#It recently got a new holo

[insomniakingdoom]

Lookachooooooo

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[nanenna]

This Meeting Could've Been an E-mail

Sleepy King (Nanenna ver.) Masterpost

---

Diana, along with several other members of the JLD, were sitting in a meeting room. John had stood at the head of the table, having just finished outlining the situation for them, and it was grim. She knew if worse came to worse they may have to sacrifice the boy to keep the Ghost King from emerging into their world and wreaking havoc on a scale only Darkseid had managed before, but she prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Would not the boy also smell my father’s blood?” Raven asked.

“Unfortunately. You an’ me are gonna stay back and help plan based on what everyone else reads from the boy.”

Diana nodded along, likely that was also her role.

Bruce, in full Batman gear, came stalking into the room.

“About bloody time,” John said with a huff.

“I would hope you have brought them all up to speed on what you know of Danny while waiting.”

John made an annoyed sound, then moved to sit in a chair near the head of the table. “`Course I did, just waiting on you now.”

Bruce stood in the spot John had just vacated. “Oracle.” The room dimmed and the holo-projector  in the table whirred to life. A picture of a small family standing in front of what appeared to be some sort of business run out of what used to be a family home (something fairly common in America, Diana had learned) took center stage. Obviously it was part of a website, Diana could see the web bar with several tabs across the top of the projection, but it was zoomed into the photo.

“This,” Bruce said, pointing to the teenaged boy in the photo from behind, “is Daniel “Danny” Fenton, the boy used in the ritual last night.”

Everyone leaned in closer to look the boy over. There was nothing remarkable about him, a bit thin perhaps but that could be due to the lankiness that comes with growth spurts.

“He’s from Amity Park, Illinois. The town advertises itself as the most haunted city in America, and from what we’ve gathered they earned it. Most pertinent is that last year they were under attack by the Ghost King.”

Oracle must have clicked to the next tab, the family picture was replaced by an online newspaper article titled “Ghost King Thwarted! Is Phantom a Hero?”

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Zatanna asked incredulously.

“There must be some mistake, there’s no way Pariah Dark got free without a single person feeling it,” Dr. Fate insisted.

Oracle scrolled down the page to show several blurry photos taken of a being that looked nothing like what they’d seen last night, alongside a sketch of the being. “Either this was well researched, or somehow this whole event was cloaked,” Bruce said grimly.

“Considering this wasn’t even the most recent attack on the town and a few of them sound like JL level threats,” Oracle’s modulated voice came from the table’s speakers as she quickly tabbed through a few more news articles before coming back to the one on the Ghost King, “I think it’s more likely something is blocking the whole town from us.” She scrolled down more to show several missing or broken photos. “Especially this Phantom person that keeps showing up in every article about ghosts. Even using the way back machine there’s not a single photo of him anywhere on the internet.”

“If the Ghost King has been out,” Captain Marvel asked, “where did he go? I doubt he’s spent the last year just hanging out in a small town in middle America.”

“According to this news article,” Bruce said, “Phantom, along with help from the whole town, managed to get the Ghost King back into the Sarcophagus and sealed him away again.”

John whistled, “That’s quite the feat, even with help.”

“Are you saying Danny was chosen as Pariah’s anchor because he’s from Amity Park?” Raven asked.

“Not just because he’s from Amity Park, his parents are also self proclaimed paranormal scientists and ghost hunters.”

Oracle tabbed to a few different pages, each one with a different picture of one of Danny’s parents proudly holding ominously glowing green weapons or with vials of glowing green goo. Sometimes one in the background of another.

John squinted at the photos, “Is that pure æther?!”

“How?!” Captain Marvel and Zatanna both asked incredulously.

“They call it ectoplasm,” Bruce stated.

John scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Ectoplasm is a word scam artists in the 1800s made up to steal money from grieving widows.”

“Nevertheless that is what they're calling it. Especially of note that the Fentons run their research out of their home.”

“Where their children live?” Diana asked, horrified at the implications.

“How are they still sane?” Captain Marvel asked incredulously.

“We're not sure they are,” Batman said grimly. Oracle tabbed to a street view of the Fenton home, easily identified by the large sign on the side. The strange addition to the home's roof was an… interesting choice.

The other attendees of the meeting were becoming agitated, several of them shifting in place as they got ready to speak.

“Before this goes any further,” Bruce stated firmly, “all this to say the cult that kidnapped Danny Fenton did so with intention. Amity Park certainly needs a full investigation, but it will have to wait until after this crisis with the Ghost King is dealt with.”

“Æther exposure might explain why the kid could handle being Pariah’s anchor.” John sighed then stood up. “Alright, if that’s all the info you got…”

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement.

“The clock’s ticking.” John left the room, the others all following after.

Diana hung back to speak with Bruce. “We’ll find a solution.”

Bruce just hummed to show he heard her. She knew he wasn’t handling the situation well, a child’s life was at stake and he had to hand the situation over to others. There was only so much she could reassure him, so she chose instead to go see the boy for herself.

The JLD members that had attended the meeting were all gathered in a kitchenette discussing logistics. Diana left them to it for the moment and simply went down the hall to the room she knew the boy was sleeping in. The lights in the hallway were already dimmed, thankfully, so she simply quietly opened the door and poked her head inside. Clark was sitting on a chair next to the boy’s bed. His posture was a relaxed sprawl, but his face was furrowed in concentration. He looked up and smiled when he saw Diana.

“How are you?” She asked at barely a whisper, knowing he’d hear her just fine.

“Guilty, now that I know he mistook me for his father.”

“Sadly this is an ask for forgiveness situation.” She gently pat Clark’s arm, trying to console him.

The boy himself looked like any other teenager, dead to the world while tucked safely into bed. She only hoped they would find some solution and tomorrow he would be tucked just as safely into his own bed.

[starryinkart]

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Hey guys!!! This was supposed to be the last post of 2023 buttt I wanted to spend more time on it soooo HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! 🎊

This is based off a dream I had that Doll and Uzi will teamed up to find answers and a possible cure down in the Cabin Fever labs, but ultimately ran into some trouble along the way, particularly with a recently deceased friend (or enemy, depending what side you’re on 👀). They ended up fighting another holo spooky snake crab and end up having to put their differences aside to work together and get past it, using their solver powers. But time is ticking, the solver is slowly taking over the both of them, N is in trouble and they still need to last through the other mind games the solver has set up for them in the process.

At some point before this, we have the scene seen in the teaser trailer for episode 7 and 8, of N and Uzi standing in the cathedral hall, Uzi gets momentarily possessed, hurting Ns hand, but snaps out of it when they both hear a noise behind them. They manage to catch a glimpse of Doll, trying to sneak past them, when Uzi attacks her, a short fight ensuing. Doll is knocked to the floor by a marble pillar, her eyepatch gets knocked off her face. It was then revealed that her other eye that had been covered was indeed yellow, the color of the solver, like Uzi’s. After a short tension filled chat, it was then decided between the three drones that they would work together, if it meant they would find an answer to their looming issues and possible planets demise, when all hell broke loose…Whether they would win or lose, I never got to find out 🥺🥺😭

(It’s just an interesting concept my creative brain came up with while I’m patiently waiting and theorizing for the last two episodes of season 1 like everyone else 🙃 Might draw more of it at some point!)

Hope you enjoy!!💜✨ More art and Chapter 4 of Absolutely coming very soon!!

(Here’s a closer up version in case you wanted to see the fine details 👀👀)

[illuminatedquill]

Short Story Summary: Hera Syndulla arrives at Sabine and Ezra's comm tower to drop off the first print editions of their personal trading cards.

*For @alphaofdarkness and @jedi-nurse who inspired this with their conversations on the Discord server. Hope you like it.

Lothal, Early Morning - Sabine and Ezra's Comm Tower

The characteristic soft chime that played whenever someone was waiting below in the comm tower's courtyard alerted Ezra to their guest's presence. Setting down the data-pad he had been browsing through for the Holo-Net's daily news, he stood and walked over to a nearby monitor at the security station that had been recently installed by Sabine as a precaution.

After all, the last time a guest had arrived she had ended up with a lightsaber stabbed through her abdomen. It was not an experience she wished to repeat again.

Shooing a curious Murley off the console, he pushed a button. The monitor's screen lit up, showing the crisp image of the tower's courtyard - and the familiar face of their guest.

Smiling, he spoke into the intercom. "Hello, Hera."

The green-skinned Twi'lek smiled back and waved at the camera. Seeing her face, practically the same since he had first seen it over a decade ago, always filled Ezra with a sense of warmth and comfort. Hera had been a steady friend, mentor, and surrogate mother to him during the hectic early days of the Rebellion. She was the eternal bedrock of the Spectres, the foundation from which all of them had built their new lives upon.

He noted the casual outfit she wore today: not her usual flight uniform, but a fashionable beige sport jacket, dark brown tunic, slim, high waisted pants, complete with comfortable walking boots. Grasped in her hands was a slim, non-descript wooden case.

"Retirement looks good on you, General," he remarked.

Hera snorted. "Semi-retirement. I was practically forced into it by Leia. She was very insistent."

"It's well-deserved," he replied. "And long overdue."

"And boring," she retorted. "I need structure, Ezra. A mission."

He laughed. "So, you're hiring yourself out as a delivery service now?"

She scowled at him. "Gotta do something. I'm still helping people, at least."

"And not getting shot at or participating in dog fights with pirates is presumably a benefit, as well," Ezra added.

"Eh," she said, waving a careless hand. "I kind of miss it, sometimes."

Hera peered up at the camera. "Are you going to let me up or we just going to chit-chat like this all day? I've got other places to be, you know."

Ezra grinned and let her in.

The slim wooden case lay open on the worktable, revealing the contents within. Ezra peered over it, taking in the sight of what Hera had brought.

She sipped at a caf, a special blend of Hera's favorite flavors. "Thanks for this," she said gratefully.

"Of course," Ezra responded. He picked up one of the items within the wooden case and observed it more closely: a trading card, thin and metallic. With a sense of bemusement, he inspected the image of himself on it, conforming to what he had perceived at the time of the photoshoot to be a "heroic" pose: his lightsaber activated and held in a basic guard position.

There was at least a dozen more of these contained within the wooden case.

"Where's Sabine?" Hera asked.

Ezra nodded towards the section of the comm tower's interior, where the master bedroom was located. "Sleeping in. She just returned from Mandalore late last night."

"Busy days for her, huh," Hera said.

Ezra shrugged, still eyeing the trading card in his hand. "Bo needs her to keep the clans in line."

He shook his head. "I can't believe these are actually real. A Jedi on a trading card."

"Hey, don't knock it," Hera said. "Skywalker's got a bunch, too."

Ezra's eyes widened. "Luke? How did the New Republic convince him to do this?"

"Same way we did with you. He had similar concerns: that Jedi shouldn't be involved in this sort of publicity, even with benevolent intentions," Hera explained. She paused to take a brief sip of her caf before continuing. "To counter this, the government pitched that it was for historical purposes. It was a good way to get the young ones across the galaxy up to date with knowledge of galactic affairs and the people who shaped them."

He blinked, remembering the exact same explanation being given to him. "It's a little scary that they found a way to trick Jedi into this."

Hera shrugged. "You're both history nerds. And there's no harm in giving the kids heroes to root for. I think you both appreciate that fact."

Ezra studied the cards some more, smiling a little. Living as an orphan on the streets of Imperial controlled Lothal, he would have given anything to have a fun side hobby like that.

"Leia, her husband Han, Skywalker, and Lando all have their own trading cards, too," Hera commented. She reached down and plucked a card from within the wooden case. "Everyone in the Ghost crew, also. Me, Zeb, Kanan - even Chopper."

Ezra snorted. He glanced over at the trading card Hera was holding, this one featuring Sabine. She was wearing one of her go-to civilian outfits, her head encased in a speeder-bike helmet. The characteristic Sabine Wren smirk was also in vivid display, along with one other feature that immediately caught his attention.

He frowned. "That can't be recent," he said. "When did she grow out her hair?"

Hera turned to him, surprised. "Right," she said. "You weren't here to see that."

She offered him the trading card. Ezra took it, gazing softly down at the image of his wife.

"She's beautiful," was all he could say. He had only ever seen Sabine with short hair, a necessity with her Mandalorian helmet. Even when she had come to rescue him on Peridea, Sabine had worn a short pixie-style cut. Ezra had assumed that had been her style the entire time he had been gone.

The deep purple he remembered from Peridea was present, but it blended beautifully with the longer locks of burning red. It reminded him of the gouts of flame bursting forth he had seen in paintings of dying stars; the effect of her dye colors presented the look of pure starfire flowing down her shoulders.

"Yeah, Sabine had these done a while ago," Hera confirmed.

"But they're just being released now?" Ezra asked. "Why?"

She sighed. "It took quite a bit of convincing for Sabine to acquiesce to this decision. You know how she is with public facing stuff like this."

Ezra winced, imagining the conversations between Sabine and the New Republic officials to be short and one-sided. Despite her brash exterior, he knew his wife to be an immensely private person, preferring to keep out of the public eye.

"I finally got her to agree, but Sabine would only do it on two conditions: first, that she would have a say in how the cards were designed. If her face was going to be on them, she wanted to ensure that the cards were artistically up to her standards."

