#KB’s fic

[theleft0ver]

Hello lovely people, I’ve been working on a little cleagan project for a while and I wanted to share the first chapter, hope y’all enjoy!!! ^•^

It’s also on ao3:

•Longing for my sweetheart•

John was dying, he was shot and now he’s dying on his horse who’s independently prowls up a path on a mountain he’s not familiar with. He’s slumped over his mare’s neck mumbling to himself in and out of consciousness.

You see it was supposed to be an easy job, get the information from his trusty inside man (Rosie) at the stagecoach station, stake out the carriage with the rich folks in it, ambush the carriage take everything they got and ride into the sunset, see easy!

Maybe that’s why everything went haywire. He’d done this so many times without complications that he threw every caution in the wind. But sooner than later he realized his mistake in a form of a personal guard at the driver’s box.

He stopped the carriage without a hiccup that’s the easiest part anyways. He pulled his bandanna up his nose and his hat real low. He rode out from the trees to the dirt road, pistol in his right, double barrel shotgun in the left hand firing them once-twice raising hell.

Oh the screams, the frightened shrieks were music to his ears. They meant the passengers will give anything for their lives.

But his happiness was short lived as a bullet pierced through the air and flew past his ear. The armed guard started to fire at him like hell, earning the money the rich bastards were paying him and after today John was sure he got a fat bonus too!

He quickly got off his horse and dodged behind a boulder frowning in surprise, listening where the guard might be and the gunslinging began.

****

The driver was dead, John shot him dead in the left eye. He tried to intervene but he was just in the way and got in the field of bullets. John killed too many people to count. That’s just the way he lives. He never claimed to be a good man alright? But that doesn’t mean he enjoys killing, there was a time when he did, a long-long time ago. He left those days in the back of his mind, now he only kills when he has to, but most of his robberies claim lives, someone always ends up dead.

He’s an outlaw goddamnit, that’s what he’s good at. What he likes and what he has to do to survive are two different things.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on moral issues though he’s still being shot at. John thought, finally his luck is turning and he’ll win this duel as well when he started to hear shouting and hoof beating the ground in the distance.

Lawman.

Even in a location so remote someone somehow alerted the sheriff. John only had a moment to process the news before bullets started to fly around him. The situation is dire he knows that, he whistles for his horse who comes crashing out of the woods and he makes a break for it.

He’s running like the wind when he feels it. Cold metal piercing his skin needling a way through muscles and tendons in his right shoulder. The second one comes from ahead hitting him on the left side of his abdomen, but it doesn’t feel like it went all the way through, although it’s not like John can feel much with the adrenaline running through his veins.

He can’t spare too much attention to his wounds as he still has to get away if he wants to stay alive. He runs to his horse grabs the horn of his saddle, hoist himself up with the stirrup and gallops away as fast and as far as he can.

He’d never been shot, John was always clever with his moves, always had Fortuna on his side. It’s not like how he imagined, it’s not immediate red-hot pain flaming his body ablaze flooding into his mind making room saying ‘I’m here and you’ll be suffering’. It’s creeping up on him, slowly making his way into his consciousness like sand in an hourglass.

For a good ten minutes as he tries to lose the lawman glued to his heels he can only feel a dull ache. Another ten minutes pass on and he successfully shakes off the blood thirsty man and slows his horse down to a trot. And as his heartbeat stabilizes the pain starts to increase, so much so that he had to halt his horse to catch his breath.

He took a moment to get himself under wraps and inspected the wounds.

His shoulder was relatively in a good shape as much as a gunshot wound can be. But his abdomen was another tale. He unbuttoned his vest then lifted his shirt and ripped his long-johns apart, he gagged at the sight.

Already bruised in angry shades of purple and blue, blood flowing everywhere from such a tiny hole. John tried to apply pressure on it but the pain was too great, he got lightheaded and threw up that small amount of food he had in his stomach. He had to get help fast or he’s a goner.

He tried to remember if there was a town nearby but the blood loss was making him dazed and confused. Soon after that he passed out and woke up in the woods on his horse’s back then passed out again.

And that’s how he ended up in the middle of the mountain he was not familiar with in and out of consciousness.

****

John was slowly coming to himself as he feels his horse piking up speed. He tilts his head up to see a little homestead built with logs nested between tall trees and evergreens, a sight he would sure marvel if he were in a better shape. John tries to stay awake until his horse makes the distance to the porch of the home but his brain is too foggy.

He hears a gasp coming from afar and legs hitting the ground in a rapid pattern. John wants to sit up to see who his savior might be but he’s too weak and slips off his saddle onto the ground. He gets startled awake again by someone dropping to their knees next to him and brushing the hair out of his face. Cold fingers turn his head toward the sun and he opens his eyes.

The person in front of John is a woman, a woman whose face is so blurry. Blurry because John can’t keep his eyes open. But as he forces himself to focus he becomes aware that the person is in fact not a woman but a young man with such soft edges and features that he has to be unreal.

John is so delirious from the blood loss that he thinks he’s seeing one of God’s angels. Although he doesn’t understand why would he go to heaven after all the things he has done. He wants to, no scratch that ,he needs to touch this angel of death with the soft looking golden hair and smooth sun tanned skin. He knows if he could just only caress the pad of his finger down this angel’s face he could take away all of his sins and he can die in peace.

He reaches out to hold his personal angel’s cheek, but before he can touch him everything goes back to black.

[kb1301]

Here's some Max gifs I made from some cutscenes!

Other gifsets:

Tatag-9 (My Titan)

[deiaiko]

#23.2 Teases

Dan sighed wistfully. He couldn't help but feel jealous as he witnessed the couple kissing.

It must be great to be Grace. He was attractive, rich, powerful, talented, and respected. He had everything every person in the tower could ever wish to have. So it should come as no surprise that even Princess Endorsi would want him.

But despite all that, Dan didn’t want to be in Grace's shoes. Power and fame came with a price, and he knew how hard Grace had to work for it.

Maybe he wasn't actually jealous of Grace's charm. He was just not willing to let his goddess, Princess Endorsi, pick anyone else as her partner.

Dan let the realization sink in, sulking while chewing on another spoonful of meat curry. Gyetang must've felt even sadder than him, considering that his reason to join their team was to meet Princess Endorsi.

