Kallus went on to be as you see him in Rebels, Uriah does mostly undercover work. So when Kallus joins the Rebels, Kaedmon will get to know him... and when Uriah finds out that Kallus is also Fulcrum, he about loses his whole damn mind and probably pulls a muscle laughing so hard. 

I did write like 2200 words of an outline for him and Kaedmon, and I was fully going to sit down and write how the two of them met but my brain has been absent like all evening so I'll probably do a double big drabble for the two of them at the end of the month.

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Always kiss me goodnight

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Content:  Pining, kissing, mention of food, oh no there’s only one bed,   helmetless Din (but it’s dark), baby Yoda is an adorable tiny terror

Word count: ~2200

Note:  I swear I was only going to write one Pedro character fic. Has this   kind of thing been done a million times? Yes. Am I doing it once more?   Also yes. It’s self-indulgent hours and this little love letter to our favorite space dad and his green baby has been nagging at my mind since I  first watched the show.

Tagging the people who asked (If anyone wants to be tagged or un-tagged in any future fics since it seems  I’m well and truly back on my bs just say the word): @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @beccaplaying

———————————————

Fatigue has caught up with the little green child now that his belly is full, and crankiness along with it. The Mandalorian has been known to lovingly  call his adopted son a womp rat, but when the baby gets overtired, a rancor is more like it.

This time, you can hardly blame him. The three of you have spent the better part of the day traveling, finally landing on this backwater planet late in the evening. With some searching and a small fortune in credits, Din managed to find a safe, out-of-the-way place to stay, leaving you and the child to eat and settle in while he went to scout the bounty’s location for the next  day’s work.

As the child’s fussing gains momentum, you hustle to the small sink in the corner of the room.

“We’ll wash your face and go straight to bed,” you promise him, letting the   water warm before wetting a cloth and wringing it out thoroughly.

In the mirror, your own face looks as exhausted as he obviously feels. The bed in question is little more than a pallet with a mattress and some  blankets, but it might as well be a royal welcome at this stage of the game.

Despite your gentleness, the baby erupts in an indignant whine as you wipe the cloth over his face and ears. “I know, little love,” you soothe while he struggles in protest. “Almost done.”

He quiets when you scoop him up into your arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy head. You hum bits of a song from your childhood, rocking him from side to side, and his little face crumples with a yawn. His tiny fingers curl into the fabric of your tunic and his head goes heavy on your shoulder, but still he fidgets, making pathetic little sounds in the direction of the door.

“I know,” you murmur again, still swaying on the spot. “He’ll be back soon.”

You’ve grown to love the child and you know he’s fond of you, but as far as   he’s concerned Din is the one who hangs the stars in the sky. He’s always a little agitated when his father is out of sight, and truth be told, so are you.

“I know what we can do,” you say. “Let’s make a plate for your buir for when he comes back. Don’t you think that’ll be nice for him?”

Neither you nor Din are sure how much the child actually understands, but you don’t let it stop you talking to him. If nothing else it makes you feel a little less alone in the long hours when Din is hunting his quarries.

His drooping ears twitch upward with this suggestion. He watches with interest as you lay a plate with some of the fresh fruit, bread, and stewed meat Din bought from the innkeeper for your supper.

“There we go. Now then, bedtime for little ones.”

You turn to survey the sleeping area with a stab of nerves. The minuscule size of the room isn’t a challenge -- the Razor Crest has made you an expert in living in small spaces -- but the lone bed is a wrinkle you hadn’t expected.

Din, ever pragmatic, had been quick to point out that it was plenty big enough for the three of you, and it was only one night. He was right, of course.

Still, you’d never been so grateful for dim lighting, sure that your secret longing for the Mandalorian was written plainly on your flustered face.

You couldn’t have said exactly when your feelings for Din Djarin had strayed  into dangerous territory. Somewhere in the months of traveling with him, caring for his child, helping maintain his ship, reminding him to eat, and tending the worst of his wounds your initial wariness turned to admiration, admiration to fondness, and fondness to something alarmingly like love.

It’s a fool’s errand.

For all his kindness to you Din is an island of a man, set apart from the world in  his shell of beskar and the even more unyielding armor of his creed.  Even if his heart is big enough to encompass the child, you don’t dare to hope there’s room for you too.

And now this bed -- this one kriffing bed -- sits there mocking you and all your silly fantasies of you and Din and the child being a real family, bound together by love instead of convenience.

You turn off the light overhead, leaving only the small, sickly lamp at the table to light Din’s way to his supper.

The mattress is clean and the blankets are a bit threadbare but soft, and the baby only has the energy to grumble a little when you lay him down on the side closest to the wall and tuck the thickest of them around   him. Yawning widely, he stretches out a hand toward you, fingers grabbing at the air.

The gesture warms your weary heart.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lie down beside him and face away from the table, mindful that Din will need privacy to eat. The little body shuffles closer to you, curling into your shoulder, and a surge of fierce affection pricks your eyes with tears. You wrap your arm around the baby to hold him close as the full brunt of the long day overtakes you.

“Good night, little love,” you say around a yawn, just as your eyes fall closed.

***

You wake with a start. The windowless room is pitch black, and in the absence of any landmarks your brain races to orient itself.

At your back, the child’s soft, snuffling breaths. A well-worn blanket draped over you and a slightly lumpy mattress beneath.

The inn, you remember in a flash.

At your front...something warm and broad and solid. You’ve nestled into it  in your sleep, one arm thrown over it, your hand grasping soft fabric. A familiar, comforting scent surrounds you, a scent you cherish from laundry days and the cramped quarters of a small ship.

Oh, Maker.

You clearly slept through Din coming back and getting into bed, and now you’re wrapped around him like a second set of clothes. The rush of blood into your cheeks flames so hot you worry he must feel it through the base layers he’s wearing to sleep.

Shrinking into yourself, you begin to pull away, as stealthily as you can. If you  can just get back to your own side of the bed and brazen it out in the  morning, maybe he’ll never be the wiser.

Slowly, so slowly, you  release the handful of his shirt you’re holding and move your arm from where it’s resting across his chest...

In the darkness, a hand encircles your wrist.

Oh, Maker.

You’ve watched Din wrestle enough uncooperative bounties into the carbonite   chamber to know you’re not getting away from him if he doesn’t want you to. But his grip on your wrist is light, gentle. His thumb rests on the place where your pulse is fluttering like a trapped bird, whether from embarrassment or his closeness you’re not entirely sure.

“Din.” It comes out barely a whisper, sabotaged by the sudden dryness of your mouth. You swallow hard and try again. “Din, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s all right.”

His voice is a revelation. Free of the modulator’s rasp, it’s warmer, richer, somehow softer and more resonant at the same time. You’ve never even been in the same room with him when he has his helmet off, and the realization that he’s right there, a breath away, is dizzying.

Silence stretches before he speaks again, more quietly. “It’s...nice.”

Your brain fails you entirely. “Oh.”

You search desperately for something more intelligent to say, but his thumb is drawing feather-light circles over the soft skin of your wrist and your pulse is thundering in your ears. Those touches, so delicate from a man so strong, blur your thoughts like liquor and drag a confession from your lips before you can bite it back. “I’ve always wanted to hold you.”

You wait, blessing the darkness that swallows your shame,  and hope he’s not going to tell you to pack your things and find a job in this bleak little skug hole for when he leaves you behind.

Instead, you feel the mattress shift and know he’s turned toward you.

The sudden fear of breaking Din’s creed is overwhelming, even in the dark. Instinct has you squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that white specks float behind your eyelids.

“I can’t see you,” you say quickly. “I promise.”

“I know.”

His thumb moves from your wrist across your palm, uncurling your fingers to map each one in turn, trailing up to the tips and back down again. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone’s bare skin.

He sighs, which is nothing new, but this one doesn’t sound exasperated. It sounds almost...content. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs. “Beautiful girl. I thought so the first time I saw you.”

You’re overcome with a wild, childish urge to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

His praise gives you a rush of courage to ask for something you’ve only dreamed of. “Din...can I touch you? Is it allowed?”

His only answer is to cradle your hand in his, bringing it to rest on his cheek.

Stubble prickles your palm as your fingers slowly trace his scruffy jawline and the thick column of his neck, savoring the feel of him. His hair is soft, long enough to curl at its nape, and when you comb your fingers through the tousled strands he makes a low, strangled sound in the back of his throat. It reverberates through your body like a bell, making your head swim with the thrill of affecting him.

You only just resist the urge to suck a mark into the spot where his pulse races under his warm skin.

Your greedy hands move on to discover a strong brow and the curved bridge of a prominent nose. A mustache frames lips that are more plush than you imagined, a note of sensuality in an angular, warrior’s face.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are?” you ask, fingertips traveling over his cheekbone.

“Brown.”

Brown. You see them in your mind’s eye, soft and dark, expressing all the   things he doesn’t say out loud. Stroking his lower lip, you repeat his own word back to him: “Mesh’la.”

Din’s mouth twitches under your fingers. “You can’t see me.”

He has no idea. His body warming yours and the sweetness of his voice   calling you beautiful is everything you’ve ever wanted and thought yourself unworthy of having, and he thinks you’re only talking about his  face.

You cup his cheek, smile at him, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t need to, Din. I just know it. I always have.”

“You’re so good to me.” His hand catches yours in his large one, his voice   rough with some nameless emotion. “To me, and the baby. All the time.”

“You deserve everything good,” you whisper past the lump in your throat.

He’s caressing your hand again, holding it in place to press his lips to the pad of your thumb. “I want to kiss you, cyare.”

Your exhale is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please.”

His hand moves to cradle your head as he closes the distance between you. If you were expecting him to pounce, you’re completely unprepared for him to linger, breath hovering over your lips for a long, agonizing moment as he brushes his nose over yours.

You’re almost startled by the first touch of his lips, a little chapped but warm and lush. His mustache is softer than you thought it would be, and so are his kisses, a series of slow, gentle presses of his mouth. Like he wants to do with his lips what you’ve done with your hands, sketching and learning.

It’s only when you slide your hand into his hair again that something inside him breaks. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you to the refuge of his broad chest as he slants his mouth over yours, claiming you in earnest. He’s possessive and tender in equal measure and the tease of  his tongue against yours, his teeth nipping your lower lip, the span of his hand on your back has you drunk on him and whispering his name between kisses like a prayer.

...Apparently not quietly enough.

A little hand scrabbling at your shoulder blade brings you out of your haze. As you pull away from Din the baby is climbing over you as quickly as his short limbs will let him. He wedges himself between the two of you with a delighted coo at Din, hands flailing to find his father’s face.

Din heaves a sigh, but there’s no malice in it. “I’m here, ad’ika,” he says, with unmistakable fondness. “We’re all here.”

You can’t stifle a breathless laugh as the baby snuggles into Din’s arms, making himself comfortable for the night.

Your Mandalorian surrenders good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around you with  the child tucked safely in the middle. He presses a kiss to your forehead before settling on the pillow beside you. “Sleep, cyare.”

Drowsiness is already fuzzing the edges of your mind again, but it catches on the word he’s said twice now. “What does that mean?” you murmur. “Cyare?”

You feel him smile against your temple, one last brush of his lips. “Share my bunk tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you.”

[digitalworldbound]

day two: holidays

i dedicate my day two to @ri-ships-takari . this is not my best work by any means, but i am very proud of it. it's for you, during this week dedicated to your otp.

summary: Tanabata, or “Star Festival”, celebrates the meeting of the deities Orihime and Hikoboshi (represented by the stars Vega and Altair respectively). According to legend, the Milky Way separates these lovers, and they are allowed to meet only once a year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month

Twenty-three crept up on her, alone in her apartment in the earliest hours of morning. Birthdays had often gone without an affair, but with adulthood breathing down her neck, the sunrise seemed to mock her.

Her balcony overlooked the city she had never quite grown out of. Her friends had been able to spread their wings, pushing themselves against the expanding horizon. Hikari’s comfort lied in the familiarity of the streets and the whispers of memories that followed her.

Taichi’s text messages sat in her inbox; his birthday wishes were obligatory. Takeru’s, however, were not. Between shrugging on her work slacks and scarfing down a lone piece of toast, she allowed herself to consider his offer: Happy Birthday, Hikari. Tanabata festival tonight?

Odaiba was a small island, and Hikari reveled in the way she could walk to work. The fresh air cleared away the cobwebs of sleep and gave her mind space to think. It had been a while since she had seen Takeru, or any of their other friends for that matter.

They had fallen out of sync. Time zones no longer matched up, ambitions driving them further away from one another. It was the natural progression of things, but Hikari couldn’t remember a birthday being so bland.

The Tanabata festival emphasized the star-crossed lovers of Orihime and Hikoboshi, a pair doomed to meeting only once a year. No matter how strong their love, no matter how strong their devotion, there were some distances even they couldn’t cross. It was difficult to not see the similarities; when was the last time she had seen Takeru of her own volition? Her stomach fluttered, a feeling she swallowed down with a cup a coffee.

She was a grown woman. Her apartment was leased in her name; she had a big-girl job. Hikari had come so far, and yet, her heart ached at the thought of spending her birthday alone.

See you then.

-

The yukata was ill-fitting at best. It had been a hand-me-down from Miyako several years ago, the once-vibrant pink fading into a sickly flush. Twinkling lights cast a golden haze over the boardwalk, but Hikari couldn’t focus on the hoards of people.

He was walking towards her.

Takeru’s hair was aflame underneath the lights. His shoulders were broader than she remembered, and with the closer he got, it was apparent that he had grown taller. She waited patiently for him to notice her; he always had a knack for finding her in the midst of a crowd.

Sure enough, Hikari offered a reserved smile as his eyes settled on her figure. “You look wonderful.” Takeru was nothing if not polite. Still, she allowed his eyes to wander over her before she paid the compliment back in kind. Neither of them spoke of the palpable tension between them.

Part of her wished he would lose his temper. What are you running from? Why do you keep pushing us away? There would be a strange satisfaction in the way she could make Takeru become unhinged. But, his hand guided her throughout the booths, their chatter never straying from the ordinary.

It had been months since Hikari had last been in his proximity. The smell of his cologne soothed the tension in her shoulders but ignited something in her stomach. He took her on a tour of the food stands, his own yukata brushing against her.

She was three bites into her yakitori when Takeru tugged on her sleeve. They had wandered away from the worst of the crowds, the twinkling lights glowing in the distance. “Look!”

A hand rested on her shoulder while he pointed at something in the night sky. “Do you see those stars?”

Away from the festival lights, the shoreline offered the pair some reprieve. The stars shone brighter by the sea. How long had it been since she had last looked at the sky?

His arm reached around her, pointing at one of the points in the sky, his breath hot on her ear. “Vega and Altair, just over there. Those are the star-crossed lovers.”

It was too much. His warmth seeped through her, his fire igniting her and slowly fanning her back to life. Takeru’s smile was blinding, even more than the stars in the sky. He should come with a side effect warning, she thought, a sudden spell of dizziness uprooting her from their position. Hikari had kicked of her shoes, relishing in the way the sand felt between her toes. It was chilly without his arm wrapped around her, but she had always loved the cold. If her silence bothered him, Takeru never mentioned it. Afterall, Takeru was nothing if not polite.

“I see.” She turned her face towards the sky as if to prove that she was paying attention, but her mind was elsewhere. His own sandals had joined hers, his footsteps muffled by the sand. His approached was expected, but Hikari couldn’t help but jump when his fingers tucked her bangs behind her ears. It was dark, but he felt the heat of her cheek against his fingertips.

She wanted to run.

Two slips of paper were pressed into her hand, his toothy grin being the only explanation. “Let’s make a wish.”

A pen was pulled from the folds of his outfit, and true to form, gave it to her to use first. The sand welcomed her as she plopped down. Hikari silently thanked the gods that there were no other people on the shore to see her act like such a child.

The pen hovered over the thin slip. There was so much that she still wanted. She wanted a job she didn’t hate, an apartment that wasn’t so empty. She wanted someone to spend her life with; she didn’t want to wake up alone.

Takeru stood behind her in the sand, his focus on the steady beat of the waves on the shoreline. The things she wanted couldn’t be written on a piece of paper. She had given up on those things long ago. Hastily, she scratched something out on the paper, more for show than anything else.

Once Takeru had written his, he offered her a hand up. Her small hand was engulfed in his, and for a moment, she let herself imagine that it meant something. The moment floated away on a light breeze that ruffled her bangs, but he made no effort to fix them this time.

He dropped her hand as soon as she was righted on her feet. Silence coated them like an old blanket – warm, but slightly uncomfortable. They walked towards the lights of the festival, to the bonfire that was in full swing.

Hikari smiled up at him, tentatively reaching for his hand once more. It didn’t mean anything, not yet, but she couldn’t bear him thinking that she wasn’t thankful for him. The flames cast a glow on his face, and she could make out the traces of a smile.