Ezra smiled slightly. Sounds like her, he thought. Art was Sabine's first love, before she met him. She would want to make sure that the artwork showcased on the trading cards was befitting of the heroes they featured.

"What was the second condition?" he asked.

Hera cocked her head at him, her eyes suddenly wistful. "That her trading cards would only be sold as a set, not to be separated for any reason."

Ezra's brow furrowed. "She wanted her card to be permanently paired up with another?"

"Yes, Ezra," said Hera quietly. "Yours."

His eyes widened at the revelation.

"That's why hers are only being released now," continued Hera. "She was waiting for you."

Ezra was silent, looking over the cards: his and Sabine's, paired together.

Not to be separated for any reason.

He coughed, trying to clear the sudden lump in his throat. Hera clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think they look better together," she observed wryly. "Don't you?"

Ezra smiled; his eyes were moist with emotion. "Yeah," he agreed. "They do."

Sabine wandered out of the bedroom a little after mid-day. Her hair was sticking up on one end; eyes still bleary from the long sleep, she shuffled over to the couch and sat down next to Ezra.

"Had a good sleep?" he asked her.

She laid her head onto his shoulder. "Mmmmm. First soft bed in weeks. Heavenly isn't strong enough to describe it."

He kissed her head softly. "Is Mandalore still doing alright? No one's gunning for another civil war? "

"Yeah, clan meeting went nice and smoothly," she replied drowsily. "Boring."

Ezra chuckled, strongly reminded of Hera's same response earlier this morning.

"Sounds like progress," he mused.

She shifted her head on his shoulder, moving into a more comfortable position. "Heard you talking with someone. Was it Hera?"

He nodded. Sabine grimaced. "You should have woken me up, goober."

"You were tired. Hera didn't mind. Said she'll call later, to catch up with you."

Sabine didn't argue back, which was an indication of just how exhausted she still was. "What did she want?"

Ezra produced from his pocket the trading cards. "She was dropping these off."

His wife sneaked a glance at them and let out a surprised breath. "Karabast," she muttered. "I forgot these were a thing."

"Freshly minted, first edition," he bragged. "Super rare and valuable, I'm told."

She snorted. "Whatever. We should sell them and buy tickets to a star cruise."

Setting the cards down on the worktable, Ezra grinned and hugged his wife close. "I'm also told," he said gently, "that ours are not to be sold separately."

Sabine went quiet.

He reached over and laced his hand in hers. "It's very thoughtful of you," he whispered. "Thank you."

She squeezed his hand back. "We're a package deal, Ezra. I don't want anyone separating us ever again. Even in something as silly as trading cards."

[artsie-rosie]

Hello would you like some prints??

Hi friends! I hope you're doing well! How the heck is this year flying by this fast??

As some of you may know, I've recently had the opportunity to have a table at an artists alley event for the very first time! It was so great, and very special to make new connections with other fellow artists and also with the public! I very much believe I will be doing more of these. :)

In preparation for this event, I got some new, fresh prints according to past requests and feedback from you guys, so why don't we have a sale? Wee hoo let's go!!!!

NEW!!! Happy Eevee in Oil Pastels

A4 / 8.3 x 11.7", matte finish. $20 $18

NEW!!! Happy Yoshi in Oil Pastels

A5 / 5.8 x 8.3", matte finish. $10 $8

NEW!!! Fi's Holo Dance!

A5 / 5.8 x 8.3", holographic finish! $15 $13 SOLD OUT!

Thank you!!

NEW!!! Shiny Pumpkaboo!

A5 / 5.8 x 8.3", holographic finish! $15 $13 (Only two left!)

NEW!!! Hex Maniac & Gengar

A5 / 5.8 x 8.3", matte finish. $10 $8

NEW!!! Skull Kid & Fairies

A4 / 8.3 x 11.7", matte finish. $20 $18

There's also some old prints that were all sold out last time, so I got more of them done! Here they are:

Print Sakura in Watercolors (A4 / 8.3 x 11.7") $20 $18 SOLD OUT!!!

Print Vivi and Night Sky (A4 / 8.3 x 11.7") $20 $18

Print Ninetales and Pup (A4 / 8.3 x 11.7") $20 $18 (Only 2 units left!)

Print Galactic Deer (A5 / 5.8 x 8.3") $10 $8

But that's not all!!!

Look at these beautiful leaves! Doesn't it make you want to put them everywhere? Good news these are vinyl stickers and you can put them everywhere!!

Leaves in Watercolors Sticker Sheet

(White, waterproof vinyl, 6 stickers) $20 $15

And last but not least, I also have these three variations of paper bookmarks because I like this type of overlapping foliage a lot. :)

Foliage Bookmarks $3 each

GET ONE OF THESE AS A FREEBIE if you buy any two or more prints! <3

Feel free to message me here if you want any of these, or reach out to me on Twitter! I'll ship them worldwide!

Thank youuuu <3

[vodika-vibes]

Jango comes home to his wife and there's just something about her that's driving him even crazier than usual about her and he just shoves his tongue down her throat practically the moment after she greets him at the door and it's left swinging wide open, it's pouring rain outside while they make out and fuck on the couch.

I hope this inspires you!

It's Been Too Long

Summary: Jango’s most recent job takes a lot longer than he planned, but finally he’s home.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1572

Warnings: Explicit, Jango keeps his armor on

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that this took so long, it's been sitting, half written, for the better part of a week, but I finally had the inspiration to finish it. It doesn't feel super smutty to me, but that's probably because I spent too much time thinking about it.

You’re not unused to being alone.

The reality of your Riduur’s job means that you spend more time alone than with him. Oh sure, every now and then you go on jobs with him, but only the ones where he’s sure that there’s no chance of you being injured or of you being exposed to someone who might try to use you against him. 

This most recent job had Jango doing something for a Hutt, and so you were left behind. The job was only supposed to last a couple of weeks, the Hutt only wanted a Mando there to look scary. But the job got more complicated, and those weeks turned into several months.

Several very long months.

Talking to Jango over holo just isn’t the same.

You can’t hug or kiss a hologram after all. 

But you got a comm earlier this week telling you that he was finally on his way home, and you, honestly, can’t wait.

You did the math, and he should be home today.

Soon, you hope. 

Your gaze drifts from the holovid that you’re watching to the window. It’s been raining since last night, which is a shame, you bought a new swimsuit that you wanted to show off for Jango.

And doing so while you both relax at the poolside would have been perfect.

Oh well. It’s not like you can control the weather.

Absently your hand moves to the pendant hanging around your neck. It was a gift from Jango, sent to you as soon as he realized that he was going to be gone longer than he planned. It’s pretty, a sparkling blue gemstone hanging from a silver necklace. 

It’s silly, of course. You don’t need a necklace for him to prove his love to you. But you love the pendant all the same.

You’re about to bring the gem to your mouth (a nervous habit that Jango hates) when you hear the familiar sound of a ship descending behind the house.

It’ll take Jango about fifteen minutes to get the ship settled and get to the house, and you should just wait for him. It’s pouring outside, and you’re wearing a white sundress because it’s hot.

You absolutely shouldn’t go out and greet him.

You’re halfway to the backdoor before the thought fully processes, though, once you reach the back door, you don’t open it until the ship has fully powered down.

Then, and only then, do you fling the door open and run out into the rain to greet Jango.

He meets you at the bottom of the stairs. His dark eyes flicker across your face, down your neck, and linger on the necklace hanging there. And then drag further down your body, taking in the way the material of your now drenched clings to your curves, and appreciating how the, now sheer, dress does nothing to hide you from his gaze.

“Welcome home, Jango.” You greet him with a warm, loving, smile. 

His gaze drags back up your body, “This is quite the welcome,” Jango agrees, as he steps into your space. One of his hands comes up to lightly brush against the pendant hanging around your neck, and then continues up to cup your face. 

You lean into his touch, your hands coming up to press against his. Stars, but you missed him so much-

Jango’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, and he tugs you towards him, ducking his head just enough that he’s able to crash his lips against yours, his tongue immediately sliding past your unresisting lips to map out your mouth. 

His free hand moves to your hip, and then around your back to roughly tug on the laces holding your dress closed. And once those are loosened enough he pulls his lips away from yours and he roughly tugs the top of your dress down. 

“Been too long,” He murmurs against your throat, “Been far, far too long.” His hands move to your breasts, his clever fingers flicking and teasing your nipples until you release a breathless whine.

It seems to be what he wanted to hear, because the moment that whine leaves your lips, his hands are moving to your hips to finish pushing your dress to the ground.

“No underwear at all, cyare?” Jango murmurs against your ear.

“I missed you,” You reply as you press your bare body against his armored on, “Jango, Riduur, please-”

He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his gloved hands remapping your body, as though he could possibly forget your dips and curves. He lifts you and carries you from the backyard and into the house.

You think he’s going to carry you into the bedroom, and so you’re startled when he sets you on the couch and settles his body over yours, his lips never once separating from yours. 

“You’re still wearing your armor,” You mumble against his lips, “Won’t you let me feel you, riduur?” You ask as you shoot him your saddest eyes.

He chuckles, “I thought you liked my armor,” Jango replies with his lips pressed against your ear.

“I do…just not when I haven’t been able to touch you in months.” You’re definitely whining now, though judging by the look on his face, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. But then, Jango has always loved it when you got a little feral for him. 

You lightly tug at his chest piece, though with how he’s laying against you, there’s no way you’re going to be able to remove it.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Jango offers, “After I make you cum all over my cock, then I’ll take off my armor.”

“That’s not a fair deal,” You counter with a pout.

“Mm. It seems fair to me.”

“It-” You gasp when he bites down on your shoulder, his hands moving to caress your breasts, “It’s biased in your favor,” You manage to get out.

He pulls away long enough to grin at you, “Is it?”

“You know it is, riduur.”

Jango leans in and ghosts his lips against yours, almost touching you, but not quite, “It’s been so long, Riduur.” he murmurs, “Won’t you let me take care of you?”

And, well, you’ve always been shit at telling him no.

So neither of you are surprised when you fold almost immediately.

He kisses you one more time, a long, slow, lingering kiss. A kiss where he pushes everything he feels towards you through his lips. And, as soon as he breaks the kiss, he flips you onto your stomach, his gloved hands pressing into your hips and ass as he caresses you.

Slowly, reverently, he adjusts you so that you’re resting on your knees and your hands are pressed against the arm of the couch. He only pulls away long enough to toss his codpiece to the side, and then he’s pressed back against you.

His armor is cool against your heated skin, but his lips burn a path down the back of your neck and back up to catch your lips. 

You feel his fingers pressed against you, press into you, and you release a keening little noise that makes him groan and press harder against you. He’s so hard, his erection pressed against your thighs, and you’re not sure you have the patience for the normal foreplay that you enjoy so much.

Jango, clearly, agrees, because his fingers thrust only a few times, only enough to make sure that you are aroused enough to take him, and then his cock is pressed against you, teasing you for just a moment, before he pushes in.

Like everything he does, Jango fucks you with a single minded intensity that could be overwhelming if you weren’t in the right place for it. But here and now, you are.

He’s usually a quiet lover, his groans, moans, and grunts quiet and for your ears only, but he must be in a mood, because today praise is falling from his lips, and you know you’re not going to hold out for long, because you never do when he’s so affectionate with you.

Jango presses his nose against the back of your neck as you fall apart around him, no longer moving, just enjoying the feel of you around him. “Riduur,” He murmurs, “Do you remember the first time we met?” 

You’re pretty sure your brain is about a million kilometers away, but even so you’re still able to answer, “Course,” You mumble, your tongue feeling clumsy as you still pulse around him. “You were,” You shiver as he adjusts a little bit, “On a job.”

“Mm,” His hands move to slide over your ass, and you’re surprised when you feel his bare hand rather than his glove.

“Jan-”

“Keep going, riduur,” He purrs.

“You were hired to kill me,” You gasp out as he starts at a slow, lazy pace. “You changed your mind.”

“Smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” He replies with a particularly hard thrust, as he drops a kiss just under your ear.

“Gods-” You gasp as a particularly hard thrust nearly causes you to topple forward.

He laughs, and nips on your earlobe, “Oh, riduur.” Jango coos, “There aren’t any gods here. Just me.” He nips your earlobe again, “Will you pray to me?”

And you know, immediately, that you’re not going to be able to do much of anything tomorrow.

[greenhorn-art]

to catch a sunbeam with white moonlight

Author: orphan_account [this work has been orphaned and is no longer associated with it's author]

Fandom: 全职高手 | The King's Avatar

Rating: General Audiences

Category: F/M, Gen, M/M

Words: 55,720

At a Glory convention, Dai Yanqi meets Ye Xiu who is helping Su Mucheng buy her favorite doujinshi. They surprisingly hit it off as they browse through all the doujinshi about their peers and talk about Glory.