"What happened?" the guy in a tracksuit –Sibisu, if he remembered correctly– asked, as he and the others took a seat.

"Princess…" Hatz trailed off. "She used her tag to 'talk' with Grace. And when they returned, Grace had a kiss mark on his cheek."

That was a surprisingly objective summary.

"You know, I realized something after kissing him." Boss commented. He was looking at Princess Endorsi mirthfully. "The kiss mark on his cheek earlier was tilted in an odd way."

Princess Endorsi raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Boss waited a few beats. Then he shrugged. "Never mind. I was simply sharing my thoughts."

Princess Endorsi gave him a long stare, before her eyes lit up in realization. She chuckled, "How observant."

Dan could only sit there. At least he wasn't the only one that was confused. After all, he didn't really pay attention to the mark position before Grace wiped it out, so he didn't know what kind of odd that Boss meant.

"Woah! Bam–"

The Khun guy whisper-shouted, loud enough to pull Dan out of his thoughts.

"–You learned how to use chopsticks?" 

Khun looked pleasantly surprised, and it kind of baffled Dan. He didn't think anyone, especially from the Khun family, could be impressed by such a mere act.

Viole grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. I've wanted to learn it ever since you showed me how."

The smile that crept up on Khun's lips was genuine and fond. It was a familiar expression, one that Dan often saw Boss wearing when he looked at Grace.

He noticed that everyone was also looking at Khun and Viole, as the conversation around died down. Hatsu coughed, and Princess Endorsi rolled her eyes.

Khun, noticing this, glared at everyone. "What?"

Sibisu waved his hand dismissively, grinning. The others avoided eye contact.

Grace smiled as he glanced at Boss…expectantly? Teasingly? Dan couldn't tell.

Boss glanced back at Grace, smirking.

Grace chuckled, as if they were gossiping telepathically.

They did that enough times that Dan had gotten used to it. Exchanging looks without words as if they could read each other's minds. And honestly, Dan wouldn't even be surprised if they revealed that they actually had a telepathic ability.

Khun was now frowning. Dan could imagine two cat ears on his head pointing backwards. "Are you making fun of me?"

Grace quickly waved his hands in front of him. "What? No! I would never."

Boss laughed at Khun, as if daring him. "You are so obvious, it's embarrassing."

Novick coughed, trying to hide his laugh. "It somehow reminded me of that one time Grace tried to make a perfect apple pie, and we ended up having a week’s worth of pies. All because he wanted to impress Boss."

"The pie was delicious. I was impressed." Boss nodded approvingly.

Grace closed his eyes, smiling proudly. "Worth it."

Oh, the lovebirds, Dan thought to himself. Khun must've reminded Boss of himself, which was probably what he and Grace were making fun of earlier.

Princess Anaak raised her hand, palm facing Boss and Grace. "Please don't kiss again. I'm trying to eat."

Dan heard Viole whisper to Khun. "So that's what a kiss is…?" Which was just another whiplash to him.

The more he learned about Viole, the less he fit a slayer candidate's fearsome and mysterious persona. FUG's god, as they called him. He was still a kid at heart, clueless and learning.

"What's up, Blue Turtle? Did you finally find your banana?"

Khun whipped his head, and Dan noticed a light blush on his cheeks. "What does that even mean?! Stupid crocodile."

"I wonder who's actually the stupid one," Hatz shrugged.

Khun growled, took a deep breath, and sighed. "Let's just ignore them, Bam."

It seemed like Khun was used to being antagonized by his own team. But Dan thought that he might understand why.

The strong temptation to tease and nudge the lovebirds, especially when they were so obvious yet clueless. Case in point: Grace and Agni, when Dan was new to their team. He couldn't keep himself from smiling at the memory.

He enjoyed Grace's old team’s company so far. He used every opportunity to join the conversation, especially when everyone started bickering and exchanging stories. The cafeteria had never been so lively before with only the five of them.

The chaotic energy that Grace's old team brought was like adding new flavors into the mix. Only time could tell whether it was a good combination or not, but he hoped that they'd get along. Especially because it would be a lifelong regret if he were to lose the chance to have Princess Endorsi around.

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Bonus explanation under the cut:

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday: Silver Lining

Tagged by @saltymaplesyrup, @moriche, and @gilgamish thank you friends❤️

I am tagging @tallmatcha and @dirty-bosmer

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: Explicit Category: M/M Genre(s): Romance/Court Intrigue/Monetary Policy and the dangers of an inflation crisis with an inherently deflationary currency

Main pairing: Moth gro-Bagol/Thongvor Silver-Blood

Summary: Moth and Thongvor been friends with benefits since their legion days, and Moth has insisted on staying politically neutral despite Thongvor's ambitions. When the Stormcloaks take Markarth and Thongvor ascends to the Mournful Throne, staying out of politics becomes more dangerous than Moth anticipated.

This WIP Wednesday proceeds directly from the last snippet shared here.

=================================

The great bronze gates shrieked on their hinges as the guards on the timbers levered them into place. A final rush of stragglers slipped through before the doors closed with a final, booming clang. Moth was faint with relief as he spotted a familiar soot-stained tunic and apron among the dark green of the Markarth guards and bright steel of the Legionnaires.

“Ghorza, praise Malacath,” he said, drawing his sister into a quick embrace. Behind Ghorza, Tacitus, her apprentice, bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “We need to get to—”

The winches on either side of the gates were released, and the guards that had been holding them sprang back as the drum gears spun freely. On the other side of the thick bronze, metal slid over metal as the heavy portcullis slammed into place. A team of Legionnaires slid the thick drawbar, hewn from the trunk of a single fir tree, across the doors. It rested beneath the release levers, locking them in place.

“Archers!” The echoes of the order were subsumed by the sound of the shutters opening on the arrow loops around the doorway. Guards pressed forward, bows drawn.

Moth, Ghorza, and Tacitus turned as one and made for the smithy. As they passed through the open arch that separated the entrance hall from the main palace, Moth slowed to a jog as Calcelmo, the court wizard, and Aicantar, his assistant and nephew, came running from the passage that led to the old Dwemer ruins. Calcelmo’s arms were full of parchment scrolls and books, and Aicantar was practically dragging him along. The old Altmer was trying to turn back down the passage.