He squeezed her hand, dropping his wish into the fire. Twenty-three had crept up on her, but Takeru was an unrelenting constant. They were destined to be together, yet destined to fail. As a pair, they were luminous, so bright that burning each other was inevitable. A pair so hopelessly in love that it drove them apart.

She knew how it would end. She knew that their failure was imminent, yet she took a step forward.

“Happy birthday, Hikari.”

[something-tofightfor]

Magnetic; Din’s POV - Part 3 (Chapter 4)

Pairing: None… really.

Word Count: 3,884

Rating: This is just kind of angsty, no real warning.

Summary: Din gets to know you a little better as the three of you settle into your new routine - and having a conversation late one night makes him realize the most important thing about you. 

Author’s note:

I apologize for how late this is going up. I got sidetracked and then had to edit. Oops. 

This goes alongside chapter 4 of Magnetic.  As I said with the last chapter - If there are any specific scenes that you’re DYING to know about from his point of view as I move through the story, please feel free to send a message or leave a comment, and I’ll be sure to include them.

It didn’t take long for him to gather his things the following morning. Eyes opening with the sun, Din sat up, noticing that Grogu’s eyes were open, too - the child staring at him from within his floating carriage. “Morning, kid.” Grogu cooed softly, lifting one hand to his mouth, and with a sigh, Din swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Hungry?” He already knew the answer, but before he began putting his armor back on, Din opened one of the packages of food he’d brought, handing it over. “Eat. We’re leaving in a few minutes.” While he wasn’t looking forward to having to constantly worry about your presence on the ship with the two of them, Din was excited to be back in flight, moving through the stars with Grogu in the co-pilot’s seat. I’ll get used to it. And if she can’t hear me… By the time he was fully armored, Grogu was finished eating, and the two of them emerged from the room into the early morning sunlight. Cara and Karga were waiting in the entryway of the inn’s main room, and while they both stayed mostly quiet, it was a relief to see them again. This feels … normal. There was no need to make conversation, even though Cara’s focus was on the kid, and the sound of your voice caught the man off guard, Din’s head swiveling toward the hall where you were. But you didn’t greet him, instead focusing on Grogu, too, the kid’s attention immediately shifting from Cara to you. That’s unexpected. As the six of you made your way from the inn back toward the ship, Din was surprised to hear that you fell into conversation with Karga and Cara easily, although the pilot kept quiet. He could see her glancing at him every now and then, but he ignored it, choosing to keep his helmet facing forward. At least I won’t have to worry about anything like that on the ship. He smiled beneath the beskar, finally turning his head at the sound of your laughter, your comment about Grogu’s reaction to Cara’s words drawing a quick snort from him before he caught himself. Not the time. But even as he stopped himself, he found that his mind was wandering. When’s the last time someone made me laugh like that? 

 He gave you five minutes to say goodbye and check your ship once more for stray belongings, and as you turned away, he finally faced Cara and Karga, eyeing the two of them. “Guess this is goodbye, Mando?” The other man spoke, a single nod from Din the only reply. “You know, without you taking things regularly, the bounties have been piling up.” “Good.” Din straightened his shoulders, one hand on his hip. “More work for when I come back.” Karga laughed, leaning forward and waving at Grogu before he turned and walked away, muttering under his breath about the Mandalorian’s cocksure attitude. Cara stood with her arms crossed, head tilted to the side. “What?” “You’re going to have your hands full, Mando.” With the kid? I know. “Do me a favor.” She leaned in, eyes bright. “Give her a chance.” Her? “She cares about the kid. She’s gonna be a huge help to you, and …” “What are you saying?” He glanced at Grogu, watching as the child looked between the two of them. What is she thinking, kid? “You -” “She’s been with him for just as long as you were, Mando. She knows him differently than you do. Let her … talk to her. It can’t hurt.” She’d been just as adamant about Omera, about giving that woman a chance, but there was something new in Cara’s voice as she spoke about you, and the man knew that it was because Grogu was directly involved. But what is … she isn’t wrong. “No promises, Cara.” Din sighed, reaching a gloved hand out. “I’ll see you soon.” She gave him a lopsided smile, shaking his hand quickly before pulling it back and bending down to kiss the top of Grogu’s head. He blinked up at her slowly, raising a hand in a quick wave, but the moment she turned her back, Grogu’s attention was back on Din, the kid’s eyes moving from the man to the ship and back. “Yeah, kid. Let’s go.” Adjusting his bag, Din began to walk for the lowered ramp, Grogu floating close behind. --- 

 He heard you coming before he heard you speak, but Din didn’t turn to greet you, instead waiting for you to take a seat to his left. I’ll - His words melted away before he could even open his mouth at the sight of the kid making his way into your lap, twisting his tiny body to look up at you. What’s going on? “What’s he saying? If he’s -” Din watched the expression on your face shift from confusion to surprise, but it was like a blaster shot to the chest to hear the words you spoke. Of course he’d notice. “It’s not the same ship. I… he wouldn’t have …” Damn.  “Let’s get out of here, and then I’ll explain.” As he began the takeoff process, Din’s mind traveled back to the moment on Tython he’d watched the ship explode, to the time he’d spent sifting through the ashes and rubble, unearthing only a few small pieces of beskar in the spear and the ball. I’ll… I’ll give that to him after I explain. He made it through the retelling of the story of Gideon’s attack without faltering, taking Grogu from you halfway through. I know, pal. It hurts. It hurts to… But it didn’t hurt worse than you telling him that Grogu was apologizing for his part in the destruction, Din’s arms tightening around the small figure and his breath catching. “I’m just glad we weren’t on it.” At that, he saw your reaction, a visible stiffening of your body, but Din didn’t focus on it, instead reaching into his pouch for the beskar sphere. Grogu’s reaction was immediate, his arms rising to reach for it, nearly snatching it from the Mandalorian’s hands. Knew you’d be happy to see that. He was smiling again, focused on Grogu as he turned to show you his prize, but again Din’s breath hitched at your revelation that he’d shown you the ball and other memories through dreams. She can see dreams? I… Moving Grogu from his lap and back onto the empty seat, Din waited for your reply, hands resting in his lap. This could be dangerous. He didn’t know what he expected from you, but a simple explanation - you easily equating the way you used your ability to what he did with his skills - was not it. Grogu made his way back into the man’s lap without much delay, but Din was focused on you instead, hanging onto your words. I’ve never had the Force explained like this before. He had questions for you - a ton of them - but kept it to simple ones, relevant to only the current conversation. We’re not … I can’t ask things like that. We don’t know each other. But the dreams, that… and Grogu? As he listened to you explain the Force and your apparent ability to listen in on the dreams of other powerful Force users, Din found himself wondering just how strong you were. Does … is she like Ahsoka? Like Skywalker? Is she more powerful than Grogu? Can she… But it wasn’t until you mentioned the mudhorn that Din’s attention snapped back to your face, watching as you eyed the signet on his pauldron. She’s smart. He questioned your abilities without thinking, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them, and the man winced as you froze. That’s not … not something she likes talking about. There was an undercurrent to your words, to the explanation that you wouldn’t even try to move objects or suspend them, and Din decided  to move on, even though you gave him a little more information. She doesn’t owe me, and she’s still trying to explain. He saw your tears and for the first time in many months, felt conflicted about causing someone distress. I’m not interrogating her, I shouldn’t have asked. Especially since she says she hurt someone. He frowned, watching as you glanced down at the child, pausing before you wiped beneath your eyes. She doesn’t want me to see her like this. Or maybe she doesn’t want the kid to. It was something to think about, and Din filed away the information for later, deciding to change the subject - though he never got the chance. “So, Mando. It looks like you don’t have to worry about me in your head or in your dreams.” About that. His admission - and your reply - again stunned him, and Din felt the confusion within him strengthening. So the beskar keeps my thoughts private, but it might not matter when it comes to dreams because she can only see the kid’s because he… projects them.  It was a lot to take in, and so Din switched his focus to something that he was much more comfortable with: outlining the bounty itinerary. 

 There was no reason for him to announce his plans to you, but he did it anyway, explaining the order that he’d chosen out loud while still thinking about the conversation you’d just had. It was nice to have the additional connection between himself and the kid, though it would  take some getting used to. But she’s here to help. And she might … she might be the thing that keeps him with me. You kept quiet as he spoke, Din’s eyes on you though he kept the helmet facing forward… and Cara’s words echoing in his mind. Give her a chance. 

 --- 

 It took a few days to settle in, but the three of you made the most of being on the ship and the limited amount of space you had. Din was used to it, but he could tell that you weren’t, often finding you pacing in the small sleeping quarters that he’d given to you, or aimlessly organizing and sorting through supplies while he and Grogu did other things. You never complained, though, and Din was surprised at that.

He was even more surprised at how vigilant you were - it hadn’t been specified that you’d be responsible for teaching Grogu, or caring for him while the man piloted the ship, but you did both without question. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to find you and the child in the cargo hold, working on different skills. He watched the kid pass items to you, find things that you’d hidden, open doors and drawers, and even levitate his entire body a few inches off of the floor for a few minutes at a time. He couldn’t do those things before. Not like this. He was content to watch - the two of you clearly had a routine, but Grogu didn’t let him sit on the sidelines for long, pulling him into whatever he was doing with coos and wide smiles. Din couldn’t turn him down, especially when there wasn’t much else to do on the way to the first bounty, and so he allowed himself to relax slightly, getting used to being around the kid again. It was strange to him after a year apart to hear the kid’s vocalizations throughout the ship, or to see him climbing around, but Din didn’t take a single second for granted, keeping his eyes on the kid whenever possible, never hesitating to speak to him or reach for him. The first bounty was difficult, but he knew that it wouldn’t give him trouble, and so he felt confident in letting his attention wander, mostly when he was sitting in the pilot’s chair and watching the endless expanse of space. You were in hyperspace, sure, and the man had filtered the glass to make it less bright, even through the visor, but he could still see the streaks of light ahead of him. The view from the cockpit had always calmed the Mandalorian, and it was no different with the kid sleeping beside or behind him, the hours stretching on. But there was more for Din to consider than the kid or the bounties, and he found his thoughts returning to you more often than he’d expected. When he’d given you the tour of the Razor II, you’d listened quietly as he’d explained what the different areas of the ship were, what the weapons in the locker could do. You’d asked questions, but they weren’t invasive - instead, he realized that you were just collecting the information necessary to make the following weeks bearable. He found himself speaking to you more than he’d intended, going into the history of some of the weapons, outlining the reason that he’d wanted to give you the sleeping quarters instead of keeping them for himself, even though the cot on the bottom level of the ship was much too small to be truly comfortable for someone his size. But it means being able to take my helmet off with the kid. He’d never traveled long term with a woman before, so everything was new to Din, but you took the information without challenging him, thanking him and smiling. You gave the two of them the space he’d hoped for, but despite your overall friendly demeanor and welcoming tone, he noticed you pulling away slightly between the first and second bounties, took stock of the fact that you spoke less and less to him as the days passed unless you were directly spoken to. But why? It distracted him slightly; giving him pause as he tracked the bounty on Cadevine, wondering how you could switch between being around the kid all the time to distancing yourself, how you could go from being surrounded by people at the Academy that you could read to essentially being alone in a ship with only Grogu to listen to. It has to be hard for her. The tracking fob’s blinking became more frantic and Din’s thoughts shifted, moving from you and back to the task at hand. I’ll talk to her about it.. I’ll … make it better for her. 

 It was unlike him - to speak so much and so openly with someone that he barely knew - but as a way to ease into it, Din asked you more questions about Grogu and the Academy, trying to find a way to get you talking. Why? Why do I want to do that so much? He wasn’t certain of the answer to that question, but he would have been lying to himself if he’d said that he didn’t enjoy listening to you speak, hearing Grogu’s thoughts out loud for a change right alongside yours. Your life had been much different than his, and your habits were still much different than his, but listening to you was a chance for the Mandalaorian to relax, something that he wouldn’t ever take for granted. Halfway between the third and fourth bounties, something shifted between the two of you. He’d been dozing in the cockpit when he heard you climbing the ladder, pausing outside of the doorway. If I don’t move, she’ll just go into her room. Instead of letting that happen, Din invited you in, unsure of what he wanted to say to you until you made your suggestion of taking a break. It wasn’t a surprise to him - stopping for a day or two had been on his mind, too, but hearing you say it out loud convinced him that it was the right call. But she can’t just … You seemed surprised at his questioning of where you’d be if the two of them had a chance to spend more time together, and again he couldn’t stop himself from reminding you that you weren’t there to simply stick to the background. 

 Your explanation shocked him, but Din let you speak, making note of the mention of your friend Bari, along with your assessment of your place on the ship and in Grogu’s life. She shouldn’t feel like that. He was happy to have the kid back - happier than he’d been in months, but didn’t like that it was at your expense. I have to find a way to change that.  He’d been just as surprised at the joke he’d made as you were, and Din was quick to clear his throat, moving the conversation along. Unexpectedly, the conversation shifted to your understanding of Grogu’s species, something else Din had wondered extensively about. In all his time bounty hunting, there’d never been another encounter with anything like him, and with the information you had, it confirmed to the man that the kid was just as special as he’d assumed him to be. And that’s why it was important to go. One of a kind? He needed to be with people like him. Din hadn’t planned on asking you questions about Grogu’s past, but once he began, he couldn’t stop. You didn’t have the answers, but at the flash of emotion passing through your eyes as you admitted that you’d tried to figure it out, he stiffened and then forced himself to relax, thinking. If they asked her to try, that must mean… they must be … He didn’t have much time to contemplate your closeness with the child, instead feeling an overwhelming concern for you - and for Grogu - as you admitted that Grogu had attacked you using his power in order to keep you from digging deeply through his mind. The way you spoke about it casually was concerning to him, and for the first time, Din wondered just how much you were willing to ignore and accept for the kid’s sake. The way I would. The way I did. “You care about him. Even after -” You justified Grogu’s behavior, writing it off as a traumatized child that had suffered instead of blaming him for it, and despite the fact that he couldn’t read your thoughts, he realized in that moment that there was something different about you. She … it’s real. Everything she’s saying. They aren’t lines, it’s not … The realization scared him, but it also made him much more aware of you, too. You weren’t just a teacher or a caretaker - you were just as much family to Grogu as Din himself was. And that means that this is … hard for her. He hadn’t considered that before, because he’d been so focused on what having the kid back meant to him, but even though it was still early on in the trip, he knew that things had to change. I need to … need to give her a real chance. Need to … let her in, to help her understand. “Why haven’t you asked more about me? About the bounties, about my past, about my armor… or Mandalore?” It was a risk - he knew it - but it was worth it to the man. This is … this changes everything. But you were still timid with what you asked him, and though there were slight challenges in your words and tone, Din wasn’t uncomfortable with the things that you did question - or what you said about him. It was a welcome change to hear someone freely speak to him, to call him out and make assumptions based on what little they knew. And she isn’t wrong about much. He smiled to himself before he answered, admitting that he had hesitated when it came to letting Grogu go in the end, but that didn’t phase you. And she’s… using Mando’a. You weren’t fluent, but still, hearing the word for family come from your mouth sent a chill through his body. He’d heard it once, via transmission, but watching you speak the word with no pause was a different story, his eyes focused on the way it looked and sounded leaving your mouth. I should speak it more around her. Teach her more if I can. It’ll help Grogu, too. That loosened him up a little more, and Din felt bold enough to ask you to keep going. Your honesty was refreshing, and while you were analyzing him, Din wasn’t surprised when you turned the conversation to yourself and your own motivation - even though he was surprised by the contents of your admission. She stayed for him? Could have gone anywhere, but she … He knew how easily Grogu had won him over, but again this made Din question your behavior. If that’s true, why is she so willing to sit back and just let me be with him? You wanted what was best for the kid, that much was clear to him, and without pausing to think his words through, Din asked you another question, heart pounding in his chest as he waited for the answer. She calls him that because of me. Calls him … oh, Maker. He felt his mind wandering, even though he was still listening. I learned more tonight than in months. I … this is more. He hated asking you to be the middleman between him and Grogu, but Din didn’t know what else to do. There is no one else. She’s… she’s just as important to him as I am. At the movement of your hand, Din’s attention snapped back to you, but you stopped before you touched him, drawing your hand back. She stopped herself. She … He stood, armor clinking together quietly. Anyone else would have just … Cara and Terys and other women.

His hand was on your shoulder, grip tightening as he spoke - and then tightening further at your reply. Father. I’m his … he calls me... There was no specific word for father in Mando’a; it was interchangeable with mother, but as your answer settled in his mind, he realized that he’d considered himself Grogu’s buir for a long time. And this … this means he still thinks that. With one final squeeze to your shoulder, Din turned and left the cockpit to keep from making the sound that threatened to leave his throat. Father. And she just… kept it going. The night hadn’t been what he’d expected, and neither had the conversation, but as Din climbed down the ladder with shaking hands, he realized that it had been exactly what he’d needed. Now I know. Now she knows that I know. He knew you wouldn’t come after him, and so after a few minutes of pacing in a small circle in front of the cot - and the cubby where the kid was sleeping, swaddled in blankets - Din turned the lights off and began the ritual of removing his armor for the night. What else can I do?