About the book

FONTS: EB Garamond (body text, title), Roboto (body text - electronic), Bebas Neue (title, headings), Alfie (title), Segoe UI Symbol (scene breaks - 'gear without hub')

IMAGES: Sunflower (Rawpixel, ID: 2687359), lightning (Rawpixel, ID:10200699)

MATERIALS: Domtar Earthchoice (textblock - 20lb, cream, 11x17 cut down to 8.5x11), Recollections paper pad (endpapers - Dark Watercolor Florals), Iris bookcloth (covers - Eggplant), Verona bookcloth (covers - Hot Toffee), Ribbon (covers - 1/4", shell grey), embroidery floss (endbands - 209 Very Dark Lavender), leather cording (endbands - 1.4mm), Ceramcoat acrylic paint (painted edges - metallic silver), Anita's acrylic paint (painted edges - 11038 Purple), Reeves acrylic paint (painted edges - Violet & Crimson & Blue Lake, Payne's Gray), waxed linen thread (sewing textblock - 30/3, white), Books by Hand (glue - pH neutral PVA)

PROGRAMS USED: Affinity Publisher (typesetting), Affinity Designer and Affinity Photo, LibreOffice Writer (QR codes), Bookbinder-JS (PDF imposer)

BINDING STYLE: Split-board binding, French double-core endbands

(Belated) Binderary Book 2024

My first year participating in Binderary and I'm 2/2 with my goals, albeit slightly late (even with the added leap day).

Goal No. 1: Bind a book!

This fic is an orphaned work, with no author available for me to reach out to. Convenient, since it was a last-minute decision.

Goal No. 2: Finish typesetting the fic that got me into this whole bookbinding/fanbinding hobby!

Bad Boys JEDI Style is a 217 chapter, 908k word "comedy of errors: in which our heroes are recruited to film a reality holo-drama". Much to my despair, the fic I loved had been deleted from every site it was uploaded to, and I was left kicking myself for not having downloaded a copy from AO3.

Shout out to Kam and Lofe, whose wonderful Binderary demos were put to use in the making of this book! Kam's French Double-Core endbands demo was super helpful, sizing up the 'textblock' and components made it easy to actually see what's happening with the sewing. Loffe's demo introduced me to the split-board binding technique and, sleep-deprived hiccup notwithstanding, I think I might find it easier then bradel style binding! Need to bind more books to know for sure (such a hardship 😔).

In other new-s, I took my dad's recent workshop baby for a spin. The bookbinding plough works like a dream! I tried a hidden fore-edge painting for the first time (just a solid colour), but the purple is lost under the Payne's Gray basecoat I applied to the silver painted edges. Adding ribbon to the cover was also new (mostly due to the fact that I never remember until the endpapers are already pasted down).

On the Design

Cover

This is a Team Thunderclap!Ye Xiu AU, so the cover was based on Team Thunderclap's uniforms from the donghua (from the one screencap of the team I found, see below): purple across the shoulders and forearms of their jackets with a yellow stripe down the centre. I added silver ribbon as a nod to the white of the jackets as well as the grey gear of the team's logo. Also in reference to the title: yellow=sunlight, silver=moonlight.

Title Page

The title page stumped me for a while. While brainstorming title page design ideas, I thought about what the title means. In English it's poetic but nonsensical, so I wondered if maybe it held some meaning in Chinese?

As it turns out, it does. Kind of. Maybe. (If I stretch and reach for it, it makes sense). According to a quick search of one webpage for each query, "'White Moonlight' usually refers to a person or thing that is elusive in the heart, has always been loved, but cannot be touched" or "an 'unforgettable first love'." The sunbeam itself might be Ye Xiu, the figurative ray of light, the hero, the gaming idol. Or 'catching a sunbeam' could refer to how "sunflowers turn their heads to catch every sunbeam."

The potential meaning I have cobbled together is how Dai Yanqi turns Ye Xiu's head and captures his heart by sharing the (SanXiu-ified) story of Su Muqiu, the aforementioned white moonlight. Is this what the author intended? Who knows. But it does seem plausible enough to inspire me.

I ended up using both the idea of sunflowers and Thunderclap's uniforms (again). Lightning referencing the team's logo, and also the white colour of a flash of lightning which is kind of like moonlight. The logo's background is blue, as is the uniform as seen on the cover of the manhua featuring the captain Xiao Shiqin (see below), so I made the background blue-purple.

Endpapers

The (not-actually-)sunflowers carried over to the endpapers, as well as the grey colour from the gear in Thunderclap's logo.

Endbands

Kept these simple. A solid purple, as close as I could get to the bookcloth. I didn't want to draw attention away from the stripes on the covers or the silver edges.

Probably could've gone for thicker cores.

The text

For the scene breaks I used a special character of a gear. The cog also looks like a sun. Which is fun because it can reference Thunderclap, the title (sunbeam), and my design choice of sunflowers.

I reused the lightning image at 50% opacity as a background to set apart the backmatter.

Misc.

Recently, I've begun to increase my efforts of preseving fanfiction and safeguarding the stories I love from purges and takedowns. (Sparked by the December 2023 scandal about Sony announcing an upcoming removal of content including the movies and TV shows that people have purchased).

This fic has been archived via the Wayback Machine at https://web.archive.org/web/20240215155152/https://archiveofourown.org/works/37414021?view_full_work=true.

Also, curses be upon Rawpixel. Since the time that I had downloaded the images, they have now be placed behind the premium user paywall (along with a number of other graphics and elements that used to be free).

[hereticpriest]

Mercy - Chapter 2: Bitter

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter Warnings: Still lots of exposition. I promise I am getting there - at least there's more Obi-Wan in this one? Abandonment is once again discussed. Nothing explicit yet. If you notice any missing warnings, please let me know!

Read on AO3

Masterlist - Part One - Part Three - Part Four

Chapter 2: Bitter

Walking beside your Master always made you feel so poised and regal. He had long ago taught you how to carry yourself, and you knew you made a good picture of the respectable Jedi by following his example. He compared you often to his previous Padawan, now a Jedi Master with his own apprentice - the Stewjonni boy, Obi-Wan Kenobi. At the difficult age of fourteen, you did your best to master your rebellious teenage instincts, worsened by your presentation. Your Master was always very good about reminding you of the Alpha you wanted to be - not ruled by your instincts and emotions, but eagerly and consciously following the will of the Force.

Master Dooku often encouraged his old Padawan, Master Qui-Gon, to bring his Padawan along so that you both could train together. You were the same age, however Obi-Wan had only been chosen by Qui-Gon the year prior, so you took care to do your best to be supportive as he got used to learning under a Master instead of in classes. Training with him was as fun as it was difficult, and you found yourself constantly learning new things. He primarily used Form IV, Ataru, and you found it fun to practise against someone who used such a voracious form. It was a genuine challenge, especially as Obi-Wan grew under Master Qui-Gon’s guidance.

Master Dooku had a habit of assigning you research tasks in the Archives that seemed like a waste of time until you got to the very end, at which point you would find the answer to a question you’d recently asked your Master, or more detailed information about something you had recently been discussing. On one summer morning, Obi-Wan and Doa’su trailed after you as you made your way into the Archives with your datapad in hand. Bustling past Jacosta Nu, you made your way to the stack listed in your note from your Master, and were surprised to find pad after pad of information regarding previous Jedi. Your master had indicated seven pads and data chips for you to collect and review, and Doa’su hummed as she pulled one of the data chips down from the shelves.

“This data chip contains a holo of Master Aulo Bas, a Consular who spent his life in the Temple on Ilum.” She informed you, plugging it into the display at the end of the stack. A strange, and somehow familiar face appeared before you. A face like yours. Lavender skin unlike your pink, but with similarly pointed ears, a strong frame, and a slender tail tipped with a point. He was Haelan, like you.

“Well, that explains that.” Obi-Wan mused, offering Doa’su another data chip to plug in. Again, another Haelan appeared. This one had powder blue skin, and a tail that ended in a tuft of fur. Master Xyla Wellar, a Jedi Weapon Master who specialised in lightsaber pikes and other weapons with reach. You hummed thoughtfully as you brought up the first of the datapads, skim-reading the contents. It appeared to be from a Master Sav Lasra, who broke up a slave ring in the mid rim in which he found several Haela slaves. According to Master Sav, the Haela were valued as slaves due to the strong natural anaesthetics in their saliva, as well as their proposed natural high pain tolerance. It was a grim account, and you felt your stomach turn as you skimmed the descriptions of the experiences Master Sav had while resettling those ex-slaves back on Haelstruum.

“Did Master Dooku just find the records of all of the Haela Jedi and decide to make you read up on them?” Doa’su asked while skimming another datapad, “This one is about a Healer who acted as a battle medic. Ewwww, he used to use his spit for pain relief in emergency situations. I wonder if he… did he just spit on them? Did he lick them? Groooooss.”

You laughed, collecting the datapads and chips from your friends, “Master Dooku always has a reason for the research he assigns me. I’ll have to read all of it before I figure out what his plan was.”

Obi-Wan nodded sagely, stroking his chin, “Master Qui-Gon does the same thing. I guess he learned it from your Master.”

That drew a laugh from both you and Doa’su, and Obi-Wan soon joined you as you all departed from the Archives before you could get in trouble with Archivist Nu. It took you three days to read through all of the datapads you’d been given, and in the end, you were still a little confused about the purpose of your research project. When you were done, you approached your Master, sitting knee-to-knee with him in the meditation chambers.

“Did you finish your research?” Your Master asked, a smile already pulling at his lips as if he knew the troubles you were having.

“Yes Master.” You replied politely, waiting a few moments before you continued, “I’m not sure what the point of the lesson was, I’m afraid.”

Master Dooku smiled even wider, finally cracking his eyes open to look at you, “I’m proud of you for admitting it, my young apprentice. It isn’t always easy to admit when you are unsure. I assigned you this research project because you were taken from your home very young, and there are not currently any Haela Jedi. Master Sav Lasra passed away when you were but a youngling, and he only had the chance to visit you once, long before you would possibly remember it. Most of the other Padawans have someone of their species to learn from. I wanted you to see those who came before you, and read their personal accounts.”

You nodded. This was the only conclusion you had been able to come up with, though you had been sure there was more to it. It was a simple, but very kind thought, and something you had in fact been thinking about recently. You wanted to know more about the other Haela Jedi.

“And now, for your reward.” Master Dooku said with a playful lilt to his voice, instantly making you perk up, “First, I found a force crystal on a moon in the outer rim on my last mission. I want you to have it.”

You perked up, taking the offered bundle of scarlet silk and carefully unwrapping it as if the crystal might bite you. It shimmered and pulsed in your hands, and you felt the Force swirl around you as if pleased.

“Secondly, Master Sav left you a small box of his belongings. He had intended to give it to you himself, however, he left instructions with the council for them to be given to you when you were old enough. He wanted you to have the chance to be close to your heritage, both as a Haela, and a Haela Jedi.” Master Dooku explained, lifting a simple metal box from behind his back. He handed it over, then gave your forearms a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure you.

Under your Master’s watchful gaze, you carefully opened the box, gasping at the contents within. Several unique lightsaber parts, four tail cuffs of varying sizes with unique engravings, several sketches drawn on flimsi, a flimsi map of Haelstuum’s largest city Vaelastra, and a datapad loaded with several books notated by Master Sav. One book contained instructions for moving meditation with notations from Master Sav about how it helped him learn to meditate when he was too restless, while another described each of the lightsaber forms with notated instructions for altering them to account for and make use of a Haela’s tail. You poured over your new gifts, showing everything to your Master, who crooned with appropriate excitement of each new item.

~

The scent of star fruit filled your nose. You could practically taste it on your tongue. Tea followed, earthy and soothing. Honey, and some sort of floral scent you had a vague memory of that slipped through your fingers every time you tried to remember it. The scent was intoxicating, and you chuffed with pleasure on pure instinct as Obi-Wan pinned you to the training mats. You blinked rapidly, then blew out a harsh breath, your hands shooting up to grab at your friend’s waist.

“Obi-” You turned your head to look away from him, purple blooming across your cheeks, “You should go to your room, my friend.”

Obi-Wan raised a sceptical eyebrow at you, sitting back on his haunches now that you weren’t fighting his hold, “Are you trying to get out of me winning? Because it isn’t going to work.”

You took a shallow breath, glancing at him out of your periphery as understanding began to soften his face. He blinked, then shot to his feet, and you swiftly followed. His legs were shaking, and that sweetness filled the air around him. You quickly told Master Yoda what was happening, and that you were going to walk Obi-Wan back to his room, then get his Master for him. You were surprised he didn’t argue, as it was a bit unorthodox for an Alpha to walk an unmated Omega in their first stirrings of pre-heat to their room, but you were known for your self-control. The trust warmed your heart.

“Lean on me, I’ll help you. I’ll get Master Qui-Gon for you right away.” You promised, offering your arm to your friend and ignoring the ache in your teeth. Obi-Wan swiftly pressed into your side, and you put your arm around him, bracing his weight easily against you to help him back to his room. You commed his Master on your way out of the room, and he promised to be there as soon as possible, worry heavy in his voice. He loved Obi-Wan, you knew. You could feel it whenever you were around them. Even if Obi-Wan had become a rule-follower and Qui-Gon Jinn had never met a rule he didn’t find a way around, they fit in a unique sort of way. 

The walk back to their chambers was fraught with anxiety, and you knew you were out of line for growling at the few Jedi who attempted to talk to you both on the way, but Obi-Wan softened like butter in your arms at the protectiveness and his own fear lessened. Getting Obi-Wan into his bed was easy, but leaving was less so. He kept grabbing your hand, rubbing his wrist against yours and whining for comfort. His cheeks were as pink as your skin, and the puppy-dog eyes he gave you to try and get you to stay were criminal. Thankfully, your will was stronger, and you managed to leave the rooms before his pre-heat became a full-blown heat.

