#(I didn’t actually throw the stylus)

[pyjamacryptid]

‘cause every colour goes where you do

please click to sharpen the image! :)

[yacinthemorning]

Gundam Birdie

A Little Birdie

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Summary: Jimmy is a mobile suit pilot and the bad luck charm of his base whom the higher ups are done giving second chances to. It's the old beat-up relic Birdie he's been given or nothing. Lucky for him, the mechanic assigned to get her working is enthusiastic to help, but their friendship leads Jimmy back down roads he'd rather forget.

Ships: Jimmy & Tango (Platonic)

Warnings: War, death, violence, military, guns, fantasy politics, fantasy racism, trauma, alcohol, vomiting

There was something about the hangars that eased Jimmy’s heart. Realistically, they were the calm before the storm, and should have put the fear of the void into him, but he couldn’t help it. The echoes of clanking tools and pistons being tested. The scent of oil and burnt wires baked into the steel beams, the sight of people scrambling, heads buried in their tasks, ready to send machines into the field at the drop of the hat. In that environment, Jimmy faded into a shadow, an afterthought until launch, in the way at worst, a spare hand at best.

It almost made up for how wretchedly hot Earth was this time of year.

“You came back again, huh?” A bored voice drawled. 

Jimmy blinked away the stupor he’d lulled into, his neck cracking as he leaned forward out of the remains of his cockpit. The large gash down the shell of the once-pristine Birdie let him see without rising up completely where Martyn tapped his foot on the concrete floor. He didn’t even look up at Jimmy, eyes too busy with his tablet. “That I did.” Jimmy said, leaning against his console. Even if it could respond in its state, the Birdie was already drained. “Should I not have?” He joked.

“Do you want the funny answer or the actual answer?” Martyn finally glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

Jimmy didn’t need either. He wasn’t in the mood, and if he focused he could already hear the grumbling of the mechanics around him. ‘How on earth did he make it back in that?’ ‘Another one already?’ ‘We absolutely sure he isn’t trying to destroy our whole fleet?’ ‘At least it was one of those relics from the basement this time…’

‘Where’s the rest of the squad?’

He wiped the sweat collecting on his brow and shrugged. “What can I say, I specialize in running away.”

Martyn tsk’d him with his stylus. “Unfortunately for you, Blue, running away costs a fortune we aren’t authorized to spend. And might I remind you your debt to the EF is already high enough.”

“Oh, come on Martyn.” Jimmy whined. “Can’t you sweet talk Ren for me? Just this once?”

“Ren’s already stuck his neck out for your first three mobile suits.” They paused as the entire Birdie shifted, the platform below it dropping deep into the ground until Jimmy could heave himself over the edge and drop only a few feet. When he tried to throw his usual goofy grin at Martyn, though, the accountant just shook his head. “Look, Jim, you know Ren sympathises. His parents are Lunarian, he knows what you’re going through.” He sighed. “But you aren’t exactly returning the favour and-“

They were cut off once more as Jimmy jerked forward. The mechanic brushing past didn’t even bother with an apology. Jimmy’s gaze locked with their own disgusted glare as they walked off. Martyn leaned closer in, voice a harsh whisper. “- And you aren’t exactly doing a stellar job of making this all seem like a good idea to the nay-sayers.”

Jimmy laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Don’t be silly. What’s there to nay over about an experienced pilot, who’s an expert on the enemy, controlling a front-line mobile suit?”

Martyn gave him that tired look, frustration wrinkling his youthful face. “I think even if you weren’t a deserter that would be too flattering a description given your results so far. Do you know what it’s like just to convince someone to work with you?” A gesture towards the brutalized Birdie emphasized his words.

“Look, it’s not my fault that I’m sent into the trenches- “

“But it is your fault you keep coming back alone.”

Suddenly the dry summer air seemed like an ice bath. Jimmy was pretty sure he hadn’t meant to so bluntly state what was meant to go unspoken. He could feel the gaze of a nearby worker on his neck, hear the echo of a giggle from across the station. 

Martyn took a deep sigh, “I’m sorry Jim. There isn’t another one after this. This Birdie is your last chance. I can assign a specialist to the poor thing, but you have a shoestring budget to work with and if it ain’t operational by next launch then you're going to have to find somewhere else to complete your immigration assignment. That’s the good scenario where they let you go.”

He was screwed. He knew that the second he retreated from the skirmish. All Jimmy could do was agree and sign the papers Martyn put in front of him. When he left Jimmy turned back to the mobile suit and simply stared.

His fate was basically sealed. Jimmy had seen many a machine in his short lifetime. Maybe with a few months and top of the line care she could come back. The worst of it was superficial. But he knew from the struggle back to the checkpoint that the giant hole from a well-placed beam fried her internals. Its not as though Jimmy liked seeing the machines he’d dedicated his life to piloting in such a sorry state. He tried to take care of her just as much as the last half-a-dozen. Each of those multi-billion credit war machines were now rotting in landfills, though, and the prospects for this one were non-existent. 

Just the same as his former crewmates.

A whistle broke through his mulling. “You really weren’t gentle with her, were you?”

Jimmy spun on his heel, giving the newcomer an incredulous look. It was a mechanic, judging from the jumper, though it was red instead of the typical orange, and a black jean vest covered its upper half. Slightly shorter than Jimmy, but his messily swept back hair tried hard to compensate for it. The beginnings of wrinkles under his eyes gave away his greater age, and that the grin reaching ear to ear was probably a permanent fixture.

Most oddly his pupils were the deep red of Mercurian heritage.

He put out his hand, though he didn’t bother to take his eyes off the Birdie. “Name’s Tango. Been told I’m gonna be giving your mobile suit some personal TLC for the next couple weeks.” 

Jimmy squinted, calming the bubble of annoyance in his throat as he weakly shook Tango’s hand. “Jimmy.”

Now they were just treating him like a field of glass. That, or this guy was as much stuck with Jimmy as Jimmy was with him.

If he noticed Jimmy’s sudden tension, he didn’t care enough to take his eyes away from his assigned project. Rather, he seemed completely entranced by the busted heap. His grip fell away from Jimmy’s as almost an afterthought. It instead went to brush against the jagged metal of its shell, and dip in over the exposed reactor in its lower chest just below the cockpit. Jimmy winced. He really had been a hair’s breadth from blowing sky high.

“An MSF-71 Birdie, huh?” Tango practically cooed, like the museum piece was the coolest thing in the world. He moved on to its left arm, where the joint had been jammed by a piece of debris from the consulate Jimmy watched go up in flames. “And the frame’s in good shape besides what you’ve done to her. Man, they haven’t built one of these since…”

“The 36 EvO belt wars.” Jimmy supplied. Jimmy remembered seeing them on the news as a child, the complaints. Brand new and already being ditched for newer models of older fighters. They were made to be compact, light, easily transported with minimal fuel and speedy on the battlefield. What they actually were was incredibly prone to being taken out by the slightest bit of damage, and outpaced by sturdier suits with better propulsion systems. Always the first to go down on the battlefield, and the better mobile suits were screwed without their supporting flanks, so dragged their entire battalion with them.

Tango perked up, “Yeah, yeah! Didn’t even know we had any of these left. Oh, man.” He suddenly hauled himself right over the damage, scampering into the cockpit with his tablet. “The shoulder propulsion was removed and never replaced, though. Even if you’re sticking to land, that's a major disadvantage. And the frame’s got serious compatibility issues with these newer 95 mm barragers the EF’s so fond of slapping on everything. I’m surprised it didn’t straight up tear off the forearm.” He leaned back, a bit of awe in his gaze as it finally landed on Jimmy. “Dude, you’re a miracle worker to get this thing back this intact.”

When considering what that entailed that wasn’t all that high a praise, but it was the nicest thing someone had said to him in a while. Jimmy found himself soaking up the small bit of praise. He placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Well, I’ve been doing basically nothing but pilot mobile suits for a decade now. I would hope I knew a few tricks.”

That actually sounded a bit pathetic when he said it out loud didn’t it? Tango just nodded excitedly, however, then pulled out his wrench. “Well, then, it’s your lucky day. Cause I’ve been doing basically nothing but repairing them for two. And this machine of yours, I think she’s got another shot if we crack our heads together.” He patted her side for emphasis.

Jimmy learned well, after his first suit went up in literal flames, not to get too attached to any mobile suit assigned to him. It wasn’t as though he had been very involved in the Birdie’s handling until now, either. There was still a part of him that became giddy, excited to see the poor old thing run again. He gave Tango a cautious smile back, holding out a hand to the mechanic to help him back down. “If you think so.”

“Oh, I know so.” Tango said, and Jimmy couldn’t help but believe him.

“Then what do you need me to do?”

-

“The main hurdle is our budget.” Tango said around a mouth full of burger. He tapped a sharpened nail against the schematics spread across the cafeteria table. “The right leg hydraulics, the main engine, the control system, and two of the thrusters all need full replacement thanks to those beams and the explosion you said you took. They ain’t big boys like some of the other frames, but they’ll need customization to fit such an old model.”

Jimmy nodded along, shoving another fry into his mouth. “And new guns. She needs something lighter on her joints.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Tango tapped away on his tablet. There was a long list of specs from the catalogues they were given to work with. “Normally I’d say ‘well that’s what laser cannons are for!’ But that’s definitely out of our price range. Besides just generally being expensive, I’m not sure your current reactor is strong enough to keep up with their energy needs, so we would have to get a new reactor too.”

Jimmy yanked one of the schematics out from the bottom of the pile. “And the Birdie’s frame is a weird class size for flanking, it’d need a specialty reactor on top of that.”

“Exactly!”

His chest warmed. Each new subject came with more and more bad news, but Jimmy hadn’t felt so hopeful in a long time. He leafed through the stack of dusty folders next to him, searching for the papers necessary to request test field time. A tablet was held out over his food tray, coming dangerously close to his coleslaw. Several potential lighter weight low-kick guns had been bookmarked, but so had some more unconventional weapons including a wire weapon. 

“She’s way too crushable and slow for direct melee combat, but I think a loadout like this might make your life exponentially better. A lot of these are going to have serious difficulty jabificating through even mid range armour, but a Birdie ain’t gonna be sent out alone to begin with.” Tango pulled it back slightly, a nervous quirk in his smile. “Though, they’d take some practice and strategy to make it work. You think you could do that?”

Jimmy gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll adapt.”

The cautious smile stretched into something more devious as he leaned in towards Jimmy to whisper. “Then I think I might have a way to shave some costs off our repairs, if you don’t mind a bit of dubious resourcing.”

Jimmy froze with a fry halfway into his mouth. Quickly he glanced around to make sure no one had heard the mechanic. “Tango, I’m on watch-“

“No, no, nothing that bad. I promise.” The blond waved off. “I just own my own scrapyard- well, it was a family ranch, but I had to sell the cattle off when I inherited the thing. Now the fields are full of spare bits and projects. I think I have these parts that just need a little spit and polish. That’ll save us a pretty penny, I reckon. We’ll just have to dig for them is all.” 

“Can we do that?” Jimmy asked incredulously. He was pretty sure if a personal collection of mobile suit parts just sitting out in the open on a ranch would get you shot for treason on Pluto.

Tango just winked. “Ren’ll look the other way, and Martyn won’t complain if it means our numbers are lower.”

“Then that’s fine by me.”

“You really came back again, Blue?” A harsh voice cut into the conversation. With a groan Jimmy turned his gaze away from a confused Tango as a gloved hand shoved against the back of his head. “Would you take the hint and kick the bucket already?” The pilot laughed, his two companions following suit.

Jimmy just shrugged. The laughter died, and when they realized they would get no reaction they grumbled and walked off. He waited until they were across the cafeteria before he let out a sigh, shaking his head, and turning back to the schematics. The energy from earlier had drained a bit, but he tried to bring it back with a friendly smile.

Tango still had an eye on the retreating pilots, claw scraping across his screen as his nose scrunched up. “Some people really got a sick sense of humour, huh.”

“You don’t have to pretend not to know.” Jimmy said. Tango flinched. With a sigh, Jimmy shook his head. “Even soldiers from other bases know about the Plutonian deserter who always comes back alone. Always finds the danger and always leaves everyone else to deal with it.”

“It’s only ‘deserter’ to the Plutonians. On this side it’s ‘asylum seeker’.” 

“With all due respect and appreciation, I don’t think I’ve met a crewmate who cared for the difference. When your reputation is having no loyalty, it doesn’t much matter what side you’re supposed to be on.”

“Doesn’t exactly do much to inspire loyalty to begin with, does it?” Tango mused, turning his attention to the last bite of his burger. He tapped the screen of his tablet. A feed came up, familiar to Jimmy but from a different angle. There was the Birdie, in formation with another mobile suit, before it split away from him right towards an enemy unit. It was muted, but Jimmy could still hear his own voice warning about a hidden patrol only he had spotted, and the shout he got back for daring to not follow. It would have cut off, just as the head of the suit was dissolved by an unseen laser cannon in the feed.

Jimmy’s stomach twisted at the sight of it occurring a second time. Why’d he have to pause it there? Tango scoffed. “I reviewed the footage during prep, you know. Not a fire alarm’s fault if people ignore it. It’s kinda hard to be a team player when your team is the smug idiots we got around here, who care more about where you came from than the war you’re both supposed to be fighting.”

“Don’t say something like that out loud.”

“But that’s what’s supposed to be so great about Earth, isn’t it?” Sarcasm laced his muffled voice. “S’why my old man came here, at least. ‘Everyone’s welcome, all those other planets are strict and exclusive. Come back to Earth for unending opportunity!’ Then they turn around on you the second you show up, even while you’re giving them your life.”

Jimmy had heard that all before from other immigrants. Not before he came here, as he did so with the official and doomed mission to break through the impenetrable Karman Defense as an enemy soldier, but he had heard their whispers after. The harsh line between the preached dream and enacted reality. It made no difference to Jimmy – It wasn’t Pluto and that’s all that really mattered – but he did empathize with those tricked into believing they would be more warmly welcomed.

   “So, you’re second generation?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something more appropriate, less likely to get them court martialled.

“No, but I was so young I might as well be.” Tango shrugged, the grin returning to him. “You know, it’s a bit chilly but there’s actual real food and jobs, so here I am.”

“Chi- This planet is absolutely boiling!” Jimmy melted against the table with whine. Tango cackled and reached over to muse his hair.

“We need to stick you in the cooler.”

“Genuinely, that sounds wonderful about now.” He admitted. “You deal with this summer thing every year?”

“Only in the temperate zones. Head south and you can experience it year-round on the equator.”

“I think not!”

They both laughed, and while it never returned to the high energy of before, the atmosphere slowly warmed again. Soon they were once more engrossed into plans for the Birdie. By the end of the day they had high hopes and a door-stopping stack of papers to drop on Martyn’s desk. But they didn’t separate yet. 

Outside of official work hours Tango dragged him off to discuss the grey area that was the parts in his scrapyard, and to spitball modifications that they most certainly would not get away with. It was quickly apparent that, unlike Jimmy, Tango was exactly where he wanted to be as far as dream jobs went. The man was a bonafide mobile suit nerd, and though Jimmy knew his stuff Tango quickly delved into things far outside Jimmy’s pay grade. 

The way he talked… Jimmy could tell he put it out of his mind what they were being used for and more so how they did it. Maybe not naïve or ignorant, but certainly not fully reconciled on the fact that his passion was war machines.

“Well, there’s plenty that are for construction and transportation…”

“But?”

“I mean, you’re not allowed to give a construction mobile suit an arm mounted laser.”

Yeah, he was certainly a little ridiculous. He was so excited to be given the clearance to do pretty much anything he wanted to Jimmy’s Birdie, though. The cogs of his brain were running faster than even his mouth could keep up with. So, Jimmy tried his best to keep up, listen to him ramble while he gently reminded him that even if you could get it to work, a cannon like that was very much illegal across the entire solar system .

“But think of how cool it would be! And I got it all worked out on how to get over the reactor hard cap-“

Jimmy let out a disbelieving laugh.

Part of Jimmy wanted to put a clock or something in front of Tango, see if he pulled it apart instinctively. Like some species of mechanic creature.

The two hardly noticed until both were being screamed at by superiors that their conversation carried them long past curfew. If Jimmy was honest, it was the first time he almost felt welcome on Earth, like he was more than not-even-tolerated. If at the end of these next few weeks they failed and Jimmy was given the boot, at least he would have one fond memory of the horrid base.

-

Martyn handed back Tango’s tablet with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, guys, but I just can’t get this approved. I even pulled in a favour to get the price down, but they said there’s no way they would okay this engine for a beat-up relic.”

 “They’re the ones that wanted the thing repaired in the first place!” Tango growled, glaring down at the rejection notice.

Jimmy clasped his hands together. “Martyn please. We’re so close to done and there’s only a few days left.”

“Even if I did pull off the miracle of the century and, like, saved the entire review board’s families from a burning roller coaster or something to magically get them on my side, there’s not way we could get it made and shipped here on time anyways.” He gave a sigh and shrug before he returned to his desk. “I got you so much. Your weird tripwire thingamajig – and dear lord Tango I don’t know what crypt you raided to even find that catalogue, do you know what a wild goose chase it was just to find the company that made it? But there really is no more I can do. You’re well out of luck and credit at this point. I’m not even sure if you could get a bottom-line engine, in fact. I really am sorry, but you’ll have to find another solution.”

Jimmy’s heart sank. 

“… Okay.” Tango said.

Both other men turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What.” Jimmy asked flatly.

“Okay.” Tango repeated, hands up in surrender before one hooked around Jimmy’s elbow. “We get it, you won. We’ll rub our noggins together and think of something else to get her up and running. Sorry for bothering you.”

Martyn had never looked more suspicious but nodded anyways. The two men left the accountant’s office and back out towards the hangars.

“Is that really it?” Jimmy asked desperately. In the last two weeks they had done so much work on his Birdie. Literal blood, tears, and sweat were spent to get her to the point she was now at. “What are we going to do?”

“Calm down, bird boy.” Tango patted his arm, leaning into him. “I got a plan.”

“A plan?” It was then Jimmy realized they were not heading towards the mobile suit hangar at all, but towards the trucks. He gave Tango a wary side eye. “What are you planning?”

“We’re taking a little trip to town.” Was all Tango said. Soon enough they were in the biggest truck they could get approved for use and being waved through the checkpoint. Jimmy fiddled nervously with the buttons of his uniform, eyes darting about for any sign they had been followed. Tango? Tango was as cool as a cucumber, humming along to the radio as he slipped on the bright red glasses he always wore off-base. Where he kept them Jimmy had yet to figure out. The song slowly died out and gave way to the news.

“Reports have revealed that the rogue freighter that passed the Lunar Sanctuary last week is housing over two hundred Plutonian refugees and is now currently en route to Earth. Sanctuary has turned them away due to overcrowding and famine amongst their own citizens.” 

“Bunch of bleeding hearts up there, they don’t even have space anymore.” Tango joked. “They’re just going to find the other end of the same war if they drop here, though.”

Jimmy nodded mindlessly, watching the farmlands. “Cow.” He muttered mostly to himself as they past a field of black and white dairy cattle.

“President Xisuma has had calls from both sides arguing whether to grant the large group their asylum request. Individuals close to the president, however, report that he is leaning towards approval. The president’s opposition have started to call him out, “President Xisuma’s approved six other groups from Pluto in as many months.” Says one party leader. “He seems determined to let anyone bypass our immigration process entirely if they show up with no shoes and a sob story. By the end of the year Pluto won’t even have to invade, their whole population will be on Earth and aiding the rebels to overthrow the EF.” Mobile suits posted on the Karman Defense are already mobilizing to intercept days before their arrival.”

Tango shook his head. “As on top of things as ever up there.”

“Hard to hide in open space.” Jimmy pointed out. He put his elbow up on the window, palming his chin. “There’s a reason it’s impenetrable despite how thin they’re spread.”

“So how did you get through?” The red glasses fell down Tango’s nose as he tilted his head. “I woulda thought it was shoot on sight for an enemy mobile suit.”

 Jimmy felt a shudder down his spine. “It was.” The days Jimmy spent begging for mercy were not memories he enjoyed recalling. He was glad they had not invaded his dreams much, drowned out by other memories not as dramatic but worse in their own ways. “I’m not entirely sure how I managed, to be honest. Dumb luck I survived long enough to get a word in on a good day I suppose. My suit certainly didn’t.” He blinked out at the field where a gangly roan creature pranced along the fence. “Horse…”

A hand came up to his shoulder and rubbed comfortingly. “You must love piloting to go through the trouble of becoming one again after all that.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Not really. But it’s all I’m good at. Well, I thought I was.”

“Hey, planet-side warfare’s nothing like space warfare. I mean neither are good, and I’ve never been in either, but you have to be decent for Pluto to send you all the way to Earth to try and break through the KD.”

A snort escaped Jimmy. He wished it was that cool. “No one else wanted to go on a suicide mission. I’m just the sucker who volunteered… cows.” They were brown this time. Beef cattle. They were almost there.

“We’re here.” The truck pulled up to a gated dirt road. Trees lined the perimeter but far down the path Jimmy could already see the ruddy roof of an old farmhouse. Still, the driveway was long, through acres and acres of overgrown fields, dotted with masses. Some had tarps thrown over them, but other heaps we exposed to the elements, rust creeping into their metal. Jimmy had come here with Tango a few times in the past weeks for some spare parts. His nerves returned, as they pulled to a stop and hopped out. Those were all small bits and bobs, not a full engine.

Tango rambled aloud as he went towards the old red bar. “I thiiink I got something similar to what we wanted out in the north field, but if that doesn’t work I know for a fact there’s another engine just out back. It’d need a lot of modifications to work, though, so I wanna check for the other one first.”

Jimmy helped push the doors wide open and hook up a trailer to an old green tractor. Tango was happy to throw the keys to him and sit on the back, directing him towards their quarry with one arm while the other was slung over the back of the seat.

It was one of his big finds. The entire upper half of a mobile suit was on top of several plastic tarps with several more nailed down over top. It didn’t stop rainwater from pooling under completely, but it went a long way to preserving the important parts. An hour later they had it cracked open and the engine hauled up with pulleys and make-shift cranes.

“This is definitely it. Look at that, those are the exact cylinders on the one we were gonna buy!” Tango squealed, patting the piece of machinery like it was a good dog. Jimmy chuckled to himself as he watched, listened to the engineer part of Tango’s brain take over control of his mouth. Two more hours later the engine was confirmed okay, wrapped up, hauled back to the house, and set inside the truck.

Jimmy relaxed into the rocking chair on Tango’s porch, gazing out at the mess of a ranch fondly. It almost looked like the various vehicles were their own sort of creature being grazed in the fields. Even overgrown the land had its charm. Certainly green grass and bushy oaks were a far cry from the cold landscapes of Pluto.

The porch door was thrown open, Tango shimmying through with a big grin, a bigger platter, and a pitcher of ice-tea. “Afraid I don’t have much in the fridge, so I hope you don’t mind frozen wings.”

“Not at all.” Jimmy replied, clearing some of the tools they’d left out on the table to give the blond room to place his haul. He’d changed fully now, into an oversized red sweater with a fire hazard symbol across the front – a prized possession, Jimmy had learned – paired with well-worn grey jeans and old runners.  All of Jimmy’s casual clothing was back at the barracks, but he’d relieved himself of the stuffy uniform coat and heavy boots for a loaned pair of outdoor slippers.

Tango collapsed into the other rocking chair while Jimmy poured the drinks. The engineer took a glance at the glasses and smirked, reaching behind him to pull out a half-empty bottle of rum. “Care for a kick?”

Jimmy raised his eyebrow, lip twisting disapprovingly, before he readily held out his glass across the table to let Tango pour as much as he liked into the drink. Probably a mistake. He got a chuckle, and far more alcohol than he really bargained for. Hopefully it would be out of his system before they returned…

“I gotta say.” Tango sighed, settling into his chair for good now. “Whenever I’m out here, I think I get it.”