 He used the fresher, splashing water on his face, and then returned to his cot, sliding in beneath the blanket and staring up into the darkness. You’d given him a lot to think about when it came to Grogu and his relationship with the kid, but you’d told him just as much about yourself, too. That night, the last thing Din thought of before he went to sleep was you, and the honest expression that had filled your eyes the entire time you’d spoken. 

 --- 

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[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 8//fighting in the sky

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes, drug usage/substance abuse

Chapter Summary | the Sokovia fight ends a little...differently.

Warnings | violence, blood, bullet wounds, death, swearing

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Bucky was still on the floor, y/n crouched at his side with a hand cupping his cheek and a concerned look dancing across her eyes. She'd got him propped against a table leg nearby as he'd groaned and winced with pain, flesh hand covering the wound in his shoulder as his breathing got heavier.

Whilst y/n made a fuss, the argument continued and got heated. But she refused to leave him, so much so that when Steve tried to check on them she told him to deal with Tony and that she had Bucky. Or even when Thor arrived, ready to set her dad's plan in motion, of which he did. So now, there was a floating, living computer less than two meters away as Bruce tended to the wound.

They were going to find Ultron tomorrow. Save the world, etc etc. But for now, y/n was much to concerned for her boyfriend who she knew would've healed completely by the end of the hour. Steve knelt down beside her, taking a hold of y/n's free hand and placing a gentle kiss to it before offering her a smile.

"How're you doin', buck?" Steve said softly, looking into the super soldier's cerulean eyes. The brunet offered him a small smile, lips tugging up.

"I'm doin' okay, Stevie." He hummed, before his lips were smothered in a sweet kiss. Y/n still felt a tingle of warmth run down her spine every time she saw them kiss. It was passionate, despite lacking lust in the current situation, and still made a weak pang of arousal crawl down y/n's spine.

"I love you two, so much." Bruce had retreated by this point, so only y/n, Bucky, and Steve were left sat on the floor. Both men before her smiled widely, and Steve leant to give y/n a kiss to the forehead.

"We love you too." Bucky said, and y/n nodded with a tear in her eye. "We'll survive this; we always do."

...

When the cobbles began splintering, and the ground began shaking, and the buildings began crumbling, all I could do was gasp. Sharp and quiet, the sound barely reaching the ears of those around me as I froze in place from where I'd been ushering a group of children towards the bridge.

We'll survive this; we always do.

Then followed the screams. Shock, fear, pain. The beeping of cars, shattering of glass, clanging of metal, thudding off rubble. Even as those around me fussed - backed away from the edge - I stayed frozen. Eyes locked on the earth we were leaving behind, ears perked at the sound of snapping metal and breaking rock. We were going up, and there was nothing we could do about it.

"Sokovia's going for a ride." FRIDAY's voice echoed through the comm, but the words barely fell on my ears as I remained locked, paralysed.

"Y/n!" Sam's voice ripped me from my trance, his slender arms wrapping over my shoulder as he knocked me down just in time. We rolled onto the floor, his wings breaking our fall against the stone and cocooning us. The sound of an explosion pulled my head up, Clint stood facing us with his bow out - no arrow loaded.

My eyes drifted then, settling on the shards of metal around us and I figured out what happened.

"T-thanks." I mumbled, grabbing Clint's hand as he offered it.

"No problem. Now get you're head in the game, y/n. We're really gonna need all the help we can get." Sam replied, expanding his wings again before he was in the sky above us.

"You okay?" Clint asked, brown quirked. I brushed my arms off, nodding slowly to the man. "Okay."

I sighed out in relief, kicking at the metal before me before shaking my head and putting on a brave face. I took off, running towards a scream I'd heard.

"Stark you worry about bringing the city back down safely," Steve's voice rang in my ear, "the rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed, walk it off." I let off a laugh, pulling a knife from it's sheath at my thing and raising my arm, pressing the blade into the robot's head and smiling at the cracklings sound of it shutting down.

"Nice speech, Stevie." I chortled through a smirk and Bucky chuckled. The woman before me strangled away and I watched after her before taking off again.

"Is he always so bossy on missions?" Bucky pondered and Sam's laugh could be heard through my earpiece.

"Yes he is." The Falcon sighed, and I could tell Steve was rolling his eyes with that ridiculous, toothy smirk.

"Remind me to punish you when I get home. Both of you." Steve sneered playfully and Tony gagged. Nat laughed.

"Ew. Please don't talk about your sex lives through the comms." Clint jeered disgustedly.

"Whatever you say, Captain." I smirked and Bucky chuckled again.

It was awhile before anyone spoke again, all wrapped up in crushing the robots. By now I'd found Bucky, and we fought back-to-back as Sam and Rhodey cleared the skies. Bucky held a gun in hand, shooting mercilessly at the gadgets as I threw knife after knife, never even missing once.

"Hey, Doll?" Bucky shouted over the noise as I sent another knife flying into a head.

"Yeah?" I called back, letting out a grunt as I rolled out the way of a bullet.

"D'ya think your powers work on these things?" Bucky asked again, turning around and shooting the one that still had its sights on me.

"Thanks. And I don't know, I haven't tried."

"Well maybe now is about time!" I heard steve voice through the comm again. That when I started to hum, that unfamiliar, dangerous tune. Bucky froze in space, gun lowered at we marvelled at the convulsing robots around us. Their heads crackled as spurts of electricity danced around them, before they all simtaneously exploded, pieces of flaming metal sent spinning through the air.

Bucky pulled me into him, crouching down and shielding us with his metal arm as a few stray pieces were sent towards us.

"Well, I'd say it works." Bucky mumbled through a laugh and I joined him, both of us straightening up and running in the direction of where steve was.

"So it works?" Pietro called down the comm, and I shared a look with Bucky.

"It fuckin's works." Bucky smirked before I interjected.

"Kind of. If people are in the vicinity they may get hurt. I'd only be able to use it on a good enough scale if we evacuate this thing." I said and Tony scoffed.

"What do you think we've been doing?" There was a silence again after that.

...

"Hey Steve!" Bucky yelled, waving the to blonde super soldier as he turned around from where he was stood beside Nat.

"Glad you like the view Romanoff. It's about to get better." I came to a halt at the sound of Fury's voice in my ear. Bucky stopped beside me, both of us only a few feet behind Nat and Steve as the whirring of Bucky's arm filled the silence.

Then we saw it. The ship rose gracefully through the clouds, big and glorious and full of the promise of victory.

"Fury you son of a bitch." Steve clipped and I heard Bucky's low chuckle from beside me.

"Oooh, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I found myself laughing to at Fury's comment.

"This is SHIELD?" Pietro asked, entranced as he walked up beside us.

"This is what SHIELD is supposed to be." Steve affirmed and Pietro's smile just grew wider.

"This is not so bad." The lifeboats began landing, pulling up to the edge of the rock before Steve was barking orders down the Comm again.

"Let's load 'em up." So that's what we did.

...

It was so close. We were so close. Barley any civilians remained, the last of them just getting onto the last of the lifeboats at the moment. The plan to take out Ultron was in play.

Me, Pietro and Clint were the only avengers in the area, about to get on life boats ourselves when a woman began begging and crying.

"Her son isn't here. We need to find him." Clint mumbled quickly as he walked passed me, hand wrapping a round my bicep and pulling me with him.

"Well where could he be? We've looked everywhere!" I explained in a whisper, eyes wide with fear. I didn't like the idea of anyone dying by our hands, besides those horrid, evil robots.

"I don't know, just-" Clint cut himself off, his jittery eyes landing on the boy as he struggled and shouted for help. "Wait here."

And with that Clint was sprinting off, leaving me stood only a few feet from the edge as Pietro made sure everyone else was safely on the lifeboat.

"Shit." I murmured, reaching for a dagger, but my fumbling hand couldn't find one as I say the robot stagger towards Clint and the boy. "Clint!" I shouted, finally finding a knife sheathed in my back pocket and letting it slide from my hand, the rigid metal burying itself in the thing's skull. It shut down immediately, dropping to the floor. Clint raised an arm in thanks, quickly turning back to the boy to lift him up.

I found myself laying behind a nearby piece of rumble before I could make sense of it, winded and groaning as I peered over at the sound of the gunfire.

Where had it come from? The last of them should be dead now. My thought were racing, horrified. But it didn't compare to my disjointed scream. The blood staining Pietro's back was seeping, leaking onto his shirt as he swayed, his faint voice making the sob catch in my throat.

"You didn't see that coming?" My eyes drifted to the sky, the ship nearly out of my reach and the bottled, bubbling anger surfaced again. Only this time, I didn't let it simmer back down again.

We'll survive this; we always do.

The sound that tore from me could barely be described as a hum, let alone a song as the pained sound channelled through me.

You didn't see that coming?

A burst of light, a spark that set fire into a rapid succession of aguish; agony. A wave that knocked everyone to their feet, pushing Steve back as he ran towards Clint, who was hunted over Pietro's limp body.

Don't turn your back on me!

Lifeless, the bodies that sunk into the seats behind me enticed gasps from Clint as he slowly stood, eyes locked on the sight over my shoulder.

I love you two, so much.

I turned with a horrified, disgruntled noise. One of shock, pain, fear, guilt, dread all mixed into one horrid, ugly noise.

Ultron has won.

And maybe he has, because the sight before me  was not one of victory. He had succeeded in some form, no doubt. The wing of grey soaring past me causing me eyes to narrow, and my heart to shatter.

This is what SHIELD is supposed to be.

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Bucky Barnes Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll

Steve Rogers Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll

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[hotchseyebrows]

now i scan the sky for snow

a penelope garcia x emily prentiss fic

a/n: my very first fic!! woooooooooooo!! thank you for giving it a read and heres to many more :)))

written to fill the prompt "31 (quiet) + seeing your breath, a ship of your choice" from @derekmorqan (better late than never, eh jay?)

read it here on ao3!!

It's January in Boise and Penelope doesn't have any gloves. But her nails definitely match the monochrome purple look of the day, so can you really blame her?

word count: 1561

“Prentiss, when did Hotch go get the car?” Penelope’s voice is muffled from where she’s blowing hot air into her ungloved hands. 

 

Emily glances at her phone. “It’s only been 2 minutes.” In a practiced dad move, Hotch decided to make the trek through the flurries of snow to the SUV alone, citing Penelope’s tall heels and the potential for black ice in the parking garage, leaving Emily and Penelope standing outside of their Boise hotel. Earlier, Emily and Hotch stayed behind with Penelope to help her pack up stray gear and cords from her set up in the local precinct while the others got a head start on cleaning up their hotel rooms. By the time the trio got back to the hotel themselves, Rossi had already started the drive to the airport with Reid, Morgan, and JJ, all of them happy to be heading home after a rough case. 

Penelope makes a small huff before wrapping both of her arms around her stomach. The puff of air floats upward, creating a small cloud in between them before dissipating. “Why don’t you have gloves anyway, Garcia? It’s January and we’re in the middle of Idaho.”

 

Penelope crinkles her nose a little as she sticks her tongue out at Emily. “But my nails are so cute and gloves would cover them!” She’s right, her nails are a sparkly purple that coordinates well with the sparkly purple beanie on her head and the deep purple lipstick that Emily can’t stop staring at when she talks. 

 

“You forgot them in your bat cave before we got on the jet, huh?”

 

The pink flush on Penelope’s cheeks from the cold turns much more scarlet. “I’m not used to winter prep for a go-bag, let alone maintaining a go-bag at all!”

 

Emily chuckles, privately memorizing the contrast of the rosy flush and her purple lips and how shiny her eyes are behind the large purple hexagon glasses. “Do you want to wait in the lobby?” Surprisingly, Penelope shakes her head even as she visibly shivers underneath her puffy coat.

 

“The snow is so pretty out here. And it’s so quiet, like there’s no one else in the world.” She tilts her head up, eyes closed for a moment as she sticks her tongue to catch some flurries. After a beat, her eyes open and she looks at Emily with joy dancing in her gaze. “Come on Emily, have fun with me.”

 

“I always have fun with you, Penelope,” she says too honestly. Penelope sees something in her face that makes her pause and they stand in silence. The snow falls gently and the puffs of their breath mingle in the space between them.

 

Emily tells herself she’s watching their breath and the snow simultaneously but her eyes remain fixed only on Penelope. Without giving it too much thought, she pulls off her gloves and hands them to her. “Your hands are still shaking,” she says in answer to the silent question in the tilt of Penelope’s head.

 

“But now you’ll be cold.”

 

Emily shrugs. But that isn’t good enough for Penelope, who hands back the left glove before pulling the right one on herself. “Penelope, I don’t need-”

 

“Oh no, I won’t hear it, we can share or you can have them both back.” It’s moments like this that make Emily’s heart skip a few beats. Penelope’s effortless kindness is currently a stubborn glint in her eyes and Emily knows better than to argue. She makes a small production out of acquiescing, pulling the glove on with a dramatic sigh. Penelope laughs, the sound bright and warm as it bounces through the cold quiet air. It’s the best sound in the world.

 

Emily can’t help but smile in response. Snow is lightly covering the puffy sleeves of Penelope’s coat and creating its own set of sparkles on the purple beanie. She uses the gloved hand to brush the shoulders clean. Penelope’s gaze on her face is a warm and tangible thing somehow, and suddenly her face feels incredibly hot. Her hand comes to a rest, lightly gripping her upper arm. “Um. Is your- is your other hand still cold?”

 

Penelope nods. Emily nods back, flexing her own ungloved hand. She extends it palm up towards Penelope. “For warmth,” Emily says, voice not as shaky as she feels all of a sudden.

 

Penelope blinks twice, before slipping her hand into Emily’s without a word. They both stare at their joined hands until Penelope twists her hand, interlocking their fingers. Emily’s whole arm crackles with a low flame, warmth billowing up the limb and spreading through her torso. In pursuit of that warmth, Emily takes a step closer. The only sound she can hear is the mixed sounds of their breathing. She glances down to watch the breath leave Penelope’s purple lips into the cold air and can’t tear her eyes away. Penelope’s fingers twitch and then tighten in Emily’s grip. Glancing up to take in her whole face, Emily is sucked in by the openness of her expression- the way the cold has made her glow, the way her eyes are gazing back into Emily’s with softness and hesitation all at once, the way the warmth of her exhales slightly fog up her glasses, the way snowflakes land on her eyelashes and her nose and her hair and the swell of her cheeks and slowly become beads of water- and opens her own mouth because she has to say something, right?

 

“Penelope, I-”

 

Just then, Hotch pulls up next to them. The hum of the engine is like a crack in the perfect stillness of the moment and Emily jumps back slightly from the surprise. Their hands, still entangled, drop out of his line of sight. Penelope circles her thumb on Emily’s skin once, twice, and then a third time before letting go. Emily shivers, but she knows this time it isn’t from the cold.

 

Hotch gets out of the car to help with the bags, and Emily manages to fully tear her attention away from Penelope. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she sees it has been a little longer than she would have expected, even accounting for the car being on the 4th floor of the parking garage and the elevator being completely out of order.

 

“What took you so long, Hotch?” She’s half joking, mostly looking to listen to something over her own pounding heart. But he blushes in response, a similar color to Penelope’s pretty flush from slight embarrassment just minutes earlier. It makes her stop and really look at him. He’s limping the tiniest bit, and the back of his coat looks slightly damp. Emily bites her lip, debating if she should say something more. Penelope, however, has no such debate.

 

“Oh! Bossman! Did you fall?” She waddles over on her heels, careful not to slip herself. “Are you ok?”

 

He clears his throat before leaning down and picking up the two largest of their bags. “I’m fine.” The signature Hotch glare is back in full force, but she knows he’s a little embarrassed. His cheeks haven’t lost all of the red flush yet and he won’t quite meet their eyes. Instead, he stows the suitcases in the back of the SUV before grabbing two more. 

 

They glance at each other, attempting to hide a smile. He notices, because of course he does, but that just sends them both into actual laughter. After a moment, he starts to laugh too. They all climb into the car, Emily holding the passenger seat door open for Penelope and offering a hand (that is very enthusiastically taken) to help her into the car. As he puts the car in drive and the laughter fully dies out, he says “I told you I was worried about black ice.”

 

It makes Penelope laugh all over again, but Emily just watches her from her seat behind Hotch. Her beanie is still firmly on her head and the remaining bits of snow all over her are melting in the heat from the car. Emily flexes her ungloved hand again, arm still feeling tingly. Penelope sees her do it in the rearview mirror, and blushes again. Their eyes meet, and they share soft secretive smiles. If Derek hasn’t saved Penelope a seat and if Spencer isn’t taking up the whole couch again, maybe I’ll try to discreetly sit next to her on the couch. Just in case her hands are still cold. 