You nearly ran into Master Qui-Gon on your way out, and you froze as he sniffed at you and looked you over as if checking that you hadn’t done anything untoward to his Padawan, before thanking you for taking care of him properly. He didn’t linger long, and you smiled at the way the bitter tang in Obi-Wan’s scent soothed the instant he saw his Master. You could hear them murmuring to each other, and you took solace in the fact that you weren’t leaving Obi-Wan alone, even as your instincts clawed at you to go back in.

You doubled up on your rut blockers that night, and Master Dooku simply raised an eyebrow at you as he watched, a certain understanding in his eyes. You had washed your clothing from that day thoroughly, and taken an extra-long shower before going back to your classes, but you wished you could have kept something. Even just something small, a little hint of Obi-Wan’s scent that felt so right. You didn’t, but the desire nagged at you, so you knew you would have to meditate on it. You were a strong Alpha - you had control of yourself and your instincts. You had proved that with your restraint and gentleness - you would not falter now at the finish line.

~

Numb.

Cold, and empty, you sat outside of the council chambers while they discussed your future. Your Padawan braid tickled your neck, and you contemplated cutting it off before finally settling on the more mature choice of tucking it behind your ear. To the passing viewer, you appeared serenely at rest, however on the inside, you were a tempest. The Force flared and flickered, your pain roaring in your ears. It only grew louder and louder the longer you sat outside of the chambers. The door slammed open behind you, and Master Windu looked down upon you with concern written plainly on his face, jerking you out of your downward spiral. You weren’t used to the stern master being so open with his feelings.

“We can feel you from inside the council chambers, Padawan Mercy.” Master Windu said, holding out his hand to her, “Come inside. We have much to discuss.”

You took his hand and allowed him to help you up despite both of you knowing you didn’t need it. Not physically at least. Looking back at that moment, you could admit that emotionally, you had needed his support. As he led you into the chambers, you pushed your shoulders back and tipped your chin up, walking with poise and sweeping steps the way your Master always taught you. Despite the feeling of betrayal weighing heavy on your heart, your Master had imparted many helpful lessons in the art of concealment, and you would use them to your advantage even while your heart was bleeding.

“You see? When you walk like this, you give off the appearance of elegance and control even when you aren’t feeling at your best. My dear apprentice, you are very skilled at hiding your force signature already, and I am very proud. But your face and posture can give you away.” He always said, gently squeezing your shoulders, then helping to fix your posture, “Do you feel it? It’s like armour, Mercy. Everyone has their own form of protection. As a Jedi, our own physicality and knowledge of the Force is like our shield, but you can don additional protection, just like I do. As a Consular, this set of armour will serve you well.”

Master Windu gestured to the seat in the centre of the room for you, then sat on his own beside Master Yoda, whose face was scrunched with what you recognized as sadness. The Masters looked upon you solemnly, and you allowed the gentle brushes of their force signatures against yours, comforting and warm in a way they weren’t meant to be visibly. Your bottom lip wobbled, but you bit the inside of your cheek to hold yourself steady.

“Our apologies, you are owed, young Padawan.” Master Yoda broke the silence, and you swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Think, we did not, about the turmoil you would be feeling. Left you alone, we should not.”

You couldn’t make your mouth open. Your throat felt dry and tight, and you knew if you tried to speak, you would cry. Your eyes stung with it already. So far, you had floated in a river of numbness, frozen to the core, your mind silent as your heart cried. You had woken that morning feeling empty in a way you hadn’t since you were ten. Since your Master had claimed you as his, and braided your hair in front of the Council. Your training bond being cut had woken you, ripped from a gentle slumber to a deep, searing pain in the Force.

Master Dooku was gone. You couldn’t feel him in the Jedi Temple any longer. He had abandoned you.

“We can all feel your pain, young Padawan. You will be supported as you adjust to this new reality. We won’t rush you. However, we wish to reassure you that should you wish to continue your training, you will be assigned a new Master. This is not the end of your journey as a Jedi, so long as you desire to continue.” Master Plo Koon spoke up, and you nodded at him, thanking him for his gentle words. His force signature brushed comfortingly against yours again, and you barely held back a sniffle.

“I-I want to be a Jedi.” You choked out, feeling the soft relief in the room at your declaration, “I promise I will follow the will of the Force, and be the best Padawan to whoever chooses me. I won’t disappoint yo-”

“Know you will, we do. A strong, respectful Padawan, you have always been. Doubts about you, none of us have.” Master Yoda interrupted you gently, stopping your near-panicked promises. You swallowed hard to keep yourself together, and Master Yoda sighed sympathetically. Everyone in the Council was reeling with the loss of Dooku, especially considering the circumstances. Master Dooku had not been killed. He had not been expelled from the Jedi Order for some crime or breach of the Code.

Dooku left. He left the Jedi - left you - and headed to Serenno to take his place in the rulership of the planet. He left you masterless without even having the strength to tell you himself. Devastation did not even begin to cover it.

“Spend time with your fellow Padawans. Centre yourself. When you’re ready, we will assign you a new Master.” Master Mundi assured you, and you bowed low to the Council, sighing with relief when Master Windu dismissed you. Doa’su met you at the door to your room, and you both cringed a little at how empty it felt with all of your old master’s things gone. You curled up on your bed with your closest friend, soon joined by Nanga, Orare and Yaris soon joined you, and you felt better at the bottom of a cuddle puddle with the closest members of your old youngling clan.

It took a week before you felt stable enough to consider a new Master. You didn’t want to fall behind on your training, and you knew there might be doubts if you took too long to recover. You spent the first day with your old clan members, roaming your favourite parts of the Jedi Temple and enjoying the peace while you could. Your second day, Master Qui-Gon invited you to tea to check on you, and you did your best to reassure him that you would be okay. He let Obi-Wan walk you back to your room, and he came in to sit with you for a bit, your head on his shoulder as you talked about anything but your old master. Days three through seven were spent in deep meditation, first in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and then in the Lake level. With the gentle guidance of the Force at your back, you went through every single kata you knew, embracing moving meditation with open arms. You practiced every lightsaber form until you couldn’t stand any longer, and meditated under the rushing water of the waterfalls.

By the time you had finished your week, you felt reconnected to the Force. You still ached, of course. You were heartbroken. Like many Jedi, you followed the Code. However, like your old Master and his old Padawan before you, you had your own interpretations. So, while the Code forbade attachments, you held the understanding that possessive love was what the Code truly forbade. The inability to accept change, the inability to put the will of the Force over those you loved, was what the Code sought to avoid. You loved your Master. He was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father. But he was gone, and he would not be coming back for you. The Force willed you on different paths, and you would trust in the Force’s guidance.

On the morning of the eighth day, you walked into the council chambers and bowed before the Council. With their kind greetings, you stood proudly before them, your tail coiled around your leg to hide your nerves. You were ready for a new Master, you told them, and would welcome their guidance with a clear mind. Master Plo Koon spoke up, claiming you under his guidance, as the Force willed him to show you the compassion you deserved. He was gentle as he undid your Padawan braid, carefully collecting each bead and coloured band as he went. When he rebraided your hair, he moved your old beads and bands higher in your braid, leaving room for his own. This new part of your braid began with a wooden bead he admitted to carving himself for you with an orange band to represent himself.

You couldn’t have been happier. Your new Master was kind, and understood your skills enough not to hold you back. He took you through a simple demonstration, then began to teach you right away, as if you had always been his. You learned more about his preferred lightsaber form, Form V - Shien. Makashi would always be where you began, and you had a feeling you would return there eventually, but the Force entreated you to learn all you could about Shien and you would do your best to listen.

Master Plo set you up with more classes in the Halls of Healing, encouraging you to improve your natural gift as it would be an asset on the field. Between missions, he would often let you spend your time there, when you weren’t otherwise busy with training. It was with his guidance that you finally began to learn beyond the bare bones basics of piloting. It wasn’t ever going to be something you excelled at the way some Jedi did, but you were certainly better than the average pilot due to the guidance of the Force.

You learned swiftly under Master Plo’s guidance, and you were thrilled to find that while you missed your old Master, you were able to accept that your time together was done and still look back on him fondly. Hurt lingered on the fringes, and you were unsure how you would feel if you ever did see him again, but you held true to his teachings without the bitterness some in the Council had worried you may carry. While you had moved on to using primarily Shien, you still practiced Makashi to keep your skills sharp, and to honour the legacy your old Master had passed on to you. And if sometimes, late at night, you looked back on your fond memories with a bitter taste in your mouth, that was for you and you alone to know.

[interregionalgyminspections]

Finally got the news that the holo-walls in the Paldean League Building battle room have been fixed.

If you've been to the Paldean League Building in the past year and a half, you might not know what I'm talking about.

Essentially, those walls in the battle room aren't supposed to be static. They're supposed to project holograms that give the illusion of the room changing.

A muddy swamp for Rika, a steel playground for Poppy, an airplane for Larry, and an old castle for Hassel.

Unfortunately, the holo-walls stopped working about a year and a half ago, and no one could figure out why until recently: A build-up of tera crystals in the wiring.

Thankfully, it's been fixed, and the wiring has been insulated better.

[novantinuum]

I'd love to hear more about Connie's trauma! The attention you give her character through the parallels between her and Steven always resonated with me.

Ohohoh yasss I really do wanna get back to this one…

This one-shot examines like… the whole thing with Connie being largely absent from Beach City and active Gem nonsense in the beginning of Steven Universe Future, and attempts to give an potential explanation as to why.

Like I guess personally, it just always seemed a bit strange to me that she made such a sharp pivot from actively desiring to be a close participant in Gem matters on Earth, to… seemingly not? She even specifies to Steven in Together Forever that her interest in politics is more for “down to earth” reasons, when he asks if her experiences with intergalactic diplomacy got her on that train. So my brain kinda was just… okay, what changed? And my current thought is that… after the deeply, DEEPLY upsetting experience she went through in White’s head… she realized she needed to take some time to step away for her own wellbeing. And I think it took some time for her to figure out even that much- some time, and some long discussions with her own therapist. Thus, set post movie, I have a scene with her and Pearl cooking away in my brain. It’s only a starting sketch, but it’s eventually gonna tackle like… the residual trauma Connie still has about Pearl restraining her when she was controlled by White.

Snippit:

_

“All right! Wonderful hustle, as always!” Pearl says, her holo-Pearls dissipating into glittering light at her command. “Now—“ she summons a material sword from within her gem-space, posture falling into a ready stance— “your final opponent today will be me. You’ve made great strides with those new defensive maneuvers I’ve taught you, so let’s concentrate on refining our footwork this time, shall we?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Connie exclaims with a snappy salute, and refocuses her attention on the precise rhythm and form of her steps as— with a mighty shout— she glides across the training grounds towards her teacher, sword in hand. 

Stance wide, she reminds herself. Body lowered. Let your toes point the way.

Ever the in-sync mentor, Pearl follows her lead. She’s clearly not playing it easy this afternoon. To be fair she rarely does, but there’s this extra wild glint of tenacity whirling in her eyes that alerts her to the fact that she’ll have to dig for every last strategical advantage to win this one. When she raises her blade to attempt her first strike, the Gem effortlessly dances around it. She counters with a swift overhead assault, which Connie blocks with the flat of her weapon.

If she were practicing against the holo-Pearls, her teacher would’ve interrupted the moment to shout an eager word of praise, but not this time. Not in their recent one-on-ones. 

Not when some stray Era 3 dissenter could drop right onto their doorstep at any second and destroy all the progress the Crystal Gems have worked so hard to achieve.

It’s unfortunate— ever since the injector incident a few weeks ago, the usually bright and upbeat atmosphere at Steven’s house has grown… uncomfortably tense. Most of the bio-poison’s damage has been mitigated by this point, with Beach City residents aiding in physical clean-up and Steven using his powers to heal the ecological impacts, but there’s been a clear shift in the tides for her friends. She can feel it radiating in her very bones. Before Spinel, the Crystal Gems seemed content to hang up their weapons and enjoy the peaceful bounty and simple joys this new era promised. Though she still trained with Pearl during that period, those spars resembled more of a casual workout than any real battle simulation.

But now… even though they try not to show it… Connie can tell her friends have been re-traumatized. Recent events have simply sucked them right back into the barbed thickets of the war they never truly escaped. It’s not a physical battlefield this time, thank goodness… more a battlefield of the mind… but in her opinion its impacts are one and the same, even for Gems.

All the endless perils that shaped the trajectory of their pasts… they’ll always in some small part be there to haunt them.

Connie, of course, is no exception to this rule.

[mandalorian-trooper]

For the past week, Captain Rosetta Martin has been investigating into the disappearance of corrupt senators. After series reports, she and a few members of the 501st that Captain Rex (@captainrex-of-the-501st) hand lent her, discovered that they were taken off world to Quesh.

Quesh in recent year, had been turned in arena death match planet, were the worst of the worst would fight to death for fame and glory. Sometime bounty hunters would kidnap corrupt leaders or businessmen to have fight for amusement.

General Kenobi (@its-over-i-have-the-high-ground) has joined to captain to put a stop to human trafficking ring.