“Uncle, we have to leave it!” Aicantar was saying.

“But the artifacts—those soldiers will just take them all!”

“The museum is guarded, and we have your research notes, we have to leave them!”

Another robed figure came pelting up the rough-hewn passage behind Calcelmo: Brother Verulus. He grabbed Calcelmo’s other arm and with Aicantar compelled Calcelmo forward.

“Aicantar, Verulus!” Moth called to the men, beckoning them. “We’ll shelter in the smithy, hurry!”

Moth turned and continued following Ghorza and Tacitus, trusting self-preservation would keep them following.

Behind them, a loud bang that shook dust and loose stones from the ceiling sounded from the gates.

There was a different sort of chaos in the palace. Servants scurried this way and that, the sound of doors slamming and draw bars sliding into place echoed up and down the residence halls. Anton the cook was pulling the jarl’s hunting hounds into the kitchen by their collars, swearing at them as they strained against him, whining to return to their master’s side. Igmund and Raerek stood at the top of the stairs: Igmund in his armor, but bare-headed except for the jarl’s circlet. Raerek was unarmored, but wore a sword at his side. They were deep in conversation.

“Moth—” Igmund called out as Moth hurried by.

“Yes, my Jarl?” He bowed, perhaps more deeply than usual, aware that unless the tide of the battle made a most unlikely turn, it would be for the last time. “How may I be of service?”

“By keeping yourself safe.” Igmund clapped Moth on the shoulder, giving it a bracing squeeze. “You have served the Mournful Throne faithfully. You as well, Calcelmo,” Igmund said, looking over Moth’s shoulder to where Calcelmo, Aicantar, and Verulus were just cresting the stairs. “Long may both of you continue to do so, no matter the outcome of this battle.”

“Thank you, my Jarl. It has been an honor to serve your household,” Moth said.

“And now it is my turn to face my fate with honor,” Igmund responded. “I trust your personal ties with Thongvor will keep you and Ghorza safe, but as my last command to you: look after the other servants, if that becomes necessary. Galmar and Thongvor are honorable, but soldiers in the heat of battle…”

“Of course, my Jarl.”

[katsutacle]

This is already public information and I think everyone knows, but just so that everyone is on the same page...

I draw wg kink art on the side. Have done so for many years! And since I love Hakuhiro I have, and will continue to, draw them that way on my separate account. if that's ok and you want to follow, ask me. If not, you can unfollow.

That's all!

[kenobster]

Higher Ground ||| "Our Strongest Link" ||| Scott Barringer

I was on lots of teams, and, just like you, I messed up and I got thrown off — but I still remember how good it feels to be part of something. I still remember that, Scott. It's a good feeling, even when you lose.

I made these GIFs for @sendpseuds. She's writing an Obikin football fic, so I thought it'd be fun to give her some GIFs of Hayden Christensen who plays a football player in another show. Hope you like them, friend!

Bonus:

[stardustloki]

Pirates don't get sick - Chapter Two

When Jod falls seriously ill on their way to At Achrann, it’s up to the kids to figure out how make him get better.

They could have done a worse job of it, all things considered.

-

Gen, Teen, No Archives Warnings

Characters: Jod, Neel, Wim, Fern, KB, SM-33

Hurt/Comfort, Angsty start, Fluff later on, Happy ending

Read chapter 1 on ao3 here or tumblr here.

Read chapter 2 on ao3 here or under the cut.

-

Fern sighed, gripping the straps of her backpack as she trudged towards the town, the muddy grass squelching beneath her boots.

The conditions didn’t seem to be bothering Wim, who raced ahead of her under the drizzling rain, brandishing a long stick in one hand and making slicing motions to accompany his stupid lightsaber noises.

Boys. They were always so childish.

She wished she could have made the journey to get medications and other supplies with sensible KB, but they’d both known that the humidity of the air and the freezing rain would have been dangerous to her augs.

Wim had actually tried to convince her that he and Neel should go by themselves, as if they could be trusted to get the right things, the things that Jod actually needed! It was a good thing that she was the captain, she’d been able to put her foot down on that idea, despite Wim’s complaints that he did the shopping for him and his dad ‘all the time’.

Yeah right, as if someone would trust a twelve year old boy with shopping, especially the one who was in the process of ‘dismembering’ a tree. At least Fern had the experience of haggling over parts for her and KB’s racing bike.

This was why she had been in charge of writing down the shopping list on Wim’s datapad, and why she would make sure that everything was carefully checked off when they finally reached the store.

Thankfully, it didn’t take them too long to get to the edge of town, and, despite the uncomfortableness of the rain, she had to admit it was nice being out of the ship for once, somewhere that was actually habitable, and looked and smelled nice. Nothing like Kh’ymm’s moon, or worse, the pirate spaceport.

It was strange, walking along these streets.

Some things reminded her of home, like the people she saw, the vehicles that hovered past, or the wet leaves that lined the paths underfoot.

But some things didn’t. They made her feel strange and out of place, that there were things about this town that weren't right, things that made her long for At Attin and home, a place that was now about nine hours away. It was the clothes that people wore, brightly coloured and strange, and the way the buildings weren’t made out of ferrocrete and instead something else, probably painted planks of wood from the forest they’d just walked through. Fern hadn’t known that people could build things out of that. It felt… wrong.

Still, they managed to find a general store without too much trouble, and the shiny droid that greeted them inside confirmed that they should be able to find everything they needed, from soup to sparacetamol.

Score 1 for Fern.

-

“What’ll you be wanting cleanin’ supplies for then?” KB heard SM-33 demand. He and Neel were walking back inside the ship, having said goodbye to Fern and Wim. For every loping stride that ‘33 took, Neel was forced to take four to keep up.

“We want to clean the ship,” KB told him, feeling her shoulders relax as the exit ramp closed and she was once again cut off from the humidity of the outside air. “It’s not healthy.”

“Arrghh. Good pi-pirates don’t worry about their ‘ealth.”

“Well, we do,” Neel protested earnestly. “We want to get Jod’s room clean so he can get better quicker.”

“Who cares about ‘im?” ‘33 learnt forwards slightly. It would have been intimidating if they didn’t know that the droid would never hurt them. “Me ol cap’n would’ve left ‘im there an’ given ‘im some rats for company.”