 

Penelope only breaks their stare when Hotch asks her something about some budget maneuvering for new computer nonsense. She responds to him with her signature enthusiasm, and Emily settles back into her seat, knowing this conversation will probably last until they get to the airport. She’s content to only half listen and instead enjoy watching Penelope be incredibly smart and passionate. She keeps glancing back at her in the rearview mirror, but Emily doesn’t mind that Penelope knows she’s staring. Her mind drifts off as she watches Penelope’s mouth move as she speaks. She thinks about how close she was doing something reckless. She’s still close to doing something reckless if she’s being completely honest. Somehow though, she doesn’t think she’s the only one. The snow is still falling, and it’s still the middle of winter in Idaho. Yet, Emily Prentiss has never felt so warm.

[captain-barnes-writes]

Someone Like You [3/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part 3]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Angst (lotssss), language, 18+, future chapters will include smut (just warning y'all!) ; not proofread 

Word count: 1.5k

Three months had glided by after that late night and Sebastian would be a liar if he said it hadn’t been a hassle to complete a simple task without a single thought of you. You were a brazen and permanent mark that he couldn’t erase no matter how hard he tried to rub you off.

A month after the one music video had been released, another one came. With the same Hispanic Bachata artist, this time for a different song. You were speaking Spanish in the beginning of the video, taking him back to the times you used to cuss him out in Spanish out of anguish and anger he’d make you feel. But also at the sweet words you’d utter in the language that was so foreign to him. It was for those first few seconds of the video that he was able to form a small smile as your sweet voice floated through his ears. He was smiling at the little rasp that your voice had and the slight squint of your eyes as you threw your head back in laughter, dark curls and dark eyes.

That little smile was quickly wiped off when the frame tuned to that of the singer who still couldn’t keep his hands off you and it made his blood boil over in rage. The dimples indented on the fuck-face were on full display as the full smile he wore didn’t vanish throughout the entire video. He couldn’t blame the man for beaming as if he’d won the lottery because quite frankly being in your presence felt quite like it.

It was another plotless video and made no sense, he deemed that the singer used this opportunity to get as close to you as possible yet again. You wore yet another dress, a tiny yellow sundress and your feet bare on the hot sand. The tropical theme had you on the beach, under a cabana and even on the sea shore. 

You were dancing so eloquently and freely, hands so conscious of every movement your hip would make that they would move with ease. Two steps to the left and a slight jut of your hip and you’d do the same for the right. Dark curls bouncing with every movement you’d make. The man had wrapped his arms around your waist and proceeded to dance with you while singing the lyrics so precisely. He was going crazy at the thought of what could happen after the cameras had shut off, of what was happening in real life. He wondered, in a crazed manner, if you were showing him the same type of attention as in the videos.

Was he touching you?

Was he kissing you?

Were you letting him?

His girlfriend shifted on her side of the bed, squirming and sprawled her hand on his bare chest. His eyes shifted towards her sleeping figure, her body positioned on her stomach and head lazily on the soft pillows, and her breathing was so calm. He’d been in a haze and had almost forgotten where he was. It was a weekday in New York and since their fast-paced romance had been caught on camera there was no need to tip toe around the city anymore so they were at his own place. There was no longer a need to only spend time at her place.

She was kind and funny, brought him a sense of comfort. But it didn’t compare to what you’d given him. It was just that she had the label of girlfriend and you hadn’t. The thought tugged at his heart. 

It was probably something truly sick and twisted as the sleeping and unknowing woman beside him breathed so softly in her sleep as he laid wide awake on his side with his phone grasped at his hand; the dim screen showing his searches filled with your name. His video search engine filled with your name too. He watched with his ear buds embedded in his ear, listening to your soft and nervous voice during interviews. The dark curls, your glowing skin and those gleaming brown eyes that were yet again driving him to the brink. His current situation was driving him towards a road of destruction if he kept this up.

God, what the hell was wrong with him. You consumed his every thought. Swirling and parading through his head like floating clouds of ethereal goodness. The last few months had been slightly arduous for him because in many ways he’d felt every single thing you had felt while you’d been with him. Angst, jealousy and an overwhelming tight feeling in his chest. He understood now.

He thought back to all the rumors, images and videos of you and that artist that had surfaced for the last few months. It wasn’t only an innocent, paid-job of being part of his two music videos but it seemed to have transpired into something more. The pictures of your dinner dates spread like wildfire through the media, people were shipping you and the fuckface already for god's sake. You were smiling so genuinely, straying behind the unbelievably successful man who donned an equally large smile. His hand was outstretched behind him, reaching for yours as the flashing cameras illuminated the both of you.

Huffing under his breath, he pressed the off button on his phone, removed the earbuds and placed both on the nightstand. He was tired and didn’t want to think anymore.

And as for you, you laid awake in bed as well in your New York home. The man beside you had barely gotten off you a few minutes ago and had already fallen asleep. His soft snores were invading the solemn quiet space of your bedroom.

Romeo Santos. He was handsome and romantic, sweeping you completely off your feet. And his voice? Talented and beautiful beyond belief. You’d started listening to his music in your teen years, and even though he was a lot older now, he still looked just as good as he had all those years ago. He was a good ten years older than you, a hefty number, but you liked it. Experienced, mature and with their shit together; at least that’s what you expected out of men who were nearly pushing the threshold of 40.

You couldn’t believe your luck at having gotten the call to be part of his music video during your vacation in the Dominican republic. You had said yes within a few seconds. Your instagram pictures showing off your well-deserved girls trip in the Caribbean region had probably gotten back to the Domincan artist, whom you’d noticed had already been following you.

The music video was out of your comfort zone, per say, as it included scenes that were rather risque for you. The lingerie and the steamy scenes on the crimson red bed had been rather intimidating upon reading the short script, but he’d made you feel comfortable.

And even while thinking back to those few months when you had met the handsome man beside you, your thoughts drifted back to another man who was two years shy of pushing 40.

Sebastian.

You wondered if he had seen your recent movie that had truly been the inception of your career, after only getting small roles, and if he saw recent announcements of roles you’d gotten for future films. It might’ve been vain, but you wanted him to see you. To appreciate you for once because it still hurt you so deeply that you had felt inadequate with him. You’d been at his beck and call for so long that you had finally mustered up whatever leftover pride you had and left his life. The situation had left you fragile, but you’d regained pieces of yourself and built your strength upon self love and your promise to never let another man use you.

Sebastian hadn’t been a bad person to you, he just had issues he needed to solve on his own. His commitment issues weren’t for you to fix. You got to know him as a lover and maybe as a friend too. But the moments you remembered most were those shared in your old apartment, on your bed. He’d been an incredible lover who wasn’t by any means selfish during your many nights together. You were lucky if you got a few hours of sleep with him around. He was insatiable. He always wanted you, was always kissing you and wanting some form of contact with you. You’d joked with him that he was like glue.

“You’re like glue, Seb. Get off me.” You laughed at the muscular, bare-chested man who was toppled on you. His hands were on your bare waist as his blue eyes traced over your face.

“And what about it?” He responded, big hands squeezing the fleshy sides of your hips and managed to give a slap to your naked behind. You shrieked in response, mouth and eyes agape.

“By glue I mean you’re making me all sticky and you won’t stop touching me!”

“You know you like it. Stop complaining.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, not even bothered at your protest.

His lips took hold of the sensitive skin below your ear, tongue lapping over the area he knew drove you crazy. Your soft mewls were the driving force to all his touching. He loved the sound of your breathy moans, your long nails scratching his back and the angelic reaction that would overtake your features. Mouth slightly ajar, gleaming eyes meeting his in silent pleas and the widening of your legs granting him the access he so needed.

“You see...That’s exactly why I’m like glue.” And you had nodded in response.

You found yourself thinking of him. Again. It was unfair that after all the progress you’d made to forget the man who’d always take your breath away, he still managed to do so even in your mind.

And as you took the phone from your nightstand, you did the one thing you didn’t think you’d ever do.

You unblocked Sebastian’s instagram.

(To be continued)

----

This chapter felt like a filler tbh. Next chapter will be the real deal ;))) Bringing my other favorite Avenger 

And do y’all know Romeo Santos? He’s a legendddd!

Let me know what you think :)

[kaneowldust]

Report 23: To Boldly Go Where No Wizard Has Gone Before

Dusting the sand out of my hat, it is time to head trek after the Spider and Melori. The most likely place is to the heart of the Spiral al la Empryea, a piece of the world so hidden and shrouded that not even the Spider and the Raven can touch it. Thus we must brave the storms of the aethyr and sail away in an Ark. Our first steps were to find a Sky Captain (I miss you Pirate101) that could reverse the skyways to Empryea. After a refusal from Captain Colledge, he directs us to the true captain who said out of the Aethyr-James T Pork and Doctor Beans. A bit of a ham but does know his stuff all things considered. Our first trek ends up a bit bumpy as a storm forces the ship to crash on Aeriel. Turns out Aeriel is a common place of shipwrecks for those straying too close to Empryea. This jungle environment is not the most spectacular place. We’ve seen jungles before…granted a lot less wet. But looking around there are a lot of different races scattered about Nowhere Town-humans, Marleybonians, fish people (?). Unfortunately, we are current stranded as the Lux Capacitor is damaged and we need a new Strom Crystal to keep the ship steady. 

That’s where we must deal with the Beastmen and Master Kahn. Once we have convinced Kahn to give back the capacitor, he joins us on our way to Zanadu. Aeriel is not the most difficult place to work through but that could be from all the side quest grinding I’ve been messing about with…except the Beastmen Club. Meanie cheaters….

Using a pod, we have gotten ourselves to Zanadu where Shadow Creatures have taken over the city and the Alphoi live in ignorant bliss inside the Leisure Dome. Rallying these folks to fight by your side will not be easy as most have just given up and let the city be overwhelmed by the Shadows. None of them really believe that Kahn is their king now returned. Hey could be worse, guy, ye could be cursed into a dragon. The Bat has holed himself up in the palace along with Ziggy Stardust and Melori though the full scope of his plans is unknown. The environment has a bit of a retro futuristic aesthetic to it with KI doing what they can to still keep it in the fantasy palettes of the game. 

The Alphoi are…interesting. Not the most varied of creature aside from Ziggy and Knightwing. Word is Knightwing is the Bat’s sidekick. Granted so far, we have not seen the other of Spider’s children really working in compliance with denizens of the Spiral so this is a puzzling one. Also, we shall be fighting the Cabal as they are also trying to snatch up Melori. 

But wait, aren’t the Cabal supposed to be working with the Spider and his children? What strange puzzle is this? Anyhow Killer Krok is our first match where he mentions their leader known as Medulla. There is a LOT of back and forth going in this area. The city feels pretty small with enclosed instance battles to give a sense of a larger space. I’m not even too mad about that. It’s about the same scale as Polaris. The real challenge is ferreting out the Bat himself. But once we have caught up to him, Melori is taken away by a floating brain thing…and the Bat escapes.

Turns out Melori has been taken to be used to break the Paradox chains; the thingies keeping the Heart in place. Great. Now we have to make our way to the fire and ice chunk Athanor to try and get to the chain first. With another crash the ice dwarves blame your ship and the fact you’ve got Shadow Magic at your fingertips. Yeah, you messing with the Shadows has kinda marked you as a bad guy and you have to fight off the attacking citizens before Pork and one of the councilmen can calm things down. 

There is rising tension between the already tense relationship between the fire and ice dwarves and it takes a lot of effort settle things. Athanor isn’t large like Zanadu. Unlike Zanadu this uses a bit of assets mostly the rocky golems from Polaris.

All this tension turns out to be a trap to leave the Temple wide open to attack. The Bat has snuck in with an essence cannon though the full scale of his plan is…confusing? But we might’ve messed things up as apparently the Bat is…on our side…kinda? Well, he doesn’t want Spider getting his heart-why? We don’t know. But brain guy has Melori under his control and she blows up the first Paradox Chain. We are able to stabilize the world but now it’s a race to get Melori out of the clutches of Medulla before that happens. 

The Cabal has set up a headquarters inside a squid and with some bait we get into the gullet. With Bat more of less fighting alongside us, still don’t know his deal, we shut down various defenses before heading into the brain. But Medulla was playing us, forcing us to fight Spark, Pork, and Beans along with Medulla. Fortunately, we had some heavy hitters on the team. But then Bat says that Melori is a liability and tries to kill her. So…. yeah. 

And to make it even worse, Raven is done with the conflicts and decides to wipe out the Spiral. Oops. Sooooooo looks like we’ve might have made things worse…like a lot worse…our bad. So, if this is the end of the Spiral, we’re really gonna take to the sky, my friends.

[the-soupiest-artist]

The Legend of Zelda: Lost and Found

Chapter 1: Searching for the Missing Girl

In celebration of the 2 year anniversary of Song of the Healers, my webcomic, I decided to start a new journey!! Please be warned this trail of stories will have MAJOR SPOILERS for the comic, so if you want to stay pure I’d advise you to stay away....or stay....There are some pretty nice art pieces scatter throughout  this fic. ANYWAYS! Thank you all so much for your love towards my OCs in SOH! I hope you enjoy this new tale!

~ The Healer Palace was in a crisis. The tailors and servants alike were searching the palace high and low for someone of the utmost importance. Most people were searching by themselves but some chose to travel in groups as they covered as much of the palace ground as possible. One of the palace tailors, the head tailor to be precise, met up with one of the other frantic servants. Her jewelry jingled as she halted to a stop. 

“Azalea! Have you found her yet?!?!” The head tailor asked.

The servant shook her head, her eyes plastered with worry, “No Sister Iris!”

Sister Iris, the head tailor let out a groan, “Oh for Akane’s sake! Of all the days to go missing!” 

“Keep searching!” Iris shouted, turning on her heel and running in the opposite direction. 

Azalea continued on her path, running through the crowded inner courtyard of The Healer Palace. The round marble structure shielded the inhabitants of the palace from the hot evening sun. 

Running through the crowd Azalea spotted the familiar uniform of someone who might be of more help. 

Sprinting towards him Azalea called out towards the young soldier. “Link! Link! Thank the gods I’ve found you!” 

The young guard turned around and pushed some of his blonde hair from his eyes. “Azalea? What’s wrong?!”

Azalea halted to stop her words spilling from her as she explained the crisis that she and the palace staff were in, “we can’t find Mara anywhere! We were going to do her final fitting for her outfit! The Choosing is in less than twenty-four hours and if the tailors don’t get her fitted soon they won’t have time to make any alterations!” 

Link sighed and encouraged the frantic servant to sit down and rest a bit. “Are you sure it’s not just Mara being her classic self? She is late for quite a few things.” 

“That’s what we thought! But when Camilla showed up before her we knew something was wrong! Please help us Link! If anyone knows where she is it’s you!” Azalea exclaimed her tired eyes begging the guard for help. 

Link looked out beyond and to the outer courtyard of the palace. The orange glow of dusk teasing the white city. He stood up with a sigh.

“I know where she is.” 

The turquoise blue of the bay clashed with the orange glow of the setting sun. The water started to darken as the light of day fled the land. 

Letting out a sigh Mara stood in front of the divine statue of the goddess, Din. Who watched over the city in line with her sister gods, Nayru, who was in the heart of the city, and Farrore who watched over the ships that docked in the bay. 

It was a beautiful sight, just how small the city looked from here, Mara could see the entire capital. She looked out over the sea, she could see beyond the great thorn wall that protected the fisherman’s ships from the outside world. The sea beyond was still barren. No ships, no people, not even whales graced the waters. It was empty, just as it had been for the last well...however long her people had been in hiding. 

She looked up at the face of the goddess Din. It was hard to spot her eyes because of how tall she was. Still, they looked out onto the city, towards her sisters. Her power unwavering, just like the flame that’s held in her hand once the night falls. 

If she could just climb it. Maybe she would be able to see what lies beyond the great thorn wall towards the land. 

Her train of thought was cut short as a familiar voice broke the peaceful silence Mara was enjoying. 

“Don’t start...you know how it ends…” 

At the sound of Link’s voice, Mara jumped, a bush along with several hosts of white flowers erupted from the earth and landed gracefully in uniform on Mara’s head.

She turned to him with a frown. “LINK! You scared me!” 

He laughed, “I’m aware! But I’m glad I stopped you from doing something stupid….again….” 

“Again? There had never been an ‘again.’ The last time I tried to scale The Golden Goddess Din’s statue was when I was six!” Mara huffed. “And I distinctly remember a plucky little boy chasing after me in that great climb!”

Link gave her a knowing look, “Yet you were the one who broke your arm.” 

“Yeah…” Mara groaned with a defeated sigh, “I still remember Aunt Amarylis’s glare.”