Rosetta: General, I recommend going in disguise to infiltrate the enemy.

Kenobi: That would give us the element of surprise, and lest casualties than we charged in like a certain someone I know would (@skyguy-is-gonna-fly-by). We need a distraction as well.

Commander Cody: I will take my men, and we attack from the south side. Keeping guards distracted, for you two to slip in.

Rosetta: Once we get inside fall back to here, once we take the ringleader, we will meet up here, further north.

As the group confirmed the plan. They took a rest for night and head out. Rosetta and Kenobi changed into their disguises went to the gate. As they arrived most of the guard were running to the south to defend the wall.

Kenobi and Rosetta slipped in and head towards the VIP area.

Guard 1: Hault, you not permitted in this area. Leave now!!!

Rosetta: We have orders to deliver this package. (It was an empty box with nothing side)

Guard 2: We don’t care!!! Our orders are not to let anyone through. Hand over the package and be on your way.

Rosetta gave Kenobi a nod.

Kenobi using force on the guards: You will let through, it is important.

The Guards: We will let you through, it is important.

The Guards let Rosetta and Kenobi pass. As they entered, they met with little resistance.

Kenobi: I have a bad feeling about this

They were suddenly surrounded.

Rosetta: It’s a trapped

Unknown Voice: And you felt right for it.

A Hutt entered the room being escorted by some bounty hunters.

Unknown Hutt: I am Miko the Hutt. I think I got myself two new contenders for the next match.

Rosetta: As if Miko. You nothing but a low tier Hutt. Just because you speak basic doesn’t mean you are special. (Rosetta knew that all Hutts could speak basic if they wanted too, but she wanted to push some buttons. See if Miko would slip up)

Miko: Republic Trash. How dare you. I been running this planet and all of its activities for decades!!! I am no low tier Hutt.

Kenobi: Sounds like, some couldn’t control their anger and given us all the information we need, Rosetta.

Rosetta: Indeed General. And we have all record. (Rosetta held a recording holo)

Miko: (Angrily growled, before regaining composure) No Worries, I will just dispose of you and all the evidence will be erased. Guards get them!!!

Rosetta used her mini flamethrowers to keep the guards from charging while Kenobi forced pushed the other guards against the wall. Rosetta jumped over the flames used her flame punch to knock out the remaining guards.

Miko sent out her bounty hunters next. Rosetta quickly pulled out her pistol and shot one on the left. She shot an ion blast from her wrist and disarmed the hunter. She charged towards hit, started punching him until he was down.

Kenobi was dealing with the other one on the right. Using his lightsaber to deflect the bullet back at the hunter. Kenobi threw his lightsaber at the hunter jet pack. Which launched the hunter out of the window into arena. The hunter was dragged off by animals in the pit.

They turned towards Miko.

Rosetta: It’s over Miko. As Captain of the 25th unit of Republic Special Forces I am placing you under arrest by the authority given to me by Republic High Command. (Man, we really need get name, she thought to herself.

Just as Rosetta was about to move. Something shot passed her and hit the Hutt. Instantly kill Miko.

Unknown Voice: Another Job Completed.

Kenobi: Who are you?

Unknown Voice: You can call me Anna aka the great bounty hunter (@the-greatest-mandalorian) in the world. Ta, Now!!

Anna proceeds to fly off. Rosetta not thinking, flies after her.

Kenobi: Maybe, she is not level headed as Anakin as I thought.

Rosetta proceeds to shoot at Anna.

Anna: You have to better than that to get me.

Rosetta: Surrender now!

Anna: Nah!!! I wouldn’t get my money if I did that.

Rosetta: you did this for the money.

Anna: yes and no. Miko was scum anyways, I grab bounties for scum and anything that cause mischief. I have code. But why do you care, there one less criminal in the galaxy now.

Rosetta: There is a rule of law to how things work. That is what separates us from them.

Anna: Well….It just means the a governmental body just controls who gets arrested and judge later. Sometimes, they get go free, because they information on other high level criminal. And they eventually go back their ways taking the other criminals empire. An endless cycle.

Rosetta: So you get to decide who lives and who dies. Just because you disagree, when the ruling body even if they are wrong. You can always vote them out and let someone new in willing to make a change for the better

Anna: That just wishful thinking. You will see, one day someone is going cross a line and we will never able to go back. And everything will change for the worse. Oh, looks times is up, my rides here.

Anna jumps onto her ship and fly off into the unknown. Rosetta walks back, thing on what Anna’s words. It is possible, no it can’t be, we have check and balances. I prove her wrong somehow.

THE END

[bitterwaters]

Lacquer Brands

so one day I went to a fugue and wrote a 2000 word essay on nail polish brands

We got four tiers of nail polish brands: overpriced luxury bullshit, drugstore, boutique, and indie. 

Overpriced Luxury Bullshit

Don’t buy these! Just don’t! You’re paying for name, not quality. Chanel charges $32 for an 11 ml creme, the second cheapest polish type there is. That’s ludicrous. Every review I’ve seen of a “high-brand” from a real swatcher has been negative. Fuck ‘em all.

Drugstore

This is every other mainstream brand, whether it’s from CVS, Walmart, or Ulta. Wide range of price and quality. In general, you’ll probably get what you pay for. Sally Hensen Insta-Dry is classic and Acceptably Okay; if you don’t have the patience for a full manicure, just slap some of that on. Look for brands that are 3-free or 5-free--that means that won’t have a few nasty chemicals. Anything over 5 is fake and doesn’t matter.

My preferred drugstore brands:

Zoya: Jellies, glitters, shimmers. Tends to have a very thin formula--leave the cap off for a few minutes to thicken it up.

Orly: Cremes! The absolute best, well-pigmented, buttery smooth cremes. Persistent Memory is my perfect dark red. The bottles are generously sized, they have a nice paddle brush, and I love the big rubberized cap. They’re just really pleasant!

OPI: I only use their matte top coat but I use a lot of it. It’s the best! Get their matte top coat! I’ve seen recs to use their polishes over Essie’s, but I’ve never tried either.

Boutique

Now we’re getting into the Good Shit. There’s a price jump here, but there’s also a huge jump in quality. These are small- to medium-sized online-only businesses with semi-industrial production and ample stock. They’re big enough to ship within a few days. They use a LOT more pigment and glitter than drugstore brands, and have far more variety in finishes.

You might see them on Amazon or Etsy--skip it and go order from their sites instead. Shipping costs the same and you can save up reward points.

Charmed Lacquer: Brand new, recently announced, will open in a week or two. Started by a streamer named Janixa. I’m not familiar, but her followers seem excited enough to check it out.

Cirque Colors: CONTROVERSY! I like Cirque. I have a ton of their polishes. A little pricey, but they have frequent small sales and are high-quality. Best known for the jellies and some really stunning magnetics like Mood Ring and Black Swan (which have since been rampantly duped). So why the controversy?

Mystery bags: idk people get het up about ‘em. I kind of feel like if you gamble on a bunch of polishes you don’t choose, you risk pruglies.

Coronation: This is a purple polish with a red-green shift shimmer pigment called, I shit you not, Unicorn Pee. UP was made unavailable for public sale years ago (the suspicion is that it’s now used in some currency). Cirque keeps finding stashes and re-releasing Coronation. There have been complaints that it’s not the same shade as the original, that it’s over-priced ($18.50 is a LOT for a polish), and the FOMO marketing. It always sells out fast. I have a bottle. It’s okay.

Jaritos: The current teapot tempest. Cirque just put out a Jarito-themed line of jellies that’s FOURTEEN FUCKIN FIFTY a bottle. Their regular jellies are two bucks less because JELLIES ARE CHEAP. They have less pigment than other finishes. Cirque has also been caught editing pics from swatchers. Some of the Jaritos shades are outright dupes of existing Cirque colors--but when Cirque reposted swatcher pics that compared them, they changed things to make them look different. Little shady!

I still got Mxcn Cola

Holo Taco: I don’t go to this school. It seems fine. Owned by a YouTuber with a pretty big following, Simply Nailogical. The brand has devoted followers, but I’ve never been real impressed. I feel like I can get everything they do somewhere else for a buck or two cheaper. Lots of limited-time bundles.

ILNP: MY LOVE! Shimmers, glitters, holos. Their formulas are just fantastic. If you follow lacquer reddits you’ll see a TON of posts featuring Flower Child and Fairy Dust; they aren’t for me but I see why people love them. They’re really good with shimmers--Flicker glows like a candle in a dark window. I also like their flakie toppers and magnetics. You really can’t go wrong with anything from ILNP. 

One of the rare lacquer companies that doesn’t do FOMO. They never remove anything from their line-up. New collections get a 10% discount for a week at release, and they have an annual Black Friday sale.

KBShimmer: They’re pretty good! They don’t get as much love as I think they deserve--probably because they aren’t quite as flashy and highly-marketed as other brands. They also aren’t as heavily pigmented/glittered. Still pretty good though! I really love All Fired Up. They have big 15 ml bottles for only $12, no matter what finish. KBShimmer is a great place to start if you’re just dipping your toe beyond drugstore brands. Pick up their polish thinner (suitable for every brand except Orly) and glitter smoothing top coat. 

Lights Lacquer: Don’t. They have some nice shades, though they tend to be as subdued as drugstore polishes. I was really disappointed by their cremes--the formula isn’t at all self-leveling. That’s just weird in this day and age. And then I found out that black swatchers refuse to work with them because the owner has been openly racist. Her non-apologies did not improve relations. Skip it.

Mooncat: CONTROVERSY! I have over a dozen Mooncat polishes and do love most of them, but it's getting harder to recommend the brand. They specialize in intense shimmer/glitter/holo/flakie/magnetics--all the fancy stuff. They have a few unique polishes that I haven’t seen duped elsewhere. Their formula can be gloopy, especially their flakies; easily fixed by a few drops of thinner. Why controversy?

they’re fukkin expensive bro. Like $15 a bottle. I do feel that you get what you pay for--it’s good stuff. I’ve never been disappointed by a Mooncat. But part of what you’re paying for is brand aesthetic.

they’re fukkin annoying bro. Their site, marketing, and even customer service emails are all lower-case dramatic gothy stuff. Never “nails,” always “claws.”

Their bottles keep shattering. This has happened occasionally in the past, then become more frequent starting in April. Seems like there was some supply change that thinned the glass. Mooncat was also filling about 14 ml instead of the promised 12 ml. Temperature and air pressure changes during shipping started to cause a lot of bottles to break. One person ended up in urgent care to get her hand stitched. Mooncat has promised to make changes and has been quick to refund/replace broken bottles, but there’s still a lot of ill-will simmering in the community. I think we’re past the tipping point--I’m no longer seeing broken bottle posts, just love for their new Power Puff Girls collab--but if you like something, I would wish list and wait another month. That should be enough time to make sure the bottles are safe and the weather has cooled.

Indies

Every single indie nail polish company is one or two people working out of their basement. That is not a joke. They hand-makes every small batch, fill the bottles, pack, and ship by themselves. That’s in addition to designing and testing polishes, and just living their lives. 

That means that if you order from an indie, expect to wait. Most list a turn-around time of up to a month (they usually say 7-21 business days--people read three weeks but it’s a month). That’s padded to give them safety--nearly all will ship within a week, maybe two. But if they get hit with life stuff or a ton of orders, it really can take a while. My longest order took over a month arrive. It was entirely worth it.

Indies tend to have a big focus on fancy finishes. The biggest trend right now is sheer lacquers that are loaded with aurora shimmer. They’re color-shifty and glowy, and a lot of fun. That’s starting to stagnate a bit--every base color/shimmer combination has been done, so a lot of dupes are emerging--but it’s also starting to evolve. I’m seeing more and more shimmers that also have holo, flakes, or reflective glitter. I’m betting we’ll get some thermal shimmers as fall rolls in and temperatures drop.

Indies have some phenomenal variety and creativity. They’re doing the coolest stuff with the most love. Many also rely heavily on FOMO, and some are just plain not open much of the time. Instead, they have monthly or seasonal release windows. They usually drop a new collection and may retire old ones.

How do you keep track? The Reddit Laquerists (sic) Nail Polish Release Calendar. You can also subscribe to brand newsletters--most give a small coupon on your first order. A lot are on Instagram and Facebook.

There are at least two dozen indie brands, and it’s hard to know where to start. I highly recommend Lyn B. Designs. I love her lacquers, absolutely flawless formula. She has big bottles, fast turn-around, and lots of variety. Get her top coat! It’s the best. But most importantly, she has a 50% off code for ALL products every time she launches a new collection. You can get top-quality lacquers for $6 each, and the big top coat refill for $12.50. No brand of any size can match that value. You can either follow her on Facebook for the code or check the calendar on launch day.

Others I like, in no particular order:

Bee’s Knees, Dam, Polished for Days, Great Lakes Lacquers for fantastic shimmers and reflectives. Garden Path and Rogue Lacquers have great flakies. Lurid Lacquer is pretty new, and she’s doing some really interesting things with intense shimmers and color-shifty chromes. Sassy Sauce keeps a small, tidy line-up, but it’s all quality and creative stuff. She’ll also have some nice thermals once October hits--she doesn’t ship them during summer, which I respect. 