Neel’s ears flapped up in surprise as he took a step back.

“Well, we’re not your old captain,” KB told him. “So show us where we can find them please. There must be some on here, right?”

KB frowned as ‘33 begrudgingly led them to a closet the old captain had clearly considered to be ‘off limits’. It wasn’t that she cared about Jod. He was a liar, and she didn’t trust him one little bit. She didn’t even like him either. But she didn’t think that you should just leave people to suffer by themselves, especially not with medical problems.

Pirates might be cruel, they might think it funny to take someone who was sick and then make them even sicker. But KB wasn’t a pirate. She was kind, and she helped people when they needed it.

She watched as ‘33 levered the old door open, and tried not to think about what a pirate like the droid’s old captain might do to her if they knew how important her augs were.

The door creaked open and the light inside flickered on, its gloom revealing a lot of dusty machinery and small cupboards.

“There, wha’d I t-tell you? Load of ol’ junk.”

“Thank y-”

“Except for that one,” he continued, raising his hand slowly towards a large metal box. “That one be good for gettin’ rid of bloodstains and gore.”

She stared at it, tilting her head sideways, before taking several careful steps forwards, weaving her way around the other machinery - some of which looked like it could be a handheld auto-duster and a vacuum droid - until she reached it. Carefully, she brushed away the grime on top of it, her eyes lighting up as she did so.

“Hey, Neel, it’s a clothes-refresher!”

She grinned at him, and he grinned back. “Wizard! I hope it still works.”

“Thank you, ‘33,” KB said, turning back to the droid. “Can you go check on Jod and make sure he’s alright?”

“Aye,” he said, tone more than a little resentful, before turning and walking down the corridor. “If that be all I be needed for nowadays.”

“And don’t scare him again,” Neel called after him, stepping from foot to foot a little anxiously. “That wasn’t very kind of you!”

The droid didn’t reply.

“We can trust him with Jod, right?” Neel asked her.

“Sure,” she said, not feeling sure at all.

And with that they got to work.

KB dug out some cloths from one of the cupboards, and wiped off most of the accumulated grossness from the clothes refresher. Neel tried - and failed - to get the vacuum droid to turn on, but verified that the auto-duster still had power in it when he turned it on and got it stuck to his trunk.

That done, they headed back to the bedroom.

Even with two of them, it was difficult to strip the bedclothes, especially because it seemed every time they moved them slightly, dust billowed up into the air, making them both cough and splutter. KB could feel some of it getting into her eyes and down her throat, and she wondered if any of the particles could get inside her augs.

Well.

She wouldn’t worry about that now.

Things would be better for her when everywhere was clean, and things couldn’t be clean unless she did something about it. Especially because if she stopped then Neel would either think she was lazy or she’d have to tell him about-

No. She couldn’t do that, because then he might not like her as much anymore. There was nothing KB liked less than explaining.

So, she would just have to be fine.

Neel helped her drag the dirty linen back to the cupboard, and together they just about managed to stuff it all inside. She had almost pressed start when-

“Wait!” Neel lay a frantic hand on her arm. “We need detergent. I’ve seen my parents use it when I help them do the laundry. We have to do a lot of it, because of little baby Tuloo.”

KB nodded, and they started to search the cupboards again.

Finally, Neel let out a happy trumpeting sound, and spun around, a grimy bottle in his hands. From the patches that he’d wiped away, KB could read:

Astro-shine Detergent!

For the freshest laundry on At Atti - no! Her eyes widened in surprise as she realised that she’d just been reading what she’d expected to be there.

At Achrann.

Huh.

“Do you think this comes from one of the lost planets, the planets just like ours?” she asked.

Neel shrugged, tilting his head as he considered the bottle.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “I guess we can figure it out when we get home. Right now we have bigger problems.”

He thrust the bottle, lid first, into her face.

Oh. She could see the issue.

“Child Proof.”

-

Jod came back into consciousness several times, but each time he did the pounding of his head and the exhausted ache in his limbs pushed him back down into a fitful sleep.

Each time he escaped, though never for long, he couldn’t be quite sure of what happened in his dreams. This was probably for the best. But in the same way, each time he managed to blink his eyes open, he wasn’t quite sure of where he was, or what was happening.

Finally, the ache of his throat grew too strong, and he successfully clawed his way back into wakefulness. He could feel a mattress underneath him, and piles of blankets on top. That was a good sign, right? That meant that wherever he was he was probably safe. The blankets were good too - he was just. so. cold., his body aching and wracked with shivers, and, more than anything, he hated being cold.

He made himself roll over and push his head up, to look around for something to drink. It was hard work, especially because midway through he had to stop to cough his lungs out.

Okay, so whatever had happened, he was seriously sick. So badly so that he probably wouldn’t be able to pretend he was fine, nor would he be able to defend himself.

Okay, that was fine, he’d be okay.

He’d just find something to drink and then go from there.

He pushed his head up again.

His eyes settled on a dark shape several feet away from him. A shape that became a droid. He knew that droid.

SM-33.

He watched, through swimming vision, as the droid rose to its feet and stepped towards him.

Shit.

-

Wim nodded his head to the music of the store’s sound system as he made his way round the store, the hovercart floating behind him. The music the people on this planet liked was kinda weird, to be honest, but it was starting to grow on him.

He stopped off next to the soup and picked some random flavours off the shelves - they looked good enough to him! Next he made his way down to the bakery section to pick up some fresh bread. No more of those hard biscuit-y things for him, no thank you. After that, he was planning on checking out what cereals they had. Sure, they were meant to be home soon, but there was no harm in picking up some extra chocolatey-sugary goodness.

He didn’t know what Fern was so worried about, he was fine with shopping. Sure. Sometimes he occasionally forgot something important, or came back with an extra candy bar or action figure that he technically hadn’t been meant to get, but he did well enough. And besides, he wasn’t going to forget something important with Jod looking as rough as he did.

Okay, was he still kinda annoyed that the guy wasn’t an actual Jedi? Sure he was. But Jedi or not he could still move stuff with his mind, and he’d broken them out of prison. Plus, he did seem pretty cool. Wim could probably get over the fact that he wasn’t a Jedi at some point. So, of course he wasn’t gonna forget to pick up something he needed to get better!