She shivered, “It haunts me to this day.” 

“Speaking of your Aunts.” Link folded his arms across his chest, “You know everyone is in a panic looking for you. Apparently, someone is missing a very important fitting.”

Mara kicked a stray rock, “I know…”

She climbed up on top of the platform of Din’s statue, joining the space where the marble folds of the goddess’ gown dropped over the sides of the great platform. “But then I would miss the sunset.”

“Mara, I know you’ve heard this speech a thousand times already, and I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but The Choosing is tomorrow. This is what your aunts have been preparing for your whole life. A lot is riding on you being the next Leader.” Link climbed up with her, his legs dangling over the edge as dusk kept its hold on the city. “You could be chosen by the Goddesses themselves one day. You’re the hope of our people’s future.”

Mara laid back onto the platform, “Augh….I know I know...I’m not sure I’m ready...I just feel like well….Like I’m meant for more than this…”

Link gave her a puzzling look, “what do you mean by that?” 

Mara sat up and looked out to the sea beyond the wall, “I’ve been feeling this call.” 

“Like a voice?”

“No!...Maybe? I don’t know but it’s like….a yearning in my heart for….more.” Mara sighed. “Like there’s more beyond the confines of the great thorn walls. I can feel it...It’s like something beyond it is….calling for me…” 

Link looked back, towards where the land wall separated the city from the land beyond. “You want to go out?”

She nodded, “I know we’re not supposed to, and no one has ever tried since….ah…”

“My mother.” Link muttered, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. 

“Right….but I just keep feeling it in my blood..like I’m supposed to venture beyond it just….just once in my life...before I’m doomed to…” she gestured towards the city, “a life full of leading and social gatherings.” 

There was a long moment of silence between the two friends before Link got an idea. A wide smile appearing on his face.

“Hey Mara, remember at our Coming of Age Ceremony where I promised to take you on one more adventure before adulthood struck us for real?” Link’s eyes sparkled and Mara frowned.

“I believe you still owe me that trip.” Mara turned to him, her eyes softening. “Link, what are you planning?”

“I’m getting you over the wall.” Link stated standing up. 

“Wait...YOU ARE!?” Mara smiled and Link nodded.

“Should be easy enough, we’ve got the skills!” Link rested his hands on his hips, “and if we die we won’t have to face adulthood anymore.”

Mara laughed, “Let’s hope we don’t.”

“Well, throw a bead into the ocean.” Link laughed, “For luck.”

Mara jumped up and hugged him, “Thank you so much! Thank you, Link!”

Link hugged her back, “Ah it’s nothing for my best friend. However, you still gotta face your Aunt back at the palace.”

Mara pulled away and whistled for her horse Elias. The stallion whinnied in almost an annoyed tone. He was rudely interrupted from his peaceful grazing of mountain grasses and such. 

“Come on Elias we’re going back,” Mara shouted, running to him. The Horse huffed at her as she climbed the stallion’s back and rode off down the mountain trail. 

Mara indeed got a scolding from her Aunt Amaryllis, and the same speech about growing up and her being the next leader

Amaryllis was the second of Mara’s aunts, yet she was the leader of their people. Her icy stare was legendary and everyone feared her...in the best of ways.

Amaryllis’s younger sister, Camellia was the life of the party, she passed down her habit of always being late to things to her dearest niece, she belongs to no person but would rather float from person to person whenever the mood struck her. 

Lilija was the second eldest. She was a powerful Healer who focused much of her time on being a midwife and nursing injured Hylian’s back to health. 

Even though Amaryllis was their named leader, chosen by the Goddesses themselves, the sisters all considered themselves to be a council of rulers in their own rights. They were all still family and they all still loved the people their bloodline had been governing for thousands of years. They hoped Mara would take to heart the guidance and training the Aunts had given her...even in this unfortunate moment when Mara was getting an ear-full from the cold monotone voice of Leader Amaryllis. Mara looked back at Link as she was dragged away to fulfill the last-minute preparations that Mara had been working so hard to avoid. 

Link shook his head and returned to the guard room. The Head Guard, Atlas, smiling at him as he entered.

“Good work on finding Mara.” Atlas chuckled, setting his helmet on his armor stand. “It seems you two always know where to find each other.”

“You’re just now noticing this?” Link laughed, “Damn Atlas you must be getting old.”

Atlas smacked the boy across his back playfully. “This ‘old man’ is still able to beat you in a spar.” 

Link threw his hands up in surrender, “Aw come on Atlas! I was really close to beating you last time.” 

Atlas nodded, “no one likes a sore loser, boy.”

“Don’t you boy me!” Link grumbled, throwing his chest plate at him, with quick reflexes Atlas caught it and laughed. 

Hanging the armor on Link’s marked peg the rivalry dwindled.

“Are you looking forward to The Choosing tomorrow?” Atlas asked, his eyes gentle. 

“Yeah of course.” Link smiled, “I get to see my best friend take on what she’s been training for.” 

“Is Mara nervous at all?” Atlas asked

“Well, it’s Mara. She’s nervous about a lot of things but this….” Link let out a long sigh as he finally managed to free the last part of his uniform from his tired body. “I think she’s just scared of not doing a good job if and when The Goddesses chose her.”

The Head Guard nodded, “all reasonable fears to have. She’ll be a fine Leader.”

“She will be. Once she learns to be on time for things.” Link chuckled and Atlas laughed with him. 

“I’ll stop keeping you.” Atlas waved as he headed towards the exit. “Your father’s probably expecting you, and you need rest. It’s a big day for us Healers.” 

“And for us Hylians.” Link remarked setting his satchel over his head. Atlas nodded in agreement as his dark brown dreadlocks disappeared down the hall. 

The nightlife of the Healer capital filled the streets as the gondoliers were tying up their boats for the night. Some counted their coins and others playing music softly for the people of the town.

Link arrived at his father’s bakery. The windows were closed and dark. The day was done and Learen was probably inside making him a delicious meal. He opened the heavy wooden door and called out to his father.

“Papa! I’m home!”

Learen’s head appeared from the kitchen, his hands scratching his blonde scruff, white from flour and age. “Ah! There he is my brave warrior!” 

Learen welcomes his son into his arms, patting his back each with wide smiles on their faces. 

“So did you save the world from ultimate destruction today?” Learen joked, pulling the lids off of the dinner he had made. 

“If you call saving Mara from the icy scolding of Leader Amaryllis saving the world.” Link sat down at the table. “Then yes, I absolutely saved the world from total annihilation.” 

Learen shivered serving some of the hearty stew to his son. “Gods Leader Amaryllis. That woman even scares me half to death with the mere flash of her eyes.” 

“You got that right Papa.” Link snickered, slicing himself a large portion of bread. 

“The Choosing is tomorrow.” Learen sighed, “the hopeful new leader of our people will be presented to the public.”

Link nodded, “I wish Mama were here to see it.” 

There were a few moments of silence between the father and his son as memories of one loved and lost filled their minds. 

“She’d be so proud of Mara.” Link sighed. 

Learen rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know she would’ve been.” 

The two started to eat and Link entertained his father with stories from the palace. How he chased a stray cat from the kitchens, saved a young girl’s guardian familiar from drowning, and how he got to enjoy the sunset with Mara before returning her home. Shortly after dinner and a lovely little dessert. Laren and Link said their goodnights and went to bed. Both of them sharing the same feelings with the rest of the city. All of the city hardly slept, for the excitement of tomorrow’s gathering was near and the people were so looking forward to meeting their hopefully new leader. 

The following morning was met with the bells from the harbor ringing. Signaling that today was a day of celebration. Everyone filled the streets with much dancing and singing as they waited for the command to meet at the palace. So their chosen leader could be anointed in the eyes of her people. Today was The Choosing and the entire capital expressed their joy. 

Mara exited the chamber, her Auntie Camellia greeting her.

“Why the long face flower?” She asked with kind eyes.

Mara let out a deep sigh before answering her aunt, “I just got done bathing in olive oil and rosemary. I know it’s ceremonial and supposed to feel relaxing...but I just feel like a batch of focaccia bread ready to be thrown into the fiery depths of an oven.

Camellia hugged her niece, “Oh Lily complained about that too...it’s just nerves Mara”

Mara melted into her aunt’s embrace.

“The worst of it is almost over, flower. Then it’s just partying until the sun rises.” Camellia smiles and twirled Mara around. Mara laughing before linking her arm in her aunts as she was led to her room, Camellia shooed the rest of the servants out of her niece’s chambers. Mara looked at her aunt puzzlingly, but before she could speak Camellia answered for her. “This is a special moment for me personally. I designed every part of your garb for this day ever since your mother brought you to us. The design changed over time as you grew older and you changed.”

Helping Mara into the pure white dress, Camellia continued to explain, “I was going to ask Lily if I could help her dress you for The Choosing, but, now knowing that she won’t be here for it….I feel almost guilty.”  Picking up the gold and navy waist scarf, the gold metal coins jingled as Camellia fastened it around Mara’s waist, “she’s so proud of you. You know that I know that.”   Mara nodded and kept her head down, the anxiety of what was to come was getting to her, “ do you think I’ll be ready? If the Goddesses choose me?” 

Her Aunt rose back up onto her feet, cupping her niece’s face gently. “I know you will be. You will be the finest ruler our people have ever seen.” Camellia’s compassion-filled eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief, “you’ll be more kind and compassionate than Amaryllis that is for sure.”  The two softly laughed, lightening the mood of the serious conversation. 

“Now remember,” Camellia smiled as she went back to dressing Mara up for the ceremony. “When you enter the hall, don’t look at the people, stand tall, and pretend you know what you’re doing.” 

Mara scoffed, “you know you’re sounding more like Aunt Amaryllis the more this conversation carries on?” 

Camellia smacked her niece’s backside jokingly, “oi! This ceremony, believe it or not, is the only time ‘Serious Camellia’ is awakened. Once Akane’s Token hangs ‘round your neck, your Auntie will be dancing and drinking with the rest of our people.” She pinched Mara’s nose and shook her head gently the two bursting out into laughter.  

Camellia took her niece’s hand, twirling her around her room, the two of them singing a loud Healer tune. They both sounded like drunken fools, spinning and wobbling around the room as the two grew dizzy. The Aunt and her niece collapsing on Mara’s bed in a heap of laughter.

Once the laughter had died down, Camellia rolled over and kissed Mara’s cheek. 

“Flower you are so loved. I love you so very much Mara.” Mara hugged her aunt, “I love you too Auntie Camellia.” The two sat up and Camellia kissed Mara’s forehead, “you are going to make a wonderful leader. Our people are lucky to have you.” 

Mara smiled bright the two of them hugging tightly, “Come.” Camelia sighed, “it’s time. Remember, pick a spot on the back wall. Don’t look at the people and you won’t feel sick, or like running away.” “Thanks, Auntie Camelia,” Mara muttered