Cupcake is kind of a workhorse brand like KBShimmer: nothing too spectacular, but everything is solid and reasonably priced. Likewise, Glisten & Glow isn't too exciting but IS cheap and high-quality. Emily de Molly is Just Good. Drunk Fairy has really nice jellies and cremes. Wildflower Lacquers is closed for rebranding, back 09/06; I don’t have any from her yet but I gotta give props for big bottles, a fan brush, and surviving in Oklahoma. 

Death Valley Nails is a little pricey but they’re doing the weirdest, most absolutely unique shit out there. They’re making polish out of rocks and wildflowers. One looks like the sink after your boyfriend shaves. It’s great.

Clionadh gets some hype but IMO they’re overpriced and overrated. They definitely up the saturation on swatch pics. I’m unimpressed by Femme Fatale’s formula and teeny 9 ml size. Shleee polishes don’t self level at all. Stella Chroma still sells Harry Potter themed polishes and I'm very over that.

But really, the best way to check out indie brands is…

Indie Preorders

There are two big indie collabs every month that work on a pre-order basis: Polish Pickup and Hella Handmade Creations. They open for a week each month and feature unique, one-time only products from a ton of indie brands. They can cause major FOMO. If you feel that might not be healthy for you, stay away! But if you’re okay with the possibility that you may never be able to replace a bottle you finish off, you’ll find some great stuff. They’re an excellent way to explore new brands, and creators get to be a little experimental. PPU has fun monthly themes; HHC doesn’t have a general theme, but many creators do a series of fandom-themed designed. Indie polish creators tend to be pretty nerdy.

If you want to try non-US brands, go to Color4Nails.They’re a stockist that carries several brands, drugstore, boutique, and indie. They also have monthly pre-orders for a few Brazilian brands like Phoenix Indie Polish and Penelope Luz. I find the Brazilian brands to be a little pricey, with smallish bottles and fairly thin consistency, but they’re doing some interesting stuff. I’m pretty consistently impressed with Phoenix; PL less so.

[astralfuchs]

Given how “unique” a Miku concert would be I’m surprised Crypton themselves didn’t send some team members or equipment personally to make sure things are set up right bc other than some performers that might hide their face/wear disguises idk how many usual concert locations have something prepped for “holo” projections compared to Japan and their Vtuber boom (although I’d rather buy a plushie from a booth but hopefully at least the theatres would have good sound quality)

Sucks for any workers scrambling and getting hate/hope it doesn’t affect the sales of any other indie ppl performing their concerts

The weird thing is it worked before. I went to miku Expo 2018 in cologne and 2020 in Berlin. Both times it was an actual hologram concert with the same band as magical Mirai. Neither of these two locations had a concert like this before, I'm pretty sure. All of the equipment must've been toured around with thew Miku Expo crew. Going against advertising and expectations (basically all of these concerts, and like all of them in recent years were holographic) without notifying buyers beforehand and also not even afterwards when people keep asking is, to put it lightly, customer unfriendly at best and a scam at worst.

I arrived a bit late in 2018 since I only had standard so I don't know how it was there, but in 2020 people went around giving out free stickers and badges, or general stuff they got from other miku events. One of them seemed to be a huge meiko fan so when she gifted me something I gave her the meiko badge I got from the random gacha button bags. Stuff like that really made it feel like a community coming together, so reading that giving out badges, stickers, etc. wasn't allowed this year, even for people who specifically got an okay from cfm and also got their stuff stolen from is surreal.

I had vip in 2020 and as far as I know everyone got their vip merchandise, which doesn't seem to be the case this year, which makes no sense because you would know how many people at this location have the vip ticket. Another thing I read is that vip ticket holders were supposed to be let in earlier for merchandise and the concert hall but it didn't happen, which also worked flawlessly before in my experience.

Merchandise being not enough for everyone is sadly not new, I was in line for it in 2018 and when I was three people away the store people shouted they were all sold out, which was very much a bummer but I thankfully bought the penlight and t-shirt beforehand in the online store so it wasn't too bad for me and as I said I was quite late to the so definitely in the latter half of the people that got in. Still should've been more but I would chalk it up to being the first concert in Europe and them not having expected such a huge crowd maybe. How this is still the case 6 years later and in America where there were concerts way before 2018 is beyond me.

I don't know if this is because of crunchyroll (it probably is tho) but I can't say cfm is innocent either since they partnered with them and it's their job to ensure everything is up to standard, which clearly didn't happen.

For me, I was really happy to hear there was going to be a Europe one again, especially since I really loved it, it is such a magical experience so the last year's being online only made me super sad since it isn't the same in the slightest, but seeing it's also partnered with crunchyroll I decided against it. It's because I loved it so much that it really saddens me to see what is currently going on (also probably why I wrote so much, very sorry). Miku Expo is one of the best, magical and insane events you can go to as a vocaloid/piaproloid fan and I wish for all fans, people who've been in the Fandom longer and already have been to Miku Expo, and newer fans that didn't have the chance yet, to have that same experience but this is not it. This being someone's first miku expo experience is just a sad thing to think about considering what a massive downgrade the experience is. I hope there will be official statements soon and that the people who are currently experiencing it still have a good time.

[illuminatedquill]

Ghost Stories 05

Feat. Hera Syndulla + Kanan Jarrus/Ezra Bridger + Sabine Wren

Story Context: Kanan grows increasingly concerned about the growing rift between Sabine and Ezra after the Sith Holocron incident. With Hera's permission, he locks them both in the Ghost's airlock to force them to talk through their issues.

Breakfast time on the Ghost was usually a lively affair on most mornings (well, morning as Hera counted it - as a rule, for someone well-travelled as she was, whenever you woke up counted as morning).

Kanan could usually be found in the corner, sipping on a fresh mug of caf and reading up on the Holo-Net for the latest news of the day. Zeb typically brushed out his hair as part of a necessary daily grooming routine; Chopper was in the cockpit, checking the ship's systems.

Sabine and Ezra, the two teenagers aboard, could always be counted on to be found at the communal table together, chowing down on the meal and doing their usual back and forth about whatever held their interest at the moment: one of Sabine's newest artworks, the outcome of a recent mission, or making Zeb paranoid about potential bald spots.

With recent events however, the once cozy atmosphere of the Ghost crew sharing a meal together felt like a distant memory. Kanan had become blind, a result of his ill-fated trek to Malachor. Ahsoka had perished, seemingly, against the Emperor's top enforcer, the Sith Lord known as Darth Vader.

And as for Ezra, he almost succumbed to the temptation of an ancient Sith relic; in his quest to prevent future tragedy, the Sith Holocron had caused a dark, angry persona to develop in the young man. Ezra had become increasingly erratic and reckless in his missions, aiming to cause maximum damage to the Empire at any cost.

Thankfully, he had been saved by Kanan's intervention. But the influence, Hera noted, still remained and was keenly felt by everyone in the crew despite Ezra's apology and promise to do better. There was some distance now, between the young Jedi and the crew. Everyone was still trying to figure out how to move forward, weeks later.

One person, however, seemed particularly affected by Ezra's recent descent towards the dark side. Sabine, Ezra's closest friend, had become increasingly distant and cold towards him as of late.

Carrying two bowls of steaming porridge to the communal table on this morning, Hera announced, "Dig in. It's fresh."

Ezra, sitting at the table with a mug of fresh juice next to him, eyed the food with wolfish interest. Smiling, he said, "Thanks, Hera."

Sabine walked in, wearing her standard Mandalorian armor, hair freshly dyed and trimmed.

Ezra waved at her. "Good morning, sleepy-head," he teased.

Sabine didn't reply to him. Without glancing at Ezra, she took her bowl of porridge from the table and said, "I'll eat in my room, if that's okay."

Hera saw Ezra's smile fade. "Sabine, why don't you - ", she started to say before being cut off.

"I've got a lot to do today. Can't stay and chat. See you later," Sabine said abruptly. She turned around and disappeared down the hallway leading into her room, almost bumping into Kanan.

"Sorry, Kanan," she mumbled before continuing on her way.

"No worries," he replied. Despite his newfound disability, Hera had the sense that Kanan was observant as ever. The older Jedi knew something was up with Sabine regarding Ezra.

Ezra quietly ate his meal alone, clearly trying to act nonchalant in the face of Sabine's casual disregard. Hera sighed and stepped away to speak with Kanan privately.

"You caught all that?" she murmured to him.

He tipped his head towards her. "Of course. Sabine's emotions spiking all over the place regarding Ezra. Hard to miss; it feels like standing next to a live electric cable in the Force."

Hera watched the young Jedi eat another spoonful of porridge in silence. She knew Ezra was taking Sabine's recent distance towards him hard; the two had been close before his incident with the Sith relic. He blamed himself and had been working doubly hard since then to right the wrongs that were inflicted while under the influence.

It was difficult work to make amends, she knew. Hard to regain trust once it's broken the first time.

Still, she wondered if Sabine wasn't being too harsh towards him.

"How do we fix this?" she asked.

Kanan stroked his beard, contemplating for a moment. Then he said, "I've got an idea, if you're willing to play along."

She arched a curious eyebrow at him. "I'm listening."

He turned towards her with a small, evil grin. "I need to borrow the airlock."

A knock came while Sabine was finishing maintenance on her blasters. "Enter," she said.

The doors slid open to reveal Hera. "Can I borrow you for a second?"

"Sure," replied Sabine. "What's up?"

"Need your help checking some faulty wiring in the airlock. Shouldn't take long."

Sabine stood up, stretching tired muscles. Whenever Hera said that maintenance wouldn't take long, it usually ended up being a mess requiring hours of work. The Ghost had seen its fair share of scraps; the venerable freighter had stayed true throughout the years of service under Hera's command, but it wasn't meant for combat. The added wear and tear coming from duties outside its capabilities meant extra repairs.

Arriving at the airlock hatch a minute later, Sabine was surprised to find Ezra waiting there also.

He blinked at her. "Sabine?"

She turned to Hera. "What's this about? I thought it was just going to be the two of us."

Hera let out a brief sigh. "Change of plans."

The airlock hatch hissed open -

An invisible force gave a firm shove to Sabine's back, propelling her forward into the airlock. A moment later Ezra followed suit, almost falling over her.

"What the - " Ezra gasped.

In the opening, Kanan was standing there with an exasperated Hera. He gave them a sardonic salute -

And then the hatch shut with a resounding thud. The airlock's interior went pitch-black as the power was shut off.

Sabine awkwardly clambered over Ezra and banged on the hatch. "Hey!" she yelled. “What the hell are you two doing?"

Hera's voice was muffled through the durasteel hatch. "Kanan's idea," she replied, sounding apologetic.

"You agreed," came his reply. "And supplied the airlock."

"Yeah," Hera retorted. "And if there's any damage from these two because of your brilliant plan, it's coming out of your hide, Kanan Jarrus."

From behind Sabine came a groan. There was a rustle of sound; in the darkness, she could just make out Ezra's figure sitting up from the floor. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he sighed.

"What plan?" asked Sabine through gritted teeth.

Kanan spoke up. "You and Ezra need to talk. Can't have you two acting all frosty towards each other. Not now."

Sabine's face heated up. "I'm not acting frosty towards Ezra," she snapped.

There was a pause. Then, Ezra's voice came through the dark, sounding sad. "You really don't want to be in the same space as me, huh," he remarked.

She turned towards him. In the pitch-black, she couldn't see much of him, but it wasn't hard for Sabine to imagine those bright blue eyes - and the look of hurt in them.

"That's not - " she started, then stopped. Forcing herself to calm down with a deep breath, she said softly, "It's not like that, Ezra."

From the other side of the hatch, Kanan said, "Sounds like you two have some talking to do."

Sabine banged on the hatch in response. "We'll play along with your stupid plan, Kanan. But this will be a private talk. You and Hera can beat it."

There came the sound of a muted conversation from the other side. Then Hera replied, "We'll be down the hall. Bang three times when you guys are finished."

Sabine gave them a couple seconds to leave and then clumsily felt along the airlock's wall until she found Ezra. "Scooch over, goober," she said. "It's tight in here."

Ezra obliged her. They sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the ridiculousness of their situation. Sabine leaned her head back against the wall, trying to corral her thoughts and feelings into something coherent.

"So, are we not friends anymore?" His tone was casual, which did not soften the question's delivery in the slightest.

Sabine winced, feeling like something sharp had pierced her heart. She took a deep breath and then turned her head towards him. "Ezra . . . I'm going to speak for a little bit, okay? I just want you to listen."

A silence hung thickly between them as she awaited his response. She really wished the lights were on, just to see his face, how he felt.

But maybe it's better this way, she thought. At least, for me.

"You scared me, Ezra Bridger," she said quietly. "You went off the rails and almost got yourself killed. And I couldn't do anything except watch it happen. You're my best friend and there was nothing I could do to prevent you from going down that path."

"The Sith Holocron," said Ezra cautiously. "I was under its influence."

Sabine shook her head. "It's an amplifier. Like any other type of power. It amplifies you, makes you able to be . . . more of yourself, do you understand? I've seen you and Kanan use the Force to do some amazing things, but this? It wasn't corrupting you."

There was a pause. "I don't understand," Ezra said.