Eventually, content with the amount of food (and candy) they had, Wim found Fern next to the medications. She was reading the back of one of the packets with extreme concentration.

Also, as much as she claimed she didn’t jump when he said her name, she totally did.

After Fern had taken way too much time checking off their list, they made their way to the droid at the front of the store, placing their hovercarts next to it so it could scan the items.

Less than a second later, it looked back up at them.

“According to Republic Law, under 16s are not permitted to purchase sparacetamol. Please provide a valid form of identification in order to make this purchase.”

Wim’s heart sank, but Fern took a step forward, looking up at the droid confidently.

“Here’s my ID,” she said, taking out her library card from one of the pockets of her rucksack, and placing it down on the desk. “I’m sixteen, see.”

“This is not a valid form of identification,” the droid told her. “It has no proof of age.”

“It is a valid form of ID,” Fern argued, while Wim watched with his mouth open. “It’s from At Attin, which is a Republic world. And on At Attin, you can only get library cards like these on your sixteenth birthday. So, you can let us have the medicine.”

“There are no records of any At Attin in the Republic,” the droid’s tone was as emotionless as ever. “Please return with a valid form of identification or a parent or guardian, in order to make this purchase.”

Wim looked over at Fern, his face twisted up into a grimace.

What were they meant to do now?

[inastarlesssky]

Current Writing Projects [January - February]

It's that time again! I haven't done this in a while and oh my, it needs to be done because I need to keep track of my wips. So here's the looong list of those WIPs.

Harry Potter

When the Day Loved the Night - soulmate AU; pureblood Hermione Granger and prophecies! WIP Equilibrium - Unspeakable Hermione & Auror Draco; time-travel, multiverse, forced partnership, enemies to lovers WIP (not going to posted until it's finished)

Dead Boy Detectives

These Brilliant Lights - Cryland. Edwardian AU. (in researching process) In Umbra Mortis - Cryland. (Loosely) Inspired by Orpheus & Eurydice (planned)

The Sandman

In This Twilight - Constantdream Arranged Marriage AU. (planned)

Good Omens

Paradise Lost - Season 2 Fix-It, well post-season 2 on, attempting to fix how we left it off (planned)

Pirates of the Caribbean

Come Hell or High Water - Willabeth AWE AU in which Jack deals with another curse, Elizabeth finds a way to break Will's and Willabeth saves the day. (in planning process)

Star Wars: Skeleton Crew

Where My Demons Hide - JodxOC, Jod & KB, Jod & KB & Fern & Neel & Wim & SM-33. AU of 1x05 in which Jod DOESN'T betray the kids and we explore what might have happened. Also: my idea of his backstory and Jod telling the kids that long story he promised them. WIP

The WIPs I have posted have links to them, so you can check them out on my Ao3. All the others are projected ideas that I want to write and have more or less planned but no set date as to when I will start them.

[jedisandspacepirates]

On AO3

Pirates, bounty hunters, and droids, oh my! In the wake of an enlightening discovery in Tak Rennod's lair, Jod, SM-33 and the kids set off for the long-awaited At Attin. Along the way, however, the road isn't as smooth as they hope it to be. Cue greedy space pirates, bloodthirsty bounty hunters and other people with intergalactic grudges. Wim has not forgotten about Jod's promise to tell them that long story about who he really is and while they make their escape, he has no choice but to make good on that promise. Or the one where Jod doesn't betray the kids on Lanupa and tells them a very long story.

Finally posted it! First chapter of my fic is up on AO3 now.

Big thank you to @emgemwritesthings who's question asking helped me figure this silly little thing out.

[kb1301]

How about some painful Shaxx12?

Clutched Close

Shaxx sat in silence, his hands rested on his knees as he gazed over the covered slab beside him, one that hid something he feared to see. Beneath the one-horned helmet was a man grasping with the reality settling in front of him.

He didn’t like to think of it. Of what happened to that person that hid beneath the cover, that same kind of cover they’ve used for Cayde back then. He would wish for it to be unreal, just some wretched fantasy, but even an Ahamkara can’t help the pain he felt.

And so he stood up. One of anger.

And he stepped closer. One of despondence.

And he gazed down at the cover. One of grief.

He lifted it away, to only see the horror awaiting him.

It was Max… Or what was left of him. His face was nearly unrecognizable, his horn dismantled and shattered. The metal was stripped off of him, by some kind of cruelty. His optics were brutally taken off of him, leaving only one to be seen, and the other lost. Any remnant of the blue strip of paint was nowhere to be found. His jaw was but bits of itself now. He was completely mutilated, alongside Spinner’s broken and destroyed self.

To see this, it made Shaxx so distraught. What had happened to his dearest husband? His loving partner? The one person that always aided him away from his duties? He could hear himself sniffle already, but no breach of tears yet came… for he had another emotion to go through.

Anger.

And in his anger did he proceed to thrash around the room. Breaking things with his fists and using his Light to show his fury within. In each scream, in each shout, in each show of power enraged by his emotions, he vowed nothing but death to those that had done this to Max.

He always had control over his own self, but this? To see the one you loved most die and no longer having their beautiful features, all replaced by ruin… How could he not wreak havoc? Rampage over everything?

And in the wake of his destruction did he stop. He saw the impact of his fists, of his boots, of his helmet. The room was broken with the Light, of all three elements that it had. Solar for the helm that butted in excess. Void for the boots that left scars on the floor. Arc for the fists that shocked the lights abound.

But he could see as well that, in his anger, it had shaken the lifeless body of Max from its rest on the slab. He looked back there and rushed to bring him back to his comfort, even if he no longer could feel it. In trying to fix the cover back, in lifting it... Did he see something worse.

The bond clutched close to the core. To the heart. The bonds that Warlocks wore, each having their own symbolisms and meanings of their own. Though Shaxx already knew the one that Max wore. Always had so.

"Shaxx!"

His focus was shifted away from the screens in front of him to see his beloved come close to him. He turned to face the approaching Exo and gave him a quick kiss to the forehead with his own helm.

"Ah, here comes my dearest soldier... How I've missed you!" He gave him a strong hug, enveloping his arms around his waist and lifting him even to allow each other to see eye-to-eye.