“Of course Flower.” Auntie Camelia sighed giving Mara one last peck on the forehead, for luck. 

~~~~~~~~

This fic couldn’t have happened without the wonderful help and guidance of @ridersoftheapocalypse Truly this story would’ve never happened without the beautiful work you and @s-kinnaly have made! Your universe is a huge inspiration to me and thank you so much for letting me take part in it!! It’s an honor!! Of course none of this would’ve ever happened without @figmentforms their comic, ATOTR was the reason I even started scripting SOH in the first place! And I honor their work by doing my own comic in greyscale as well! And it’s because of that comic I even fell in love with greyscale in the first place!!

All of you are huge inspirations to me! Thank you for your creations, and please keep making them!! They never fail to give me the truest of feels!!

There’s more to come from this story!! And I am excited for ALL of it!!

🌸Next Chapter🌸

[themagicalmysticalboy]

please write a mclennon fic where john and paul are space rangers and they get stranded on an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous planet. lots of blood pls

a/n: @blackberrryjam why did you even go under anon? Lmao

The Beatle-y Invasion of the Neon Garden

When their spaceship had finally leveled out onto the lush plane of grass and trees, John and Paul were in awe. Trees were sprung up everywhere in vivid colors of purple, orange, and neon green. Bushes and shrubs were glistening in a bubblegum pink hue that threatened to permanently mesmerize them. The beautiful sky shined down intense light from a double sun. One sun burned a vibrant orange while the other furled out with blue flames.

“Where are we,” John asked, his breathing labored with creeping anxiety.

“I… I’m not sure. But we should keep our weapons ready, right?” Paul already had his blaster drawn, held close to his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” John picked up his shiny blaster from the ground. Standing straight again left a strange sensation in his legs. He held his blaster at his side and shuffled his feet. “Doesn't gravity feel funny? I feel all light.”

Paul’s brow furrowed and he took a tentative hop. He must have gone up three meters. The layout of the planet was much more clear at that height, looking like an endless expanse of wilderness. Laughing, he jumped again.

“What the hell,” he giggled.

John joined him but stopped after the first go at it, dizzying height too much for him to take.

“Paul, come off it. There could be dangerous stuff here.”

When he landed again, he grabbed hold of John to steady himself. Nodding in agreement, they went off into the foreign land. John stayed glued to Paul’s side, keeping hold of the sleeve of his blue space suit.

The colorful array of the planet was mystifying and, John figured, easy to get lost in. His eyes darted all around, keeping count of the many eyes that started popping up in the bushes. He was too frightened to tell Paul of them. He could only manage to gulp down the lump in his throat and cling tighter to Paul.

As they rounded a tall shrub, a manicing voice sent chills down their spins.

“You can’t be here.” They turned to find a stout alien, its nose large and skin the same neon green as some of the trees. It’s massive hands help two blasters, not unlike John and Paul’s. “Go!”

The alien lifted its blasters as John and Paul turned tail. Running at full speed, they ducked and dodged their way back to the ship. But they weren’t fast enough. High pitched blasts echoed all around.

John was panting and shaking, his heart pounding in his ears. He was making good time, right on Paul’s trail when a sharp pain cut through his side. He fell to the ground with a groan, curling in on himself. Another blast of the ray hit his knee and he called out for Paul. All the while, John was valently returning fire.

With fear in his eyes, Paul ran to him, weaving around stray blasts while shooting back at the alien as well. He threw himself onto the ground as John covered them. There was just enough time for Paul to pull him behind a tree and out of dangers way.

Red bubbles were floating in the air, spotting the boy's vision. Paul’s hands were soaked in blood. John’s blood. It was leaserly flowing from the tears in his suit. He gasped at the site of it and pulled John into his lap.

John hissed from the pain before relaxing into Paul’s embrace. His heartbeat slowed as the sound of Paul’s tripped in his ears.

“My suit… It’s letting the air in…” John said, his voice weak.

Tears rolled down Paul’s cheeks. “You can make it. We can make it back. I can carry you.” Desperate, he rose to his feet and tried to pull John up but gravity suddenly felt ten times heavier. He couldn’t manage it.

“Paul, stop it. I’m not worth the risk.” John’s eyes glinted with tears. “Just go without me.”

“No!” Paul’s form crumbled back to the ground and he pulled John onto his lap again. “I’ll stay with you.”

As more blood poured and puddled around them, Paul slipped off John’s helmet. He sat it to the side before removing his own.

“Paul- !”

There was no way Paul would leave without John. This was the only option. He shushed him and held his face. “It’s okay, my love.”

With red and teary eyes they locked into a kiss. A fog drifted over both their minds. When they parted, Paul laid out at John’s side, pulling him close as consciousness slipped away.

Shrouded in the fog, just barely audible, someone was calling their names. Neither were able to answer.

“John! Paul! Stop messing about. You shouldn’t be running around like this.”

Ringo meandered through George’s garden, peering around every corner for a sign of either man. He let out an exasperated sigh as he rounded a corner. Both men were laid out underneath a tree, cuddled close together with two water bottles nearby. John’s shirt was ripped open at the side, a thorn branch still caught on the fabric. His knee was also scraped and bleeding quite badly.

“George will kill you for touching his rose bushes.”

They didn’t seem to acknowledge his warning. Paul shifted in his sleep, pulling John closer. Ringo only rolled his eyes. They were too sound in their sleep to disturb.

Whatever drugs the two had shared must have been a hell of a strand. It had started as a stupid game of Aliens vs Spacemen but something seemed to click (or more aptly, disconnected) in their muddled brains.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he resolved to never trip-sit for them again. It could be Mal’s new job. Though, he might feel bad shoving off the responsibility to anyone.

Tired from the 30 minute chase, Ringo sat underneath the tree, waiting for them to wake.

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {27}: Glitter on the Floor*

Previous: Anticipating 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: SMUT

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Swearing! Sexy Times!

Summary: The morning after your New Years party is the perfect time to discuss your future. 

          Taehyung wakes slowly, the sun streaming in from a crack in the blinds. His mind is hazy with memories of last night, dancing, glitter, sequins, base rattling the chandelier, Ho-Seok’s dance break, eating pizza in the living room at 2AM and, you. Rolling over, he finds you tucked under the blankets, hair a halo on your pillow, skin illuminated by the beams of light. He’d give anything to wake up like this every day, the city restless outside the confines of his home, glitter seeping into every crack and crevice of the apartment, you beside him.

         You’d agreed to host the New Year’s bash simply based on the look Ho-Seok had given you when it came up. Any chance to wear neon eyeliner and encrust your eyelids with rhinestones was an opportunity you would be foolish not to take. You’d meticulously planned the evening, from the theme to the food, Taehyung offering creative direction and steering the ship with you, taking turns as you cruised. It had been everything you’d ever wanted in a party, all your favorite people, the best food, Jimin and Jungkook setting the music for the night with a brilliant mix of pop, American, European and Korean, mixed with R&B and full of energy. The polaroid cameras they’d been gifted were out and about, extra film in one central location, which inevitably led to photos people forgot or didn’t like scattered on the hardwood. You didn’t care, it was going to go down as the most spectacular New Years party ever had, which finished nicely with an outstanding fireworks display and the love of your life’s lips on yours at midnight. Though, Taehyung didn’t know he was the love of your life, and in your haste to celebrate a new year with your friends, you hadn’t taken the time to tell him like you had planned. Instead, you bit back your words, kissed him wildly, and retreated to the dance floor.

         As you roll over, eyes opening to the morning light, your chocolate eyes land on his, already awake, already staring.

         “Morning,” He says, hand reaching out to cup your cheek, thumb moving gently against your bottom lip.

         “Morning,” You reply, eyes still covered in sleep, body too tired to react to his gentle touch.

         “Did you sleep good?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

         “Mm, am I not still asleep?” You wonder, eyes blinking rapidly.

         “Depends what your dreams were about,” Taehyung says, arm reaching for your hips, pulling your body closer to his.

         “I don’t remember,” You say, “I was reliving flashes of last night.”

         “Which parts?” He inquires, breath hot on your face as he places kisses on your forehead, lips dragging to your cheeks, across to your nose.

         “The best parts,” You say, eyes fluttering closed to encourage your senses to focus on his touch.

         “Which were?” His lips whisper against your ear, teeth tugging your bare earlobe gently. It wasn’t often that your ears weren’t adorned, and he relished the ability to take your sensitive flesh between his teeth.

         “You,” You whisper, hips already becoming unruly under his touch. “Tae,” You moan gently, hands moving up his chest, tweaking his nipples between your fingers.

         “Y/N,” He moans against your neck, lips pressing gently on your flesh, teeth ready and willing to nip at the exposed skin.

         Your hands snake around his neck, fingers tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, gently pulling his head up.

         “Tae, look at me,” You whine. Taehyung pulls up, tongue absentmindedly jutting between his lips.

         “What is it?” He asks, eyes searching yours.

         “I wanted to tell you something last night but I didn’t get the chance,” You scoot your body so it’s flush against his, his bare chest radiating heat through your modal pajama shirt.

         “What is it aein?” He whispers, eyes struggling to stay focused on yours when your lips are pouting so perfectly.

         “I love you,” You say.

         “I love you too,” He responds, still confused why this statement is requiring so much levity.

         “I wanted to tell you that, I think, no, I know that you, Kim Taehyung, are the love of my life and I just, I felt like I wanted,” You blink quickly, hoping the tears forming wouldn’t fall, “I needed to tell you.” Your words become weightless as they leave your lips, floating between you before Taehyung breathes them in.

         “I’m the love of your life?” He asks, eyes both wide in shock and knitted in confusion.

         “Yes, and I know that I might not be yours,” Your words are becoming more rushed as you try to fill the silence.

         “Aein,” He says, eyebrows relaxing. “You’re the love of my life, too.”

         It’s then that your tears begin to fall, delicate beings just waiting to rain down your cheeks. Taehyung is crying too, this profession of love, of dedication, far greater than any you’d ever shared before.

         Taehyung is quick to place his lips on yours, but you’re quicker, pushing his shoulders back, straddling his hips only to grind yours against him, lips surging with his. His large hands, warm and tender, slide gently from the top of your knees up your thighs, resting softly against your hips, thumbs dipping below the band of your underwear.

         You stay on top of him, both sets of hips rocking into each others until the tension is too great, you’re too turned on and his arousal, aggressively pressing into you is driving you both insane. The lewd sounds escaping both of your lips can’t be masked as his hands move under your pajama top, cupping your breasts, gently kneading them. Your focus on his lips is breaking as you start to circle your hips against him, causing Taehyung to arch his back, head turning to the side to moan your name into the open air.

         “Jagiya, I need you to st-stop,”

         “Why?” You ask, voice muffled by your teeth against the column of his throat.

         “I’m too close, I want to last,” His words are strained as you continue to bruise his flesh, pulling away to pull your top overhead, too hot and sticky to keep the garment on.

         “Y/N, damn it,” Taehyung mutters before he’s flipping you over and swiftly pulling the remainder of his clothing off. Your eyes are wide at the sight of him, fully nude and wanting, the tip of his cock red and ready to burst his load. He stares at you, breasts heavy, begging him to sink his teeth around your nipples. “I can’t believe I get to spend my life with you.”

         “Yeah?” Is all your able to get out before he’s greedily climbing over you, your legs spreading wide to accommodate him. The look in your eyes tells him where you want him, and his lips and fingers are greedy in their devouring of your cunt. He’s generous and forgiving, skillful and still learning, never tiring of trying new techniques or sticking with his tried-and-true methods of getting you to your edge and then some.

         No matter how many times you’re intimate, regardless of the minutes or hours he’s accumulated between your legs, his curiosity and blatant skill always surprises you. He knows your body, by your breath, by the knit on your brow, by the way your thighs quiver, he knows you.

         Which is why when he stops his movements, tongue retreating to his mouth, fingers pulling out of you abruptly, you’re confused and wanting.

         “Tae,” You question.

         He doesn’t say anything as he grabs a pillow from the floor, hand tapping your hips, which you raise so that he can place it underneath you. He repositions himself between your open legs and pushes himself in, bottoming out within seconds. Your surprise at his change in demeanor, from doting lover to dominant tempter, is overwhelming and so fucking sexy. His movements are all over the place, languid and sensual, then quick and charging. The change in pressure is disorienting as your body gives into the unsteady rhythm, your ability to control any aspect of yourself completely gone.

         All that exists is your moans, loud and frequent, only being swallowed when Taehyung places his lips over yours, messily meeting you where you’re at, tongue and teeth engaging as he feels you tighten around him. He moves one of his hands, which has been propping him up, to find your throbbing clit. It doesn’t take him more than a few quick circles to send you absolutely over the edge, the edging of the morning racking through you. Taehyung comes undone within you; his inhibitions gone as he empties himself fully.

         He rests his chest against yours, head in the crook of your neck, as both of you gasp for air. As his heartbeat slows, he rolls over, grateful for the extra space to breathe.

        “Water?” He asks. You nod before standing and slipping your pajama top back on, feet guiding you to the bathroom, then to the kitchen where you fill two glasses. As you pad back to the bedroom, glitter and dried candle wax sticking to your feet, you pick up a stray polaroid, a photo a drunken Jungkook had taken of you and Tae, kissing at midnight.

        “We should frame this,” You say, handing Tae the photo and glass of water.

        “When you move in,” Taehyung says, his thoughts from waking returning to him.

        “Absolutely,” You respond. “You and me,” you add placing a kiss on his lips.  

        “Forevermore,” Taehyung smiles.

Next: Too Early in the Game

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Please Come Home For Christmas

Summary:  Carrie giggled, waving her hands to get the girl to stop. The fear of her Mama waking up to a teenage girl serenading her outside was a nightmare she’d like to avoid. She could see Sue’s nose wrinkling from the bitter chill and ached to pull her inside just so the warm air could hug her in a way Carrie herself just couldn’t manage yet.

Fandom: Carrie 

Ships: Carrie White/Sue Snell

Word Count: 3,012

Not a sound beat it’s living heart in the White household on a Saturday night. 

There would be nothing to ease Carrie into sleep until dawn broke and the only ambiance then would be her Mother’s small footsteps atop the lonesome hardwood. But as times turned to Winter and soft flakes of snow hurtled to the ground, Carrie White orchestrated her own performance.

Kneeling in-front of her mirror, she dug a thin brush a bit too harshly into a tube of mascara she’d yet to wear once without crying it off before even leaving her bedroom. Her mother wanted for her to be celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ but the young daughter was just realizing she’d been born with the will to celebrate herself. 

So she sat, blinking her eyes at the glass while allowing herself to admire the reflection. Her head bounced...words coming and going with the same speed as distant hail. ‘Spastic’ and ‘weirdo’. She frowned, clawing at the velvety pink fabric of her shirt. ‘Scary White’.

Carrie flung the tube of makeup against the wall...it thumped but gave her no satisfaction. Her eyes followed it as it rolled back towards he folded legs and rattled there against the skin for a few seconds. Mama remained still in her sleep downstairs. Thank goodness. 

Pebbles hitting the window like a headache to her right temple awakened Carrie from her thoughts. She crawled across the floor and gently threw open the window with something like a smile playing at the corners of her lips. 

A stray pebble came through the corner as she popped up...getting her first peek at the lovely Sue Snell who was bouncing (partly from the cold) to get her eyes on her. But young Carrie’s attention was got from her first tease of Sue’s sweet voice...singing...

“Carrie, Carrie, baby

Carrie baby

Carrie, can you come out tonight?”

Carrie giggled, waving her hands to get the girl to stop. The fear of her Mama waking up to a teenage girl serenading her outside was a nightmare she’d like to avoid. She could see Sue’s nose wrinkling from the bitter chill and ached to pull her inside just so the warm air could hug her in a way Carrie herself just couldn’t manage yet. 

“You stop that!” She tried to hold back her chuckles. “I’ll be down in a minute. That is if you’re singing didn’t wake Mama.” She scoffed as if she were really upset but Sue didn’t buy that and Carrie could tell. 

“Hurry down, fair Carrie!” Sue continued her restless hopping, hands now stuffed into the pockets of her coat. “I want to see the Christmas lights!” Her curly hair bounced high with her. 

The rough plan was to take a stroll around the neighborhood, maybe observe the shiny decorations, and head to the Drive-In for Root-beer floats or something. No big deal but Carrie had been thinking about it non-stop for the days since Sue asked when she’d come home from her college’s Christmas break. That was just something she couldn’t help, being that she was a textbook overthinker. 

But judging the way Sue had arrived exactly on time (not even off by a minute) and seemed awfully fidgety, the girl was probably no better. She stood at the end of the walk-way, snowflakes flying down atop her like a living angel...she was bathed in a white shine. Carrie had no way of knowing that Sue was thinking the very same thing about her...

“Tommy asked me to give you his Christmas gift.” She slipped a shinning slim box from her purse of wonders and waved it out for Carrie. “He’s tragically spending his Holiday studying. You miss him, though. I know, sooo...”

She sped over with a bashful smile and accepted the pure looking gift. For a horrid moment, Carrie pictured a tampon sitting there atop the blue fuzzy bed which was of course, a cruel joke from her own mind because what did lay there was a delicate silver chained bracelet. 

“He got me a matching one.” Sue giggled, wiggling her wrist. “Tommy’s a sweet boy, huh? He thought we can fill them up with charms-”

“Like real friendship bracelets?” Carrie abruptly looked up with watery eyes full of an earnest emotion that was hard to place. 

“Yeah!” She gently took Carrie’s wrist, skin-to-skin, and lined up their arms to show off the whole matching gimmick. There was just 1 charm on each of their chains. A glittering star on Carrie’s & a shining heart for Sue. Carrie turned her wrist slowly to watch the charms soak in the night’s light. “He fell for us both, I think.” 

Carrie snapped her head up at that. “Oh, Sue--I don’t think that’s true-”

Sue shook her head with a smile. “My goodness, Carrie White.” Her giggle filled the space between them. “See that it’s true-” She flicked the other girls star charm and then her own. “Poor thing just never had a shot with either of us.” She hummed, almost sad. “I never could love Tommy the way he deserved. The life I would have had with him wasn’t what I wanted. You know that, I guess.” 

Carrie pursed her lips. Yes, she remembered lovely Sue pouring her heart and soul into the cupped palms of one Carrie White. After the prom, Sue hiccupped everything out like thick blood from her throat.

It was criminally endearing. The way Sue had clawed at the tears on her cheeks, explaining that it was just fine for Carrie to date Tommy. In fact, she had subconsciously wished it would happen that way, Sue did. But Carrie didn’t fall for Tommy quite as hard as she did for Sue that night. 

“I love you, Sue.” Was all she could think to say. 

“And I love you, Carrie.” Her nose wiggled again. “I’m working on loving you the way you deserve.” She shrugged, taking her wrist away and starting on the holiday walk. Her boots thudded against the concrete. 