She poked him hard in the chest. "It's you, di'kut. It was all you. The holocron brought out the darkness, but it was still you, Ezra. That anger, that recklessness, that raw power - it was always there. And it will always be there. And that scares me."

Sabine heard Ezra inhale sharply in realization. "Oh," he said quietly. "Okay. I get it now."

"Do you really?" she asked. "You'll be tempted from now on. It will be harder not to draw upon that power again when faced with tough situations in the future."

"Is it really so bad?" he shot back, frustrated. "I'm trying to save people - the people I care about from dying!"

"Like Ahsoka," pointed out Sabine.

"Yes," he replied. "You weren't there, Sabine. You don't know how it feels to be powerless like that. Our enemies wield power like that, how are we supposed to fight back? Ahsoka was my friend! What use is this power if I can't protect the people that I love?"

"And how are you protecting those same people if you get yourself killed?" Sabine shouted. "Jedi are supposed to know better - you are supposed to know better! You're the best of us, Ezra! Kanan is always saying that you have to control these feelings, or they control you! You let your anger and grief over Ahsoka's loss get to you and almost lost yourself!"

She could feel her friend's hot stare. "You're one to talk about feelings," he countered. "I've been trying to speak with you for weeks. Kanan had to lock us in this airlock just to get you talking."

Sabine deflated, feeling the sting of truth in Ezra's words. "Yeah," she muttered. "I know."

"So, what?" he asked. "You're still scared of little old me?"

"Not just you," she said wearily.

"Well, what else is there?"

"I'm also scared of myself," Sabine said. "Okay?"

She could practically see the gears come to a grinding halt in his head. "What?" he asked, confused. "You're scared of . . . yourself?"

"Were you listening? What was the first thing I said to you?"

"That . . . you couldn't do anything to help me. All you could do was watch," Ezra recounted slowly.

"Yeah," said Sabine. "So don't talk to me about feeling powerless. You watched a friend disappear on Malachor without being able to do anything - and so did I. Only it was you with that Sith Holocron."

Chagrin radiated off Ezra like a heat wave. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Being forced to leave Ahsoka to face Vader alone . . . that's how you felt seeing me succumb to my anger, wasn't it?"

Sabine leaned against him, relief washing over her. "Finally got it through your thick skull, di'kut."

She felt him reach through the darkness and grip her hand. "You helped me plenty of times, Sabine. You never left my side."

Sabine shook her head. "I was enabling you. There were many nights that I stood outside your door . . . I knew you were listening to the holocron. I wanted to barge inside and drag it away from you. I couldn't do it."

She swallowed. "Because I was scared."

"Of yourself?" he asked. "I still don't understand."

"Of my feelings," she whispered. "All this time, Ezra Bridger, you fit into this neat little box. And then Malachor happened. And now you don't fit anymore. You're too real."

"I'm . . . too real?" He sounded bemused. "What, was I an imaginary friend or something?"

She punched him lightly. "Don't laugh."

In the pitch black she could just make out Ezra putting his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm not, I promise."

"Good," she growled. "It's just . . . you got complicated. You weren't supposed to be. I don't know how to act around you anymore. That's why I've been avoiding you. I'm sorry about that."

"Relationships are complicated," Ezra said. "You ran away when things got difficult, in the past."

"And I did it again. I'd rather be in a shootout with an army of stormtroopers than talk feelings. It's just easier."

"Well," Ezra said dryly, "that first skill is probably more important considering what's going on."

Sabine snorted. "Don't kid yourself. They're both important. Even with this war against the Empire. Emotional baggage can be deadly in a firefight, just like a well-aimed blaster bolt."

She squeezed his hand affectionately. "My feelings for you haven't changed, Ezra. We're still friends. We'll always be friends. It's just . . . complicated now."

"Okay," he said. "So . . . we'll take it slow, then. Think of it as a fresh start."

Sabine nodded. "I like that."

"I promise not to pick up anymore Sith Holocrons. You promise not to freeze me out when you're upset at me. Sound good?"

She laughed. "Sounds like a deal, goober."

"Good," he said seriously. "Now, let's get out of here. I think my leg's starting to get a cramp."

Sabine stood up, wincing at the protest from muscles that were idle far too long. With her fist, she banged on the airlock hatch three times. A few moments later, the hatch hissed open as the power returned.

Kanan stood there with Hera, a smug grin on his face. "Had a good talk?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Someone's in a good mood considering he just locked two kids in an airlock without power."

"Happy to help," he replied cheerfully. Hera sighed, took him by the arm, and lead him away.

Sabine turned around to see Ezra rising on wobbly legs. "You coming?" she asked.

"Yeah. Hey - you keep calling me di'kut? Is that a Mandalorian term of endearment or something?"

"Oh," she said. She hadn't realized that some of her native tongue had slipped out while talking with him. "No, it's not. But I say it with affection when I use it for you."

"Thanks," he growled. She smiled mischievously at him.

He took a step forward - and tripped over a raised step. Caught off-balance, Ezra began to fall -

Sabine caught him.

[toomanybandstocare]

{I've Got My Mind On You}

Program: Birthdays...no longer come with presents wrapped in a bow or bring your loved ones together for your celebration. Unable to break away from the sadness and loneliness that you've come to associate with a day meant to for fond memories, you drift away and separate yourself from the people who stand by you everyday. Each day, Jesse keeps his eye on you terrified of the person who's taken your place. This is year that everything changes for the better, but that can only happen if you let it.

Pairing: Arc Trooper Jesse x Intelligence officer, GN! Reader

Alt Pairing: Arc Trooper Jesse & Intelligence officer, GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 4584w

Warnings: Overwhelming negative emotions around birthdays and feeling unwanted, Use of "them" as for sentence structure purposes, Barely edited

Camp Resolute Masterlist

ClonexReader Masterlist

Prompt: party For @clonexreaderbingo event hosted by the lovely Ghost.

Counselor Note: Purely self indulgent. I just needed to put my emotions, or as much as I could, onto paper with how my birthday came about this year. Could be read as romantic or as platonic soulmates.

No matter how many times the 501st has stepped foot into the GAR’s barracks on Coruscant, everyone feels uneasy as they begin to slowly unpacked their mud caked and blood stained gear. Even though the battle was a success, an imperative one at that, your shoulders ache from the tension that weighs down on them. It seeps into your fatigued body and finds its home in your tired bones. Everyday you woke up this month, a knot of dread twisted and sank deeper into your core at the distant memory of your approaching birthday.

As you place your datapad on your side table, your gaze locks onto the date displayed alongside the weather and music options on your holo-chronometer. Your heart lurches, and you feel as if you’re going to be sick. Just two more days until you ignore the previous year’s stinging memories. Just two more days until the dash of hope that holds your heart together snaps. Just two more days until you treat your birthday like it’s any other day of the year. Nothing special. Nothing worth celebrating, especially when you’re all alone.

Your lungs constrict, and you force yourself to finish placing the last pieces of clothing and tactical gear in their designated spots before laying down on your bunk. With a groan, you rest your head on your arms and close your eyes as the rest of the 501st begin to plan their nights out on leave.

“Fives, we always go 79s. We’re not saying we don’t want to go, we just want to visit some new spots as well,” Echo exasperatedly explains as he kicks his duffel under the bunk.

“This is the first time that the 212th, 104th, and 501st have been planetside in who knows how long,” Fives exclaims and throws his hands up, “And you want to choose now to go to a new bar? No way - we’re going to 79s as much as we can during this leave”.

“No one’s saying they can’t come, di’kut,” Kix throws one of his black tops at Fives with a grin.

“Who would have thought Fives would be the one to shoot down the possibility of meeting new partners,” Jesse chuckles as he sits on the edge of his bunk. As he leans over to unbuckle his boots, his gaze falls on your bunk. The gnawing concern that’s grown as the month’s progressed overtakes his mind as you seem completely detached from reality. Desperate to pull you away from whatever dark place your mind travels to as of recent, Jesse calls out your name.

Deep in your journey through memories locked away in the back of your mind, a sharp sting of adrenaline causes your eyes to fly open and your heart to race as you shoot up in panic. Your gaze snaps to the pillow sitting in your lap. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you shake off the residual nerves settling across your skin as you narrow your gaze to search for the guilty culprit. When you look across from you, it only takes Jesse’s mischievous smile to know who threw the pillow at you. “Not funny,” you breathe out and throw the pillow back at him. You try to let yourself relax, but you can’t find it in yourself to put the mask back on.

Jesse catches the pillow with ease, and his expression softens lightly when he truly sees how solemn you look. “Got any plans we could crash?” he asks with a slight hope in his casual tone. Jesse’s chest stings as watches you practically curl into yourself. What happened to lose the spark he’s come to adore and associate with you?

“Probably just disconnect and hide out at my apartment,” you mumble and shrug your shoulders.

“You can’t do nothing on your time off,” Fives gently protests. His expression hardens into one of worry as the discussion shifts to your plans. Everyone in the company has noticed your change in demeanor and energy, and every member has voiced their concern to Rex who wasn’t able to figure out the root of your change. Even the collected captain keeps a wary eye out for you more than usual lately.

“Come join us,” Kix adds on, “I know you’re probably sick of spending all your time with us, but we promise to be on our best behavior”. He chuckles lightly, but it soon dies as Kix sees your lip wobble.

“I’m not in the party mood,” you firmly state. Your voice wavers as tears sting your lash line. As the last of your walls start to crumble as tears threaten to fall, you jump off your bed and grab your backpack as you hurry for the door. Guilt mixes with sorrow to create a nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach as you leave the barracks without another word.

As the door hisses shut, the members of the 501st are surrounded by an uncomfortable blanket of silence. One that gnaws at Jesse’s nerves and sends his heart racing. Unable to pull his surprised gaze from the barracks entrance, he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“That’s a completely different person than the one we’re friends with,” Heavy quietly murmurs.

“Regardless,” Jesse says slowly as he snaps his boot buckle, “still our friend. There’s only one person that I can think of that knows them better than us”. Grabbing his comlink, Jesse walks towards the barrack’s entrance while tuning into their assistant medic’s private channel. “Kiva? Where abouts are you?” Only static responds of a second, and Jesse’s lungs constrict as he passes through the door. 

The chances that the medic has already left the base are slim, but still high enough to make Jesse walk faster through the durasteel halls. His heart hammers as his footsteps echo against the metal plated floors. Check the civvie barracks first, then the medic station. Take the slightly longer route to the medbay and check the entry-exit log at the base’s entrance. Jesse’s mind races to figure out how to find the Nautolan medic that he barely hears the call chirp to his comlink. 

“Kriff, Jesse - can’t a guy take a nap in peace. Not even an hour planetside and one of you already needs med attention? Give us a break,” Kiva sighs through the audio channel.

“Kiva,” Jesse breathes out in relief, “Where are you? This isn’t about med attention. I’m worried about-”

“Leave it alone, Jesse,” Kiva swiftly interrupts.

Jesse falters at the medic’s harsh tone. Coming to a stand still, Jesse leans against one of the support pillars. “What do you mean leave it alone? Something’s not right,” he pushes back. Frustration begins to spark in his voice as Jesse scans the hallway to find somewhere more private to take this call. Kiva’s evasiveness causes an uneasy feeling to bite at Jesse’s skin. A moment of silence passes, and just as Jesse goes to check the call connection he hears Kiva sigh.

“It’s like this every year,” Kiva explains, “The month leading up to what’s supposed to be a birthday, it’s like they shut down. Right? I don't know what happened for it to get like this. Each year, they disappear to their apartment and won’t come out until a couple of days later”.

As the medic shares his limited knowledge, Jesse’s expression hardens into one mixed with confusion and worry. With a spark of determination, a plan begins to form in his mind, and a smile tugs at Jesse’s mouth. “Then I’ll need your help if we’re going to pull this off. When’s their birthday?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Jesse,” Kiva hesitates. “We don’t know why-”

“If you felt the same about a day that’s supposed to be about celebrating you and all you’ve achieved this year, wouldn’t you want someone to go the extra mile and celebrate with you? Know that someone loves you so much that they'll celebrate you even when you feel like it’s worthless?”

The comlink falls silent for a moment. All Jesse can hear is air ventilation willing above him and the dull rush of blood to his ears. His body tenses as the seconds come to a stand still, and he balances on the edge of anticipation and false hope.

“Then we’re going to need all the help we can get with only two days to plan and prep,” Kiva states with a determined laugh. “How can I help?”

“I need a key to the apartment, and you need to act as a distraction. Leave the rest to me and the boys,” Jesse rushes to explain. The stoney expression melts into one of relief as Jesse turns on his heel to rejoin the rest of the company.

Kiva’s static laughter echoes against the sterile halls, “I’ll send you the keycode in a little bit. Why do I get the hardest job?”

Jesse’s smile grows as he responds, “Because you’ll draw the least amount of suspicion”. 

The minute you step foot into your cozy, city apartment you feel the last of your walls crumble. As the entrance door hisses shut behind you, you hastily throw your bag to the side of the entryway. Tears flow down your cheek while you furiously rub them away while walking through the dark living room to turn into your bedroom. Your head spins as a mixture of overwhelming emotions causes a dull throb to sear at the back of your forehead. Just a few more days until you could move on from the choke hold that past disappointments have on you. Tugging off your well worn travel clothes, the fabric snags and refuses to slip off your body causing a wave of frustration to crash against your skull alongside your headache. With a defeated sob, you toss your clothing to the side and fall on top of your bed. Unable to hold back your cries as you tug the duvet over your body and tuck yourself away from reality.