"What have you been up to, my Guardian—" Shaxx noticed the flickering holographic symbol on his husband's left upper arm. "What's that I see there, Max?" He made himself sound curious, amused even.

"Oh! This my love, is a representation of my sentimentality. For you." He revealed the symbol of the Crucible to the Handler of the Crucible itself. "You do sometimes say that you are the Crucible itself, and this," He pointed to the hologram. "Represents you, for myself."

Shaxx smiled beneath his helmet, one of warmth and sincerity.

"Near or far, wherever my journeys and adventures take me... Knowing that I have you close means the most to me. Even through the troubling times and the peaceful moments I get, to know you here," He pointed once more to the bond before facing Shaxx with joy clarified through his optics. "Always reminds me of my loyalty, of my love, of my boundless affection for you."

In gradual progression, four things happened. First was Shaxx's realization of the past, of that memory of when he first saw Max wear the bond. He stumbled in his feet as the gravity of it affected him. Second was the helmet he lifted up, revealing the face beneath to no one but Max, and in that same face were an expression of sorrow and grief. Third was him kneeling close to the Exo's mangled face, and looking through the features left that he had practiced seeing over and over and over again.

And the last one was the kiss. He placed his lips on the forehead, just beside where the horn used to be. And he kept it in place, his eyes trying not to swell from the tears that were threatening to burst. The kiss was always done in secret, always in their own home, done in that comforting place they found together.

The Titan stayed there for a moment. Kissing and peppering the broken metal with his own affection, one that would last for longer than anything... Even past Max's death. He'd whisper what final secrets they had together, of everything good and of everything troubling that their relationship went through together.

After a few more minutes, he placed the cover once more over Max's body. He put the one-horned helmet on him once again, and trudged himself away from the room. He had duties to attend to...

And even with such responsibilities, he would always find himself distracted... Always distracted by the thought of the one thing he welcomed to distract him away from it.

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Cadmus' Harvest

I was tagged by @moriche, @saltymaplesyrup, and @dirty-bosmer, thank you friends!

I will tag @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, and @vivifriend

Still having a blast tormenting Galmar with second-hand embarrassment at how painfully awkward Ulfric is fresh off the Throat of the World.

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (pre-game) Rating: Explicit Category: M/M

Genre(s): Romance/Adventure/Coming of Age

Main pairing: Ulfric Stormcloak/Galmar Stone-Fist

Summary: Galmar Stone-Fist has joined the Imperial Legion to fight the Thalmor with his best friend, Rikke. However, on the first day of training, an awkward young Nord joins the cohort. At first, Galmar assumes the secretive man who will only call himself "Ulfric" will wash out quickly: he has never held a sword and is so pious he even annoys Fort Amol's priest of Stendarr. So why does Galmar find himself so invested in Ulfric's success?

==============================================

“What have you got there?”

“Late arrival, says he wants to join.”

The officer nodded, then jabbed his stick in between Galmar and the next recruit down the line, jabbing them both and moving them aside.

“Make room! Make room! You, shove over!”

The man who stepped into the empty space was...well, Galmar did not know what he was at first. A deep cowl hid his face and a long, loose tunic draped over his broad shoulders. His trews were threadbare and dishwater-gray: if they had once held any color, time and many washings had sent the dye away long ago. He was standing at something close to attention, except his hands were folded in front of him, hidden in his voluminous sleeves. The hem of the tunic hung to his knees, and the effect combined with the simple rope cinched around his waist made it look like a short dress, or something a priest would wear.

“Hood off, recruit!”

The man was a Nord. His blond hair was longer than any man in Windhelm would have allowed, and pulled into a loose tail by a leather thong at the back of his neck. His beard was almost farcical: the man was young enough that it was still growing in patches, but none of those patches looked like they had ever seen a blade. The effect was of someone very young trying to look like a sage and failing miserably.

“Name and age!”

“My name is Ulfric—” the man said in a soft voice, his grey eyes fixed on the patch of dirt in front of his boots. His mouth remained open and started to form more words, but he stopped and swallowed before continuing. “I’ve seen seventeen winters, master.”

A ripple of surprised laughter and a few guffaws ran through the line of recruits. Galmar stole a disbelieving look at Rikke, whose eyebrows were disappearing beneath the fringe of hair on her forhead. To her credit, she was not laughing but her lips were twitching.

The officer actually seemed speechless for a moment, but recovered quickly. “If you want to call anyone ‘master’ you need to join the Battlemages. In the real Legion you will address all superiors as ‘sir.’ Now how old are you?”

“Seventeen, s-sir,” Ulfric, to his credit, seemed unabashed by the reaction of the others to his bizarre behavior.

“Have you?” The officer jabbed the tip of the vine-staff beneath Ulfric’s chin, tipping it up, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “Alright, I could believe it. Show me your hands.”

“Yes, sir.” Ulfric removed his hands from his sleeves and offered them to the officer.

The officer was silent for a moment, then allowed Ulfric to drop his chin once again, and reached out and pressed his thumb to the side of the tip of Ulfric’s right middle finger. “Not every day I see one those. You can read and write?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cyrodiilic, or just Nord dialect?”

“I can read and write Cyrodiilic.”

“Have a clan name?”

“No, sir.”

Galmar, watching the scene from the corner of his eye, noted the way Ulfric’s chin dipped and his shoulders slumped when he answered.

He’s lying.

Not that it mattered one way or the other; the strange young man would probably wash out when he figured out that Legion training was much harder than whatever trouble he was fleeing back home.

The officer took another long, considering look at Ulfric, before moving on.

I wonder what mountain-side he rolled down to end up here, Galmar thought.