“Get what?” Jimmy mumbled past a cautious sip. He jerked back slightly. Definitely way too strong.

A hand gestured out towards the ranch, glowing in the evening sun. “Why everyone is always trying to come to Earth. Out here where there’s no one to bother you, it's beautiful. There’s so much space, so many colours, so much time. Never really appreciated it much as a kid.”

Jimmy smiled. “Yeah.” His eyes fell closed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair for once. The smell of mediocre food and too much rum mingled with the distant rustle of leaves and crickets. And he wondered how he ever managed without this, ever thought the hangar was a refuge from the world when this existed only a few miles down the road…

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. The wings were gone, thankfully taking the brunt of the rum. The sky had turned red before he had even noticed. He sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “We need to get back soon.” 

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah?” Where had he put his boots?

“Why do you pilot?”

He paused, turning back to Tango who was staring at him from his chair. His arms were folded behind his head, glasses perched precariously on his nose, but his gaze carried an intensity greater than Jimmy had ever seen in their brief time together. 

He looked away. “It’s all I know how to do. I don’t have any other skills. So I do this.”

“Liar.”

“Wha-” Jimmy spun back around incredulously. “What’d you say?”

Tango’s glare felt like it was looking right into his soul. “Liar. I’ve seen all sorts of pilots in my time, Jimbo. People who do it for the paycheck, creeps who just want the means to kill. I’ve seen the strangest pilots around, but you… I’ve seen how you are around that Birdie. Like you’re asking something from it. You aren’t some nine-to-fiver about it. You know so much about mobile suits-“

“Not as much as you.”

“But more than most, more than even other pilots!” Tango insisted. “More than you just pick up from work. Be honest, why do you do it? Why did you take up piloting in the first place?”

Jimmy sucked in a breath. Did he know how painful the memories he was asking Jimmy to recall were? Why did he need to know to begin with? The air was cooling rapidly with the setting sun. Tango patiently waited, no intent to let the question go.

Stupid words he should have never said echoed in the back of his mind. If I don’t do something, nothing will change.

With a shaky voice and glazed eyes, Jimmy replied. “I wanted… There was someone- people, that I wanted to help.”

“And piloting a mobile suit was how you decided to help?” Tango’s voice had gone almost giddy, leaning forward in his rocking chair.

Jimmy reluctantly nodded. His fists clenched tightly against his shirt. “No one else would.”

Tango stared for another long moment. Then, a grin broke across his face. He reached over and grabbed Jimmy’s nearest hand before bringing it up close to his mouth like he could whisper a secret into it. “… There’s something special I want to ask.”

Jimmy hesitated, but eventually he gave his mechanic a consenting grunt. 

“Have you ever heard of a gundam frame?”

-

Tango punched in a code onto the lock of an iron vault-like door. It whirled to life, slowly easing itself open. Jimmy could still hear the blood pumping through his ears overtop of it. On the other side was a black, echoing void. Tango took one more assuring glance behind him to Jimmy then walked straight into the darkness. Jimmy’s legs shook, but he forced himself forward.

Just as he entered the void there was the sound of a heavy switch being flipped, and light blindingly filled the room. Jimmy had to squint, hand raised to block out the harsh fluorescent lights until he could get his bearings. He could hear Tango fast walk past him, the steps echoing infinitely into what must have been an enormous room.

When he finally dropped his hand the first thing he was greeted with was an enormous metal face. Jimmy felt himself stop breathing. A mobile suit, but not just any. It stood eighteen meters tall, a whole third taller than the Birdie, and most of it an unpainted grey, though Jimmy could see chips of yellow and blue left here and there. Its face was strikingly human compared to most other frames, looking much like a pilot wearing a mask itself, except for a sharp protrusion along its brow. It was too pointed to resemble the bill of a helmet, more like the beak of a bird, and in some small way reminded him of the Birdie’s profile. Despite that, it was otherwise unlike any mobile suit Jimmy had ever seen.

In front of them was a gundam. 

… And it was encased in a giant bunker under Tango’s farmhouse.

Jimmy jerked his head towards the mechanic, who was messing with a control panel to bring everything to life. Looking around, the bunker lacked much of the professional equipment of the base, and even the mobile suit station looked almost cobbled. The corners were filled with more spare parts like the fields above, gutted and cannibalized and left under tossed-over tarps to wait for further disassembling. While the gundam itself was clearly old, its various parts were a mix of ages.

“Have you…” Jimmy swallowed. “Have you been repairing it?”

An enormous mischievous smirk stretched across Tango’s face. “Me, and my old man before me.” His hand found Jimmy’s shoulder as he approached the consoles, holding the stunned pilot stable, and gazed affectionately up at the mobile suit. They found themselves in a lift, slowly raising them up to its chest. “He came here two years before us to prepare the farm. While he was digging he found something peculiar. It took most of my childhood for us to dig this out. Lot grander father-son project than some old car, eh?”

“I’ll say.” Jimmy’s voice came out breathy and shaking. His hand brushed against its body as they came to a stop, to see if it was truly real. It suddenly jerked into motion, chest pulling open until its cockpit was fully revealed. 

Tango took Jimmy’s hand and gently guided him inside the frame. “You thought your Birdie was old? This baby’s straight out of the Three-Year War!” He spoke fast, giddy as a kid in a candy store. “It’s almost fully functional, too, with all the repairs me and pa did. The only problem is… Well…”

Tango nudged his head towards the main console, guiding Jimmy’s hand towards it. Confused and more than a bit terrified, Jimmy’s hand hesitantly grazed across the dusty screen. It suddenly illuminated, and like a chain reaction so did the rest of the cockpit. The buzz of its reactor surged down Jimmy’s spine. Beneath his fingertips displayed a start up screen, system information pouring in too fast for Jimmy to read, except one piece. A name.

“XXS Gundam…” He muttered as it appeared. “Alpha-13… Canary?”

His hand pulled away as he looked to Tango for answers. The mechanic stared down at the console with breathless awe, before that same look was turned on Jimmy.

The pilot jumped at the elated shriek that escaped Tango as he wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder. “Look at that! She likes you! You really got her to respond!”

“Wh- What?”

“All this time neither me nor my pa could get her to wake up, but I knew it. I knew she’d like you! Canary, huh? I don’t think I’ve heard-”

“What are you talking about?” Jimmy squeaked. “What do you mean she likes me?”

Tango finally paused, though he could not wipe the smile off his face. “Have you ever heard of ‘the ghost in the machine’?”

Jimmy hesitated, then nodded. “I… Think so?” 

“They say there’s one in every gundam frame, that they have a mind of their own. Not just anyone can pilot a gundam, only someone they choose. I know, I know! It sounds like superstitious mumbo jumbo, but we tried over and over to get her to respond to us. We never got nothing! But now- Jimmy.” Tango’s eyes widened once again in awe. “You got her to wake up. She likes you .”

Jimmy had no idea what to do with that information.

-

“So what now?”

They’d switched back into their proper uniforms, finished tying down the engine to the truck, and started back towards the base.

“What do you mean?” Tango asked, a chipperness to his voice that told Jimmy he knew exactly what the pilot meant.

Jimmy pouted. “Tango, you have the Mona Lisa of war machines in your basement and according to you it apparently ‘likes me’. What does that mean, what do we do? Are you going to tell the base? How illegal is it?”

“Shoot, that might be a good point.” He said, still in that tone. He didn’t elaborate.

Jimmy puffed up his cheeks. “A good point! You’re bloody right it’s a good point! So what do we do now?”

Tango hummed, making a show of tapping his chin. “Right now? Head back to base and get some shut eye. We gotta install this engine into your Birdie tomorrow morning, after all.”

“Tango-”

“It’s all fine, Jimmy!” He grinned. “We’ll come back out and do some more tests once you got your job secure.”

“More tests? On our own?”

“If we tell them about Canary right now then they’ll stompy-stompy their way in and take her away. Then neither of us will see her again. You really want that?”

“Tango I can’t pilot a gundam, I’m about to lose my ability to pilot at all.”

“You really gonna let someone else pilot your gundam?”

“It’s not mine , and you said it can choose a pilot for itself.”

“Well I chose you, and she agreed. So that’s that. I ain’t letting no one else pilot her.”

Jimmy wanted to argue but it died in his throat, unsure what he could possibly say. He leaned back in his seat instead and let out a deep sigh. “You’re something else, Tango.”

A maniacal giggle escaped the engineer. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile.

-

Martyn turned off his tablet. “Your machine’s been approved for duty.”

Jimmy and Tango cheered and high fived, a display that got them an eye roll from Martyn. Ren leaned over his desk with a chuckle. “Congratulations, my dudes. You're back in service! I’ll get you scheduled for a few tests and local missions as soon as possible.” 

“Thanks, Ren.” Jimmy said as sincerely as he could. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

The director just waved it off, but Martyn raised an eyebrow. The two higher-ups exchanged a glance before Ren spoke up. “Actually, there was one more thing. A caveat of sorts.”

“This is still your last mobile suit.” Martyn continued for him. “If you bust this one up you’ll be put on standby again until it’s repaired, or let go. We would prefer you to exercise more caution than you have been, regardless, but understand that your situation is still precarious, Jim.”

“I… understand.” Jimmy bowed slightly. “I’ll do my best to be careful.”

Martyn snorted, shaking his head. “Well, now, we can’t exactly trust that after your track record, now can we, Ren?”

“No.” Ren propped his chin up on his hands with a smirk. “No, we most certainly cannot, Martyn.”

Jimmy swallowed hard, a stone weighing down his gut. “What-”

“So, Tango.” Ren didn’t let him speak. All eyes turned to the mechanic, who flinched at suddenly being the centre of attention. He dumbly pointed to himself, to which Ren nodded. “Since you did so well once already, we’ve decided to permanently assign you to the upkeep of Jimmy’s Birdie.”

“Lord knows the poor thing’ll need it.” Martyn muttered.

Tango blinked, then blinked again, then turned to Jimmy who was just as shocked. The taller shuffled his feet nervously and stuck out his hand with a small smile. “Um, well, if you’re okay with it, I’d certainly love to keep working on her with you.”

Tango grabbed his hand with a bit too much force and shook it enthusiastically. “I’ll absolutely be your mechanic, of course!” 

Ren clapped. “That’s great! Cause you didn’t actually have a choice. We’ve already done all the paperwork, you see. So, it’d be a real bummer if not.”

“Jumped the gun a bit on that one.”

The four men all had a laugh before Ren started going into what it all entailed. Jimmy couldn’t quite fully listen. His chest swelled with warmth, mind buzzing with excitement. For once he felt almost eager to get back on the field, to put what they had made to the test. He snuck a glance to Tango, who gave him a thumbs up and huge grin- he was just as excited. And for a brief moment Jimmy thought perhaps things were finally looking up, that maybe he could not only survive, but thrive.

-

Jimmy leaned back in his Birdie’s seat, taking in a deep, calming breath.

“Excited?”

He let out a squawk at the voice almost right in his ear. “You trying to scare the life out of me?”

Tango quirked an apologetic grin for only a half second before shoving his tablet in Jimmy’s face. “Ran a few extra tests and compared them to the last week’s worth of missions, since you got here so early. She’s all ready to go.” His head tilted in amusement. “Must be nice to finally get off-base with her again.”

“It’s just a patrol.” Jimmy insisted, though his fingers vibrated with too much energy.

“You probably like those, though, right?” 

“… It is better than just glorified tests.”

They both let out a small laugh. Tango reached over and ruffled his hair, patted the side of the cockpit, then pushed off to climb back down and start up the launch. They exchanged a thumbs up, everything ready on both ends, and the machine whirled to life around Jimmy.

The seal closed. Screens lit up at the same moment, allowing Jimmy to see out at all angles. Each system slowly came online while he adjusted their settings and conditions. Finally, he slipped on his helmet – a far cry from procedure for space flight where he would be yelled at for not already dawning the obnoxious thing by the time he reached his mobile suit. Really, on land he didn’t need it at all, but it was a comfort.

As soon as he did Tango’s voice, distorted by the crackle of radio waves, once again filled his ears. “Hey, by the way.” Jimmy could hear his grin. “Got the whole long weekend off. Mercurian holiday. When you’re done with your patrol you should come out to the ranch and celebrate with me.”

More Tango code for ‘let me talk your ear off about gundams as I try to convince you to crawl into one’ . There hadn’t been a day in the last week he didn’t ask, with varying subtlety. Jimmy shook his head, huffing into his mic. It swiftly transformed into a proper frown as a thought occurred to him. “Hang on, why’re you still here this morning, then?”

“I wasn’t gonna miss my little buddy’s first real mission launch!” He replied incredulously.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. Of course. “Yep, my very first mission in ten whole years.”

 “Ahahaha. Get out of here. And bring both of you home intact this time, why don’tcha?”

“Yes, dear.” Jimmy said with a snicker. “See ya.”

The comm clicked off, replaced by a robotic voice that matched to the text on a side screen narrating each step of the launch. Birdie rattled beneath him as it was moved into place. Hangar doors opened, the path was cleared out, and the clasps that kept his Birdie in place released. Jimmy pushed forward slowly, making sure all systems were warmed up.

Across the runway two mobile weapons and a suit, a Gorgon II Custom, waited already. Three connections linked to his Birdie.

“Took you long enough!” Cleo said, the Gorgon’s signal lighting up. “I was about to break out some tea.”

“Tea sounds lovely right now, actually, and I’m pretty sure you’re here early.” Jimmy replied. “But sorry.”

She turned her Gorgon around and started up propulsion towards the north Gate. “Just don’t fall behind on the patrol or I’ll ditch all of you.”

“Sure thing.” His face pulled into a frown. He’d almost forgotten.

“Then let’s get this over with, babysitting you is way too beneath my pay grade.” Was the last thing she said before she rocketed off.

One of the mobile weapons Jimmy wasn’t familiar with snickered through the comms. “She’s just salty about her punishment.”

“Maybe she should have thought of that before she went totally berserk in Hermiton.”

Jimmy shuddered. The images past around of the incident were damning, even if he never quite got the details. He’d not worked with her much at all in the year he had been on earth, but he heard things. One of the EF’s current longest lasting pilots, a talented one at that, able to pilot anything given to her, who nevertheless somehow had a combat streak about as victorious as Jimmy’s own. 

Until Hermiton, that was. More than a little hesitantly, he followed after the Gorgon. 

A half hour later they reached the border and began their patrol proper. Jimmy flipped on the autopilot, linking onto Cleo to test if it was functional again. In the meantime, he pulled up their route on his main screen. They’d be back by 10:00 if they did as they should. A smile crept onto Jimmy’s face as he examined the last leg of the route. They’d be close enough to Tango’s ranch that Jimmy might even be able to see it. Maybe he could take a picture for the mechanic. Knowing him he already knew they were coming and had his own camera set up. They could exchange them once Jimmy went home.

“Eyes open, Blue.” Cleo said. “You’re drifting.”

“Sorry.” He quickly snapped autopilot off again and flipped his cameras out fully. As soon as he did so the detection systems pinged. Up in the skies something descended from space. Zooming in, it was a long cargo ship. He nearly bit his tongue. Jimmy didn’t need the ID tags to recognize a Plutonian craft. “South-East, in the stratosphere, there’s a Plutonian ship.” He called.

 There was a brief silence as the other three searched. “Oh, that?” Cleo replied. “Didn’t you hear the news? Those Plutonian refugees are touching down today. They must have just descended through the KD.”

“Look at that, Blue. Soon we’ll have a whole troupe of runaways for you to cry with.” The first mobile weapon sneered. Jimmy tightened his grip on his controls, keeping his lips sealed as they continued on. 

An annoyed grunt escaped Cleo. “Focus on the mission!”

“Relax, Cleo, it’s just a patrol.”

“I don’t care if it’s wiping your arse. You will concentrate on the mission or get left behind.”

Jimmy, lowered their volume, focused on the descending ship instead. It was shockingly close. He was vaguely aware of the spaceport it must be landing at. No one had mentioned to him that they would be touching down in the vicinity, though. As rudely as it was said, there was a small part of Jimmy that warmed at the thought of more Plutonians being nearby, at least for a while. Maybe he could go and ask…

“Blue!” Cleo’s shout broke through his mulling. “You’re drifting again!”

“Sorry.” He squeaked and turned his attention back to the route.

Then the screen went white. Jimmy blinked, got as far as opening his mouth to alert Cleo before the ground began to rumble. His Birdie shook, then nearly toppled over as a blast punched into the patrol. His head smacked into the side of his chair, and the rumble of the metal machine drown out the mobile weapon pilots’ shouts. Two more barrages hit one after another, until Jimmy’s whole body felt scrambled.

Everything slowly settled around them, more voices joining in on the shouting both from their squad and base. Jimmy reoriented himself and his cameras. There, on the horizon they were just gazing at, were three enormous plumes of smoke. His comm squealed painfully, forcing his attention on readjusting it.

“-spaceport, reroute immediately!” An operator shouted.

“On it!” He heard Cleo say back, already turning.  Jimmy and the mobile weapons followed soon after. The plumes expanded as they approached, smaller explosions joining in. Across the tarmac was the scattered remains of the ship, the station behind it completely crumbled. Staff and refugees alike darted around, confused and scared. Some other mobile weapons were already there, firing in on the ship. Out from within its haul rolled out mobile weapons of their own, far more familiar to Jimmy, and began to fire back. Stray beams and bullets were going everywhere, unsure who was enemy in the maze of smoke and panic.

Part of the ship where a dozen refugees hid lilted forward. A sickening series of metallic pops filled the air. Jimmy darted his Birdie forward, propelling its foot into a spin to slide around the screaming group and stretched her arms out wide. The wall finally collapsed, smashing into Birdie’s back. Jimmy was jerked forward in his seat, and he could hear the poor mobile suit’s brand-new light armor crunch under the wall’s weight.

There was no time to worry about that, though. He flipped on his speakers and shouted, “Evacuate the premises, now!” The terrified group hesitated at first, but two soon took charge and the rest followed them like a herd to the edge of the tarmac where others were gathering.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shouted Cleo as she rolled the Gorgon up beside him and lifted the wall with ease. “You’re supposed to be my flanker, don’t rush in!”

Jimmy grunted, pushing his Birdie to stand back up and regain his bearings through the sirens now blaring across his console. “You wouldn’t have made it in time.” He muttered.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have tried. Look at you!” 

Taking in his alerts for the first time, she was right. Though not a large barrage, his Birdie had taken fire pushing into what was now clearly becoming enemy lines that they were now both deep within. Gorgon had also taken damage, more hits but far fewer penetrating its heavy armor and shield.

“Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing and start doing your job right!”

“Cleo look- AUGH!” 

The comm fuzzed out just as an explosion burst behind them. Both mobile suits twisted towards the wreckage. Jimmy sucked in a breath at the sight of the mobile weapon, an axe splitting the machine open like a log. Fire and choking smoke flared out from the fatal wound, only a small puddle on the concrete below giving any closure to the status of the pilot within.

A heavy mechanical foot slammed down into the destroyed mobile weapon from beyond the smoke, the axe wrenching up and out to swing high before it slowly descended onto the shoulder of a silhouetted figure. Slowly it pushed forward until the red face of a mobile suit emerged fully.

Through the static on the comm was a pitched voice, distorted and cold. “-im-y?”

Jimmy’s blood ran cold.

No…

“Enemy mobile suit on the ground!” Cleo boomed, raising the Gorgon’s shield and laser gun. “All units mobilize immediately. Surround it. Jimmy, flank to my left!”

Jimmy sputtered, “Wait- Cleo!” 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, if you won’t do your job then get out of my way!” She raced towards the enemy suit.

Jimmy lurched after her, “Cleo, that’s not a normal mobile suit, that’s-“

It was too late. Gorgon fired her laser gun on what would have been a point-blank shot. But in the time it took her to press down on the trigger the enemy suit was gone – beside her with its axe raised. In one swift motion the axe tore down on its target, and the Gorgon’s head split from its body.

The world seemed to quiet down to only the blood pumping in Jimmy’s ears. His hand shook, staring hopelessly at the scene as Gorgon’s body slowly slumped to the earth, unresponsive. He could see the comm connections going wild out of the corner of his eye, but the only words that managed to penetrate through the hazy cloud in his mind were the ones he was too slow to speak

“-dam planetside! I repeat, the enemy Plutonians have released a gundam!” 

Then, his console was bathed in red. An unknown connection rang once, twice, and then opened – at first he thought on its own before he realized his hand hovered over the accept button. There, within the suffocating confines of his cockpit, he came face to face with a smiling face, framed by long brown locks, and a scar running down one of two soul-piercing eyes.

Her smile widened into a grin. “Well would you look at that. It really is you, Jimmy!”

“Pearl…” He was barely able to stutter out. He thought his heart might beat straight out of his chest. “What- What are you- How did you get through-”

“Sorry to interrupt you, buddy.” Her voice was ever chipper but echoed with a familiar void. “But I’m on a very important mission right now.”

“You-”

“Although…” The grin on her face twisted. “I bet if I brought news of you being alive back, I’ll get quite a reward. Or maybe-”

“Die!”

Jimmy had no time to even take note of the second mobile weapon racing forward, firing its cannon towards Pearl. In that span she had already yanked the arm off of Gorgon which still clutched its shield and blocked the beam before her axe was flung into the mobile weapon. It hit the reactor, and the entire unit burst. Through the video feed Pearl had hardly taken her eyes off Jimmy, still staring through him with a terrifying sparkle in her gaze.

“Maybe I’ll just bring you back myself.”

He didn’t stop to think. Birdie’s controls were yanked back until the machine spun completely around, and he bolted. At top speed he went straight off the spaceport and out into the open fields. He could hear his allies screaming at him and Pearl letting out a whine, but he shut down all current comm connections and just ran. Whether it proved them right, whether they resented him, he couldn’t care about anything other than getting away.

Sensors blared at him, telling him everything he already knew- That several parts were damaged to a dangerous degree, that his reactor was wearing thin, that there was an unknown target giving chase -

Jimmy kept running.

He was so focused on running he barely noticed which direction he had gone in, nor did he notice the incoming connection until it actually opened on its own this time. Suddenly, Tango’s face, of all faces, was plastered over his console, eyebrows knit in a hard look. “Jimmy?”

Jimmy blinked in shock. “Tango? Wha-“

“I saw what happened. You’re heading south-east, right?” 

A glance at his navigation board confirmed the mechanic right. South-east. South-east? That was towards…

“Meet me at the ranch.” Tango nodded. 

“I can’t go there, she’s-”

“You have a three-minute head start on her. She stopped to fight the rest of the mobile weapons at the spaceport and was communicating with an off-planet signal. You’ll be here long before her if you keep going at your speed.”

The other mobile weapons…

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. He felt bile at the back of his throat. There were other mobile weapons – there were civilians! – and he’d ran away. Ran away with the only mobile suit. His words came out strangled, “Tango, I-”

“Don’t think about it right now!” He quickly interrupted with a shake of his head. “Just get here! I’ll have everything ready by then.”

“Everything? What everything?”

“You’re gonna get back in there on a level playing field.” Was the last thing he said before the comm died. There was only one way for Jimmy to interpret that. With a shaky breath he pressed onwards towards the ranch. 

-

His Birdie barely made it into the yard. When he forced open its cockpit and practically fell to the ground in exhaustion Tango was already there, waiting, and caught him before he face planted into the dirt. “Hey! Are you okay?” He squeaked in a panic. Jimmy’s helmet was yanked off.

Part of Jimmy was so relieved to know that the mechanic was also terrified of his state that he let out a chuckle into Tango’s shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t think I have much more in me.”

“Well, find your second wind! If we don’t stop her who knows what’ll happen.”