The next two days are filled with excited chatter and lethargic depression. Each hour passes, ticking closer and closer to the anticipated birthday. Time blurs as party planning brings together some of the most well respected commanding officers during the day and bleeds into the night when lungs cry out for relief against the chain that wraps around them to lock away a broken heart. 

Late morning sunbeams break past your blinds, and you toss and turn in your blanket cocoon. Unwilling to pull yourself from semi-consciousness, you burrow further into the covers. Your under eyes feel sore and puffy as you press your face into a pillow. Stretching your aching muscles, you faintly hear the alarm disarm with the door opening. Even though that should send you into alertness, the thick blanket of numbness dulls your senses.

“Kriff,” Kiva quietly mutters.

“It’s not usually this bad,” you groan. You wince at the realization that your room is a complete mess, even by your standards. “I thought I told you I wanted to recharge alone. Finally enjoy some peace and quiet,” you mumble into your duvet.

The edge of your bed dips, and your body slides against Kiva’s. A gentle hand comes down to rest on what can only be assumed as your shoulder under the mounds of blankets and sheets. “One of the intelligence officers landed in the medbay,” Kiva sighs, “Captain Rex has requested for you to come in as soon as possible. We just intercepted a new set of Separatist codes”.

The weight of his words sinks into you with a churning unease and defeat. Even though your birthday comes with mixed emotions, you had hoped to at least avoid working on the dreaded day. “I need some time to wake up and get dressed,” you quietly reply, “Might as well put on a pot of caf for us while you wait”.

Minutes crawl by as Jesse keeps a careful eye on the apartment’s entrance. Excitement and nerves bounce around inside him as he waits for the two of you to exit. Every so often, his comlink chirps with someone eagerly asking for an update. 

“How much longer,” Fives complains over the channel frequency.

“Maybe if you grew up a little, you’ll realize it’s normal for people to take their time to get ready. Especially when called into an unexpected shift on shore leave,” Jesse hisses in response. His gaze flickers up from his comlink as the entrance signal chimes, and he steps into the side alley. Peering around the corner, Jesse watches as you and Kiva step into your speeder and a new wave of determination washes over him. 

When your speeder pulls away from the platform and disappears into the flow of traffic, Jesse wastes no time getting to the entrance and punching in the visitor code. “Alright, Fives. Bring everyone in,” Jesse signals his brother as he walks through the lobby. “We don’t have much time until Rex and Kiva bring our ad’ika back in a worse mood than when they left”. Jesse cuts off the call as his brothers shout in excitement, and he steps into the elevator that shoots him up to your apartment level. His gaze stays fixed on the level indicator, and nervous jitters make him tap his foot. There’s no reason for this to go wrong, but the gnawing fear of crossing an unspoken line makes Jesse’s stomach twist. He doesn’t want to become one of the reasons you hate your birthday in the future. The elevator ding jolts him out of his thoughts and causes his heart to pound against his chest. There’s no going back. Determined to show you just how many people care for you, Jesse steps into the hallway and rushes to your apartment.

“You really don’t need to walk me home,” you quietly break the thick silence surrounding you and Rex.

The night sky begins to tuck away the blazing sunset behind the city skyline. Your footsteps fall in time with Rex’s creating a metallic beat as you near your apartment building. After having spent the afternoon decoding messages with dated intel with Rex, you finally shut off your holo-top for the evening. The searing pain that’s throbbed between your eyes for the last few days now drums against your skull. The thought of breaking a cypher only to lead to more disappointment makes your head spiral, so you told Rex you were done as you packed your bag. Concerned with how late it had become, the captain had insisted on walking you home when you found out Kiva already left for the evening.

Evening traffic speeds past you as the two of you walk across the platform from where you parked your speeder to the building’s entrance. Your apartment building looms above you, and you punch in the resident code. The cool temperature eases the burning sensations that stings at your skin as the two of you enter. Even through your emotional fatigue, something hasn’t sat right with you since Kiva first visited this morning.

“It’s not even that late out,” you point out. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rex stiffen as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. Wariness overcomes you and sharpens your senses from the lethargic haze that you’ve grown used to.

Rex ducks his head and sighs. “You haven’t been yourself lately,” he slowly explains. Without giving you the chance to interrupt, Rex punches the elevator call button.

The sudden noise makes you wince, and your heart speeds up. Why would he care so much? “It’s not healthy to put on a facade. I’ll at least do myself the favor of not bottling up my emotions and pretending like I’m okay when I’m not”. Your voice wavers as he motions for you to enter first. When you move into the small elevator, Rex quickly joins you. Your eyebrows raise, and you press your floor button. The wariness shoots pin pricks at the back of your neck.

“Seems like you’re hiding from the people who actually care about you and want to help you feel like yourself again,” Rex’s words come out harsher than either of you expect. His eyes widen, and his gaze snaps to meet your own. “I’m sorry,” he stammers, “That came out sharper than I meant”. Rex sighs and runs a hand over his face.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, and you feel sick from the flush that’s overcome your body. Grateful for the floor chime, you exhale a breath of relief and  step out of the elevator. “It’s fine,” you cooly dismiss his apology. When the sound of his footsteps follow you out into the hall, your face pinches. “Rex, I promise I’m not upset with you,” you practically snap. The firmness in your voice mixes with the frustration that overheats you and the desperation to be finished with this awful day. Heart thundering as you stand in front of your apartment door, you lock your heated gaze onto Rex. Yet, confusion only spurs your temperament further when you catch the faint, sad smile on the captain’s face.

“Maybe not yet, at least. Happy birthday, ad’ika,” Rex softly responds.

Your hand shakes hovering above the keypad. A coldness freezes over your body, and the overwhelming sharp dullness of flush sizzling across your skin makes you dizzy. Unable to meet Rex’s concerned expression, you turn away and hastily punch in your code. As soon as the door hisses open, you dart into your apartment desperate to hide away and allow yourself the comfort to let your emotions out in privacy. Rubbing at your eyes furiously and blinking away threatening tears, you walk through the entryway and throw your bag to the ground. Fleeting memories and a headache pound against your skull, and you feel as if the room’s spinning. With one hand, you press the light panel and a soft mix of colored lights float across the walls.

“Happy birthday!” a chorus of voices call out.

You jump back, tripping on your footing. A careful hand steadies you from behind, and you lean into Rex’s hold as your shocked gaze bounces from troopers to friends to family clustered in your small living room. When you try to speak, only a small noise breaks past your disbelief.

“Alright, alright,” Jesse motions for everyone to relax, “You’ll have a chance to chat with our guest of honor later. Let’s let them get used to this”. When he drops his palms to his sides, his palms feel sweaty. Every breath he takes feels shallow, and his lungs begs for air. Unfortunately for him, the little oxygen circulating through him escapes when Jesse turns to see your glassy eye expression. The way you shy away into Rex’s side as your eyes scan the room makes his heart stutter. Walking over to you, Jesse flexes his fists before hooking his thumbs into his pants’ pockets. “I’m sure this is a lot, but we just wanted to make sure you celebrated yourself,” Jesse softly explains.

Your wide eyes meet Jesse’s compassionate gaze, and you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. “Did you plan this? This is too much. You should all be out enjoying your time off,” you rush. Even you hear how watery and strained your voice sounds. Rex’s traces soothing circles into your side, and the tension slowly releases from your body.

One of Jesses’ hands comes up to rub the back of his neck, and he breaks away from your gaze. “Everyone put this together. Rex, Wolffe, and Cody were massive a help in making sure all your friends and family got here. And then your 501st boys got the supplies ready. Really it was Kiva who pulled it off by getting you out of the apartment today,” Jesse rambles on and trips over his words, “Which, I am so sorry you had to do fake work. No one should work on their birthday, especially you. You already do so much for us, but we didn’t know how else to get you to leave so we could set up -”

Your lip wobbles as you listen to Jesse’s stumbling explanation. Without hesitation, you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist. Leaning your head on his chest, you feel his heartbeat quicken under your blushing cheek. 

A hand gently rubs your shoulder, “And to answer your question, Jesse did plan this. Got all of us organized and made sure all your party felt comfortable and relaxed so you wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed”. He squeezes your shoulder, and you hear Rex call out to his batchmates with a chuckle. 

Fully expecting for your cozy apartment to have been turned into a temporary 79s location, you relax as you look around the room to see your closest people lounging and laughing together. Lofi plays softly just above the chatter and occasional laugh. A small collection of gifts sit next to your favorite birthday treat on the center table. Fairy lights twinkle from above, and you’ve never felt more at home than you have at this moment. Normally just a place to find solace and solitude when you’re on shore leave, your apartment finally feels alive as your friends listen to your squad’s stories and your family checks each trooper to make sure they’re well taken care of.

“This is -” your words break off as a sudden sob overcomes you. Your throat tightens, and tears sting at your lash line. The burden of so many difficult memories bubbles up, and you finally allow yourself to let go of them. Tears stream down your cheeks, and your lips feel chapped as they kiss the corner of your mouth. Each droplet leaves a bittersweet taste to your tongue as they melt away. Your heart hammers against your chest, and it feels as if it’s going to break from just how much love has been returned. Lifting your blurry gaze, you faintly make out Jesse’s soft adoring expression as you share a grateful smile with his small one. “Thank you.” you say as firmly as you with a shaky breath.

“I don’t know if I overstepped, so I’m incredibly sorry if I did,” Jesse quietly begins, “I just couldn’t sit and watch you disappear from us. Once I knew what was making you so … broken, I couldn’t let you spend another birthday alone.” Jesse tightens his arms around you, and his hands tremble as he presses you closer to him. His stomach knots from your grateful expression, and it twists as he watches another tear fall across your cheek. With one hand, Jesse carefully wipes it away letting his fingertip gently graze your cheekbone before cupping your jaw. His chest constricts as you lean into his palm. “Even if it meant you didn’t want me in your  life anymore for intruding, I didn’t want you to think that no one didn’t want to celebrate you and your accomplishments. All of your boys have been concerned, and we just wanted to bring back our ad’ika,” Jesse mumbles. 

Fear isn’t an emotion that Jesse’s allowed himself to dwell on many times. Nerves prick his skin at the thought that this could be the last time you ever wanted to see him. That he had only hurt you more than he helped you. Wherever your mind takes you on those dark journeys inward, that you’ll remember tonight alongside the other heartbreaks. That terrifiesJesse most. But this isn’t about him. He would have to learn to go about his day without looking for you in the room, and maybe one day he could forget about how natural it is for his mind to wander to thoughts about you. So when the moment your hands come up to cup his face with a touch so soft, it nearly makes him sigh, Jesse feels all the growing anxiety and gnawing fear dissipate from him.

You shake your head with a watery laugh, “I don’t think I could push you away even if I tried hard enough.”

“I would just keep reaching out to you until I caught you,” Jesse softly agrees, “I’m not letting you slip through my fingers, ad’ika.” Even as Jesse relaxes and pulls the two to lean against the wall as a way to try to keep your conversation away from the others, a concern tugs at the back of his mind. Unable to shake it off, Jesse’s soft expression hardens slightly with worry. “Just tell me if I’m overstepping or if you don’t want to talk about it. What happened that made your birthday something to avoid rather than look forward to?”

Heart plummeting, you feel relieved that he finally asked. You can’t tell if it's a relief that neither of you are walking around it anymore or that you can finally tell someone how you feel about the day. Your hands slip from his face, and you rest them on his chest. The steady rise and fall of his breathing helps ground you as your mind races. “It just … turned into another day,” you admit. “It felt like I was being pushed to the side as other birthdays were planned well in advance while I had to practically beg for one friend to do something with me. It got to a point where it didn’t feel like anyone cared about me. And I had to carry that sadness and grief as I celebrated everyone else’s accomplishments”. Your voice breaks into a sob, and Jesse pulls you as close as the two of you can. Tucking your head into him, you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself but all the emotions of the past month finally catch up and crash down onto you.

Jesse ducks his head so his mouth is close to your ear, and his comforting voice drops so only you can hear him. “I am so incredibly proud of you, ad’ika. This year alone, you’ve been challenged in ways that not many people could overcome with the determination and grace that you have. Everyone in this room sees that, and they absolutely adore you. When they heard it was your birthday, everyone jumped at the chance to celebrate you and show you their love, alright? As long as you let us, we will support you however you need. Just give us the word, and we’ll be there for you. I’ll be there for you”.

Pulling away, Jesse brings both his hands up to wipe away the new wave of tears slipping down your face. His caring expression causes butterflies to tickle your stomach. “‘Thank you,” you choke out.

Jesse shakes his head with a smile, “Anything for you, ad’ika. I am afraid however, I may have kept you to myself a little longer than the rest of the party would have liked”. His eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint. 

Pulling away, Jesse offers his arm with a cheeky wink that causes you to laugh easier than you have in a long while. As the two of you join your friends and family, each person makes it a point to wish you a happier year to come. Surrounded by so many people who went out of their way to celebrate your birthday, you find a small flicker of hope that next year will hold more laughter and love. Especially when you catch Jesse’s eye, and his expression melts into one of admiration only meant for you.