[kenobster]

Bribe me sempai

[link to original post for context]

bahahahhaha, be BRIBED:

The attacks after point rain swept Obi-Wan’s face, armor, robes in fine grains of Geonosian sand—sand that could come right off with a few good wipes, always leaving the cloth dirtier than the man.  In a desert, water is a luxury. Obi-Wan ensured that every active soldier on Geonosis received enough water for hydration as well as a nightly spongebath, and he and Cody were no exceptions. But it was always their eyes on the requisition requests, their eyes on the remaining supplies, their eyes on the casualty reports whenever the medics ran out of clean gauze and resorted to soil-stained cloth. For he and Cody, hydration and sponge baths were luxuries, too. They made a contest out of it—in using the fewest drops from their canteens to dampen the least dusty sections of their sleeves. Afterward, they sat together and took turns nursing the mud out of each other’s sweat-damp hair.  When the war is over, Cody once said, I think I’ll find the sandiest rock out there. Buy a couple of sandwraps and a good healthy dewback. Set up camp somewhere out there. In love with the weather that much, are you? Beats getting drenched in rain. Because that was Kamino—a desert of saltwater dunes as blue as the sweltering sky that Obi-Wan stands under now.  Tatooine sand isn’t like the sand of Geonosis. Sponge baths leave only crusty caked-up rings around the ankles, wrists, and neck. Hosing things down clogs up equipment with thick layers of mud. Even the atmosphere—heavy and dry—peels flakes of skin from hardened, calloused knuckles.  The sandiest rock in the galaxy, here, beneath his feet, and Obi-Wan wishes there’d been an ending to the war, purely so that his Commander could have seen it.

Thank you for the vote and the fun time!! XD

Note: I'll be doing the corresponding Obikin drabbles and the drabbles for other ships after the poll concludes.

[theinfinitedivides]

yk you've f*cked sh*t up when the regular gifmakers for this drama are so depressed they're not even making content for the beach kiss

[stardustloki]

Pirates don't get sick

When Jod falls seriously ill on their way to At Achrann, it's up to the kids to figure out how make him get better.

They could have done a worse job of it, all things considered.

-

Gen, Teen, No Archives Warnings

Characters: Jod, Neel, Wim, Fern, KB, SM-33

Hurt/Comfort, Angsty start, Fluff later on, Happy ending

Read it on ao3 here or under the cut.

-

Chapter 1 - Jod Na Nawood is not sick.

It had started as a slight tickle in the back of his throat, an annoyance easily ignored.

His head throbbed, but of course it did. They hadn’t exactly been kind to him before they’d thrown him in here to sit and stew on the sham trial that Brutus was sure to concoct. And, since then, they’d only remembered to grant him the occasional drink of water and even rarer portions of gruel. He’d probably feel less thirsty, and his head would probably ache less if he started drinking the water that dripped down the walls, but he wasn’t desperate enough for that. Not yet, anyway.

If there was a growing feeling of something clogging the back of his throat, a sensation that made him want to cough and hack, well, that could easily be attributed to the dank air, to the water oozing down the walls, the dampness that made him shiver in the rags they’d ‘gifted’ to him. And it could be pushed aside.

He pulled his cloak tighter around him and thought. He needed a plan. And it needed to be a good one. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, this might actually be it this time.

But Jod na Nawood wasn’t going out without a fight.

-

It was ignorable when he needed to impress the kids with his ‘Jedi’ powers.

-

It was ignorable when he had to go back for that karking droid.

-

It was… slightly less ignorable in the time that followed. When he had to suppress any coughing fits that threatened to erupt when he was around the ridiculous kids and their kriffed up droid.

-

It was almost impossible to pretend things were normal as they fled across Kh'ymm’s moon, back to their ship, as his lungs burned and he struggled to breathe normally.

He almost felt grateful that the kids’ tiny legs and lack of stamina meant that he couldn’t fall into the natural sprint of someone being pursued by the law.

His head spun and his knees threatened to collapse out from underneath him. But he thought he did a pretty good job at convincing them that his only problem was the threat to their lives. Still, if thinking hadn’t been starting to be like wading through a swamp, he probably would have done a better job convincing the kids that he totally was an undercover Jedi, and that actually, they didn’t need to know anything about his past at all. He certainly wouldn’t have agreed to work for them. The humiliation of it all!

Still, no one had figured out he was slightly sick. And that was the important part after all.

That was what he told himself as he collapsed onto the old captain’s bed, hacking into his sleeve as the dust billowed up into the air and irritated his lungs.

He just needed some rest. That was all. After he’d rested, everything would be fine. He would find that this was all a bad dream and he wasn’t stuck on a ship with the most ignorant children he’d ever met.

Just some rest.

Someone had probably gobbed in the gruel they’d fed him in the brig, he realised as he let exhaustion pull him under. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. It was common practice to spit in a prisoner’s food. Sensible. A time-honoured tradition.

Except now he was sick.

But that was fine. He’d be well enough in the morning. And even if he wasn’t he’d just push through like he always did. He’d be fine. He’d manage. And no one would have to be any the wiser.

So. They’d be at At Attin soon. Time to dream of a planet of unlimited treasure, of wealth beyond his wildest dreams.

And with that he fell into a troubled and fitful sleep.

His dreams were not of At Attin.

-

He awoke several hours later, with a gasp that quickly turned into a hacking cough that didn’t seem to stop.

When it finally did, and Jod lay back on the bed, head spinning, shivering despite the fact his clothes were drenched in sweat, all he could focus on - apart from his constant shivering - was how much he needed water.

He looked around him, gripping the sheets below him tightly to steady himself, pretty sure the room shouldn’t be moving in the way it was, but there didn’t seem to be anything drinkable around him.

Well, there was nothing for it. If Jod was anything, it was stubborn, and he was pretty sure he remembered where the kitchen area had been yesterday. All he’d have to do was to get there.

With gargantuan effort he hauled himself out of bed, only to find himself sprawled on the ground. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes to stop everything from spinning, he pushed himself upwards onto his knees and then into a crouch before taking halting, unsteady steps out of the room, gripping the wall with all his might.

It was agonisingly slow progress, as his head throbbed and his limbs shook, and he had to keep stopping to let out choking coughs. His stomach reeled and threatened to throw up the small portion of blue goo he’d eaten earlier, and he wondered if he even wanted water after all, if he’d be able to keep it down.

But no, he had to get it, he had to.

He had no other option.

As he made his way along the corridor, occasionally the floor came up to meet him. He wasn’t sure why it was doing that. It really shouldn’t be. And he had to waste time fighting against gravity and the way the walkway seemed to be rolling up in order to haul himself back onto his feet.

But again, the floor refused to cooperate and he landed hard on his arm, letting out a muffled curse as his head lolled against the grating. He could lie here for a little bit, couldn’t he? He could take a break.

His throat and lungs seemed to disagree as the urge to cough overwhelmed him again.