Tango began to drag him towards the side of the house where the hatch to the underground bunker was hidden. Despite the battle Jimmy just escaped and the looming threat of it chasing him, the ranch was as peaceful as ever. He smiled. “I’m sorry…”

“Huh?” Tango’s head twisted to look at Jimmy, not stopping his speed walk. “What for?”

“I said I’d bring Birdie back home intact.”

He snorted. “Well when you left I didn’t think you would be fighting a gundam with her-”

“Owl.” Jimmy explained. “Gundam Owl. She’s- It’s one of Pluto’s greatest weapons. It’s singlehandedly how they kept the Martians from invading Io. Only Pluto’s top pilot is paired with her.” He let out a shudder, trying to block out more memories than were needed to explain to Tango exactly how screwed they were. “And that’s Pearl.”

“Do you know her?”

“It’s hard to not know her if you’re a pilot.”

Tango didn’t look convinced but nodded anyways and focused on leading the way. “Here we are.”

Canary was fully stood, its limbs secured into the launch belt surrounding it. Tango rushed over to the launch console to disconnect the last of the wires and tubes still feeding the thing. Jimmy would have to remember to interrogate Tango later on exactly how much equipment he’d managed to ‘scrap’. For now he stared down the gundam, unable to step up into the loading platform.

Tango had just finished his preparations when he noticed. “Jimmy.”

“It’s not going to work, Tango.” He muttered. The mechanic’s hand found its way to his shoulder in comfort, and Jimmy had to choke back a small breakdown. “I’m not joking about Pearl or Owl. They’ve never lost a fight. She got through the Karman Defence! I’m just a mediocre pilot who can’t even keep a machine intact. A coward who runs away while everyone else dies. Hopping into a gundam isn’t going to change that!”

“Jimmy, look at me.” His face was suddenly yanked down, his forehead bumping a little too roughly with Tango’s as he brought them eye to eye. Jimmy looked as asked, and he saw what he’d seen so far; Tango’s brow was pulled down, eyes energized, and jaw held stiff with some sort of determination. But there was something else there. His lip almost imperceptibly quivered, his eyes were wide and reddened in the corners, and he was breathing far too harshly through his nose. Even his hands that held tight to the side of Jimmy’s head had a vibration in the tips of his fingers.

Fear. Tango was scared.

“I know it’s a slim chance, I know it’s dangerous.” Tango said, and now Jimmy could recognize the slight stutter. “But nobody else is here to help. If we don’t try to do something, nothing will change.”

Jimmy felt his heart stop and start, any reply he had dying immediately. A shaky, calming breath escaped him, and he nodded ever so slightly, the motion rubbing their foreheads together once more. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Tango’s scowl turned up into a grin. “Yeah, we’ll try.” And then he yanked Jimmy onto the loading bay.

It took Jimmy a second to process that Tango was still there as they rose up to Canary’s level. “ We ?” He pipped.

The cockpit opened up, and Tango handed him his helmet. He pushed him into the seat before hopping back into the small space beside the chair he had stood on the first day he showed Jimmy the Canary. “Well, I figure I’m the one who’s been tinkering with her for the last three decades, I know more about how she works than you do.”

Jimmy whipped his head around, trying to take in both Tango’s words and the systems that were rapidly starting up. “But you could die!”

“So could you. We might all die if we don’t stop her.” 

Tango’s hand was once again on Jimmy’s shoulder, and somehow it felt oddly centering. He was able to take a deep breath and slowly figure out what was in front of him while Tango continued to speak almost right into his ear. “We can still run away, if you want to.”

Canary’s screen filled the cockpit with a bright blue light. The enemy knew they were here now. He shook his head. “No.”

There was a brief pause, during which the alert system flared to life, informing them that Pearl was thirty seconds away. “Jimmy, why did you become a pilot?”

“I wanted to help people.”

“It’s the same for me, but for you.” Tango leaned forward, a strained smile on his face. “It’s what a mechanic is for. I know you can do it, Jimmy. I’ll be right here to make sure you do. We can run, but I know you’ll hate yourself if you do. But whatever you choose to do, I’ll be right here either way. I’ll help you.”

Sonar pinged Pearl almost right on top of them. 

Jimmy felt his lip trembling. The small noise he made was supposed to be affirmation, but it came out more like a choke. He placed a hand on top of Tango’s. “If I try to run, stop me?”

He broke into a wide grin. “Got it.”

“Then let’s do this.” He mustered all the determination he could manage.

Canary seemed to respond immediately, bringing up everything he needed on its own. It startled him for a half a second, but he brushed it off as a thought for later, instead smiling appreciatively at the screens. Then it brought up a strange camera angle, revealing Owl towering over the farmhouse, turning its head in confusion.

“Hey, that’s my security camera!” Tango whined, pointing at the feed. 

It immediately blinked away, reappearing on the other side of Jimmy. He laughed while Tango grumbled. “Ready?” He asked. There was no extra seat or buckles to lock the mechanic in, so he would just have to hold on tight to the ceiling handle. Tango gave him a thumbs up.

The ceiling above opened up and Canary was launched full force to the surface. Both men braced themselves as the cobbled launcher rattled, practically throwing the mobile suit into the midday sky. Right in front of them was Owl, who jerked around to reveal its rounded face as they appeared behind it.

It was a mobile suit Jimmy had known well, as all Plutonians did. Though Pearl had it repainted a crimson red that matched both her and Owl’s moonish eyes, the frame had changed very little over the years.

Twenty meters tall and top heavy in design, specialized propulsion decorating its upper back to move it near-silently towards Canary at top speeds. But Jimmy pushed hard down on Canary’s controls. The lighter frame built by Tango for planet-side combat twisted out of the way with ease from the space-specialized loadout of Owl. Canary was fast, faster than Jimmy was expecting, and he found himself propelling almost all the way to the edge of the ranch without intent.

“She’s a smooth flyer, even on solid ground. Keep an eye on those thrusters.” Tango warned, pointing out the problem causers on the diagnostics. “Her frame’s lightweight beyond belief. Don’t toss yourself around like you would in a heavier suit, use more precision.”

“Got it.” Jimmy reoriented his handle on the controls and pushed forward. It went smoother this time, able to spin right around the Owl to its left flank behind its axe. “Where’s the weapons?”

“She ain’t got much firepower right now.” Tango admitted guiltily.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, it’s fine. See that field?” They shrieked as Owl’s axe nearly sliced Canary in half if not for a quick-thinking duck. Tango tapped his finger against a particular camera feed where a large heap sat in the grass. “That’s an old melee unit, it has a blade still on its back.”

“A blade?” Jimmy squawked incredulously even as he started towards it. “I haven’t done any melee combat in years, Tango. Is it even a good idea with the Canary?”

“It’s what we got!”

“Jimmyyy…” The owl’s speakers blared across the farmstead. “When did you get a gundam frame? I’m so happy for you!”

“Then maybe you could let me be happy for a bit and go away!” He shouted back as he landed on top of the scrap heap and began to dig.

“Oh, you know I can’t do that. I have a mission to fulfill.”

A shadow fell over the feed. Jimmy spun Canary around in time to see Owl, axe held high, falling down towards him. He yelped. It chopped into the scraps, just barely grazing a piece of Canary’s leg armor off. Owl heaved back up, glaring down at the tumbled mobile suit.

“And you’re getting in my way.”

Tango shouts, “Now!”

Canary lurched forward. Metal screeched and wired split as a long blade pushed straight through the joint of Owl’s left shoulder. Jimmy heard a gasp over the speaker. Something vital must have been skewered, because when the blade was yanked back out Owl’s limb went limp, dropping its axe to the earth. 

For half a second Pearl seemed too shocked to do anything. Jimmy took advantage of the moment and rushed back in, slicing through part of her other shoulder before the old, decrepit blade gave out and snapped. Canary stumbled back away, turning towards the fields once more.

“What else is there, Tango?”

“Um, uh- gimme a second I’m trying to-”

“We don’t have a second!”

“Jimmy!” Pearl shrieked, the speaker peaking at its volume. Jimmy shivered. Owl stuttered forward, its pilot’s rage leaking out into its movements. “How. DARE you.”

He immediately started to stutter “Pearl, I-”

“How dare you hurt Tilly!” And then the gundam was back in their face. Jimmy had no chance to react before the limp arm was swung like a flail across Canary’s face. The mobile suit stumbled, but was grabbed before it hit the earth by angry claws that lifted the whole suit straight into the air.

This was it. They were going to die. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and reached out for Tango’s hand once again.

“Pearl,” A static-laced familiar voice broke through Pearl’s speaker. “That’s enough.”

The world stopped. A flood of far too many overwhelming memories flashed through Jimmy’s mind. Suddenly death didn’t seem so bad, compared to hearing that voice again.

Owl jerked back. “But he-”

“ENOUGH!” The voice boomed. “You’ve failed your mission. Return to orbit now before the EF mobilizes and you lose the Owl to your incompetence too.”

Jimmy could feel Pearl seething, but she backed off. “As you would, Scott.”

Tango let out a sound like air being let out of a balloon when she sped off, but Jimmy couldn’t move. His mind swirled and spilled over. He knew his body had begun to shake but his control panel had become a blur.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed between her retreat and being able to think once again, but as he came back Tango’s concerned face took up his vision. “Jimmy? Jimmy, you there?”

Jimmy gaped like a fish, intending to reply but never quite being able to. His stomach rolled. In a panic, he punched the button to pop open the cockpit and crawled out. Tango shouted after him, but Jimmy didn’t stop until he nearly fell off the side of the still kneeling Canary. Hands reached out to grab him and pull him back before he slipped. Nothing could stop the bile from rising up his throat but he did his best to lean out over the edge before it could get on the Canary or Tango. 

A hand rubbed soothingly against his back through the heaves. For once, Tango was quiet, and Jimmy greatly appreciated it as his mind and body tried to recover from the violent episode of dissociation. Through ragged breaths he could hear the distant sounds of vehicles. A glance to the horizon indicated the arrival of other surviving EF units towards the ranch. 

“A bit late.” Tango joked. He helped Jimmy back towards the cockpit, where he commanded Canary to lower far enough for them to get out safely. On the ground now, Jimmy clung to Tango’s hand while they waited.

A hysterical laugh escaped him. “I can’t believe we just did that.” He croaked. Exhaustion began to roll over him, and he leaned into Tango’s shoulder.

“Dude, I told you. You’re a good pilot.”

“I’m not sure I would call that good piloting.”

A hand came down on his hair, a sound of disbelief escaping Tango. “You fought off a gundam, Jimmy! As far as I’m concerned, you’re amazing.”

Despite everything a smile creeped onto Jimmy’s face. “Well, it’s all thanks to you.”

“I barely did anything buddy, that was all you.”

“Don’t you start-”

Their conversation was cut short by a mobile weapon rolling up, the barrel of its cannon pointed directly on them. Several more followed, aiming up towards the motionless Canary. A speaker screeched to life. “Jimmy Solidarity and Tango Tek.” A deep, flat voice demanded their attention. Both men stood back up on shaky limbs, hands tentatively raised. “You are being arrested for treason against the Earth Federation. Turn yourselves over calmly and swiftly. Do not resist.”

“What?” Tango shouted back incredulously. “What do you mean treason, we just saved your butts!”

“With an illegal mobile suit you have unlawfully hidden from the state. I will say this one last time, do not resist.”

“Tango…” Jimmy begged before the enraged mechanic could say anything more. Tango’s nostrils flared, but he begrudgingly did as told. Soon they were surrounded by soldiers and led away from the ranch. Cuffs were placed on them as they were shoved into the back of a jeep. Tango continued to glare at his former coworkers, but all they received in return was a scoff and words muttered just loud enough for Jimmy to hear.

“This is what we get for trusting a Plutonian.”

[firewoodwander]

Hi! Maybe #26 from the teasing prompts for Maze/Jaing or Boss/Aden?

Hiya! Since there is no 26 I’ve made up a combination of two other prompts you could have meant, hope that’s ok!

16. "Stop that broody look and come over here."

25. "Your heart is beating too fast to be close to someone you don't care about."

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Maze says.

Jaing, sitting at his window, doesn’t look up.

“I can hear your gears grinding from here.”

“It’s nothing to do with you,” Jaing finally retorts. Maze had wondered if he’d planned to sulk long enough to let his jaw rust closed. He gives up on forcing himself to be interested in work and puts down his stylus.

“It is when it’s happening in my office. Did I piss you off or something?”

Jaing shifts, his boot scuffing duracrete. “It’s none of your business,” he says. “Keep out of it.”

“Then stop brooding at my window and come over here.”

Slowly, making a show of being a reluctant asshole, Jaing stands upright and shuffles over to Maze’s desk. He hovers unhelpfully over Maze’s shoulder as if that’s going to spare him unwanted attention.

“So?” Maze prompts. “What’s your issue?”

“Stars, you’re so kriffing annoying, d’you know that?”

Before he can stalk away, Maze snatches up Jaing’s wrist and presses his thumb down hard. Jaing makes a noise and Maze pauses, watches his hand, reevaluates what he says next.

“I think you should try that one again when we don’t both know your pulse is going far too quickly to back you up. Now come on, tell me why you’re here.”

Jaing pulls his arm back and crosses them over his chest. He himself has referred to Maze as something of a persistance predator in the past—Maze continues to stare at him, unflinching, until he gives in.

It doesn’t take as long as he was expecting.

“You’re too close to my brother,” Jaing tells him in a huff. Maze blinks. It takes him less than a second to confirm to himself that he didn’t mishear, but still.

“You mean the one I constantly reprimand for disrespecting the chain of authority or the one I actually punched in the face?”

Jaing glares.

“I promise, the only one of you I’m anything remotely civil with is you,” he tries, but that only seems to irritate Jaing further.

Sometimes, Maze wonders if he isn’t just dealing with overgrown toddlers throwing tantrums.

“Do not say I didn’t warn you,” Jaing declares, turning on his heel and stalking out. Maze knows he’ll be back. Soon, or hanging around Maze’s quarters when he turns in for the evening. Either way, Maze can’t help but think he’s at least a little bit cute.

[jackalspine]

Love this sleep swap au, desperately need to know more! (If youre willing to share)

I think I may have answered this ask before?? But it’s sitting in my drafts for some reason so I’m using u as an excuse to ramble some more abt it ::)

Here are some UPDATES (p.1)

I’m on my stylus isn’t working so u get finger sketches-

Ok yes I do realize how much he kinda just looks like Danny phantom, don’t worry about it

Anyways there’s some stuff I fleshed out to make certain aspects of this au actually make sense in practice so:

This kind of quirk works most entertainingly the least people know about it, and so I had to make a way for him not to be legally registered with this quirk and so:

Weewoo after inko gives birth to two babies, only one seems to cry, the other an unofficial doctor inform her shows no sign of cognitive activity.

The alert baby is yoinked from inko and brought to afo upon his request.

Afo has just recently acquired a young Tenko and the boy has fucking issues. Afo just kinda squints his eyes and vaguely recalling that thing about cheetahs and support dogs snatches his underling’s new functioning baby

Afo didn’t think it through ig cause you can’t just throw a baby at a child and expect good things to happen. So I guess he dumps it on kurogiri to raise him independently for a hot minute before introducing them.

They give the child his father’s last name: Akatani and call him Yukine for his white hair.

Ah I know this is getting long and I still don’t know how to cut posts on mobile so I’m gonna make a pt.2 on another post 🤙

[blackkatmagic]

Hi! Firstly thank you so much for the joy you’ve brought us with your rarepairs and rare characters:D If you’re still taking prompts may I ask if you would consider expanding on the Feral/Cody storyline from the Jaster/Maul arranged marriage AU? I was fluctuating between cry laughing at Maul’s reaction to Jaster and actually crying over his genuine worry at how Cody must be treating Feral. Thank you!

“Queen Miraj is going to betray you,” Feral says, and Cody practically jumps out of his own skin.

Instantly, Feral winces, taking a step back as Cody spins, and dips his head, bends forward. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Cody stares at him for a moment, then groans, dropping the pad he was clearly about to throw on his desk. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and there's a thread of humor to it that Feral used to miss, the first few weeks of their marriage.

Carefully, Feral takes a few steps forward, and when Cody doesn’t object, he pulls himself up onto the edge of the desk, leaning forward. “Sorry,” he says again. “I thought you’d heard me coming.”

“I never hear you coming,” Cody says, dry. “Start with that assumption.” His gaze flickers from Feral to the door, and he asks, “Can you put the privacy lock on?”

Feral raises a hand, a touch of concentration making the light click over to red, and pretends that Cody's flicker of deep interest isn't half the reason why he used the Force in the first place. Cody's warm sort of intrigue is always soft around the edges, kind, and—it feels good.

“I could wear a bell,” he suggests, smiling a little, and Cody snorts, leaning back in his chair as he considers Feral.

“Collars already?” he asks, bland, and when Feral huffs in embarrassment, glancing away, he smiles. Reaches out, hand curled over Feral’s knee, and it makes Feral entirely too aware of a bruise inches above his hand, left there by his mouth last night. Cody had made it clear he didn’t expect anything, that Feral wasn’t obligated, but—Cody is handsome, and Feral was lonely, and it was good. It felt good, and he likes this, this awareness of Cody that’s doubled and tripled in the hours since.

“If you want,” he says, and Cody slides a hand up his thigh, reaches up. The brush of his fingers over the base of Feral’s horns makes Feral shiver, and Cody's eyes are dark when he looks up at him.

“You took off the paint,” he says, thumb rubbing hypnotically across the curve of one of Feral’s larger horns.

“Bad for sneaking around,” Feral manages to say, though words are a little hard right now.

That makes Cody pause, and he looks Feral over again, then asks, “The queen?”

Feral tips his head in agreement. “I got into her palace,” he says. “Something about her prime minister made me uneasy. They're planning to sell you out to the Republic.”

Cody's lip curls. It’s almost a snarl, almost a Zabrak's expression. It’s almost Maul's expression, transposed and layered with a deeper sort of anger, and—Feral understands that. The life of a Nightbrother is one thing, but Cody and the rest of the clones have been fighting since they moment they came into existence. They were never supposed to exist, were created with stolen DNA by a Sith Lord who thought to play warmonger, and when they killed him they were left with nothing.

Leaning forward, unable to help himself, Feral kisses the snarl off Cody's mouth. Feels the twitch, the breath, and then Cody's hands come up to frame his face, pull him in and deepen it. Cody moans, soft, and Feral’s breath catches. He pushes in, gets his hands on the arms of Cody's chair and almost wants to slide forward, into his lap—

“Oh, kriff,” a voice says loudly, and Cody groans, just as loud and deeply aggrieved. Laughing, Feral breaks the kiss, pulling away and sitting up, and he’s just in time to see Rex slap a hand over his eyes. “Cody.”

“That door was locked,” Cody retorts, and catches Feral’s knees. Pulls, like making a statement, and Feral obligingly lets himself be hauled down, gets a knee on one side of Cody's thighs and sits down in his lap, pulling him in. Cody gladly kisses his jaw, then his throat, then drops his head to kiss the bruise on his collarbone, and says pointedly, “You're lucky you didn’t walk in five minutes later.”

“You're lucky I didn’t walk in five minutes later,” Rex says. “Don’t you have a bedroom? Don’t you think you should save that for later?”

“I think I'm married and you should keep your nose out of it,” Cody counters, and loops an arm around Feral’s lower back. Feral ducks his head, careful of his horns as he hides his smile in Cody's hair, and shivers at the feeling of callused fingers stroking up and down his spine. “And besides, this was a strategy meeting. Feral was just telling me about all the ways Queen Miraj is about to betray us.”

“Droid armies,” Feral says obediently, trying not to grin. “Admiral Trench has one of Dooku's droid armies and he and the queen are trying to arrange a trap for you. Miraj is worried you're going to sell her out to the Republic and reveal what she’s been doing.”

Rex's groan is all frustration. “That was not a strategy meeting, or I've been missing out on a lot—”

“You have been,” Cody says mercilessly. “How’s that bounty hunter you keep failing to catch? Antilles give you any good strategy meetings recently—”

“Shut your mouth, Cody, if the queen’s going to sell us out to Trench I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about—”

Cody snorts. “One more person out to get us when we’re already enemy number one to the Republic and rogue, immoral science experiments made from their heir apparent’s DNA to the Mandalorians. It’s not the end of the galaxy, Rex.”

Feral swallows, reaches up. He cups Cody's cheek, leans in. Doesn’t quite rest their foreheads together, even if he wants to, because it means a lot more to the clones than it does to a Zabrak. Even so, he kisses his temple, then says softly, “Mother Talzin might help you.”

Cody's grip tightens over his ribs. “She sold you into marriage,” he says flatly, and meets Feral’s gaze. “I heard your comm to her. About your brothers.”

Feral swallows, but doesn’t let himself waver. “And you accepted,” he reminds Cody gently. Sees the way he’s about to protest and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter why you did. But the alliance is there. The Nightsisters can help with the Zygerrians.”

“No,” Cody says flatly. “Talzin’s not getting anything from me. I already took the most valuable thing she created, and I'm not giving it back.”

Feral’s breath hitches, and he ducks his head, feels Cody's arms tighten to draw him in. The fact that Cody can just say that, so openly and obviously—

It’s why he keeps using what he was taught for the clones’ sake, even when Cody tells him he doesn’t need to. Cody might not realize it, but Feral’s been waiting his whole life to find someone outside of his brothers to fight for. Maul and Savage will be all right; Savage is with a Jedi who would never hurt him, and Jaster Mereel seems like an honorable man, even in the face of Maul's prickly edges. But Cody needs what Feral can offer, and it’s a new feeling, something like a revelation.

“Good,” Feral says, soft, and Cody's hand smooths up his back, then down. There's a kiss pressed to his temple, a hand against his lower back—

Rex groans, holding his hands up. “Kriff, if you're going to be mushy—”

Even with Feral on his lap, Cody manages to grab a stylus, chuck it across the room, and peg Rex between the eyes without even having a clear line of sight. “Get lost, Rex,” he says, and Feral can't help but laugh, tucked into the curve of Cody's neck, pressed to his skin like a secret.

[On AO3]

[kasienda]

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 8 - Confrontation

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 4: A Thank You

Chapter 5: Unwanted Revelations

Chapter 6: Miraculous Abuse

Chapter 7: Five Minute Adventures of Ananta

Chapter 8: Confrontation

Adrien started at the sudden thud on his bedroom floor. He looked up. Ananta was breathing heavily and his expression was solemn. His best friend definitely didn’t look like he was just there to continue his day of goofing off and having a ridiculous time. 

“What’s wrong?” Adrien asked. 

“Your old man is a serious piece of work!”

“Did you punch him?” Adrien asked. 

Nino threw his hands up. “No! And I definitely should have! I have serious regrets! He fucking shattered my knee cap and tried to take the snake!“

Adrien dropped his stylus, and turned his full attention towards his guest. “Umm… maybe you should start from the beginning.” 

Read on Ao3

Nino sighed, and let himself flop backwards onto Adrien’s bed. 

“I was just continuing to live out my reckless fantasies. I just confronted him! I yelled at him about how awful of a father he was, and the bastard barely reacted!” Nino complained. “Then I told him you were Chat Noir, and it was like he flipped a switch.” 

“You told him I was Chat Noir?” Adrien asked, his voice small. 

“It never happened now! You don’t need to worry.”

Adrien shook his head. “I wasn’t… Uh… I mean, how did he react?” Adrien asked softly, his throat had dropped into his gut.

Nino wasn’t even looking at him - his friend was staring at the ceiling, fidgeting in clear agitation. “He went scary silent! He called Nathalie in. Apparently, they’ve suspected you were Chat Noir before, and thought they had ruled it out during Gorizilla.”

“Did he say anything else?” Adrien asked.

“Umm… he said barely anything the whole time I was there. I was the one talking. I told him how amazing you are, and how much of a jerk he is, but he didn’t react.” 