Carrie nearly rolled her eyes, which would have struck Sue as cute. “You love me like you love me.” She hesitantly took the girl’s cold hand in hers...feeling overwhelmingly warm inside. “It’s just the perfect way to live, Sue. To be loved by you.”

Sue slowed down a bit, a pace where the houses behind her stopped being blurry, and blushed. “You always know just what to say Carrie White.” She paused just to admire the girl. “How do you do it?”

Carrie felt her own blush creep up her neck as she shrugged. “I just say what I mean.” She fumbled on her words, feeling like a little mess but was rewarded with a quick kiss on the cheek. It felt criminally undeserved but she still enjoyed the peck of Sue’s pink lips. Part of her felt so eternally grateful for the girl that she had to hold back tears.

They strolled past lawns of beautiful Christmas decorations, Carrie felt the distant eyes of blow mold Santa’s. A tall brown house eclipsing the moon from her vision had the whole baby in the manger set-up. The baby Jesus seemed to sit up in the wooden basket and she imagined it’s glare directed at her. But when Carrie looked up, the plastic baby was asleep just like any decoration.

She sighed. Not realizing she’d stopped until Sue curled up next to her and gently grabbed her arm. She reached out to brush a few blonde baby hairs from Carrie’s temple, a simple gesture but so filled with love. “Save yourself from wasting your young-adulthood, Carrie...” She whispered against the girls skin. “Think about coming home with me.” 

The falling snowflakes around only them grew fatter and a tiny bit slanted as Carrie snapped her head over to gaze at the girl. Both knew the magical element which lay at it’s cause but neither said anything of it. In fact, Sue opened her mouth to stick out her tongue and taste the fluffy ice. 

It ignited a small fire in Carrie’s chest. “My mom-”

Sue deflated slightly, it was hard not to notice. “She doesn’t deserve you Carrie.” 

The blonde pulled her eyes away from Sue and landed them back on the front of the brown-brick home. Their left window glowed green, the right was a glittery crimson. “I deserve her...” She mumbled, mostly to herself. “I can’t Sue. I’m sorry-”

Sue blinked, letting go of Carrie’s arm to wiped her sleeve under her left eye, attempting to look away but Carrie caught the bit of water leaking out. Her chest thumped with pain. Never in her life did she want to make Sue Snell cry. It stung her with a horrible burning sensation all over her body. “Sue?”

She sniffled. “It’s fine. I’m being a baby, huh?” Her giggle then sounded strained. “I just want you to be happy, ok? I would only try to step in like this if I really thought you needed it.” She looked off again.

Carrie felt a flicker of resentment towards the girl, flashes of the prom night played like an old movie in her head. Flashes of hard reds mixed with the hues of Easter colored dresses. “I don’t need you to step in, Sue.” Her voice twitched in it’s tone, a sign of growing anger that while recognized...couldn’t be helped. “Getting your boyfriend to take me to prom just because you felt sorry for me doesn’t earn you that right.”

Sue didn’t flinch but almost. Instead, the girl just shifted her weight to her right leg to disguise her step back. She wasn’t scared. Just a little disappointed in herself for jerking Carrie around. She turned her attention to the lawn of Blow Molds again, making eye contact with one of the old Santas. Tethered reindeer raising his packed sleigh. He smiled, a grin thick with teeth which were blotted in the red color bleeding in from the poorly painted lips. 

A shiver went down her spine. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok, Sue.” Carrie blew a flying piece of hair away from her eyes and sighed. “I shouldn’t have-”

Sue pursed her lips and shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I do have a history of making you do things you don’t want to do.” 

Carrie smiled gently. “I had a lovely time with Tommy. Prom...” Her eyes glittered a brief reflection of the Christmas lights across the street. “Turned out pretty okay.” She pinched Sue’s arm softly as if to strengthen the point. 

“My boyfriend fell in love with you.” Sue burst into delightful giggles. Carrie couldn’t help but join her. 

“And I fell in love with his Girlfriend.” She added, tilting her chin so as to hide  behind her long blonde hair. But that didn’t block the feeling of Sue’s joy from radiating around her. Thankfully. 

Moonlight bathed the houses in a mystic pale light, leaving Carrie feeling mute and cold in the winter snow. There was a sense of deadened glee there, after the laughs passed, which they might’ve been able to keep had Sue not invited such tension into air between them. Both girls thought, different in each introspective mind, about how to pass go and collect their 200 dollars. 

Carrie sniffled, red nose flaring, and found it in her to smile. “What do you want for Christmas?” 

Sue chuckled, shoving her cold hands back into the long pockets of her coat as they strolled on. They passed more and more glittering houses that screamed of warm cookies and casual family bickering. To Carrie, it looked very beautiful and very neighborly. 

“A Christmas card, from you.” She chose her words carefully, that much was very clear to her quiet friend. “With words straight from the heart, Missy.” She poked at her. 

Carrie shook her head with a tight grin. “To you and all your family, your neighbors and your friends, May all your days be happy with a joy that never ends-” She sang so softly that no one would ever hear but Sue Snell. 

“Oh, stop that.” Sue thumped her arm gently and burst into sweet giggles. “David Cassidy’s words are not what I want from you.” 

“And what do you want?”

Sue rolled her eyes and bent her knees to pick-up a fallen Candy Cane from the next house’s lawn. Her shoes scoffed against the hard flakes of ice but she had no trouble keeping balance. “I believe I said that already.” She flicked her tongue. 

Carrie shrugged, knowing that she’d agonize over what to write for as long as possible. 

Sue stuck the decoration harder into the grass, stepped back and admired her work with a faint mumbling of lyrics pouring from her mouth. Carrie was positive she didn’t even know she was doing it. “Hello world! I'm your wild girl. I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”

"Who sings that?” 

Sue blinked a few times before realizing what she’d done. “Oh, the Runaways...” Her smiled refreshed, much brighter, as she waited for Carrie to catch up to her side again. “If you came to live with me, I could show you all my records.” 

Carrie knew now that the battle to shove that conversation down was not going to favor her. “I have missed out on a lot.” 

Sue smirked. “Are you humoring me? Finally.” She sighed happily, dramatically too, and grabbed for Carrie’s hand again. She opened her mouth, ready to list more wonderful things but stopped suddenly. Her hand weakened almost instantly.

She looked up and frowned. “I’m really lonely up there, Carrie.” There was an earnest look of despair that chilled her friend to the bone. “I’m not used to that, I guess. Being one half of a high school sweetheart couple for that long...well, it makes you really dependent.” 

Carrie squeezed her dead palm softly. “Maybe that’s good for you, Sue...” 

The young girl sighed, no dramatics that time, and nodded a few times. “Maybe.”

The epitome of sad...that was Sue Snell.

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bells will be ringing this sad sad New Years Oh what a Christmas to have the blues My baby's gone I have no friends To wish me greetings once again...”  

The Drive-in, affectionately known as Bluebell’s, was covered in the perfect sprinkling of dusty snow. Making it a picture perfect enough for a postcard (that is if anyone gave a shit about Chamberlain, Maine). 

Sue Snell pulled her straw in-and-out of her root-beer float and watched Carrie White scoop the frothy ice-cream onto her spoon with eager eyes. It was endearingly sweet. “I think we can be independent together.” 

Carrie swallowed, spoon clinking against her glass. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose, Sue?” 

She shook her head and took a long sip of the sweet treat. “No.” Her face was neither in a happy or sad expression. “I don’t need to be independent from you, Carrie. Just...from the life I almost had. One where I end up being a housewife.” A huge hunk of ice-cream fell down her chin, which she wiped at instantly. “And you need independence from...” 

“My mother.” Carrie frowned, putting her chin in her hand. 

“I don’t think independence has to come at the expense of companionship...” Sue shook her head again. The girls went quiet again, just enjoying their--poorly decided--icy cold drink in the middle of a chilling winter night. 

“It’s a nice thought.” Carrie mumbled, licking off any ice cream from her lips in a rush as Sue blinked up at her. “But someone needs to take care of-”

“She’s an adult, Carrie.” Sue gently set her glass down on the table, fluorescent lights blinking above her in a off-putting green hue. “Your Mother can take care of herself. You need to start taking care of yourself.” She finished her point by taking another long slurp of her float. Carrie thought she was hoping to hide her nerves.

A feeling of anxiety pounded from Carrie’s chest and sunk down to her gut as she let those words rush over her. Sue didn’t pressure for any sort of response and instead smiled softly, enjoying the Holiday music. “If I was starting to consider the idea of potentially going away, what might you say to me?” Carrie twirled her straw but didn’t look up. 

The girl brightened considerably but remained calm. “I’d say...” She paused momentarily.

“But this is Christmas yes Christmas my dear The time of year to be with the ones you love So won't you tell me you'll never more roam Christmas and new Years will find you home...”  

“Don’t do it for me, y’know? Just because I’ve been...annoying you about it all night.” Sue frowned, looking madly depressed with herself. “Do it for you. Go anywhere. Just don’t stay here...with her.” 

Carrie found them very low in company, the only other customer around was hidden inside their car. She planned to reach over to cradle the girls freezing hand but found that to be even too much for her fear. So she settled for bumping their legs together from under the table, jean-covered ankles finding each other’s warmth. 

Carrie thought briefly about the baby Jesus outside that tall brown home they’d passed on the way. Laying as still as any decoration had to be in it’s wooden basket. 

She reached out for that hand. Sue instantly squeezed back but stayed quiet, possibly letting Carrie now take the lead because she felt badly. Snow continued to fall but they stayed safe under the tiny roof of the drive-in, remaining a delighted audience to the winter wonderland scene. 

There would come a time and a place during Sue’s College Break stay to discuss further but for now, the girls just relaxed. For Carrie had finally been gifted the ability to take it easy, as long as Sue kept tracing circles onto her skin. 

She’d come out tonight without permission from Mama & that was enough to make her smile. If she could make it as far as the drive-in...well, there was a big chance she’d see herself farther. 

[hellowkatey]

tribulations: book II

As it turns out, it is impossible to deliberately forget something. The very act of trying not to think about a certain moment seems to do the opposite. Obi-Wan truly thought he could push it into the depths of his mind, but the Force was not going to grant him this one reprieve. Though he so desperately wanted the details of his fall to be nothing more than a dream that fades with time, that proved to not be the case. With every day he walked along Maul's side, he remembered the distinctive feeling of falling even more clearly.

Or, "falling".

It doesn't actually feel like falling. Not in the literal sense. A part of Obi-Wan expected that physical sensation of plummeting through the open air. How he felt when he jumped down the cooling shaft on Naboo. Another part of him assumed the term "falling" was just some dramatic metaphor the masters dreamed up to scare the younglings.

In a way, both are correct. What he found, is the Force is not a tall cliffside overlooking a dark ravine. Nor is it the stark distinction between sunlit heavens and a fiery hell. No, it's more like a placid pool. Refreshing clear waters on a warm summer's day.

As a Jedi, he floated on his back, arms outstretched and open as the suns shone down upon him. Warm and relaxing, though, it took practice to float for long periods of time. But the light is not just atop the surface. It shines down through the clear water, a cool basin to dive into. Obi-Wan loved the feeling of being surrounded by the Force. The world around him dampened by the viscosity and blurred into an ever-changing kaleidoscope of color and light.

Peaceful.

Comforting.

The warmth did not reach him as easily when he dove, but the light guided his way. There was never a question of which way was up or down. And there were always watchful eyes treading along with him, ready to guide him up if he strayed.

But when Obi-Wan collapsed on the floor of his Temple quarters, there was nobody to take his hand and show him the way to the surface. Because nobody realized how far he'd dived. He was swimming alone. When he looked up, the light was a pinprick above him. Obi-Wan had never been this deep before. He didn't realize how quickly the boundaries between his familiar waters and the murky space below faded into one another.

It should not have been that easy to go so deep.

Though he knows he is strong enough to return to the surface, his strength is not the problem.

The light betrayed him. He did not turn his back against the light, the light turned on him. It had ceased to become a warm companion and instead was a blistering tyrant. Every time he tried to paddle back up he could feel the rays burning his skin. Blinding his eyes. He frantically searched for cooler waters, but the only way to escape was to go down. Further. Down where the light didn't reach and the waters weren't threatening to boil. Down into the darkness, terrain uncharted.

He just wanted relief. He wanted it to be quiet and cool and he wanted to rest. But the difference between the darkness and the light is that when you fall so deep, there is relief, but no rest. The basin just grows darker and deeper. No surface to float upon or fresh air to inhale. Only the heavy pressure on his skin. Obi-Wan cannot tell what direction he's going. He doesn't know what lies in the pitch-black blur around him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi did not fall to the dark side. He waded into it slowly. He did not realize that he had gone too far, but the Force did. The riptide of the dark swept him up in its current suddenly, and without the chance of being saved. When it finally deposited him into the inky depths of the Force, Obi-Wan gazed in the direction he believed to be up. He wondered if the light would ever cool and the surface would allow him to float upon it once again. He longed for it, deep in his soul. But every time his mind desired to search for the light again, the Force disoriented him.

The Unifying Force was always stronger for him, which meant visions were rare, but not impossible. Obi-Wan had experienced a few in his life. Mostly as a child and during sleep. But down here, the Force assaulted him with a different type of vision than he had ever experienced. These were not just brief sensory experiences but full-body immersions. Some memories and some realities he has not experienced yet.

Every time he tried to search for the light he found himself staring with teary eyes at Qui-Gon's ship as it descended into the sky. Alone. Abandoned. Wondering if he'll ever return. Wondering if he'll survive long enough to see him return.

Every time he tried to reach out for help through the Force his screams were stifled by the deafening sound of agony in rapid succession. Death, war, despair, he choked on the overwhelming sensation of what had to be decades of darkness in a matter of seconds. His entire body ached, tearing itself apart from the inside.

He's three, staring over the shoulder of a Jedi master he cannot remember the name of. A young couple stares back, the human woman with curly auburn hair and freckles covering her face and arms. The man with sharper features and a burly beard is holding her close, bright blue eyes filled with tears he does not intend to spill. They turn as Obi-Wan starts to scream and reach out to them. They do not look back.

He's in his thirties, the bottom half of his face itchy and raw from the sweat that has dripped and dried over and over again. His back feels like it's on fire, warm and wet with a thick substance he knows cannot be perspiration or water. A whip snaps and he curls in on himself.

He's twelve, hiding his hands in his robes so Master Jinn does not see that they're shaking. He offers to sabotage the slave collar around his neck to save the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon's look of horror is more preformative than it is genuine. The Master makes the unspoken decree for both of them to never bring this up again. Obi-Wan never forgets the feeling of his fingers shaking as he gripped the wires that would set off the explosive.

He's old. Maybe seventy or maybe fifty. It feels like he's lived for centuries. He's worn through the soles of his boots again, and the walk across the brutal desert causes blisters to sprout on his feet. He ignores the pain of his bubbling skin. It's nothing compared to what caused the scars that cover his body. And feeling pain means he's feeling something, and something is better than the numbness he's grown used to.

He's fourteen. He stares down at the lifeless body of a boy that used to sleep in the bunk above him. The boy's eyes are open but the life that used to fill them is leaking out onto the stones of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It used to be his favorite room. After the accident, he couldn't enter that room without seeing those eyes.

He's twenty-five. Qui-Gon places his hands atop the shoulders of a boy he won in a bet. The council has to remind him he already has a padawan. He can feel his master's surprise and annoyance that Obi-Wan is his biggest obstacle in getting what he wants. When he supports his master's plan anyway, the words feel sour on his tongue.

He's still twenty-five. The crimson lightsaber protrudes from the center of Qui-Gon's back. Obi-Wan feels every moment of his Master's death because his shields have been shattered and he is not strong enough to sever their bond before it bleeds out on its own.

He's still twenty-five. It all happened so quickly, didn't it? He's staring at his braid as it burns into ash atop Master Jinn's funeral pyre. The boy Qui-Gon won is staring at him. The light is burning his skin so he dives beneath the surface to escape it.

He stops fighting. He stops searching for the light and the Force rewards him with relief. Not rest, just relief. No more horrors playing through his head. No more reminders of the worst moments of his life and a preview of the pain that's to come. Obi-Wan looks in the direction he believes to be up, but he does not think about trying to find the light. The pain is too much. It will undoubtedly kill him before he reaches the surface.

He submits, and the darkness draws him into a bone-crushing embrace.

Cold.

Suffocating.

Sometimes with memories, tiny details rear their subtle heads much later down the line. Obi-Wan was wrong when he said nobody was there to save him. Anakin Skywalker reached his hand into the water, but Obi-Wan pretended not to see it. He dove deeper.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

chapter II.I will be posted by this Friday

[pilot-boi]

New Residents: Chapter 1

Okay fine, maybe running off on a space adventure with no money and jobs wasn’t the best idea in the world. They needed more help, the kind that could actually help out.

Now all Ren had to do to achieve that was corral his friend. A friend who had the best intentions in the galaxy, but the attention span of a golden retriever.

They could barely support themselves enough to keep fuel in the ship and food on the table. And it didn’t help anything that Jaune kept trying to bring home strays.

Man’s Best Friend

Traveling the galaxy unsupervised was all well and good. Unless you got distracted by everything that moved.

AO3 LINK

“We are just here to get food, and that is it,” Ren told Jaune. “No distractions this time. We don’t have enough money for that.”

“I didn’t get that distracted,” Jaune argued.

Ren gave him a stern look.

“I said I was sorry! They were very persistent.”

“Sorry doesn’t buy fuel, Jaune. Or food. We don’t have that much money left, and we need to get supplies.”

“I’ll be careful this time. I promise.”

“Good,” Ren grabbed their packs, leaving their ship. “Let’s go.”

The planet that they were on was mostly markets. Ships came and went, buying and selling goods constantly. There were some shops that stayed, but most were only around for a day or two at a time. It was a merchants dream. 

Buyers from all around the galaxy, a vibrant array of items to sell and buy, and a reputation that could improve a merchant’s sales immensely. Fortunately, despite the ever-changing layout of shops, it was always easy to find whatever was needed, and sometimes, what wasn’t.

Jaune and Ren made their way into the depths of the crowds. Merchants shouted their various wares from stalls lining the streets. A few kids pushed through the legs of the adults, chasing after a ball. Scents from food stalls wafted over the crowds.

Jaune’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten all day, and he swore he could smell dinosaur chicken nuggets standing out among the other scents. He looked up at Ren, who was scanning the stalls around them for one selling fuel.

“I’m hungry,” he whined, putting on his best sad face.

“We’re buying food.”

“No, I’m hungry right now.”

“We’ll have food we can make on the ship.”

“You sound like my mother,” Jaune grumbled, folding his arms and pouting.