“He said nothing else?” Adrien asked again, gripping the side of his chair, trying to disguise the urgency with which he needed to know.  

“He mostly just said his parenting choices were none of my business. But… he did say something melodramatic like, ‘my own son, this entire time,’” Nino said, dropping his voice into his lower register in a mock impersonation of Adrien’s father. “Like you being a superhero was a personal affront to him!” 

“He was disappointed then?” Adrien asked. 

Nino bolted into a sitting position, his expression horrified as he finally caught Adrien’s train of thought. “Dude! I’m sorry! I didn’t think! I didn’t even consider that! Of course it would matter to you what he thought of your dual identity. I definitely didn’t mean to hit you with all this like a train. I’m so sorry!” 

“It’s…” Adrien trailed off. It wasn’t exactly okay, but Adrien wanted it to be okay. He definitely knew Nino hadn’t been trying to hurt him, but Nino had also known that Adrien was avoiding talking to his father with the snake. “It doesn’t matter,” Adrien said instead. “Just… tell me what he thought of the whole thing.”

“I… I don’t know, dude. He was definitely super creepy. But… I think he was holding back everything he was thinking. I don’t know what he thinks. Do you want me to go in there and try and find out?” 

Adrien shook his head rapidly. “No… it’s better if we keep your knees intact, and make sure he doesn’t have access to the snake. Maybe, you shouldn’t be here at all.” 

“Dude, are you okay?” 

“He really attacked you?” 

Nino nodded. “When my miraculous beeped its first warning, he looked right at it and then lunged forward. And dude! He was super capable! He knew exactly how and where to strike to incapacitate me.” 

“Did he know who you were?” Adrien asked softly. 

Nino winced. “Yeah, he figured it out. It probably wasn’t hard based on what I was screaming at him.” 

Adrien wilted.

“It’s okay!” Nino insisted. “I reset. I’m fine.” 

Adrien disagreed. It wasn’t okay that his father was willing to attack a miraculous holder, but especially wasn’t okay that his father was willing to attack his friends. 

What would motivate him to do that? 

“He actually tried to take your miraculous?”

“Dude! He almost nabbed it. If it hadn’t been for yesterday where I had so much practice hitting that reset without thought, he might’ve been successful.”

Adrien fell quiet, but his mind was whirling, and he wasn’t happy with where it was going, but he couldn’t not consider it.

“Dude, what are you thinking?”

“Nino, what if my father is Hawkmoth?” Adrien was amazed at how steady his voice was. Maybe it was because he had heard it before. Or maybe, it was just starting to make too much sense.

“Dude! That’s a big leap. The guy is awful and honestly, I wouldn’t be that surprised, but surely there are other explanations for him being a jerk and a good fighter?”

“Ladybug suspected him once before. She had actual evidence.”

Nino’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said on an exhale.

“What was the evidence?” Nino asked quietly.

Adrien shook his head. “I don’t know. I got really defensive and snapped at her. And then he was akumatized, and she crossed him off the suspect list. I never thought about it. I didn’t want to think about it.”

Nino nodded. “Understandable. But what does he get out of being Hawkmoth? He already has pretty much everything!”

“To bring back maman.”

And it fit. The second the words were out of his mouth, Adrien wanted to throw up. He could see it. His father was used to getting what he wanted either through intimidation or money, but bringing back his mother was something he was denied. Instead of accepting that, grieving and moving on like a normal person, would his father have turned to magic?

“Nathalie would have to be in on it,” he thought out loud. Maybe that’s why she had been so horrified by his identity and insistent that she and his father couldn’t know his.

“I’m going to need the snake back, Nino,” Adrien announced, his voice monotone, but steady.

“What are you going to do?” Nino asked. 

“I’m going to find out for sure if my father is Hawkmoth,” Adrien said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Will you be okay, alone? Shouldn’t we call Ladybug, maybe bring in some reinforcements?”

Adrien shook his head. “Time loops are easier when you don’t have to explain everything you’ve learned to a team...” he trailed off, considering. “And honestly, I… I would prefer to know first. If we’re right, I will tell her. But I’ll set the time loop outside the mansion. If he makes any kind of move, I will reset immediately. It’ll be fine.”

“But… will you be? If it turns out that he is?” 

“I… I don’t know. But it’s like you said, Nino. I have to know.”

“I’ll be here.”

“No,” Adrien disagreed.

“No? Dude! If you’re right about all of this, I don’t want you here in this mansion alone!” 

Adrien shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t want to face this alone either, but… if Ladybug has taught me anything, it’s that we have to be smart about this. If you almost lost the snake… I might lose it, too. I might get captured or incapicated or worse. I need someone to know, who’s not here! If you don’t see me by tomorrow, you go straight to Alya with our suspicions, okay?”

Nino looked so torn, but in the end he nodded. “Okay. But can I give you the snake back after I’ve gone back home?”

“What? You don’t want to be carried over the threshold bridal style by your superhero crush?” Adrien teased, but if Nino’s somber face was anything to go by, the joke fell flat. 

“I don’t want you to be tired right before you go and confront your father.” 

… 

Adrien took one slow deep breath with his eyes closed. Then he activated the snake and launched himself through the open window in his father’s office.

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave,” Gabriel barked instantly, rising to his feet at Snake Noir’s intrusion. 

“Is that anyway to greet your friendly neighborhood superhero?” Snake Noir joked the way Adrien Agreste never would. 

“You are a teenager in possession of a power you do not understand. Using a miraculous that you just randomly found is hardly an accomplishment worthy of respect. Especially if you are using it to break into private residences.”

“I would think not having lost once to Hawkmoth, and having personally saved you on two separate occasions would be its own resume,” Adrien countered.

“Or perhaps, if you had given it up to him in that very first encounter, the city would already be free of his influence and I never would have needed rescue.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I should have handed over the power of destruction to a terrorist.” 

“Yes.” 

“You’re a real piece of work,” Adrien snapped. 

Gabriel picked up his phone. No doubt to call the authorities.

Adrien reset with a sigh.

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave.” 

“Actually, I happen to live here.”

Gabriel froze, his grey eyes rising to Snake Noir’s masked eyes.

“Adrien?”

“I realize you likely don’t approve.” 

“Of my son gallivanting around the city in that ridiculous cat suit while putting his life in mortal peril?” Gabriel barked. “No, I don’t approve.”

“And here I was hoping that some part of you would be proud of me,” Adrien admitted softly. 

“Adrien, I forbid you from continuing as a superhero. It is far too dangerous.”

“You’re not going to remember this conversation in three minutes, father. You’re not in a position to make demands.”

Gabriel held out his hand. “Give me your ring and I will take care of it.”

Adrien backed away, knowing if what Nino had said was true, his father was more than capable of an effective strike. “I’m not going to give you my miraculous. Not either of them.” 

“Then what did you want to tell me?”

“I’ve come to ask if you’re Hawkmoth.” 

“You would accuse me? Your own father? Of being a domestic terrorist?”

“Would you cut it out and just answer the question?”

“Watch your tone!” 

“You’re worried about my tone?!”

“I see no reason to entertain your insolence and disrespect with a response.”

Adrien’s gut twisted. It wasn’t a denial. But it wasn’t a confirmation either. His father was not acting like an innocent man. And while Adrien was more convinced than ever that he was onto something, he wasn’t leaving until he was absolutely sure one way or the other.

“Father, I’m sorry.” He wasn’t actually sorry, but Adrien knew that an apology was often one of the only tools he had to calm his raging father. “I just… Ladybug suspected you. And I had to prove her wrong. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His father’s face gave away nothing. There was no change in his expression or posture. 

“I’m just worried about you, Adrien,” his father said. “You’re a child. You shouldn’t be risking yourself. This isn’t your fight. Nor your responsibility.” 

“It’s not that big of a risk,” Adrien countered. “Ladybug always brings me back.” Adrien watched his father’s face carefully. 

And sure enough, his lips pressed together into a thin line. 

“You don’t have a say,” Adrien pressed further.

“I’m your father!” Gabriel insisted. 

“That doesn’t mean you get to make every decision about my life!” Adrien shouted back. He knew that he’d never have had the gall to say that if his father was going to remember his defiance, but it felt freeing to say. Maybe Nino had been right and he should have confronted his father with the snake weeks ago. 

“You are still a child! Until you’re an adult, it is my right to see to your safety and affairs.”

Adrien bristled at his father’s choice of words. His right?! Didn’t he mean responsibility?

But that was just it. His father probably didn’t see caring for him as a responsibility. Nathalie saw to his affairs, and his bodyguard saw to his safety. What did his father ever do other than try to control him? 

“I haven’t been a child since mother left! And I think I finally understand why she did! To get away from you controlling every part of her life!”

“How dare you?!”

“How dare I?” Adrien repeated. “You’re the one that drove her away!” 

Gabriel shoved his computer monitor off his desk. It fell to the ground with a shattered crash. Then Gabriel flipped the desk itself. 

Adrien took a step back, every muscle tense and ready to spring into retreat. He had never seen his father lose control like this. 

Gabriel stalked forward, over the debris, his breath suddenly heaving in his chest. 

“Get out of my house!” he screamed, spit droplets flying from his mouth.

Adrien didn’t need to be told twice. He reset. 

He stood once again on the mansion’s tiled roof. The sun was shining, the sky a perfect blue. Birds chirped in the garden and a car drove past the outer gates. 

There was no evidence that he and his father had been screaming at each other seconds prior. 

Because they hadn’t been. 

He drew in a shaky breath and sat down, burying his head in his hands and knees. The event now only existed as a figment in Adrien’s memory. 

His father hadn’t just lost control. He hadn’t just kicked Adrien out of his childhood home. 

And yet his hands were trembling and his heartbeat was roaring in his ears. 

Adrien was more convinced than ever that his father was the villain Ladybug had suspected he was. But what would get his father to come clean? Just asking hadn’t worked. Challenging his authority always made things worse. As apparently did direct confrontations.

Adrien stood up.

He knew what he had to say. 

He reset, and then dove back down into his father’s office for the fourth time. 

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave.” 

“Hello father,” Adrien greeted formally. 

Gabriel’s eyes widened, focused on his transformed suit. “Adrien?” 

“I’ve come to apologize to you. I’ve been fighting as Chat Noir this entire time to protect Paris. But that was before I realized what Hawkmoth was fighting for.”

Adrien could already see the anticipation gleaming in his father’s eyes as he leaned eagerly forward. 

“And what is Shadowmoth fighting for?” Gabriel asked. 

Did he seriously just correct the villain’s name to Shadowmoth? 

“You’re fighting to bring back mom,” Adrien told him. “And I want to help you. Ladybug…” and he had beat back a sob for even uttering these words. “Ladybug… she trusts me. I can… I can get you the miraculous of creation and I already have destruction,” he said, holding up his hand putting the ring on display.

“And you are willing to support Shadowmoth against the partner you’ve fought beside and defended for two years?”

“Family should come first, don’t you think?” Adrien said. 

His father was silent, considering him stoically. 

“I would do anything for Maman,” Adrien whispered. “To hear her voice again? To see her smile? Wouldn’t you?” It was what his father would have said to him had the identity reveal had played out in the reverse direction.

Gabriel smiled as he rose to his feet. “I should have trusted you with this ages ago, Adrien. I am sorry. I doubted you. I wasn’t certain that you had the stomach to do what needed to be done. To think, you were the key to victory the entire time. I should have had more faith.”

Adrien’s whole world shattered at the unequivocal confirmation. And yet, he remained standing, his eyes were dry, and his hands remained steady. Some part of him wondered at his ability to take the revelation without flinching. He knew if he had learned this a year ago, he would be a puddle on the floor balling,  barely able to function. 

But a lot had changed in the last year. A lot had changed in just the last few weeks. Adrien suddenly had a lot of practice at dealing with world-ending revelations and the accompanying grief. A lot of practice at saying good-bye to people that he loved.

“I miss her so much,” Adrien said, his voice cracking. And this time he did nothing to suppress the tears that wanted to fall. Because in this much, he was being honest. He missed her. 

So much.

His father came around the desk, and swept Adrien up in a hug. For one weak moment, Adrien allowed himself to melt into the awkward embrace. 

And then, the snake miraculous beeped, and his father jerked away violently, his eyes blazing with unbridled rage.

“You’re in a time loop?!” his father roared. 

Adrien didn’t give him another second to react. 

He reset. And he was back on the mansion’s rooftop. He dropped like a lead weight to the roof tiles. 

He had just done something he had never done before. 

He had earned his father’s admiration and respect.

His love.

The tears came fast and hard, and Adrien just let himself heave and sob because he knew he couldn’t keep his father’s love. 

It came at a price Adrien was unwilling to pay.

And now, given what he knew he had to do, he knew without any doubt he would never have his father’s love.

Not for the rest of his life. 

…

It only took two more loops to stop crying. And then his experience as a superhero who always had to act, to strike, to make decisions in life or death situations took over. Because he was a professional with a job to do.

But before that, he would give his father a chance to surrender. Adrien knew that his father wouldn’t take it, but he had to try anyway if only for his own peace of mind years from this moment. 

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave.” 

God, Adrien was really getting sick of that line. 

“Gabriel Agreste, hand over the butterfly and peacock miraculouses without a fight, and I won’t tell a soul who you are.”

Adrien held out his hand, hoping with every fiber of his being that his father would just surrender. 

Gabriel glared at him, but didn’t say anything for several seconds. Was his father considering his escape options? Or was he actually considering surrendering the miraculouses? 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he eventually said stoically.

Snake Noir snorted. “This is my ninth loop. I’ve already confirmed you’re Hawkmoth. If you give it up, you can continue to live your life of privilege with your family. The city never need know who you are.” 

“That’s quite the generous offer coming from you,” Gabriel said. 

Gabriel was wrong. It was a selfish offer. Please father, please just take it. 

Snake Noir glanced at the portrait of his mother that hung behind Gabriel “You’re not the only one who has lost someone you know.”

Gabriel launched to his feet, snarling. “What do you know of loss?”

“I lost my mother about three years ago, and I think I’m about to lose my father,” Adrien confessed calmly.

His father froze, his eyes widened. “Adrien?”

“Please father, give it up,” Adrien entreated. “Give it up and we can be a family.” 

“Adrien, we can be a family. A whole and complete family with your mother here with us again. Please, just help me. With Chat Noir on our side, our victory is certain.”

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut against his father’s pleas.

“I will forgive all the years you fought against me. Join me now, and we can bring her back.”

“We can’t,” Adrien sobbed.

“We can,” his father insisted. “The ladybug and black cat will grant any wish.” 

“The cost is too high.”

Gabriel snarled at him. “How can you be against me?! I did this all for you!” 

“For me?! Are you serious, right now?! This was always for yourself!”

“For both of us!” 

Adrien shook his head in agitation. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Adrien,” his father said, his voice contained an actual note of desperation. 

Adrien’s eyes shot to his father’s and considered him. 

His father might now want to hurt him. But he would. If that’s what it took. 

Hot tears spilled down his face. 

“So be it, father.” 

“Adrien!”

Adrien didn’t give him the chance to say anything else. 

… 

On his next loop, he came through the front doors rather than through the window. His focus was on Nathalie. 

If his father deserved a chance, so did she. And he was far less certain what she would choose. 

Nathalie jumped to her feet instantly at his unexpected presence. 

“Don’t stand on my account,” he told her. “I know you still haven’t been feeling well.” 

“What can I do for you, M. Noir?” she said with as much dignity and professionalism as ever. Like his presence wasn’t abnormal at all. 

“Where does he keep it, Nathalie?” he asked. 

“Where does who keep what?” she asked, but it was clear to him that she was stalling when she glanced toward the doors to his father’s office. 

“My father?” he clarified, following her gaze. “Where does he keep the butterfly miraculous?” 

She stared at him, her expression almost unchanged except her pupils had dilated. It was good to know some things were capable of throwing Nathalie off her unshakeable foundation - that she was human.

She pushed the glasses up her nose. “I wouldn’t presume to know who your father is.” 

“Nathalie, you’ve already figured out that I’m Adrien, and you’ve clearly known about him for far longer if you were using the peacock.”

She flinched.

He walked right up to her, his eyes looking down at her. 

When had he grown taller than Nathalie? 

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” she said. 

His chest tightened painfully. He knew he had no claim to Nathalie’s affections, but he didn’t want to lose her, too. “Nathalie, please. Help me end this somewhat peacefully before one of us winds up killing the other. Please!” 

“He’s doing this to bring your mother back,” she confessed. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I got that. But I think maman might’ve had a good reason to leave. He has no right to force her back to a life she clearly didn’t want.” 

Nathalie shook her head. “She didn’t leave. She’s still here. She’s just in a magically induced coma.” 

He lost the ability to breathe. 

His mother was here? The whole time? They had let him believe she was gone, that she had left him? Or that she had died? When she was here the whole time?! 

His grip tightened around his baton, and his eyes burned.  

“Did either of you ever consider telling me?” he choked out. 

“He tried once, but you gave him your blessing to move on, and he decided you weren’t dedicated enough.”

He shook his head. Of course he did. “I gave him my blessing to move on with you,” he snapped back. 

She glanced past him and adjusted her glasses. “Be that as it may,” she said softly. 

“I don’t understand you. You’re willing to die for him?”

She turned back to him, her eyes suddenly intense. “For all of you! To heal your family!” 

He took a step back. He wasn’t certain he wanted to be a part of this family. 

“So you won’t help me?” he concluded. 

“I won’t betray your father, Adrien. I can’t. I hate that it was you that we were fighting. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Nathalie.”

He reset the snake.

… 

It only took thirteen loops to figure out how to get to the super secret supervillain lair underneath the mansion.

And there she was, preserved perfectly. She was exactly as he remembered - beautiful and soft. She could have just been sleeping if she hadn’t been lying in a glass coffin like some fairy tale princess waiting for a kiss of true love.

“Hi maman,” he whispered, his claws tracing out the curve of her face on the glass. “It’s… good to see you,” he managed before his throat lodged itself closed. He leaned his forehead against the smooth surface and he shook as silent sobs overtook him. 

He fought to gain his breath back under control. He had so much he wanted to say to her. “So much has changed since you left us,” he whispered. “I wish I could tell you about all of it. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he sobbed. 

“How did you get down here?!”

Adrien whirled, and found himself face to face with Shadowmoth. 

“It wasn’t hard,” Snake Noir said, before pointing to the window. “That’s a very big window.”

“What are you doing down here?” the villain demanded.

“Saying good-bye to my mother,” Adrien said. 

Whatever his father had expected him to say that was not it. He literally stopped in his tracks, his eyes going wide as if Adrien had just struck him. Which in a way, he supposed he had. “Adrien?” 

“Yes father?”

THe older man smiled. He actually smiled. “This is perfect.” 

Adrien had never disagreed with his father more in his life. This was about as far from perfect as they could get. 

“You can help me,” he was saying. “Help your mother. You have what we need! And I’m sure if Ladybug knows it’s for your mother, she’ll be willing to help as well.”

Snake Noir shook his head, tears trailing over his mask. “We can’t revive her,” he whispered. 

“We can!”

“The price is too high.” 

“I will pay any price!” his father screamed. 

“And that’s exactly why you can’t revive her! Did you know there was another timeline out there? One where you akumatized me! And the whole fucking world was destroyed! Is that a price you’re willing to pay?”

“If you help me, there would be no reason to akumatize you.” 

“I can’t believe you! There’s no way I can convince you to give it up, is there?”

Gabriel ignored him, stalking closer. “Give me your miraculous!” 

“I won’t!” 

“This isn’t your battle to fight!” Gabriel snarled. “You are a child!” 

“I stopped being a child the day mother disappeared! Because you disappeared the same day she did! I thought…” Adrien broke off momentarily overwhelmed with his tears. “I thought you were grieving! Turns out you were terrorizing the whole city!”

“For you!” 

“That’s a load of bull shit!” Adrien screamed back.  

Shadowmoth surged forward, snarling. And Adrien had run out of walkway. “Is your mother not worth it? You would betray me? Betray your own mother? For what? Some girl you barely even know?”

Adrien laughed bitterly. At this point he knew Marinette far better than either of his parents. If only she knew that.

“You would make me choose between two women that I love?!” Adrien countered. 

“It shouldn’t be that hard. There are millions of women for you to fall in love with. You only have one mother.” 

“I could say the same to you,” Adrien said. “You could fall in love again. You only have one son.” 

Shadowmoth lunged forward, striking with his cane. Adrien parried the blow with his staff, and dodged to the side. “Maman wouldn’t want you to do this!” he yelled.

His father laughed. “This was her plan!”

Adrien stumbled, and lost his form. Shadowmoth struck again through the lapse in his defenses. 

Snake Noir took the strike to the shoulder, and fell backwards. “Then she doesn’t deserve to be revived!”

Gabriel sneered. “I failed in raising you.”

“You didn’t raise me at all! And I’m likely better for it!”

Shadowmoth struck downwards, but Adrien just flicked the snake miraculous before the cane could make contact again, and he was back on the mansion’s tiled roof overlooking his mother’s gardens. 

“Sass, scales rest.” The snake slipped away, but he was still Chat Noir. He vaulted blindly away needing to be anywhere else.

Once he had put half a mile between himself and his former home, he collapsed to the ground, and pulled open the communicator. 

“M’lady, I figured out who Shadowmoth is. And I took the liberty of doing some reconnaissance with the snake.” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “And I-I… have a plan. Let’s meet on your balcony; I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Please invite Rena and Carapace. And don’t worry about costumes. I already know who all of you are and I think both the others know who you are, too. See you soon, princess.”

He ended the call, buried his head into his knees, curled up, and cried. 

…

Chapter 9: Family

[lenievi]

[ficlet] Spock/McCoy #2

I wrote a short continuation to this prompt, but I decided to repost the previous part as well. It’s intended as a part of my McCoy and Spock getting together wip, so I’m sure I’ll rewrite it later to fit with whatever comes later, but I also like this version...

pre-relationship

+++

“Why is it that every time I get into a shuttlecraft with you, something happens?” McCoy asked five hours after they had to make an emergency landing, and after Spock finally admitted he did not have the means to fix the malfunction that had forced them to land.  

“I do not think that twice could be considered every time, Doctor.”

“Maybe not, but last time we got stuck on a planet. This time? We got stuck on a planet. Do you see the pattern?”

Spock could not deny the logic in McCoy’s statement. He sat down next to McCoy.

“It will take the Enterprise four point seven hours before it gets here.”

McCoy leaned his head against the metal shell of the shuttlecraft. After five days spent on this planet breathing fresh air, neither of them wished to sit inside the small craft. The sun and wind, too, were pleasant.

“Let’s hope there are no wild animals around here,” McCoy said.

“Nothing bigger than an Earth’s wolf.”

“That’s not actually comforting, Spock.”

“Doctor Ma said the predators live in the mountains and do not come to the plains.”

“And you said we landed two hundred kilometers away from the village,” McCoy pointed out.

“You can go inside the shuttlecraft, Doctor.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I did not say you were.”

“Do you always--” McCoy started, but stopped and shook his head. “Five more hours. Then I don’t want to see you for a week.”

“That does not--”

McCoy put his hand over Spock’s mouth. “Shhh.”

The change of McCoy’s position brought their faces close. For five seconds Spock sat completely still, his heart pounding in his side. Then he gripped McCoy’s wrist and pulled the hand away.

McCoy's eyes were flitting around Spock's face, and he was blinking rapidly, his cheeks redder now.

“Sorry,” McCoy said, looking away. He tugged at his hand, and Spock let it go. Neither of them moved.

Spock did not remember the last time McCoy had initiated a touch that was not related to a medical examination. McCoy was tactile with Kirk, but not with Spock, and that realization made him stop.

“Doctor--”

“Spock, I think I’m going to get some shut-eye if you don’t mind,” McCoy said and stood up.

“Very well.” Before McCoy disappeared in the shuttlecraft, Spock asked, “Do you want me to wake you up before the Enterprise gets here?”

“Thanks.” McCoy didn’t look back. 

The sound of the door closing was loud.

*

The weather on P-23 changed fast. Nearly two hours after McCoy had disappeared inside the shuttlecraft, it started to rain, and Spock had no other choice but to join him.

McCoy had taken out a blanket and lay on the ground in between the seats.

“Is it time?” McCoy asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“No. There are still two point one hours left before the Enterprise gets here.”

McCoy lay down again, throwing an arm over his face. Spock, deciding that talking to McCoy would be counterproductive at this point, grabbed his PADD, and sat down in the pilot’s chair.

The sound of the falling raindrops against the front glass and the top of the shuttlecraft was nostalgic and soothing. It didn't often rain in ShiKahr but when it did, Spock would sit close to the windows in his room, watching the drops splash against the glass, listening to the sounds of the rain, more often than not drawing on his PADD.

When he was a child, drawing was easier than talking. When words would fail him, when his emotions and thoughts would overwhelm him, he would take a stylus and give shape to everything he wasn’t able to name. Would it be helpful now as well?

Spock leaned against the back of the chair and watched the raindrops merge together. Perhaps McCoy had been right, and a short break from each other's company would be beneficial for he could not shake off the sensation of McCoy's palm pressed over his mouth, his heartbeat getting faster, and the image of McCoy’s bright blue eyes and flushed cheeks that were strangely aesthetically appealing at that moment.

“Spock?” McCoy’s voice, despite being quiet, sounded loud in the narrow space. 

"Yes, Doctor?"

"You should take off that wet tunic."

Spock ran his fingers over the sleeve. It should dry soon. “It is not an inconvenience,” he said. He had gone inside before it started to pour.

“Not an inconvenience, he says,” McCoy murmured and stood up. Spock tried to turn around, but a blanket covered his head. “Use this before you catch a cold.”

“Vulcans do not catch colds, Doctor,” Spock said as he pulled the blanket into his lap. He could smell the remnants of McCoy’s unique scent as well as the musty smell of the blanket. Mixed together, they were not pleasant.

“Yeah, it smells,” McCoy said, sitting down in the co-pilot’s seat. “God knows how long it’s been in the storage. Better than nothing, though.”

McCoy’s eyes flickered to the top of Spock’s head, and he smiled. A teasing sort of a smile Spock had learned meant nothing good, and yet there was something in McCoy’s expression that was different this time. New. And McCoy didn’t say anything. Only shook his head and faced the front of the shuttlecraft.

Spock glanced at the screen of his PADD and awkwardly patted down his disheveled hair, ignoring McCoy completely. He kept the blanket in his lap and switched on his PADD.

*

An hour later, Spock inspected his drawings, unsatisfied, and pressed delete. 

[captainrexisboo]

Comfort pt5: Sarad

Link to Previous - this chapter takes off right at the end of the previous part, so!

Here It Is. Part Five. I Love My Boo So Much. Also- my first fully completed fic?? Ever??! Holy crap!!!! Dumb Luck stares at me as it sharpens a knife in the corner

No warnings apply, Rex x Reader, reader is a lady. Questions and comments are always welcome! Let me know if y’all want an epilogue!! 

EDIT!!! Link to Epilogue!!!

Tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @000ayfh @pinkiemme @midnightredemption @simping-for-fives @danger-xylophones @iscream4clones @jyvorakal @leias-left-hair-bun @vesperstalksclones @mackstrut @yamaktaria @juitoverride @callme-eds @greenygreenland All of you have been so wonderful, I love reading your comments/tags, and seeing your names/icons pop up in my notifs always make me smile!!! You’re all amazing!!! Love y’all!!!

~

You sat at your desk, spinning a stylus in between your fingers and back straight, chewing on a swollen, worried bottom lip. Your eyes were rimmed red and puffy, but dry- you had already done all your crying, and were now just sitting alone, stewing in your own emotion. You couldn’t even look at Rex directly as he slowly steps into the room, just thinking to yourself about what happened, replaying the unexpected uneventfulness in your mind, trying to find out why it hurt you so. You felt so hypocritical, throwing a fit about Aurin’s lack of attention when you explicitly asked him to leave you alone. You were such a fool, anyway you looked at it.

Your gaze went low as Rex stepped closer, putting your cup directly in front of you. You gave him a silent nod in thanks, and he stood for a minute, holding his own cup as he shifted on his feet. His voice came out nearly strained, a thin whisper, “Should I… Do you need me to come back later, or-”

“Please stay.”

Your words were croaked, and you winced at the broken sound, but you didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t realize how much you didn’t actually want to be alone until Rex had walked in. He sat across from you, armor clacking together as he got comfortable (or as comfortable as he could in full gear) and you could feel his calculating gaze tracing your face and form. You let out a cough (it was supposed to be a laugh) knowing exactly what he was searching for. “He didn’t hurt me, Captain. Never did, never will.”

You felt a corner of your lips twitch up slightly as Rex let out a sigh of relief, but noticed how he still stayed tense. “Y/N, what’s the matter? What happened?”

What happened?

“What happened indeed,” you let out a wry exhale, “In all seriousness, nothing happened” -you held up a hand as Rex opened his mouth to protest, stopping him before he made a sound- “and that’s just the problem.”

Rex tilted his head, cocking his eyebrow, “I, uh. I don’t think I follow.”

You finally looked up at him with a dead stare, and he stiffened again. You sighed low, your eyelids feeling heavy as your heart sank deeper into your stomach. You let your gaze fall again, before clearing your throat, “I’m sorry, Rex. I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I ask him to leave me alone, and when he does- literally, he barely even spared a glance at me today- I fall completely apart. I don’t know if this is like just a release of energy because I was hyping myself up beforehand and planning all the ways I’d deflect his conversation, or if it’s shock because I wasn’t expecting to be ignored, or if I’m regretting-”

“Hey, slow down, wait a second,” Rex shushed you, voice a little more present as he leaned forward, “Look at me.”

You hesitated, pulling your lip back between your teeth, but did as you were told. You felt meek, glancing up at him through your lashes as he held your stare with his deep honeyed eyes. He gestured towards your caf, and you slowly lifted a hand to wrap around the cup, feeling your shoulders release a little as the warmth of the cup seeped into your palm and fingers. When did they get so cold?

“Take a breath,” Rex demonstrated for you, as you followed his command to the letter, “Now take a drink. Relax.”

You brought the drink up to your lips, letting the sweetened substance flow past your lips and glide easy down your throat. He had this uncanny ability to doctor your caf just right, it never ceased to make your eyes flutter shut, like the drink was a signal that you could begin to let go of any stress that plagued your mind. The same warmth that spread through your hand pulsed through your chest, before you let out a shuddering breath, placing the cup back on the desk. You opened your eyes, Rex giving you a soft smile at your heavy sigh, ”Better?” You nodded to him. “Good. Now, ‘nothing’ happened?”

“Yeah,” you deflated, not defeatedly in self-pity as you were before, but an expel of the tension that had been eating away at you for the better half of the day, “I thought this was what I wanted, and I… I think that’s it’s still what I want, but when he actually put it into practice I just…”

You scoffed at yourself, glancing off to the side to stare at the pile of flimsi Yularen needed to sign off on, “You know how you get yourself excited for something that’s about to happen, something you want to happen, and the moment it happens it’s different than how you’d expect it to be?”

Rex nodded, heart skipping as he thought about Ahsoka’s speculation. What would happen if he told you his true feelings now? Would you laugh at him, thinking he’s playing a cruel joke on you? Would you pout at him, and apologize for not feeling the same way? Would you stare at him with an icy glare and tell him how awful he is for telling you at the worst possible timing? Would you smile at him so sweetly, and get up from your chair to walk around and whisper an admission of your own feelings as well, lips brushing against his temple like that one day he can’t stop replaying in his head? He’s unsure which option scares him the most.

“Aurin ignored me throughout the entire inspection today, even as we stood alone with each other. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look in my direction. He simply stood next to me,” you recounted, gaze going unfocused again, “He did exactly as I asked. For whatever reason, it hurt me. It hurt so much-”

You cut yourself off as your voice cracked, feeling the lump form in your throat again. You reach for your caf, taking another soothing sip, letting the hot liquid push past the emotion rising in your throat. Breathing steady, you looked back into your lap, sitting your caf back on your desk before shrinking into a whisper, “And I can’t figure out why.”

Rex sat still, ankle crossed over his knee. He took a long sip from his own cup, soaking in the information. It was a heavy minute before he cleared his throat, “Do you… do you maybe want to talk to him?” Rex felt himself swallow thickly. “Do you want to be with him again?”

“No.”

You reeled back, wincing at yourself, surprised at how quickly you responded. Rex looked at you intently, but with merciful patience, only the incline of his head urging you to continue. You gazed back into Rex’s eyes, feeling something in your stomach stir from their sincerity. If nothing else, Rex was earnest and kind at his core. You had unwavering confidence in your friendship, and you were reminded of that everytime you looked into his eyes. You could tell him anything- he could pull the truth out of you better than you could push it through by yourself. Alone, you had to hunt for it, search the darkest corners of your mind, and almost always came back into the light empty handed and frustrated. You’d exhausted yourself so easily doing just that today, but when you locked onto Rex’s gaze, he could easily lead you to your truth. He coaxed it out of you with gentle whispers and soft touches, with eyes that practically glowed with an emotion you thought you knew but couldn’t quite place. You swallowed a breath, sitting up straight, and talking directly to Rex, letting your instinct take over as you answered silent questions.

What do you want?

“I want to continue to keep my distance from him.”

Why?

“It was...shocking. To not have any interaction with him. But its what I need, to grow into my own person. It’ll be better this way.”

So how do you explain your reaction?

“I guess I… I’m afraid.”

You stopped yourself from venturing further down that rabbit hole, finally breaking away from Rex’s stare. You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, the emotional strain from today taking its toll on you. You shut your eyes tight, dropping your chin to your chest, trying to stop the headache from coming on, not even looking up as you heard the weighty steps of Rex’s boots as he walked around your desk.

Rex had gotten up from his seat as soon as your lashes hit the tops of your cheeks. He allowed his typically quiet footfalls to echo in the room as he opted for a slow walk to come closer to you, setting his half-finished caf on the edge of your desk. He never seemed to be able to shake his nerves whenever he made a move to touch you, always moving as if time was slowed down around the two of you, in your own little pocket of reality. His hand moved cautiously, making sure you had time to feel his presence, time to move away if you needed to. Rex’s fingers brushed at your shoulder, curling over the muscle as his thumb traced your collarbone, hidden under your uniform jacket. He put pressure there, a slight squeeze, causing you to hum lightly at the contact. Rex continued his motions at your approval, sinking down to one knee to see if he could catch your eyes, only to find them closed. He smoothed his gloved hand over the gray material, following the slope of your shoulder in a fluid motion, keeping his voice low despite being the only two people in the room, “What are you afraid of, cyar’ika?”

The endearment was out of his mouth before he could stop himself, but if you knew what the term meant you didn’t mention it. He left it alone, letting the moment settle.

You shivered slightly at his gravelly tone, taking note of the new word you’d have to ask about later. He said it so softly in a single exhale, that at least you knew it wasn’t supposed to be an insult. You opened an eye, finding his stare on you, and opening the other one as you leaned forward, placing your forehead against his. The position was awkward, your back was hunched and you could already feel your neck getting stiff, but the keldabe kiss made you feel at ease, lifting a hand to wrap around the back of Rex’s head, feeling the prick of his buzz on your palm, the pads of your fingers rubbing lightly over his scalp. You felt a smile twitch up as he gave a relieving sigh of his own, closing his eyes as he melted at your petting.

“I’m afraid of changing,” the admission fell out of you as a wave of calm washed over the two of you, startling yourself, but the grip you and Rex held on each other kept you grounded enough to move forward, “Aurin and I… we were inseparable for so long. I want to know who I am without him, figure out what it means to be me. But I can’t help but think- this is so silly- what if I spend too much time on that? What if I finally complete my journey, but can’t find anyone to love that version of me?”

Your hand moved down to grip at the back of Rex’s neck, his eyes opening as your gaze went downcast, continuing after a breath, “Aurin and I had a love… I outgrew it. What if by the time I finish growing, no one has room to love me like that anymore?”

“I will.”

Your eyes shot back up at the two simple words, growing wide at the sudden revelation. You froze after your eyes locked, swallowing down a breath as you waited for him to continue, still keeping your foreheads pressed together. Rex moved his hand over your shoulder, rubbing up and down your arm in a calming pace, though you’re unsure if it was to soothe your nerves or his own. The air you both were suddenly all-too-aware of sharing thickened as the silence stretched, Rex’s eyes searching your own as he briefly wetted his lips in anticipation of your reaction.

“Y/N, I need you to know, you’ll never outgrow those who already care for you. Aurin kept you locked in a box, and it was a warm, safe box. But you did a brave thing. You took a step out of that box, and as soon as you did you blossomed. Sarad, flower, you’ll always be growing, that’s a part of life,” he cleared his throat, intent on making his devotion ring clear, both of his hands moving to wrap around your own, the one still in your lap, “You’re healing, finding your roots, and already you’ve changed so much, in the brightest of ways. And I… I really, really care for you. I’ll always be here for you, by your side, ready to welcome you into my heart with open arms. If you decide I’m not for you, that’s fine, just please take this to heart- I’ll always make room to love you.”

He held his breath, waiting for your response, not daring to break your hold. Your fingers had stopped their light massaging on his head, but you kept him pulled to you. He gripped your hand between his own, running his thumbs over your knuckles. He didn’t want to let go- if you ended up hating him for this outburst, he wanted to be in your touch as long as possible until then.

You had no response. You were silent and intensely looking right through him, to say you were shocked was an understatement, but you held no doubt that Rex had spoken only the truth to you. The past few months started to replay through your mind, all his little quirks and notions that you thought were just him in culture shock to nat-born socializing became clear- and you could punch yourself for not realizing it sooner. He loves you...seems like he always had. The longer the moment stretched, the more nervous the Captain’s gaze fell, and you just barely choked out a whisper, “Rex…”

Your mouth hung open, stuck in how to continue, letting a breathless, but short giggle come through you as he visibly perked up to your voice. You blinked at him, trying to clear your mind, “I...I-I’m sorry, I need some time to think, still.”

“That’s fine,” Rex nodded, almost forgetting your foreheads were still pushed together as his words came out in a rush, “take as much time as you need. I’m not telling you this as a way to ask you out o-or anything, I just. I just don’t want you to feel unloved. I’m here for you, no matter if you match my feelings or…”

He trailed off, his eyes being pulled to the floor as the other option crossed both of your minds. He didn’t need to say it. You felt your heart ache for him, here he was laying his soul out to you, and all you could do was request that he gives you time. 

But this its time that he’s willing to give. 

“I’ve waited for you for so long already,” his baritone rumbled from his chest, as he slowly brought his gaze back up to you. You felt your cheeks heat under the warmth of the amber hearth that was his eyes, “I’ll gladly wait two lifetimes more.”

Something in you broke. It snapped, and the force of it pushed you forward, colliding with the Captain’s lips. You both made brief sounds, a muffled chirp against a surprised throaty grunt, equal parts terrified and triumphant. He tasted like caf, with a bite of citrus, like he’d been eating an orange, and the thought for whatever reason made you smile against him as your eyes slid shut.

Rex’s eyes blew wide open, freezing in place at your movement. Holding his breath as you stayed on his lips, heart racing like never before, even on the battlefield. This was different, and delightful, and how do you kiss someone properly, is there a manual for it, should he stay still or-

Just as quickly as you brushed against him, you had left, and he had to restrain himself to keep from following you back. You looked at him, and- oh. He knows those eyes.

“I still need time,” you breathed out, moving off of his forehead but fingers resuming their petting over his scalp, “but maybe I’ll run the course quicker knowing you’re at the finish line.”

Rex had dreamed of your eyes looking at him like that, and he was sure his gaze matched. Like you had hung the stars in the sky for the ships to fly through, like he had painted the universe on a velvet canvas- like he loved you. Like you loved him. Your moony gazes were locked on each other before he rasped out, only just remembering to breathe in the quiet moment, “I don’t want to push my luck, but… could you maybe, possibly, kiss me? Again? Please, I feel like I did it wrong.”

He melted in the ring of your laughter, a smile finally breaking through his face at the sound, squeezing the hand he still held. You looked at him with unchecked fondness, and shook your head, “You did fine.” A coquettish gleam came through your eyes, as you gently pulled at the back of his head. He followed your prompting, leaning up eagerly to close the space between you, eyes glancing to your lips as you smiled, “Although, a little practice never hurt anybody.”

[wille-zarr]

"Yes, Sir” (Captain Rex x Reader)

@mythandmagik​ I ship you with...

Captain Rex

p.s. you know rex is TOTAL boyfriend material. this MAN, yall.... 

If there’s one thing you love, it’s living on Coruscant. Nothing ever stays the same- the people, the scenery, the culture- what can you say? Expect the unexpected. 

Back when you lived on Dantooine, stars! Nothing ever happened. Wake up, work the farm, eat, sleep. It was a fine, simple, quiet life for your family.... but...

Let’s just say you needed a little more excitement in your life.

Despite all your family’s concerns and arguments, you hopped on a transport the day you saved up enough cash to leave. They fought it best they could, but, in the end, they sent you on your way with hugs and kisses, well aware that their independent, stubborn child was more than capable of handling life on Coruscant.

So here you are: a few years later. You’ve made quite the life for yourself on-world. It took a bit of work and making the right connections, but you’ve managed to break into the art and fashion scene on Coruscant.

And your first break-through assignment? You have been tasked, hand-selected by your boss, to design a series of posters for the Republic honoring the men and various clone legions fighting on the front lines of the Clone Wars.

...Which is why you currently have a fidgety, jumpy clone captain standing in the doorway of your office.

“Anshu?”

You lift your eyes, smirking as the clone captain clears his throat, waiting for permission to step forward.

He’s nervous. 

“Ah, Captain Rex, I take it? Sent here to represent the-” you shuffle your papers- “ah, yes, the 501st Legion?”

“Yes, sir- ah, I mean, ma’am.”

“Sir works for me,” you chirp, spinning around in your chair to hide your mischievous grin.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Oh, it’s going to be way too much fun messing with him.

You motion your hand at the empty chair in front of you desk. Tucking a long strand of black hair back behind your ear, you sigh and lean forward.

“I just spent the better part of the morning working with Commander Wolffe and trooper named Sinker.” You bite the end of your stylus, throwing Rex a knowing look.

“Oh, I am so, so sorry, sir.” He snorts before posturing on the edge of the chair. “Wolfpack is.... ah, different.”

“I’ll say,” you chuckle, “they came in here wanting their posters to be a series of them riding wolves. And I told them, hell yeah, I can make that happen.”

You both burst into laughter, and you are relieved to see Rex’s shoulders drop, his posture relaxing.

“Well, then. Lean back. Get comfortable, Rex-” you smile at him as you adjust your glasses- “hopefully our conversation won’t be quite as complicated as theirs.”

Oh kriff.

Rex was nervous to be in your office- but not for the reasons you had thought.

The moment he laid eyes on you- kriff- he’d never seen someone- anyone- he thought as beautiful as you. 

Rex never had a preference before when it came to hair and eye color, always just smiling and shaking his head as his brothers went on and on about “red-head” this and “green-eye” that. After all, he was too focused on work- on winning the war- to spend too much time thinking about a potential romantic relationship. 

But, here he is now, sitting down in front of you, watching the sunlight draping the side of your tan face with a golden, warm glow... Brown eyes twinkling with humor and mischief... Raven hair cascading over your shoulders...

Kriff, Rex has a preference now.

And his preference is you.

Due to the nature of your assignment, you are required to meet with the commanders and captains of the clone legions a couple times over the course of several months.

But, well, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t request Rex’s presence more often than needed just to spend time with him....

Rex was... a breath of fresh air. He never took offense at your sarcastic jests. Rather, he would counter them with an equal wit. He was calm, laid-back. Gentle. Never suffocating. Whenever you spent time with him, you found yourself just.... breathing easier.

You eventually give him your comlink channel- under the excuse of needing it for work purposes....

But when those work conversations turn into late-night calls? And work discussions turn into deep, heart-to-hearts?

Yeah. Okay.

You like him.

But just a little bit.

Okay, a lot. 

“Darn-” kick- “it-” kick- “stop thinking-” kick- “about-” kick- “him!”

One last guttural yell- you kick your leg up into the air with all the force and rage left in you.

You wipe the sweat pooling off your face, growling at the bag you just took out all your frustrations on.

“Not bad.”

You spin around, fist raised ready to-

“Hold on!” A hand grabs your fist before you make contact.

“Rex!” you gasp, “Idiot! Sneaking up on me like that!” You leap into his arms- shocking both him and you. You jerk away just as fast.

“Your form was off.” 

You sneer at him, crossing your arms as he moves around you in a circle.

“Well, what do you know about fighting?” A smirk teases in the corner of your mouth.

“You’re right. Not much.” He shrugs, crossing his arms.

“I can teach you then,” you smile... a bit too sweetly.

He jumps left- barely missing your kick.

He counters your move. You easily break it, jumping back several feet.

He’s holding back- playing a little game of tookacat and mouse with you.

Fine. You can play his little game. You can beat him.

And you know just what your winning strategy will be. 

You grin, circling him, keeping your eyes glued on his. His smile is long-gone; an intense, focused stare replacing the usual twinkle in his eyes.

He lunges forward, but it’s too late- your winning strategy has been deployed.

Your lips press harder against his. Your arms snake their way around the back of his neck, pulling him in tighter against you.

He is frozen in your arms.

You grin into the kiss. You win.

Two...three...four... He snaps out of his stupor. Spins you around in one swift move, pinning you against the wall- never once breaking the kiss.

“Aye!” you squeak, pulling away. “Hey!”

“I win,” he growls, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“Actually-” you bite your lip, pressing both hands against his chest- “I think I win.”

His eyes darken, a sly smile on his face.

“Yes, sir.”

[coruscantguard]

Endless Night, Half a Sliver of Light

Requested by @roborails

Fox and Ahsoka for #98- “You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”  

*

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table reads 02:09.

Nighttime on the Coruscant Guard’s ship is much quieter than she’s used to it being on the Resolute. It makes sense, since it’s a smaller ship, and there are less people on it, but the quiet still puts her on edge. In her experience, quiet is rarely a good thing

Barriss would disagree with that, but Barriss also reads ancient texts on Force philosophy in her free time, and eats space waffles without cooking them, so Ahsoka is inclined to disregard her opinion here.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table has progressed to read 02:10.

The Guard’s ship is also quieter than the Temple, but in a less tangible way for anyone who is not Force-sensitive. While the Temple tends to be quiet and peaceful, the Force is always very alive in it. There’s a feeling of home that comes with all those strong Force signatures, and it’s an eternal reminder that she’s not alone. That as a Jedi, she’ll never have to truly be alone in the galaxy.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table now reads 02:11.

Her attempts to go to sleep and the ever present quiet aren’t mixing in a way that’s conducive to her getting any shuteye. The briefing ended hours ago.  She’s still awake.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table still reads 02:11.

Ahsoka groans, buries her face into her pillow, and lets out a muffled scream.

The embarrassment from her little social mishap earlier is hitting full force now that the planning is done for the night, and she has nothing to distract herself with. She’s been wallowing in it, she knows that. Her attachment to those feelings is the furthest thing from productive, and she should be releasing it into the Force. There’s nothing she can do to correct the situation until morning comes.

She should release it to the Force. It's helping no one, and making her feel worse. She really should release it to the Force.

She’s not releasing it to the Force.