“At least one of us does,” Ren countered. “We can’t afford to buy from the stalls here. They’re all going to be overpriced, and you know it.”

They passed by a stall selling juicy racks of meat with roasted vegetables. Jaune’s stomach rumbled loud enough to hear over the crowds.

“Please,” Jaune begged. “I’m gonna starve, Ren.”

“You’ll live,” he handed a list to Jaune. “Now go see if you can find a stall that sells this fuel. I’ll handle food, since I don’t trust you to not spend all our money on vendor food.”

Jaune huffed and snatched the list out of Ren’s hand. “Aren’t you going to give me any money to buy said fuel with?”

“No, because I don’t trust you.”

Jaune rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, stalking out into the crowd. It was impossible to walk without bumping into someone. The crowds were tightly packed, and it seemed that every tall species had decided that today was the day to shop. Jaune couldn’t see a damn thing.

He pushed past a pair of bickering Velms, not bothering to apologize, and emerged in front of a food stall selling fresh fruits. One of the people who had just bought some of the fruit took a bite, the juice dribbling down their chin.

“Shut up,” he muttered to his growling stomach. Jaune had to strongly resist the urge to just pick one fruit from the basket of an unsuspecting customer. He couldn’t get in trouble here, especially not when he was separated from Ren.

Ren wouldn’t know. It would be fine. Right?

No, it would be wrong to steal. Jaune didn’t want to steal.

Suddenly, the customer he had been eying pushed past him, jostling the basket hooked on their arm. A single pear-shaped fruit bounced out, and Jaune caught it deftly in his hand. The alien appeared to be completely unaware of their loss, and disappeared into the crowd. 

Jaune looked around, checking to see if anyone noticed him holding the sort-of-not-really-stolen-fruit. He then took a bite of the delicious fruit and kept walking, a grin plastered on his face.

Ha! Take that Ren. He’d gotten food without spending money or stealing.

He was just about to take the last bite of the fruit when he noticed something staring at him from one of the alleyways. Curious, Jaune took a few steps towards it, keeping his body low.  

The creature backed up into the alleyway, keeping their distance. They were afraid of him.

“It’s okay,” Jaune said softly. “Here.” He held the rest of his fruit out in front of him.

It slowly moved forwards, stepping cautiously out of the shadows. It looked like a dog, but made of a green, goopy substance. The goo was dirty, like they hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.

Jaune smiled at the creature, and it cautiously moved towards him, taking the fruit out of his hand and leaving behind some green slobber.

“Aren’t you just the cutest?” He moved to sit down. The goopy dog scuttled backwards and Jaune froze. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. See?” He held up his hands, slowly lowering himself down. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m nice. Nice Jaune.”

The creature hesitated, and then approached again. It licked one of Jaune’s hands with its gooey tongue, licking off the remaining juice from the fruit. It felt almost soft, and was hardly stickier than the fruit had been.

“See? Nice,” Jaune smiled at the dog. Slowly, he lifted his other hand and began to pick off bits of litter that had gotten stuck in the poor animal. He moved slowly, making sure that the dog knew he was trying to help. Sudden movements still seemed to scare her.

Suddenly, Jaune’s communicator began to blink and beep softly. The dog seemed intrigued by the flashing blue light. She moved closer, almost touching Jaune. He stayed as still as he could, letting the dog stare at the dancing lights. 

Slowly, Jaune moved his other hand to press the answer button. Ren’s voice came through suddenly, slightly muffled by the crowd apparently around him.

“Jaune, where are you? Have you found fuel yet?” Ren sounded worried, as usual.

“No, not yet,” Jaune replied standing up slowly. “I got sidetracked.” He could hear Ren’s frustration from across the communicator.

“By what, Jaune?”

“I found a dog? I think. It looks like a dog, anyways. Like if a dog were made of green goop. She’s really friendly.”

“We’re not getting a dog, Jaune,” Ren said sternly. “We can hardly afford to feed ourselves.”

Jaune sighed. He looked down at the dog, searching for a collar. There was none. “Can I at least try to find the owners? I can’t just leave her here.”

Ren sighed, “Fine. Where are you?”

---

They had been going around to stalls for what felt like ages. The twin suns were beginning to set, and floating lanterns began to light up. They had everything they needed to leave, but Jaune was dead set on finding the owner, or owners, of the dog, which he had named Petey, much to Ren’s chagrin.

Jaune refused to be embarrassed when Ren brought up that he’d named an actual living creature after his favourite cereal. And also shut up Ren, Petey could be a girl’s name, shut up.

“Why are you so determined to find this thing’s owner?” Ren asked as they walked away from a fish-selling stand. “It’s not really your business.”

Jaune looked over at him. “It’s… it’s just a thing my dad taught me.”

Ren faltered. Jaune didn’t talk much about his dad anymore. His dad had died when they were in high school… it had taken a lot out of him.

“One time my dad took me to one of the few lakes on Ventos Beta,” Jaune began, “His home planet was almost entirely water, so he always liked it near the lake. We were walking along the shore, and there was this Balces dying on the dry land. That wasn’t unusual.” 

“They constantly swam too close to shore and got left in the tide pools once the water receded. But my dad…” Jaune shook his head, smiling fondly. “He just picked it up and threw it back out into the lake. Everytime we saw one, he picked it up and threw it back.”

“Wasn’t that kind of pointless?” Ren asked. “Those things are stupid. They’d just keep coming back. It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Jaune said. “And I asked my dad that. He just tossed another one back and said, ‘it mattered to that one.’ I guess it kind of stuck with me. There could be hundreds of stray pets on this planet, and I’ll never help all of them, but I can help this one.”

Ren hadn’t ever really gotten to know Jaune’s dad. He knew that he was a quiet, kind man who always came to school when Jaune got in trouble. He never yelled at Jaune for getting into fights. Never got angry or lost his temper. He just tried to help him be better.

He had been a good dad.

Finally, a shopkeeper waved them over. He had two sets of arms, one set waving, the other set clasped tightly around the handles on a basket of fruit. He smiled as the trio approached, waving at them causing the two green and yellow lines that ran down his arms to flash in the light.

“I believe you’re looking for that Dulcosi’s owner?” the shopkeeper asked, gently setting the basket of fruit down behind him.

“Yeah, do you know where we could find them?” Jaune asked, excited at finally finding a lead.

“Sure don’t,” the alien replied. “They left here ages ago. The poor thing-” He gestured to Petey. “-has been here ever since. No one wants the responsibility of taking care of her full time, but some of us food vendors will toss her something to eat when we can.”

Jaune knelt down next to the dog and rubbed gently behind her ears, still looking up at the shopkeeper. “She was abandoned? That’s awful.”

He felt sick. Who would abandon their puppy like that? He’d only known Petey for a little while but she was already the sweetest girl he had ever known.

“Sure was,” the shop owner said, shaking his head. He pulled a fruit out of the basket he’d set down and gave it to Petey. “They’re good pets. Loyal. Just need a family.”

Jaune looked up at Ren, putting on his best pleading face. This wasn’t just about his empty stomach anymore. This was for Petey.

Ren heaved a sigh, rubbing his forehead. Jaune wasn’t going to leave without this dog.

“There’s a pet supply shop just a couple streets down,” the shopkeeper said, winking knowingly. “Tell him Luxverd sent you, and he should give you a discount.”

Ren’s face was buried in his hands. He seemed to think that if he didn’t see Jaune then he would disappear. When he uncovered his face, however, Jaune was still there, holding Petey in his arms now.

The combination of Jaune’s pleading face, along with the dog happily panting at him with her tongue sticking out and wagging her tail was too much.

“Fine,” Ren groaned. “Where’s this shop?” He pulled out his map and let Luxverd point out where the shop would be. Not too far away. Ren shouldered his pack, forging out into the crowd. “Come on, Jaune.”

Jaune and the dog followed along behind, shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and Petey’s tag wagging furiously.

---

The shop was brightly lit, toys and pictures of various pets plastered on posters in the windows. The shopkeeper was waving goodbye to a happy looking alien who was carrying a kitten-esque creature in their arms. 

The shop owner looked to be the same species as Luxverd, except instead of green and yellow lines, he had two dark blue lines running down his cheeks. He turned his smile to Jaune and Ren as they approached.

“How can I help you?” he asked, extending one of his arms to Ren. “My name is Caelrune.”

“Ren,” he shook his hand. “We are… um…”

Jaune ignored the shopkeeper, darting to the toy shelf with Petey.

“I recognize that Dulcosi,” Caelrune said. “I suppose Luxverd sent you?”

Ren nodded, looking behind the shopkeeper to watch Jaune. He had set the dog down, and was showing her different toys. Every time Petey showed any interest in one, he added it to the growing pile in his arms.

“I should-” Ren started. Caelrune held up one of his arms, stopping him.

“Make sure your friend doesn’t buy my entire stock, yes.”

Ren nodded gratefully and walked past Caelrune and into the shop. Jaune was looking at bags of food now, the toys all in one basket. The dog was sniffing the different bags.

“Which one is it, girl?” He asked. “What do you want to eat?”

Petey leaned in to sniff a bright pink bag. Once she determined that she liked it, she butted her head against it, turning to pant at Jaune. He beamed and picked up the bag in his arms, almost toppling over from the weight.

“We’re not buying all of these toys,” Ren said, taking the bag of food from Jaune, who looked relieved. “We can’t afford all of them. We can barely afford to take care of ourselves!”

“We can manage,” Jaune said. “We always do.”

“At least put a few back,” Ren said, half-pleading. “She doesn’t need thirty different toys.”

Jaune frowned. He picked a few toys out of the basket, but didn’t like that decision so he put them back and picked a few different ones. He couldn’t decide which ones to put back. Petey deserved them all. Finally, Ren grabbed a random few and put them back on the shelf.

“This should be good,” he said, holding his arm out to stop Jaune from grabbing the toys again.

“Excellent,” Caelrune smiled at them and began calculating the cost.

---

Ren stared sadly at the small handful of currency they had left, while Jaune bounced happily alongside, playing tug-of-war with Petey. He sighed. He couldn’t stay mad at Jaune. Not when he was so happy with having a dog. 

Still… they needed money. Ren knew it wasn’t going to be easy when he had decided to join Jaune on this adventure. Nothing had ever been easy with Jaune.

They were going to have to find somewhere to earn some spare currency or this adventure was going to be cut short.

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (4)

Chapter 4: Target Acquired | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

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

4 of ?

Jidné has finally flew out of Ordo Eris’s orbit, back into the deep black vacuum of space she goes. She was still within the same system as the Haxion Brood’s outpost, although she was closer to the planets neighboring one another. While the Scarab cruises leisurely in space, she tried to tweak the satellite’s range in the hopes that she would pick up the said S-161’s signal—it wasn’t impossible, though it’s very unlikely to get good results out of it.

“It’ll take a miracle for us to find them, ID,”

ID-3 trilled in agreement, although despondently.

She leaned against the pilot’s seat, tapping her fingers in a beat on the cushioned armrests, she tilted her head back. The bounty hunter was running out of ideas, the first suggestion she gave herself was to scour the surrounding planets around Ordo Eris.

Ironically, she looked for answers from within herself.

“Now, if I was a Jedi on the run…” she muttered to herself—a short-lived smirk played along her lips to acknowledge the irony—absentmindedly stroking the dashboard screen as she thought of the possibilities. Her eyes shifted around the cockpit, as if searching for the next words.

“Someplace not densely populated—but that would make one easy to find, less people but more natural camouflage. Densely populated—it’ll be too… people-y outside, but makes you lost in the crowd, hard to spot with a lot of people all around you, but would make a scene if you do get caught.”

She drew her leg up and rung her around her shin. She bowed her head and rubbed her chin, pondering hard on similar theories and assumptions that are likely realistic. It appeared like she’s meditating in her own way.

The hours dragged on as Jidné squeezed her brain for more realistic ideas while the Scarab floated past the planets. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking of more ways to get by—until one came to mind and it was actually the last thing she wanted to do, so she set it aside for the moment.

“Haxion’s out to get Redhead, too,” she recalled the fact that the Brood had their hunters scattered across the planets in search of Cal, even prior to Vader hiring her.

Giving up, she decided if gathering more intel was the best first step in this plan—just so she can piece together what her sources tell her, starting from what Sorc has told her so far, she listed all of the planets where she could get better intel on the top of her mind.

Minutes later after brainstorming by herself, her dexterous fingers danced across the dashboard buttons until a map reflected on the black screen, presenting the holograms of the surrounding planets within her current location.

“Too near Ordo Eris, they wouldn’t want to get close,” presumed Jidné, peering over a green planet with three moons on the hologram; she then turned her attention back to the computer, entering another system’s coordinates. “This one? Not too near, not too far either.”

Her scanning of the current map was cut short when the secondary monitor on her dashboard blinked a huge red circle in the radar. The droid croaked a high-pitched chitter—in droidspeak, it’d be a panicked screech—alarmed by the sudden appearance of big red blip. Quickly, she paid attention to that blip, as it may be a hostile—as she always does. She brought her leg back down, returned her grip on the steering wheel and buckled up in her seat.

“ID, see if you can amplify the scanners and satellites, I wanna take a good look at that ship,” Jidné clearly and sternly commanded, but she wasn’t in full panic mode yet unlike her little, hovering friend.

ID-3 obliged, regardless; from one of his metal pincers, a data port plug connected with the dashboard, he relayed the information from his databank to the screen where Jidné can see. The former Imperial droid gave a full view of the ship, its model and serial name. The pilot’s eyes widened as she read the jumble of characters that is its model name.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” She expressed in full disbelief rather than enthusiasm.

It was the Mantis!

She cranked the gears of the Scarab and tailed the target. Her fingers tensed around the wheel.

“ID, get ready to mask the Scarab’s signature when we get in closer range,”

“Trill!”

Apparently, ID didn’t need to do much work in scrambling the Scarab’s signal. The sudden turbulence that she and her droid were experiencing were due to the incoming meteor shower that the two ships are bringing themselves in are doing that for them.

“That is one crazy pilot,” Jidné quipped after witnessing the Mantis zip through the barrage of nearly-molten rocks shooting in their direction like cannon fire.

The Mantis and Scarab were complete contrasts to one another in terms of shape and size. The Mantis was narrow and thin like a needle, while the Scarab was curvy and wide—but when maneuvered vertically, it can pass through the gap of a trench. In this case, both ships were doing their own evasive maneuvers to survive the hailstorm of rocks.

A few smaller rocks have scraped and dented the exterior of the Scarab, but the gravitational pull of the phenomenon caused the ship to rumble so much that it’s starting to make Jidné nauseous. All of the debris that passed by scorched the exterior of the freighter, leaving loud bangs against the metal as they fleeted away.

“This certainly isn’t how I planned my day to go!”

She swept through the meteors and gained on the Mantis, with the Scarab masked—amplified by the shower interfering with the clarity of signals—the other ship didn’t exactly put all of their attention to her, but she sensed that they got the hint. She pushed the pedal to the metal in order to get at least neck-and-neck with her target, she flicked the clear glass cover of a red switch atop the shaft of her steering wheel.

Due to the rocks that literally scrape by the sides of the Scarab, constantly making the vessel quake, Jidné’s thumbs always strayed away from the button.

“I’ll never get a clean shot at them!”

Her eyesight narrowed, she sets the targeting device dead-set on the Mantis. The grid swerved as it followed the Mantis real-time, Jidné glanced at the targeting monitor every once in a while as she tries to accelerate to a greater speed.

“Almost there,” she rasped.

Her thumb hovered over the red button, impatient and eager to punch it, Jidné insisted to close a few more miles between the Scarab and the Mantis before she could fire the shots.

“There!”

A single shot darted out of the barrel—the bullet was a homing beacon not bigger than a land mine—and adhered to the exterior of the Mantis.

Good, they’ll never seen me coming. She thought triumphantly.

She flicked back the glass cover down and pressed a series of buttons on her dashboard. A small circular screen on the dashboard glowed blue in the corner of Jidné’s eye.

“We got them on our trail, ID!” she celebrated, smirking as she slowed down, withdrew from the dogfight and watched the Mantis weakly swerve as it tried to hold itself together while trying to get through the meteor shower.

Meanwhile, Jidné also tried to find her way out of this infernal shower of rocks. As much as she wanted to keep an eye on her target, she had to put her faith on the homing beacon—hoping that it doesn’t get cooked if they ever crash land into that beige planet.

She pulled the ship up, gaining altitude and placing her freighter above the meteor shower’s path. She detours from the planet floating right in front of her and ID-3 to give the Scarab a rest. The bounty hunter peered at the monitors again, but mostly focusing on the screen that shows the diagnostics of the ship’s internals.

“Integrity at 85%, I think we can stabilize that when we land,”

“Be-beep, chitter?”

“ID, see if you can analyze that planet they’re crash-landing into. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before,”

The ID seeker droid happily obliged this time, linking the arm with a built-in data port connector. Fishing from his databanks, he relayed the information to Jidné’s screen.

“Thanks, ID—knew I could count on you always!” she beamed, and then read the data that ID encoded on the monitor. “Ombari, huh? Well, I hope Redhead wished upon a star that I wouldn’t find him when we get there.”

“Chitter, trill!”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s worth a shot too,” Jidné snickered.

She set the acceleration to a high, passing Ombari’s asteroid-ridden ring and finally prepared herself to cut through the atmosphere before she could lose sight of her redheaded target.

Ombari was a tropical landmass. On one side, deltas and rivers sustained the lush jungles until the water stretched thin and ran dry beyond it, creating the desert badlands where the greenery is sparse but the villainy dense. Jidné was no stranger to such setting—she practically spent her second childhood in a similar environment.

Jidné wanted to keep her profile low as well, so she docked the Scarab in the deeper part of the jungle—she’d be in the border between the rich jungles, civilization, and the badlands. Finding the Mantis in space was easier said than done, however, finding the passenger of the Mantis was basically finding the hay in a needle stack.

“Come on, ID,” she beckoned as she marched through the narrow hall of the freighter, she headed to the compartment where she kept her weapon.

The narrow door hissed open, revealing her customized electropike-rifle hybrid leaning against the door. Jidné took it out of the compartment and studied the matte finish of the handle, some parts already have its paint job chipping due to time and usage; she weighed it on her arms and made a shooting position to get a feel of it again. She slid her hand up to the mandibles at the very end of the weapon, examining the conduits where the electric charge will run.

“Still mint, aren’t ya?” Jidné cooed and then slung the weapon’s strap against her chest.

She patted the holster on her hip one more time, reassuring herself that the saber is still safe and sound inside the leather pouch. By rote, ID hovered close to his owner, folded all of his tentacles and tucked it close to its disc-like body before latching onto the body harness that Jidné wears.

To conceal her droid and save herself the trouble of being accused of stealing Imperial property—which ID-3 obviously isn’t anymore—she donned a light tan cowl that wrapped around her shoulders, covering most of her jacket’s top portion. She asks if ID-3 is ready to go, to which the little dark droid responded with a low-volume chitter, and the duo leave the Scarab in search of their redheaded target.