Master Anakin felt that Senator Amidala needed additional security, kriff’s sake, Ahsoka. Did she seriously say that? Force, it’s like all of Master Obi-Wan’s diplomacy training just flew out the window. And all the basic manners the Temple taught her.

“Ahsoka, you utter di’kut,” she mutters, and rolls over, flopping her legs off her bunk. The room is small enough that her feet can nearly brush the opposite wall, and she uses her toes to inch her torso off the bed until she can. Heck yes.

Not that he thinks you guys can’t handle it, her brain reminds her, efficiently quenching any joy that her victory brought. It’s just, well, Master has this thing about Senator Amidala, because like, they’re really close friends, right? So--

She groans again, and reaches a hand out to grab her pillow so she can smother herself with it. Right now, suffocation sounds like a great way to go.

Knight Skywalker, I regret to inform you that your padawan has joined the Force because she is a karking laserbrain who keeps putting her shoe on the other side of her mouth.

When Ahsoka pulls the pillow off her face, she’s disappointingly still in the land of the living, and the clock on her bedside table now just says 02:13. She manages to resist the urge to chuck the pillow at said clock, instead opting to throw it at the wall in front of her.

The pillow bounces off the control panel, and her door hisses open. The pillow falls to the ground by her feet, and Ahsoka forces herself to close her eyes, take a few seconds to breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Release your anger to the Force, young padawan. Do not use the Force to pick up your pillow and slam it into the clock, young padawan. Vandalism is not the Jedi way.

When she’s sufficiently managed to breathe through most of her anger and annoyance, she opens her eyes again.

Ahsoka calmly looks at her now open door. She looks at the pillow on the ground. She looks back at the door. Then back to the pillow. Then back at the door.

Well. There’s no way she’s going to sleep at this rate. Might as well see if anyone else is up.

She manages to pull herself up from her half on the bed, half off it position without using her hands, lets out a silent cheer in the form of a fist pump, and pops her head out of her room to look around. There’s nothing to the left, but when she swivels her head to the right, she sees some kind of faint yellow light at the end of the hallway, where the officer’s lounge is.

It’s as good of a sign as any, so Ahsoka grabs her lightsaber, clips it to her belt, and leaves her room. As she makes her way down the ship’s hallway, she instinctively reaches out with the Force to get a sense of what she’s walking into.

She senses only one other presence nearby, and one that flows easily with the jigsaw pattern of the world around her. With a bit of concentration, she’s able to catch sight of a flash of gunmetal grey, which makes it easy to figure out who the presence is.

Commander Fox’s Force presence is unassuming, both in it’s color and it’s general feel. Unlike Anakin, who’s Force presence was more akin to a supernova, the Commander of the Coruscant Guard’s presence was steady, unwavering, slightly darker than most non-Force sensitives tended to feel, but not enough to actually be concerning. The only thing that’s even remotely odd is the lack of color around him, but that’s not bad either, just different.

The door slides open automatically as she reaches the end of the hall, and the adjacent lounge. She silently slips inside, and the sound of flimsi rustling greets her.

Fox is sitting at a table near the back of the room, head bowed, presumably reading the pile of flimsiwork in front of him. On one side of the table, his bucket sits beside his elbow, and on the other side, there’s a cup of what at least smells like caf to Ahsoka. She realizes, belatedly, that this is the first time she’s ever seen him without his bucket on.

He looks old. Tired. Like he’s Master Obi-Wan’s age, not Skyguy’s. Not that Master Obi-Wan is old, of course, but… whatever. Moving on.

“Commander Fox,” she greets, and steps further into the room. He looks up from the flimsiwork, but thankfully doesn’t bother saluting.

“Commander Tano,” Fox says, and he slides his bucket closer to him as he stands up. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m not… looking for anything,” she replies quickly. “I saw the light, and I got curious.”

Fox nods, and another spike of guilt gnaws her. She does her best to ignore it. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” he says, and it’s with a practiced politician’s calm that Ahsoka recognizes from her time around Senators Chuchi and Amidala. “There’s caf by the stove, if you’re in the mood.”

Caf. Kriff yes. Skyguy would never give her caf at 2am.

It takes three tries to find the cabinet that has mugs in it, and she pulls out the biggest one. As she starts to pour the caf into her mug, she looks over at the table. Fox has sat back down, and he looks just as engrossed in the pile of flimsi as he had when she came in.

Ahsoka finishes filling her mug, adjusts the sugar-to-caf ratio so it’s drinkable, and takes a small sip. It’s on the edge of being too hot, but it doesn’t actually burn her mouth, so she deems it satisfactory. She turns back to face Fox, and asks, “What are you working on?”

He doesn’t spare her a glance as he answers, “Reports, mostly. There’s never an end to the flimsiwork when the Senate gets involved.”

“Oh,” she says. Fox picks up a stylus, sets a stack of flimsi to the side, and moves onto another piece of flimsiwork. ...Right. Okay. Time to entertain herself. She can do that.

Her eyes dart around the room. Military sparse, nothing unusual. The lights are only half on, upon closer inspection. There’s nothing particularly remarkable around.

Carefully, she nudges herself up onto her tiptoes, and glances over Fox’s head at the flimsiwork. It’s all just words and numbers, none that catch her attention, and she’s about to look away when Fox moves the next piece of flimsi over. This one is different in that it has a photo on it.

It’s a portrait shot of a man, like what one would find on an ID card. He looks older than her, but not by too much, and vaguely familiar in the way many beings look due to all the different planets she’s visited. There’s something about this one that she knows, though, and she focuses harder on that knowledge, wracks her memory trying to connect the navpoints. Young, clean-cut, memorable but still one in a crowd-- “Is that one of Senator Organa’s aides?”

Fox doesn’t jump at the interruption, or react to her prying, just gives her a cursory glance before turning back to the flimsi. “Yes, Christoforos Massimo, de domo Mac Ghabhann.” Fox replies, and his voice is clipped, but not to the point of being rude. “He was one of Senator Organa’s aides. He’s also the third senatorial aide to die of mycotoxin poisoning in the last year.”

Oh. She looks back at the photo, lets herself feel the dull throb of regret that follows. It’s not-- she didn’t know him, not well enough to know his name, but all life is important, and she did recognize him. That’s something. It’s always something.

Still, he’s with the Force now, so she lets herself feel, but then she makes herself let it go. He’s not gone, not truly. No one ever is.

Ahsoka eventually takes another sip of her caf, and runs Fox’s words through her brain again. Mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin-- “Wait, isn’t that poison that has cerulean slime mold in it?”

Fox signs something, then nods. The signature is longer than she would’ve expected, but she’s unable to read it, as he swiftly places the flimsi at the bottom of the stack. “The mold’s name is technically kytrogorgia, but, yes.”

“That’s evidence of foul play, right?”

“Not definitively,” he says, and takes a sharp breath in, slowly lets it out. “There can be accidental deaths because of it, but it’s rare to find naturally occurring on Coruscant.”

“Huh.”

Ahsoka goes back to drinking her caf, keeping her face by the mug so the heat of it warms her face. Poisonings. Huh. It makes sense that the Guard would deal with that, she just… never thought of it.

The silence of the ship is… odd. Besides the distinctive hum of hyperspace, and the scratching of Fox’s stylus, it’s quiet, a quiet she hasn’t experienced much since leaving the creche. Fox evidently has no issue with it.

She shouldn't have an issue with it.

“Doesn’t that mold smell like overripe kakadu fruit?” She suddenly asks. “I think Obi-Wan mentioned something about it a few weeks ago.”

“It has a relatively distinctive bitter citrine smell, yes.”  Fox stops writing, and turns to look at her. She takes a sip of caf. “...Is poison a regular topic of discussion for the Jedi?”

Ahsoka pauses, thinking about it. “Not really,” she says. “I mean, we have an elective class on it, but that’s about it. Obi-Wan just likes that kind of stuff, you know, molds and rare species of worms and the like. It drives Skyguy up the wall.”

Fox makes a noncommittal sound, turns back to the flimsi, and starts writing again. “Sounds like one of my brothers.”

Ahsoka snickers. Then, carefully, remembering Barriss’s last comm call, and the look on her face when she mentioned the flesh-eating moths the 41st ran into, she asks, “Is there any chance that brother is Commander Gree of the 41st Elite Corps?”

Fox doesn’t quite smile, but the corners of his lips definitely twitch. “No comment,” he says dryly, confirming her hunch.

“Do you think Massimo was murdered?” Ahsoka asks, and her voice is quieter than she means it to be. Fox frowns, but he doesn’t comment immediately, so she leans in over his shoulder to get a closer look at the report. “This could all just be a coincidence.”

“It could be,” Fox agrees. “But when the Senate’s involved, assuming something is a coincidence usually ends with someone like Aurra Sing showing up, as it’s actually part of some larger conspiracy.” He grimaces. “Still, I don’t like the look of this, so lets hope you’re right.”

It’s not an actual answer to her question, but she doesn’t press, just hums in acknowledgement, and steps away. She moves to the other side of the table, and sets her mug down on it, then walks over to the stacks of chairs against the far wall. It’s easy to pull one off the top, and carry it back to the table, let it thunk down on the durasteel floor. She’s mentally weighing the merits of sitting down against those of raiding the pantry for snacks when a flash of movement catches her eye.

“What was that?” She asks, and moves forward, eyes scanning the officer’s lounge, montrals straining to pick up any noise.

“Hm?”

There’s another burst of movement seconds later, a pitter-patter of paws accompanied by a blur of fur, ears, and a large fluffy tail that quickly disappears under the sofa. She must’ve disturbed it when she moved the chair.

“Is there any chance that there’s a loth cat on this ship?”

Abruptly, Fox’s stylus stops moving. “What?”

Ahsoka cranes her head to the side, trying to catch sight of the blur again. “I think I just saw a loth cat.”

Silence. Then-- “Is it grey?”

She opens her mouth to reply right as the blur comes speeding out from under the couch, and she barely twists out of the way in time as it launches itself at the table. It lands on the table with a thump, and turns to look at her for a second, accessing.

Then it moves over to the flimsiwork, and rubs its head against Fox’s hand and stylus, before flopping down on the flimsi, and starting to purr.

Ahsoka stares at it silently for a minute, then bursts out giggling. “Yeah, it looks to be a grey cat,” she somehow manages to say. “Why do you ask?”

Fox sighs. “Commander Thire apparently has less sense than I thought he did,” he says, and he’s staring at the grey loth cat as well, a look of resigned exasperation etching away at his bland facade of indifference. The cat rubs its head on Fox’s bucket.

Ahsoka snorts, then pauses, frowning. She leans in, and-- “Isn’t this Senator Chuchi’s cat?

She examines the cat further. It blinks it’s yellow eyes at her. “This is definitely Senator Chuchi’s cat.”

Fox sighs again. “Yes,” he replies, his voice long-suffering. “If I’m remembering correctly, her name is Mayday.”

“Mayday?” Ahsoka questions, wrinkling her nose. Weird. “Why would the Senator name her cat after a distress signal?”

“Why indeed,” Fox says, and he looks pained, but nothing in his Force presence backs that up. All she can sense around him is a feeling of vague indifference. It’s mildly disconcerting.

“Why is Senator Chuchi’s cat on one of the Guard’s ships?” She asks, turning her attention back to more important things. The cat- Mayday is now stretching on the table. Ahsoka is pretty sure loth cats aren’t usually supposed to be on tables, but Fox doesn’t seem to care, so, whatever.

“Why indeed,” Fox repeats, and reaches a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed. “Force. If I run into Thire anytime soon, it’s going to end in property damage.”

Right as he’s lowering his hand, the loth cat’s tail flicks up, and hits him straight in the face. Ahsoka clasps her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter, but she’s not very successful in that endeavor. Fox’s eyes are still shut when he sighs, and it’s a sigh that reinforces the expression of long-suffering pain on his face. Then he reaches one hand up to scratch behind Mayday’s ears.

It takes away from the dramatics of the sigh, but Mayday seems to like it, so Ahsoka lets it slide. The cat’s tail flicks again, and this time it hits the underside of Fox’s neck, drawing her attention to the edge of a scar--

“Sithspit, what the kark happened to your throat?” She blurts out, her jaw dropping. There’s an ugly scar across it, deep and painful looking, like someone tried to literally slit his throat, and very nearly succeeded.

“Well, it’s a funny story,” Fox says, and his voice is as dry as the Geonosis desert. He looks up from Mayday to meet Ahsoka’s eyes. “Someone tried to slit my throat.”

Ahsoka stifles a snort. Oh man, the 501st better work a mission with the Guard soon. Anakin and Fox would get along like a spaceship on fire that ends up exploding. It would be friendship at first dramatic understatement.

Fox gives Mayday a few more pets, then steps backwards, away from the table, and gestures at Ahsoka. It takes her a few seconds to realize what he’s getting at, but when she does, she wastes no time taking the spot he abandoned.

She moves so that she’s a bit farther back than Fox had been-- he obviously had a history with Mayday that she lacked-- and crouches down so that she’s eye level with the cat. Once it meets her eyes, she forces herself to blink as slowly as possible, the closed eyes a silent gesture of trust and vulnerability.

Mayday blinks slowly back at her.

Kriff yes, kriff yes, kriff yes!

She holds out her hand, moving her head slightly to the side to make her gaze less intense, and it takes all her Jedi training not to cheer as Mayday comes to nuzzle her hand. Force, would the Resolute be a safe environment for a loth cat? Surely they could make it safe, right?  A cat would undoubtedly help improve morale. Maybe she could convince Senator Chuchi to let her borrow Mayday when she pitches the idea to Skyguy and Rex, just to help sway their support to her cause.

“The nape of her neck,” Fox says, interrupting her planning. “Or the small dip behind her left ear. Stay away from her tail unless you’d like her to claw your face off, though.”

Nape of neck. She could do that. “Speaking from experience?”

Fox actually huffs a laugh at that. “Let’s just say that Vice Chair Amedda and the concept of respecting personal boundaries get along in the same way that Senator Amidala gets along with Viceroy Gunray.”

Ahsoka stops petting Mayday, and spins around to look him in the eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I have to give kudos to his medical team. Those scratches definitely should’ve scarred.”

“Force, seriously?” He nods, and Ahsoka grins, not even bothering to try and hide her teeth. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that guy. That’s hilarious.”

“The Chancellor thought so as well,” Fox says offhandedly, and crosses his arms, leans back against the counter. “I mean, he muffled his laughter quickly, but…”

“Sith hells,” she breathes out. “I think I might want to be on Senate rotation more often, if that’s what goes down there.”

Fox winces, takes a sharp breath in, and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, that sort of incident rarely happens. Usually, it’s just a lot of yelling.” He pauses, looks over her shoulder, and, “I think Mayday may have taken our lack of attention personally.”

Ahsoka spins around, and sure enough, the grey cat is jumping off the table, and heading for the door. “Awwwwwwwwwww, no,” she says, disappointed.

They watch Mayday leave the room in silence. Once the door hisses shut behind her, Ahsoka goes back around the table, and slumps into her chair. Fox pulls out his comm with a sigh, and heads for the caf machine, picking up his mug on the way.

Whoever he calls picks up almost instantaneously.

“Senator Chuchi’s loth cat is on board. We need to keep it from the airlock and the hyperdrive. I’m putting you and Candor on cat-sitting duty.” He says, and starts to pour the caf into his cup. There’s a pause, where he doesn’t say anything, then, “Rocket, that’s an order, not a request. If you have an issue with this beyond the fact that you don’t want to, you can file a complaint, and Internal Affairs will look into it. But I warn you, if you interrupt Swan’s leave with a complaint about how this isn’t what you were made for, he won’t be merciful when he rips you a new one.”

The pause is longer this time. “Yes, well, Lieutenant Swan will learn the concept of mercy around the same time that Tatootine freezes over,” Fox says, and he sets the caf pot back down. “I trust you know where to find any supplies needed?”

This pause is only for a moment, presumably how long it takes the trooper on the other end to say yes, sir! Fox replies with a, “Fox out,” then hangs up the comm, sighs, and takes a long gulp of caf. Ahsoka pauses, briefly considers the possible consequences for her next words, and decides that it’ll be worth it.

“You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”  

“What.” Unfortunately, he doesn’t spit out the caf, but he does do a double take. “Yeah, no, I’m sorry, what.”

She does her best to put on an innocent looking expression. “Oh man, you totally are.”

“...Commander Tano, as you chose your next words, I’d advise that you keep in mind the fact that I can put you on cleaning duty if I feel like it.”

“Ugh,” Ahsoka grumbles, dropping the charade. “Wait. No? We’re both Commanders. I could just put you on cleaning duty right back.”

Silence that follows that statement. Fox’s face is unreadable. “Have you read the regs?”

Uh-oh. “Why are you asking?

“Have you?”

Kriff kriff kriff kriff-- “How about… I’d like to invoke the fourth right of sentience?”

“Force, Commander,” Fox’s tone sounds similar to the one Kix uses when he’s exasperated. Ahsoka winces reflectively, because an exasperated Kix is not a fun Kix. “First of all, when you’re invoking a right, don’t make it sound like a question. You’re not asking to invoke your right, you’re not saying that you’d like to invoke it, you are invoking it.”

“Are you seriously--”

“And secondly, just say that you’re invoking your right to remain silent. I applaud you for remembering exactly what right it is, but it’s usually best to be as direct as possible in these matters. First and fourth sound alike enough in Basic that you could run into some real trouble if an officer “mishears” you, and the right to be free from slavery is not helpful when you’ve allegedly committed murder in the first.”

“You don’t need to tell me this, I’m not a youngling.”

“You sure about that?” Ahsoka glares at him, and opens her mouth to retort, but Fox cuts her off again. Kriffing chizk. “Thirdly, yes, I am the highest ranking officer here. Jedi Commanders have authority over everyone up to and including Clone Captains. They’re subordinate to Clone Commanders and Jedi Generals”

“...Right,” she says, “I… totally knew that.”

“Really.”

“Yes!”

There’s no verbal response, but Fox rests his elbow on his bucket, and blinks at her.

“I did!” She protests. The look on his face tells her that he doesn’t buy a second of it.

...Okay, time to move on. “Anyway, the fact that you’re my superior officer doesn’t mean that you aren’t also a big softie.”

His eye roll is unnecessary, and completely overdramatic. “There are a fair amount of people that would disagree with that assessment of Commander Fox’s character.”

Oh thank Force, he’s willing to go along with it.

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s a good thing Commander Tano isn’t asking those people then, huh?” Ahsoka sends back. Then she pauses to take a sip of her caf. “Now, is there a reason Commander Fox hasn’t actually answered Commander Tano’s original question yet?”

A beat of silence.

“Osik, you got me there,” Fox says, and Ahsoka lets out a whoop of celebration at the small victory. “Don’t go spreading it around, I have a reputation to uphold.”

She mimes locking her mouth, and throwing the key out the window. Fox doesn’t look particularly reassured by that, but he doesn’t comment on it either, so, victory.

Wow, if only she’d bothered to shut up earlier, her brain suddenly hisses at her, imagine how great that would’ve been.

Ahsoka takes a long, long drink of her caf, stopping only when she finishes the mup. She stares down at the mug mournfully, willing more caf to suddenly appear.

More caf does not suddenly appear.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 2am, and that the distraction the caf provided is gone. Maybe it’s the guilt that’s still curling up her throat when she stops to think about it, the regret that’s coating every word she says. Maybe it’s the fact that the kitchen feels warm and comforting, the fact that it reminds her of the Temple and being safe, being able to make mistakes without having people die for them.

Whatever it is, it has her speaking again before she considers what she’s going to say, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she even processes them.

“Master Anakin is out of contact right now,” Ahsoka says quickly, and stares determinedly down at her mug. Oh kriff, kriff, kriff, did she really just-- oh, Force, kriff. Okay. Just… it’s a bacta patch, Ahsoka. It’s best to rip it off as quickly as possible. “He’s on Mygeeto. Since it’s Seppie space, it’s a risk to send any messages. He didn’t send me here. He doesn’t even know there’s a threat on Senator Amidala’s life.”

Silence. She doesn’t dare look up. She knows she’ll lose her nerve if she does.

“The Temple is really empty these days, and the 501st is with Anakin, so it’s really boring as well, cause literally all of my friends are on campaigns right now. And I overheard Master Windu mention something about the Chancellor, and security protocols, to Master Plo when they were in the refractory, and like, the Chancellor is Anakin’s friend, so I kinda just started... listening. I don’t know, I was curious. But they mentioned the threat on Senator Amidala, and Padme’s my friend, right? So I did some snooping, and I realized that there weren’t going to be any Jedi sent, and… it would kill Skyguy if anything happened to her, you know?”

Wow, that came out badly. Way to shift the blame again, Ahsoka. Great job, truly.

Commander Fox probably didn’t know about… them anyway. Kriff. Double kriff.

Excuses, you’re making, her mind whispers at her. Apologize, or don’t. Do, or do not. There is no try.

“It wasn’t Anakin that thought additional security might be needed,” She says, hurried, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “It was me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that Jedi presence would be needed to keep Senator Amidala safe, and I definitely shouldn’t have just used that assumption to try and justify my actions.”

The next few seconds seem to stretch on forever. The dull void in the Force around Fox feels more oppressive than ever, the absence of anything leaving Ahsoka stranded in the middle of an ocean, with no life raft to cling to, and nothing that gives her even the littlest bit of direction. Commander Fox doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sudden movements that her montrels detect, and she finally forces herself to peak up from her mug.

He looks floored. Half stupefied, half incredulous.”I- you- what?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but he raises his hand in the halt symbol, rubs at one of his temples with the other. “Sorry. I’m just- so, you got yourself put on this mission… because you were bored.” He says. She nods. He shakes his head. “Because you were bored, and thought you knew better than the Jedi Council and all of the Generals. Force. That’s… something.”

“Yeah, my justifications definitely made a lot more sense in my head,” Ahsoka admits weakly, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the mug. “I shouldn’t of--”

“It’s… fine, kid. Trust me,” he says, and there’s the edge of something twisting in the Force, some kind of internal conflict she’s catching flashes of. It’s the most activity she’s ever seen with his Force presence. “I hear worse on a daily basis. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Ahsoka frowns. “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

The look he gives her is undecipherable, but she can tell that it’s weighted. Weighted in a way she’ll probably never understand, in a way she doesn’t think she wants to understand.

“No,” Fox finally says. “It doesn’t make it okay.” The words come out hushed, as if it's a forbidden confession, some kind of radical heresy, blasphemous in it’s very nature.

Something loosens in his Force presence with that, an alteration so small that Ahsoka’s surprised that she even notices the change. It looks like a ray of light cutting through the lacuna that surrounds him. It sounds like a breath of fresh air, and it creates a sudden connection, a burst of clarity where there had been none before. It feels like leaving the core worlds, how it seems as if a switch is flipped when one gets far enough from Coruscant, and the Force suddenly becomes so much clearer.

Ahsoka looks down, looks away, pulls her attention away from the metaphysical world of the Force. This isn’t something she’s supposed to see, and given the fact that Fox isn’t Force-sensitive, it’s not like he’s going to raise his own shields and block her off. She busies herself with trying to get any remaining bits of caf out of her mug instead, anchors her mind firmly in the physical world.

Fox doesn’t say anything else for a few long minutes, just stands, staring off into space, that look still on his face. When he speaks again, his voice is back to normal.

“Thank you for your honesty, Commander Tano,” Fox says, ducks his head to stare down at his drink for a few seconds. Ahsoka places her mug back on the table while he ruminates. When he meets her eyes again, the undecipherable look is gone. “And thank you for your apology. It means more than you know.”

Ahsoka nods. She’s not sure if she should say something, or if this is one of the times silence is better. He seems more comfortable in the quiet than she ever will be, so she bites down on her tongue--

“Right,” he says, and abruptly stands up, jarring her from her thoughts. “I’m going to make some more caf. Do you want a refill?”

Kriff yes she wants a refill. “Yes, please.”

[thewildwaffle]

Haunted Houses

“You know the translators don’t work for written word right?” Danro grunted, eyeing the small tablet screen his human companion held out to him. It was displaying several small human glyphs.

“It’s just a waiver saying you’re okay with coming in, and that if you have any bad effects from the flashing lights or spooky stuff they use, you can’t sue them because you chose to be here willingly, blah blah blah.” Human Addy again held up the tablet. “Basically it’s just the legal-ese version of everything we talked about earlier. I can read through it for you if you really want.”

Danro let out a growling hum. “Just look through it and make sure there’s nothing in there that wasn’t what you told me earlier.”

“No prob.” Addy pulled the waiver back and scanned over it quickly, mumbling to herself under her breath as she read. Danro looked at the human working behind the check-in counter who was doing their best to not be obvious that they were gawking at him. Not that that bothered him or anything. Standing head and shoulders above most other humans and covered in long light brown and white fur, he certainly stood out from the gathered crowd.

“We’re good to go, everything checks out!” Addy declared, handing the tablet and stylus to Danro. “You just need to write a signature at the bottom and we can go in.”

“But I don’t know how to write in your language,” Danro glanced dubiously at the screen.

“Just take it,” Addy pushed the stylus into his large hands, “You can write in your language, it doesn’t matter.”

Danro doubted that. He sighed. Humans and their contracts. They were obsessed with them, and honestly, the more he got to know of their race, the more he started to understand why. Humans, for all their ingenuity and seemingly lovable natures, could be quite underhanded. They could think their way around and through most obstacles, especially when those obstacles were well-established but loosely-defined rules and expectations. Many a treaty or trade agreement had been swung wildly in favor of the party consisting of or including humans. It was like they lived for loopholes and variable interpretations. Intersystem lawyers have been scrambling to learn from and replicate the style humans wrote contracts. After all, only a human contract could (at least somewhat) confidently bind a human.

He scribbled his name in his own familiar letters, figuring that would have to be good enough. He trusted Addy when she said it was just a liability waiver after all. She had already signed one herself. After handing the tablet and stylus back to the kid working the booth, they were off.

As they walked around the entrance gate, Danro’s mind immediately went into overdrive trying to take in and process the scenery. The surrounding buildings creating the quad the event was hosted in were lit up with orange, purple, and green lights. Queues of patrons stretched along the concrete sidewalks that ran between buildings. They were watching costumed dancers in the middle of the quad as they waited to enter the “haunted” buildings. What looked like old metal trash cans had fires lit inside them with small crowds of humans and the occasional alien figure huddled around them. There were smaller lines in front of a few trailers and booths that looked like they were selling very aromatic foods and drinks.

An approaching figure caught Danro’s eye. It was almost as tall as him, draped in a raggedy shawl, and had a grotesquely disfigured face with lacerations running from the top of its head and across one eye. Danro sniffed. He saw blood, but he didn’t smell it. This must be a human actor in a costume, something Addy had warned him of beforehand. They were likely wearing stilts as they were almost eye level to him.

“My my my, what have we here!” The actor’s voice was both screechy and gravely, a combination that made Danro’s fur prickle slightly. "I've seen many a ghost and ghoul in these mansions, but I've yet to encounter any of the likes of you two." They made an exaggerated show of looking between Danro and Addy, as if sizing them up. “What do I call you two apparitions?”

Addy gave a small chuckled and gestured to herself. “I’m Addy, I’m a human. And this is Danro, he’s a kexi biet.”

“Mortals?!” The mask wobbled a bit as the actor stepped back dramatically and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’d keep that information to yourselves while you’re here. Who knows what lurking terror might overhear and decide to snack on your bones!”

Danro smiled indulgently at the costumed human. They were certainly well in character.

“We’ll be sure to not mention it again,” he nodded.

“Be sure that you don’t!” the mask rose up so that the fake, glossy eyes were almost level with his own. “You are a brave biet, Danro. Brave, or perhaps foolish. I do hope you and your small companion survive. Come.” They turned and led them towards the center of the quad. They paused and waited for them to catch up next to one of the trash can fires. “Have either of you been here before?”

Addy nodded, “Yeah but it’s been YEARS.” Danro shook his head.

“What a treat, then.” They pointed to one of the closer buildings with a purple light out front. Danro noticed that the actor’s costume was detailed down to the largely uneven stitches on their sleeves. It gave their arm an odd shape. Or at least, he hoped the odd shape of their arm was just part of the costume.

“Each of these buildings is haunted, some more than others. They are color-coded by the lights of how ‘dangerous’ they are.”

“So is that one the safest?” Addy dipped her head to the building being pointed to.

Their guide only laughed ominously. “Present your passes to the attendants by the door. No running, no pushing, no flashlights or video, no explicit language as it disturbs our… residents, and keep your hands to yourself if you’d like to keep your hands.”

And without another word, their guide ambled off. Addy shuffled a little closer to the fire and grinned at Danro.

“Alrighty then! Which one do you want to do first?”

Danro looked around at the quad. The dancers finished their song and were now walking and milling away to tents to warm up or rest, smallish humans were carefully nibbling on a pink puffy food on a stick that looked suspiciously like hair. The buildings themselves loomed around them, lit by their colored lights and the flickering fires around the quad. Their boarded up windows gave no indication of what was inside, although they couldn’t quite muffle the occasional scream from within.

“I’d prefer it if we could find the one that’s the mildest first,” Danro admitted. “Kind of ease myself into this, if you will.”

“No worries, bud.” Addy started towards the building with the green lights. “I think that would be this one. Green usually means easy, or mild, or good or whatever.”

That’s not what green was usually associated with on his planet, but hey, trying to scare yourself as a method of amusement and recreation wasn’t really a thing back home either. This was all very new to him.

The line in front of the green building moved pretty quickly. As they approached the front, Addy put a hand on his arm and looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks again for coming. These things aren’t nearly as much fun alone.”

Danro smiled. “Thank you for the invite.” Addy had invited a few more from their crew once she knew they’d be planetside on Earth just before what she claimed was one of her favorite holidays. He had been the only one to accept. A few others had gone to a “corn maze” with another human from the crew. Apparently, it wasn’t “haunted” and so appealed to more crewmates. Danro accepted the invitation because it saddened him to think of Addy going somewhere scary alone. That, and afterward it would be known across the ship of how much more brave he was than those who were too afraid to come.

The attendants at the door reminded them of the rules, marked their passes, and opened the doors for them.

Once inside, the doors shut noisily and Danro could feel the confidence he’d held on to outside drip away. His senses were being thrown off in here. The lights were dim, which isn’t too bad, he didn’t have great night vision, but it was alright. But there was something wrong here. He couldn’t tell why, but he could feel it. As Addy started down a narrow corridor covered with cobwebs, he took a deep breath and told himself it was just his nerves. Or maybe, he thought as they continued down the winding corridor, it was all this smoke stuff. It wasn’t real smoke, it smelled different, like minerals instead of burned materials. That was also throwing him off. The first time he saw an amputated human arm dangling out of a bag, he nearly freaked out. It was only when they passed right by it that he realized he didn’t actually smell any blood. He clutched Addy’s shoulder ahead of him as they walked by.

Danro muttered to himself. “It’s not a real arm. It’s not real. It’s not real.” He was really just saying it to himself, but from the way Addy looked back and up at him, he knew she must have heard him.

The next room was divided by a series of ripped and filthy “curtains.” As soon as they entered, Danro growled. The lights here were flashing strobe lights, making it difficult to see. There were human-sized figures standing in the room. As they passed by, he realized they weren’t human, but some sort of mannequins. Good, he sighed. Some of them looked grotesquely mangled and mortally wounded. He was glad they weren’t actual humans. As they were deep into the large room, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that some of them were moving. No, he thought, no, it had to just be a trick of the strobe lights.

Near the exit of the room, one definitely moved. The figure jumped out at them with a gravely yell. Addy screamed and jumped back. Danro froze momentarily and had to remind himself to not attack. They weren’t in danger. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t-

Addy scampered through the exit without him. Danro did his best to maneuver after her. The figure that had scared them stared at him with white eyes. That… that’s not normal. Humans have colorful and/or dark eyes. They smiled at him, baring their teeth. Even when normal humans smiled like that, Danro found it disconcerting, but this was on a whole different level. This felt genuinely dangerous.

Addy was waiting for him in the next room.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Didn’t mean to leave you behind back there.”

“Their eyes,” he whispered loudly to her, as if worried they’d overhear and come after them from their room.

“I didn’t even see their eyes. Were they creepy?”

Danro nodded.

Addy smiled, without baring her teeth, Danro noted appreciatively. “This place has really stepped up their game since the last time I was here.”

They continued through, warily watching out for hiding figures, walking through narrow maze-like halls, over uncomfortably soft and uneven ground, and through a tunnel where the walls looked like they were spinning around them. He nearly lost his balance off the walkway. He could have sworn the ground was moving. Even after they passed through that and went up a flight of stairs, he could still feel the dizzying effects. Coupled with his sense of sight and smell being confused around nearly every turn, he was starting to feel the tendrils of dread creeping into his mind. As they rounded a turn, he immediately noticed a dark figure moving in the corner. They looked like they were climbing the walls. After a few heartbeats of analyzing its movements, he realized it was mechanical. Good, it was just a prop then. As they walked through the room, bright lights strobed and the figure on the walls flew at them. Addy screamed again and ran to the door. Danro jumped up and fell back on the ground. The figure jerked to a stop in the air a pace or two away, and slowly retracted back to the wall. As Danro scrambled back up to his feet, he noticed the folding metal lattice mechanics that moved the dark creature. As terrified as he was, he had to admit that that was quite a creative scare.

There were several other rooms they walked through with no actors inside, just creepy dolls and mannequins or unsettling objects that made Danro’s fur prickle. There was a long hall with poor lighting and a very low ceiling that even Addy had to duck to get through.

“I hope nothing tries to scare us in here,” Danro muttered as he squeezed through the narrow passageway. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away very fast.” “I don’t think there’s anything in here. Or at least there wasn’t when I came through here when I was in high school. I think this part’s mostly “scary” because it’s supposed to make you feel claustrophobic.”

Danro scanned the bare cinder block and exposed dim light bulbs along the narrow passageway. Well, he thought, it was certainly claustrophobic in here. He could feel his heart rate increase the longer they walked through here and was incredibly relieved when they reached the end. Addy helped him watch his step as he climbed down from the small exit and into the dim cellar-like room.

"Are you okay?"  She carefully brushed some fake cobwebs from the fur on his arms.

“I’m fine. There aren’t any more small tunnels like that though, are there?” Danro, much like many biets, did not enjoy tight spaces.

“I think there’s another one in one of the other buildings, but it’s nowhere near as constrictive as that, or as long.” She looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Is that alright? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Danro smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I got through this so far, I can handle it. Plus, it’s more fun to do these things together, right?”

Addy’s smile was worth any fright this place could throw at him anyway.

They pressed on and got a few more screams out of Addy and a few more alarmed jumps from Danro. As they rounded another corner and entered another dark room, Danro paused, senses alert to the scene before them. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place the reason why. His fur stood on end and he swore he could see his and Addy’s breath. He could see places where actors were likely hiding in wait to scare them, but that wasn’t where his attention was focused. There was something different about this room and it made his heart rate skyrocket.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision, but when he turned his focus there, expecting to see an actor sneaking towards them, there was nothing. Addy slowly crept deeper into the dark room ahead of him. Not wanting to be separated in a place like this, he tried to stay close. Halfway through the room though, he froze. Did he really see… he swore mentally. Was that a chirnu? What was a thing like that doing in a human attraction? What was it doing here at all? It had no right, no right to exist outside biet folklore and nightmares. The living shadow, or the fang of the shadows, depending on who was telling the story. Danro closed his eyes instinctively. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it and it might not look at you.

“Danro,” Addy whispered, realizing she no longer felt his hairy bulk behind her.

He said nothing but willed her to remain quiet. The chirnu might hear her if it hadn’t already.

“Danro, we’re almost at the end, just a little further.” She reached back to put a hand on his arm.

A loud shriek and rush of movement made them both jump. Danro swept Addy into his arms and ran. To gadring with the rules! He ran! He could hear laughter behind him and taunting voices that may or may not have been human, at this point he didn’t know nor care. He could smell fresh air ahead and it seemed to be like a beacon of hope to him.

“Danro!” Addy cried out but was cut off by a loud growl to their left. A figure jumped out from the shadows, donned in a ripped cloak, and holding a weapon that Danro later realized was a human tool used for cutting lumber.

How the heck had this maniac gotten in here with that?! Danro dodged to the right. Addy screamed and held on so tightly to Danro’s fur that she might have pulled a few tufts loose. The maniac with the saw laughed and gave chase.

This was a mistake! This was a mistake! This was a mistake!

Maybe if he could just make it outside where the crowds were, they could lose their pursuer. Surely he wouldn’t give chase into public?

Danro barreled through the final door and out into the chilly air outside. Relief! The roar of the saw was still right behind, and so he kept up with his pace. Thankfully, their pursuer didn’t seem to be able to keep up and eventually stopped a ways outside the door to laugh and Danro and Addy ran around the corner of the building and back to the crowded quad area.

Once he was absolutely sure they were no longer being followed, he stopped only long enough to set Addy back on the ground before he started again for the main entrance.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Addy bounded after him.

“We need to let someone know. They need to be warned before someone gets killed!”

“What? Wait, do you- do you mean the chainsaw guy?” Addy was now at his side, but struggling to keep up. “That’s just part of the whole thing, it’s a classic end to a haunted house. There’s no actual chain or blade or whatever, it’s safe.”

Danro slowed and turned to face Addy. He studied her face. She was smiling and didn’t seem at all worried that they had almost been killed by a psycho with a “chain saw.” He took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. “It’s not real? We’re fine?” He finally managed to ask.

Addy smiled and nodded. “We’re fine. So, first time through a haunted house, what did you think?” Danro looked back to the building they had just run out of. He stared hard at it, trying to make sense of the whole experience. Or mostly, trying to make sense of what he had seen in that last room. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Danro? Are you okay?” Addy’s worried tone snapped him back.

“I thought…” he was almost embarrassed to ask now. Admitting that he had seen what would be to her an alien monster, a mythical alien monster at that, seemed to be a bit laughable now that they were back in the safety of the quad. Addy continued to look at him though, expecting him to finish his thought.

“I thought I saw… a chirnu in there in that last room,” he admitted quietly.

Addy blinked. “Chirnu? What’s that?”

He grimaced. It was said that talking about them could help them hunt you down later. As briefly as he could, he described the monster that terrorized biet folklore.

Addy listened intently and nodded. When he was done, she hummed. “That does sound pretty bad. But I’m pretty sure we’re okay. I don’t think what you saw in there was a chirnu.”

Relief flooded Danro’s system. He felt silly even entertaining the idea that chirinu were for one thing, real, and another thing, here on Earth. Although, that did leave one question.

“Then what did I see?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That last room was definitely creepier than the others. I think it’s genuinely haunted.” Danro tilted his head and Addy laughed. “Although if I had to venture a guess, from your description I’d say it was probably a giant rubber spider. That room did kind of have a spider theme if you didn’t notice.” “Spider theme?”

“Yeah, I think the whole building kind of had a “phobia” theme to it. Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders. Lots of people have it. I just didn’t know biets had it too.”

Danro straightened his back in mock indignation. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

Addy laughed. “Okay, then you were just pretending back there?”

Danro frowned, but the human’s happy energy was too much and he eventually cracked and smiled back. He looked around at the other patrons, mostly humans, who were waiting anxiously in line. They came to be scared. They wanted to be scared. How odd. And yet, Danro could feel himself still riding the high of his fight or flight senses. From what he understood, humans experienced a similar feeling, heightened by the production of a hormone called adrenaline. He could see how places like this might seem attractive to those seeking that rush.

“Well,” he responded airily, “I thought the whole point was to pretend to be scared.”

Addy laughed and teased. He teased back, recalling and imitating her many screams. They continued doing so while they waited in line to buy a bag of what Addy called “popcorn” and two caramel covered apples. Addy said they were some of her favorites, and caramel apples were a fall tradition. Danro enjoyed both. He smiled as he listened to Addy continue on about things she loved about the season and upcoming holiday before they went to wait in line for the building with the orange light.

That night became, quite possibly, one of his fondest memories. Humans are weird. They think getting scared on purpose is fun. Maybe Danro was a bit weird too because he whole-heartedly agreed.

[ladyrynofsunnydale]

Bo Katan Week Day 5/ Satine Lives AU

Title: How Do You Pick Up the Threads of an Old Life?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze & Satine Kryze Summary: Post-Lawless, but Satine lives. Bo-Katan and Obi-Wan were able to save Satine, and with the Republic’s help Satine was once again ruler of Mandalore. Everything should be happy and back to normal, right? After being apart for almost twenty years, two sisters, once on opposite sides of the same conflict, have to learn how to work together again.

Author’s Note: Day 5 of Bo-Katan Week! I am having so much fun this week and am so enjoying writing, editing, and also reading and seeing other’s work! So this is part of a novel length AU fic I’m working on, so I took a snapshot to post for this week. I would recommend reading ‘End of One Era, Beginning of Another’ first as there are some references, but it’s not necessarily mandatory. Credit for the chapter title to Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

Tagging: @bokatanweek 

Click on the link up top to read or continue reading below

Satine sat in her sitting room, her head in her hands. After helping retake Mandalore from Maul’s Death Watch, Obi-Wan and the rest of the Republic troops had left that afternoon. She had just barely kept herself from asking him to stay, instead just hugging him then letting him walk out of her life once again. She’d just have to worry about him being a General in the Grand Army of the Republic alone. 

Her door whooshed open and armored boots came into view.

“Orange tea still your favorite?” Bo-Katan’s voice asked, reaching out a steaming cup. Satine stared at it for a moment before sitting up and reaching for it.

“Most days,” she responded, taking a sip before looking back up at Bo. She sighed resignedly. “Bo we’re going to need to have a talk.” Bo sank into the chair next to her.

“I figured.”

Satine watched her as she stared into the fireplace. Suddenly, looking at her there, she looked so young. The big sister in her wanted to reach out and shield her, tell her everything was going to be ok. But in reality, she didn’t know if that was true. Mandalore, Satine, Bo-Katan, her commandos, they had a long road ahead of them. Yes Bo-Katan and her fighters had come in at a clutch moment, rescuing both Satine and Obi-Wan before Maul could get them in his grasp, but that didn’t negate all the rest they had done prior to Maul’s takeover.

“Tomorrow?” Satine asked. Bo looked over at her, then back to the fire, nodding.

“Tomorrow.”

Satine finished her tea and they sat in silence, the only sound the popping of the fire. 

“I have something for you,” Satine said and got up to move to her desk. Bo followed her with her eyes while she opened up one of the locked drawers and removed a small wooden box. Returning, she handed it to Bo. Bo gingerly accepted it, her eyes wary, and opened the lid to look inside. The wary look quickly changed to surprise as she lifted the beskar leaf brooch out.

“How?” she asked, turning the leaf over and running her finger along the edge.

“Fenn Rau. After...he thought I’d want it. To have something of yours.”

“You kept it? All these years? Even after…?” she trailed off.

“You were, are, my sister Bo. I love you, and I wanted to be able to remember our good days.”

Bo stared at the box, then handed it back to Satine.

“Keep it. As a promise from me. That that Bo-Katan is not dead.”

Satine took the box back and the two of them just stared at each other until there was a knock on the door and it slid open. One of her aides walked in with a tray of food.

“I knew you hadn’t eaten so…” she paused, glimpsing Bo-Katan.

“Thank you, Leanna,” Satine said, standing to accept the food. Leanna looked from her to Bo.

“I can…”

“It’s fine, I was leaving anyways,” Bo said, standing, but Satine reached forward and grasped her arm, releasing her when she flinched.

“Please stay. Leanna if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” she said and bustled out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with another tray and Bo sighed as she took it and sat beside Satine. They ate in silence until Satine stifled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bo asked, looking up from her tray.

“You still eat like an anooba,” she answered, smiling behind her hand. Bo’s eyebrows pinched together, wrinkling her brow.

“Yeah, well, no real eating etiquette in Death Watch.”

“I would say no fashion sense either, but your hair is quite fashionable.”

“It’s utilitarian. Keeps it out of my face.”

“Hmmm,” Satine hummed, amusement filling her voice. “Keep telling yourself that ner vod.”

“Your hairpieces are the worst.”

Satine made a face.

“I must agree.”

“Then why do you wear them?!”

“Because it’s expected.”

Bo shook her head, shoveling more food into her mouth.

“Yeah, you can keep that whole Duchess title thing,” she said after she swallowed. “I’m good.”

Bo walked into Satine’s office the next day. Despite the sense of normalcy they’d had the night before, tension was in the air once again.

“Please, sit,” Satine said, gesturing to the chair across her desk. Bo took a seat but perched on the edge, staring at her sister. “I meant what I said when I told the populace we’d be reevaluating the protection of Mandalore. But Bo-Katan, I can’t just forget everything that happened.”

“I don’t need you to tell me I’ve made mistakes. I’m quite aware of them. But the people are right. Mandalore needs to be able to protect itself. Me. My people. We’re loyal to Mandalore.”

“But are you loyal to me? I don’t want to have to worry about an insurrection every few months.”

“Satine, I meant what I said last night. The Bo-Katan you grew up with, she’s not wholly dead. But our people are warriors. It’s in our blood. Mine and even yours. It’s been a while, but I know you have some fire too.”

“But I won’t let it…”

“Destroy Mandalore, I know.” She looked down at her hands. “I, and most of those who follow me, want to see Mandalore prosper. Thrive. If you do right by our people, we will stand by you.”

“I need to know if I can trust you.”

Bo felt a stab of hurt, but also shame, in her gut.

“I will stand by you, ner vod. I still do not quite understand you, but I do understand that you are trying to do right by our people. And I meant what I said to that Chancellor. I have no interest in ruling.”

“And your people? Do you trust them?”

Bo thought of her commandos. Those who’d followed her.  She’d lost a fair amount of her Nite Owls to Maul’s allegiance, but many still remained. And a good many ex-Death Watch remained with her as well. She knew a passable amount of them personally and many more through their superiors.

“Ursa, who was my second in command of the Nite Owls, I trust unconditionally,” Bo responded. “A few others I trust as well. We are going to need to go through the remaining and confirm their loyalty. It will take some time.”

Satine nodded her head.

“Take all the time you need. And a new name. You’ll need a new name.”

A few days passed and Bo was sitting in her office using a stylus to write up reports on one of her datapads. There had been an incident already between a few of her commandos when Bo had declared that they were going to continue to stay under Satine’s rule and were not going to overthrow her government. Luckily no one was seriously hurt, but she did have a few commandos in the medcenter and also a few now in the brig. She knew this was just the tip of the iceberg and it was going to be a long process of weeding through her commandos. 

She felt a stab of guilt at the thought and paused in writing the commandos names she had locked up. She would have to do something about those who refused to bow to Satine’s rule, even though they had been loyal to Bo. Loyal to Death Watch and Mandalore. They had stayed with her and hadn’t hesitated to fight bravely against Maul and their brothers and sisters who’d thrown their lot in with him. And now she was asking them to throw their lot in with a government Death Watch had sworn to overthrow from Day 1? She was sure there had been grumblings when she’d made the decision to break Satine out of prison and to use her to get Mandalore back. And her commandos had trusted her then. Trusted that she knew what she was doing. But using Satine to take back their planet from a Sith and permanently allying themselves to her were two different things. Granted yes, it was the right thing to do; she’d rationalized that and understood that. Mandalore couldn’t keep on the trajectory that Death Watch had stood for. It would only lead to ruin and destruction, and her people deserved more. She hoped to be able to convey this and help her commandos understand. Her people respected her, she knew that. They wouldn’t have followed her if they hadn’t. But she had never quite made herself approachable. She’d have to do that over the next few weeks to hopefully allow those who had reservations to approach her and talk about it instead of dealing with it with blasters. How much the ex-Death Watch members would actually be willing to talk instead of fighting is another question, but she wanted to give her people as much of a shot as possible.

She continued on writing up her report when there was a knock on her door. She startled and dropped the stylus to reach for her blaster, but calmed herself. From what she knew and remembered of the palace, this was a small office. But to Bo, it felt lavish and gaudy. Sure Vizsla had been governor of Concordia and she had become familiar with his large office, but she herself had never had an office, despite being Lieutenant and leader of the Night Owls. This probably had a lot to do with Death Watch being offplanet and in one system or another for most of the time she had been Lieutenant. When they had still been on Concordia she’d used Vizsla's office in the mines when she’d needed it. But that office was spartan. A table with a few chairs. This office was bringing back memories of her childhood and was more richly decorated than even the Concordian governor’s office. The chairs were thickly padded with some type of leather and the desk was large and metallic with multiple holoscreens she could pull up and all the drawers she would ever need. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the flowing water in the gardens outside and could smell the leather, and in a way she could pretend she was nine years old and watching her Buir work, her small legs swinging while Satine, with her long blonde hair done up in a braid, sat beside her, discussing one thing or another about Sundari and governance.

The knock on her door sounded again and she released her blaster to reach for her stylus again and continued writing.

“Come in,” she called, and the door hissed open. She looked up and quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Sati... your grace. This is a surprise.” Satine waved a hand at her and walked forward to grasp the back of one of the chairs.

“Please, Bo-Katan, you are still my sister. You’re allowed to call me Satine.” Bo closely watched her sister, and she noticed she seemed nervous. Some tells remained, despite how many years had passed. She glanced down at Bo’s hands and the stylus she was still holding. “You write your notes out with a stylus?” she asked, curiosity filling her voice. Bo glanced down at her own hands and with Satine standing in front of her she couldn’t help the memories that flooded her. Of all those nights those first few months with Death Watch. The flimsies and charcoal she’d stolen and all the letters she’d written to Satine. Of how she’d planned to find a way to send them to her sister. And how her big sister would swoop in and save her from these people. Those days were long gone, but even after, she’d preferred writing over typing or dictating. It gave her a sense of calm.

Gods she needed to stop this sentimental crap.

“Old habit I suppose.”

Satine nodded, her hands gripping the chair tightly.

“I’ve come to see if you would like to take dinner with me tonight.” Bo shifted uncomfortably and Satine quickly spoke again. “It would just be me, I promise. No advisors, no dignitaries.”

Bo twiddled with the stylus in her hand, flitting it between each of her fingers, and stared at the woman in front of her. She was dressed formally, her hair done up with lilies woven in it. She paused, looking at the lilies. She’d forgotten how much Satine had loved lilies. She almost always had a bowl in her room, until they’d had to flee to Concordia. The compound had always felt very sterile. Dinner, did she want to do dinner? Sure, she’d spent some time alone with her sister the past few days, but those times were few and far between. And looking at her now she felt like she was agreeing to have dinner with the Duchess, not her sister. The face looking at her was the face she’d learned to hate for so long.

But she needed to try. She’d loved her sister once. And if she was really honest with herself she’d missed her. She could try.

“Yes, I could do that,” she responded, clearing her throat, and she watched Satine relax. “What time?”

“In two hours if that works for you?”

Bo glanced at the chronometer on her desk.

“Yes, that should work. In your private rooms?” Satine nodded, a smile slipping over her face.

“Yes. Thank you, Bo. I’ll see you then.”

Bo gave up doing any work after thirty minutes of staring at her datapads and trying to write. She was able to finish up her report and then returned to her rooms, deciding to take a quick shower and wash her hair. Her rooms were close to the Protector barracks and though close to the royal wing, were not in it. There had been some discussion, very brief, about whether she should move into the royal wing, but objections both from Bo and the Protectors had silenced that debate quite quickly. The bedroom and sitting room were average sized and sparse, but they fit Bo fine.

After drying her hair, Bo stared at her wardrobe, or rather lack of it. She had been able to snag an extra flightsuit, and had a loose tunic and pants that she slept in. Flightsuit and armor would have to do.

Walking to Satine’s rooms, many of the people in the hallway gave her a wide berth, dropping their eyes and hurrying past, but Bo kept her head up and paid them no mind. The Protectors stationed in the royal wing and outside Satine’s doors glared at her but let her pass, and faster than Bo would have liked she was knocking on the door to the royal private dining room and was being told to enter.

Satine, to her surprise, was dressed casually in a simple dress and her hair was loose around her shoulders. The table was set simply, two place settings at the end of the table across from each other. Perfect distance for casual conversation without them being right on top of each other. Satine already had a glass of wine in her hand and she gestured for Bo to take the place setting across from her where there were two empty wine glasses.

“White or red?” she asked, placing her wine glass down.

“Um, red,” Bo answered, feeling out of her depth as she took a seat and Satine poured some of the red wine into her red wine glass. Bo ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the place setting. Of course there was a white and a red wine glass, and why were there so many forks?

“I tried to get them to allow me to set the table myself,” Satine said, and Bo looked up and met her eyes, “but you know how protocol is. You can use whatever fork you like.” Bo felt a small smile slip over her face. “I remember how much you disliked etiquette lessons.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it. I think our Governess would have strangled me if she could have.”

“Her screeching does still ring in my ears.”

Bo felt herself relax a little and reached for her wine and downed a little more than was proper. She’d had dinner with Satine before, just the other night in Satine’s office, so she didn't know why she was so nervous. She stared down at her place setting again.

“Which fork do I use first again? The outside and work my way in?”

Satine actually chuckled.

“See, you learned some things.”

“Do you remember that one time I showed up for my lessons covered in mud?” Satine smirked, setting her glass down.

“I don’t think her face could have gotten any redder. I had never seen her so angry. You know, I never asked. Where did you get so covered in mud?”

“Mom’s rose garden.” Satine actually laughed at that and Bo cracked a smile. “J’onn said that trickster nymphs grew at their roots, and that is why they had thorns but also had such beautiful flowers. I told him he was a liar, and uprooted one of mom’s bushes to prove it. They’d just been watered, so uprooting and then replanting it left me less than clean.” At that point Satine was laughing so hard she was crying and Bo was chuckling.

“I can see why you never offered up that information before,” Satine said, wiping some tears from her eyes and getting herself under control. Their mom loved her roses and protected them quite fiercely. “You were quite the wild child Bo.”

“Someone had to keep Mom and Buir on their toes. They’d become quite complacent with you.”

Bo felt herself relaxing even more as one of the chefs placed a salad on the plate in front of her. This felt...normal. Familiar. Before their parents had died, Bo had never failed to get Satine to crack a smile. That look that Satine had given her when she’d seen her that day in the marketplace ten years after she’d disappeared, when Bo’d just about said she hated her, had haunted her for years, despite lying to herself that it hadn’t. She knew Death Watch, Vizsla, would have hailed her a hero if she’d been able to kill Satine then. But she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pull the trigger. The lies Death Watch and she herself told herself each day had kept her from breaking down at seeing her sister again, but she couldn’t kill her. And now here she was, making her laugh again. Eating dinner with her again like nothing had happened.

The silence was comfortable as they ate, and when their main meal finally came they moved on to discussing plans at the docks and how they were dealing with food shipments in from the Republic. Once their mostly empty plates were taken away, Bo leaned up against her chair back, her wine glass in hand as she swirled the red liquid around. The alcohol had loosened some of her inhibitions and she actually relaxed her spine to slouch, though she did have to shift so that her armor didn’t dig into her hips.

Satine was the one to finally break the silence.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but I have to know. What happened, at the compound all those years ago and…after.”

Bo stared at the swirling liquid in her glass before she set it back down on the table and pushed it away.

“You don’t want to know Satine.”

“I do. Please. I need to know.”

She felt Satine’s eyes on her and stood up and began pacing the room and running her hands through her hair. She finally came to a stop, her hands on the back of her chair.

“Carlson and I were about halfway to the hangar when I remembered Buir’s beskar’gam. He wouldn’t let me go, so I kicked him and ran. I couldn’t leave it for them to take. It was ours. Our family’s.” She paused. “Did...did Carlson make it?” she asked, and Satine shook her head sadly. Bo dropped her eyes and went on. “By the time I’d made it back to the right side of the compound, there were attackers between me and the hangar. So I headed for the garden. After the compound exploded, Vizsla found me. He said you’d left me, and he took me back to his camp. I was so angry. They kept me under guard at all times, forced me to eat, drink. I was constantly plotting on how to escape, get revenge.  But then I started meeting other foundlings they’d taken in. All of us had been left behind or had our families killed. And then they brought me to the range and tested my shooting skills. The praise I got, it,” she paused, a nostalgic though melancholic smile on her face, “I finally felt nu'amyc. They taught me how to fight, how to defend myself, and eventually I stopped fighting back. Death Watch gave me a sense of belonging. There was finally this stability in the world of chaos we’d been living in for so long. They became my family. A very violent and often angry family, but a family nonetheless. And you remember me back then, I was relentless when I put my mind to something, and I was determined now that I was given the chance to be the best warrior I could be. I quickly moved up the ranks and they used my knowledge of the inner government workings on Sundari to help recruit people.”

“That’s what you were doing, that day at the Marketplace, weren’t you?” Satine interjected softly and Bo nodded, seeing the look that Satine had given her that day again in her mind’s eye.

“I was recruiting Senator Merrik.”

Bo didn’t miss the grief in Satine’s eyes so she dropped her head again. “I eventually started my own unit, the Nite Owls. We were so efficient that I eventually made my way to Lieutenant. I didn’t realize until it was too late, but my safety and security and my quick rise to the top came with a cost. I sacrificed a lot of myself to become the person I was.”

“No one could blame you for assimilating,” Satine said, but Bo shook her head.

“Mom and Buir raised us better than that. I just wanted to belong.”

She felt Satine’s eyes on her and glanced at her to see her looking intensely at her armor.

“So your beskar, that’s...?”

“Buir’s. They reforged it for me.”

“At least it’s still in the family,” Satine said sadly, but Bo didn’t respond.

Mando’a Translations Anooba – carnivorous desert animals native to Tatooine Ner vod- my sister Nu'amyc - normal

[dragonairice]

There’s a long story behind this picture. But for those who aren’t bothered to read it: This is my first proper piece on my Huion Kamvas 12!

I got into digital art through an app called DrawShow. I’d seen so many cool artworks on there, and I found out that most of them had been done with a stylus and I wanted one. I was convinced the only good art done digitally had to have been done with a stylus. But  I was stuck drawing with my finger for about a year. 

At some point my older brother gave me an old stylus of his to try drawing with. I was in the middle of something and my younger brother asked if he could use it to play DS games on his tab, I agreed. Bad choice. I never got to use that stylus and we had to throw it away :(

The first time I really got to use a stylus was the February of 2019. I had just been let out of the ICU after recovering from dengue and my older brother gave me another old stylus. It didn’t work very well but I’d already planned out exactly what to do when I got one and I drew this:

I know, old art. Unfortunately, the universe decided I wasn’t supposed to have a stylus just then because it fell off the bed while I was resting. It’s unusable now, but I’m pretty sure it’s in my drawer somewhere still. 

I still wanted a stylus, but somewhere along the way I discovered drawing tablets and then had a new fixation 😅. I didn’t do anything about it until... I think it was around May (?) 2020, I asked my parents if we could order a Kamvas 13. They agreed. I planned to draw this to celebrate once I got it:

The Kamvas 12 was having free shipping though, so we got that instead. It took a week or two to get here, but I wasn’t even allowed to see the box before it was taken away. My mom told me I’d get it back after I finished my exams. Only, with the pandemic and everything exams went on for a lot longer than they should have. 

After exams, still no Kamvas 12. I’d practically given up on getting it. Then on my birthday I was given a suspiciously large box that everyone was weirdly excited for me to open. I actually said: “ This better not be my Kamvas 12. That’d be a sh*tty gift since I technically already own it”.

Yeah I’m pretty sure you know what was in that box.

[castielpit]

The Nightmares Don’t Stop- 9

Warnings: mild language, post-panic attack, mentions of panic attack, mentions of violence, mentions of PTSD, mentions of missing time/blacking out, mentions of firearms, unintentional self-harm, blood, bruises

Chapter List

You must’ve passed out at some point because you were no longer in the arms of Captain America- holy shit that actually happened didn’t it- and were now lying down on a cot in a sterile-smelling white room. You crane your neck to the side, surprised it didn’t feel too stiff. You must not have been knocked out for that long. You sit up on the cot, swinging your legs over the side. At least you were still in your clothes- as hideous as they are. The metal door to the room swings open. That mirror on the wall is probably double-sided glass- they were observing you.

“Hello there,” says the one and only Dr. Bruce Banner. Honestly, what else should you have expected? Nothing can surprise you at this point. “How are you feeling?” he asks, handing you a cup of water with a lid and straw. You accept it and gulp it down greedily, not caring how ravenous you looked while doing it.

“Thanks,” you mumble to Dr. Banner, giving him a small smile, which he returns. “So Dr. Banner, I’m assuming you have some questions for me after I almost choked one of your Avengers?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Please, call me Bruce,” Dr. Bann- Bruce replies offhandedly. “And you never answered my original question, how am I supposed to ask any other questions before I get that answer?”

You blank for a moment before remembering his original question.

“Oh, yeah I’m feeling fine. I was just a bit dehydrated but..” you trail off, holding up your now empty cup as an explanation.

“Right. May I?” he asks, gesturing to said cup. You hand it to him and he throws it in the trash bin near the door. “Well I am certainly glad you’re feeling fine, Ms. L/n…”

“Please, call me F/n,” you mimic his earlier words with a tiny smile. To your surprise, he gives a little chuckle.

“Right, well F/n you were correct in assuming there are some questions we would like answered, but you don’t have to answer anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he states, looking you directly in the eyes to make sure you understand he is serious. You nod in understanding, prompting him to continue. “You seem quite calm for someone who passed out almost immediately after trying to choke Clint, so-”

“Is Clint alright? Oh god, is Mr. Stark angry with me?” you cut Bruce off, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you.

“Yes! Yes, he is fine besides some light bruising around his neck,” Bruce assures you, but your guilt even worsens. It must have been apparent on your face because Bruce continues quietly, leaning toward you slightly. “Don’t worry, we’ve all wanted to do that at one point. The only reason Tony would be angry is because he’s jealous you got to Clint before he could,” Bruce winks at you. A genuine giggle makes its way up your throat. A fucking giggle. Since when do you giggle?!  

“Anyways,” he leans away, glancing at what you assumed is the two-way mirror. “With how calm you have been since the incident, I can only assume this wasn’t your first…” he pauses in thought for a moment. “Episode?” You feel your shoulders tense up, sitting up a bit straighter. If Bruce notices, he doesn’t mention it, which you’re very grateful for.

“No,” you say barely audibly. You clear your throat and try again. “No,” that’s better, “This isn’t my first panic attack.”

“I see. Is it your first time having a violent reaction within the panic attack?” Bruce asks, writing some things down on a tablet as he speaks. You sigh, memories of therapists doing the same thing flooding your mind. He glances up at you.

“I don’t do well with human contact, especially when it’s unexpected. I have been able to avoid it and distance myself from people well enough until now, so this is my first physical reaction to it, yes,” you explain, being careful with your words. Bruce and the people behind the glass don’t need to know everything there is about you and your past. He continues writing on his tablet with the stylus, his face not giving away any emotion. No emotion was better than disgust, at least.

“Is the issue with human contact something that is a result of PTSD possibly?” Bruce questions gently in a quieter voice, setting aside the tablet and stylus to look at you. You nod affirmatively, an action which he mimics. “Is there anything else you feel might be important for me to know to ensure the safety of others in Tony’s program?” Your eyes widen.

“Mr. Stark isn’t kicking me out?” you ask, the shock evident in your voice. Bruce smirks, his eyebrows furrowing in amusement.

“If Tony refused to work with anyone that has made mistakes such as yours, the Avengers wouldn’t exist. Hell, Tony wouldn’t be able to work with himself even.” Bruce glances toward the mirror again, allowing his eyes to linger for a few seconds before returning his gaze to yours.

“Oh, wow! I guess that makes sense. I still almost can't believe it!” you exclaim, not bothering to hide the excitement in your voice. “And to answer your question from before...in the moments immediately following the contact Clint made with me, I sort of blacked out.” Bruce raises his eyebrows slightly.

“You don’t remember what happened?” Bruce prodded.

“I remember shooting one of the rifles, Clint placing his hand on my wrist…” you pause, recalling the memory that had played in your head during that time. You stare Bruce in the eyes. Could you trust him? He seemed so genuine. “And then I was reliving a memory. Once the memory played out, I realized I had Mr. Barton pinned beneath me, with my hands…” your voice chokes off a bit from the memory of your past and from what happened with Clint. The door suddenly bursts open. Your eyes shoot up to see your savior himself, Steve Rogers, barreling towards you. He reaches forward and grabs your hands gently. You flinch slightly and look down at your hands, covered in blood, along with your thighs now tracked with fingernail scratches.

“I- I didn’t realize…” your eyes widen, not even remembering when you started to scratch yourself. You look up into blue eyes filled with concern. Behind the wall of muscle that is Steve Rogers, you see Bruce running his hands through his hair nervously and Tony Stark standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Behind Tony you make out two shadows.

“After Bruce asked you if you remembered what happened, you started scratching your legs and wouldn’t stop. You kept speaking even though Bruce was shouting your name for you to stop,” says Steve softly. He looked down at your hands, dropping them gently when he realized he was still holding them.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you say looking over to Bruce, then to Tony, and finally your gaze landing back on Steve, who was now sitting next to you on the cot. “I don’t know what happened.” The room is silent for a few moments, nobody daring to move.

“Jesus Christ guys,” comes a voice from behind Tony. Tony, who is now stumbling as someone rushes past him over to some shelves near the side of the bed. Someone reaches out to steady Tony. You see a flash of red hair and look away, knowing it was the woman whose best friend you had left bruises on. You decide to look over at the now grumbling man who was shuffling through the drawers, pulling out bandages and rubbing alcohol wipes.

“With the amount of PhDs in this room you would think one of you guys would know what to do with an injured person. I swear sometimes this team makes me wonder…” The man turns around and his grumbling fades from your hearing as you look at his bruised neck. Bruises the same size and shape as your hands. He reaches towards you with something in his hand. Immediately, you kick the object out of his hand and back yourself into the wall, trying to get away. Two strong hands grab your shoulders and you whip your head around. Blue eyes. Steve.

[libermachinae]

“Brainstorm, have you used the clamps recently?”

“No.”

“The clamps from the drawer. Did you use them?”

“I’ve been working on schematics for the last orn, Perceptor. Except for the side project Nautica asked me for, I guess.”

“I couldn’t find them when I was working with the unknowium, which was fine, but now I’m examining the latest enigmite sample, which is a much more reactive material.”

“That was purely organic handling, though, no materials necessary. Except for the plasma leash I whipped up.”

“Did you at any point use the clamps to construct your leash?”

“No.”

“How did you generate plasma without clamps?”

“The power core’s actually a shell for a densely compressed asymmetric neutron reaction. When I unlock the springer drive it operates on a quantum rebound to influence the shape of the reaction…”

“…Resulting in a contained plasma field. Oh, that’s brilliant.”

Brainstorm’s wings fluttered.

“And the fuel core?” Perceptor asked.

“A cocktail. Borrowed some of your enigmite, a few other ingredients we’d had sitting around. We need to clean out the upper level sorting cabinets, by the way.”

“You didn’t use up all the infinium, did you?”

“Scraped a bit off the sides, but there’s still some in there. We should throw out the iron shavings, they’ve gone ox.”

“I have a theory regarding infinium-based fuel for the quantum engines, but I haven’t had time to write up the proposal.”

“Do you think Swerve would want them? I don’t know how to identify fuel-grade rust.”

“I just finished reading an interesting article about that, actually, observing stages of rust in relation to calcium buildup along arterial lines. Would you like a copy of the file?”

“Summarize it for me?”

“There, that’s the abstract.”

“No, I want you to tell me. This is too general.”

“I fear any attempt I made to summarize would end up longer than the paper itself.”

“Perfect. Science talk at me, Percy. More syllables per word, the better.”

“I would, if only I could stop thinking about where the clamps have gone.”

Perceptor glanced over at his silent lab partner, who was leaned low over a datapad, stylus gripped tight and in constant motion.

“Brainstorm?”

“Lab guidelines only said we had to get permission for upgrading computers, engines, and instruments weighing ten tons or more.”

“Provided the clamps didn’t end up in the refinery, I’m sure we can undo it.”

Brainstorm reached under his desk to his officially licensed secret compartment. He pulled back and tossed the clamps to Perceptor.

“These appear to be standard issue. Whatever you’ve done, I’m sure it’s—hm.”

“Can’t open them?”

“Are they jammed? I believe we still have the lubricant from the matchbox experiments several years ago.”

“I installed two micro supermagnets in the tips. You were talking about how the grip wasn’t strong enough to hold the quartz filaments you’d developed, so I cut off the old tips, replaced them with nonferrous baffles, and inserted the magnets.”

“And then you closed it without a baffle between the magnets?”

“I closed it without a baffle between the magnets. I was going to fix it after you left. Or just make a new one, with a plugin to calculate the force.”

Perceptor turned the now useless object over in his hands, marveling at the wonder of nature that allowed the two sides to grip each other so forcefully. He stretched up and placed it on a high shelf, beside a beaker that overflowed with a crystal structure that looked like yellow froth.

“Really, Perce? It’s not that impressive.”

“The fluorifate structure exists because I was too excited about helping you to consider whether what I was doing was scientifically sound. And if the clamp is up there, you will have less opportunity to sneak it past me and we may in fact leave for our date on time.”

[pooktales]

“Master Daddy” Chapter 9: Lucien mon Animal

Detective Émeraude finally looked disturbed. Good for him. The arcane clock ticked away as he and Thalyssra worked through nervous energy. He re-organizing his notes. Thalyssra setting her jaw and flexing each of her fingers into a new fist.

Émeraude picked up his gold stylus, "Reprendre l'entrevue Mme Lesauvage."

And so Sasha Lesauvage, the Dancing Girl, she did.

You don't throw over a man like that. A man who is more than your husband. At times, Lucien was like my brother. Or my hero. More. It's hard to explain.

I lost my point—after all that, just put some bars between us, then he gets scared. Even the mighty Minister Sabergryn forgets.

I worry about what will happen to Lucien if he ever truly loses me to the guillotine.

I decided to finally start in on him, "About the trial getting moved up. Luc, I need you to talk to my father—"

"I won't turn to the Lesauvage for help, Sasha. That's going straight back to the way things were with Elisande!"

Jolie looked up, for him to be quiet.

"Lucien, my sweet. I have been a very evil woman. I have beat the shit out of people. I have murdered, you know this. If I didn't order deaths, then I took care of them myself, whenever it came to that. Half the people here in this prison are more terrified now that I'm here. I spend my days getting revenge on the people who targeted my sister Racine when she first got locked up. You should see her now; they treat Racine like the queen of the place now, because of me. Gods, I've already been in a few fights, and if I get condemned, you know there will be even more." I mused aloud, "I don't actually care about other people, now do I?"

"Yes you do."

"Not as much as you, my darling."

He fidgeted, pretended to check one of his cufflinks, then flicked out his wrist and the gold watch there. It wasn't one that I remember him having.

I hardened myself, at the thought that little minx was buying my husband jewelry and he was getting to the point where he would wear it, in front of me...

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