When he finally opened his eyes, looking upwards from where he lay sprawled on the floor, it was to see a giant blue object getting steadily closer. The image solidified itself into the kid with the long… nose, sliding from the right side of his vision to the left, before there was a click and it started again and again and again.

The kid - Neel? - said something. Jod couldn’t make it out.

He needed water, he needed his head to stop spinning, he needed to get up off the ground, he needed things to make sense, and most importantly, he needed to get away from here. No one could see he was sick, no one-

“Are you alright?” Neel asked again, bending closer, his giant eyes and trunk ominous. He needed him to go away. He reached out, trying to push him back with his mind, but nothing happened.

Kark.

“Just need water,” he managed to rasp out. 

There, problem solved.

“Sure,” Neel said, reaching closer, and before Jod could get away, patting him on the shoulder. “Stay there. I’ll go get you some.”

He watched - or tried to watch - the kid disappearing along the end of the corridor. He needed to move, he had to, he couldn’t just stay here out in the open. He managed to push himself to his hands and knees before his shaking limbs gave out again.

Then the footsteps came back. But there were more of them this time. More voices too. Shit.

“... you mean sick?”

Kriff it. Kark everything. He needed to move. He needed to move before they-

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was look blearily at the ceiling as it spun around on itself and shiver from the cold.

-

“What do you mean, sick?” Fern demanded, as Neel looked down at the glass of water, doing his best to keep up with her while not spilling any of it.

“I think he’s really ill,” Neel explained. “He was on the floor, and I don’t think he really knew what was going on.”

“Like a seizure?” KB asked quickly. Neel turned his head towards her, to see her face twisted up into a frown.

“I don’t think so…” he said. But then again, he wasn’t exactly sure what one of those was. “He was just all sweaty and gross, like he had a fever.”

They turned the corner to see Jod sprawled out on the floor, almost exactly where Neel had left him, but instead of lying on his front he was lying on his back, staring glassily at the ceiling.

“He looks terrible!” Wim exclaimed. Neel didn’t really think his friend should be sounding excited about that. He wasn’t really sure how to tell him this though, so instead he approached Jod with the water, before kneeling carefully down next to him and holding out the glass.

Jod stared blearily up at him.

“I got you some water.”

The not-jedi started coughing into his sleeve, awful hacking coughs that sounded really painful. His trunk curled in sympathy.

“Wha’s in it?” Neel didn’t think the man should be looking at him that suspiciously - he had only got him what he asked for.

“Water, like I said.”

Jod looked at him, very uncertain, before grimacing and pushing himself backwards, trying to sit up against the wall. KB and Wim went to help him, but he pushed their hands away. That wasn’t really nice of him, Neel thought, but he did have to admit that he wasn’t always the nicest when he was sick either.

Eventually, Jod managed to get himself sitting against the wall, and he made a tired gesture, indicating that Neel should pass the glass over.

Neel did.

Jod managed not to spill most of it down himself, but he did have to admit he’d seen people drink more successfully. He must be very, very sick. But he still hadn’t wanted Neel to help him steady the glass, and well, forcing Jod to accept his help wouldn’t have been kind, so Neel had respected this.

After he’d finished drinking he once again fell into a coughing fit.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wim asked.

“He’s sick,” Fern said authoritatively. 

“I’m not sick! Nothing wrong with me.”

Neel was pretty sure that his incredulous stare must mirror the others’.

“He’s so sick he doesn’t even know he’s sick.”

“We should put him back to bed,” KB said. “He can’t stay on the floor, it’ll make him worse.”

Neel looked down at him doubtfully. “I don’t think I can lift him, guys!”

“‘33,” Fern ordered. “Carry Jod back to his room.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” And with that, Neel stood back to allow the droid to pick him up.

It should have been simple. It should have solved all their problems. 

It didn’t.

When ‘33 grabbed him, pulling him to his feet (and Neel really thought that even though he was a pirate droid, he should have at least tried to be more gentle about it), Jod fought back. Not that struggling and squirming away could really be called fighting, but, considering how ill he was, it was clear he was doing his best.

‘33 just grabbed his shoulder tighter, and before Neel could protest that maybe that was hurting Jod and should stop, Jod mumbled something panicked about airlocks, as his hands feebly scrabbled against 33’s grip.

‘33 stopped, though he didn’t release his hold, and looked towards Fern with a tilt to his head that Neel thought looked hopeful.

“Captain Fern, permission to throw this one out the airlock?”

Neel’s mouth dropped open as Jod shook his head and struggled harder, and though he couldn’t really make out the words he was saying, there seemed to be a lot of ‘don’t’s that had a desperate edge to them. Surely ‘33 wasn’t being serious, surely the droid wasn’t actually as excited at the thought of throwing someone into the empty void of space as he’d just sounded!? That was - that was horrible! One of the most horrible things that he’d ever heard of, and that was even with all the horrible things that had happened over the last few days - including the guts of that live animal being put on his food at the pirate spaceport! His trunk twisted at the memory.

“Permission denied.”

He was pleased to see Fern glaring forcefully at ‘33, her arms folded. Not that he’d ever think she would say yes to that, but he was glad to see she was just as appalled by it as he was. Fern could be a little scary sometimes.

“But he’s-”

“But no.” Fern told him. “We need him. Pick him up carefully and take him back to his bed.”

The ‘aye, captain’ that followed sounded a tad disappointed. Jod still struggled against ‘33, despite Neel assuring him that they were only putting him back in his bed, but before long his head had slumped back as he fell asleep again.

Neel didn’t think that was a good sign.

When they arrived at Jod’s room, KB stared at the bed critically, her arms folded.

“He can’t sleep here, it’s too dusty and gross,” she said. “It’ll only make him worse.”

He could see her point - no one had done any cleaning here for years and years. 

“He can have my bed,” he offered, even though he wasn’t exactly sure he did want him sleeping there, with how horrible and ill he looked. Still, Wim probably wouldn’t mind if Neel shared his bed.

They trudged back through to their temporary room. It was a good decision, Neel thought as he surveyed his bed. It was much cleaner as it had been folded away into the wall these past years, and they��d found clean blankets in the cupboard. 

“Do we have any medicine on the ship?” Wim asked as Neel arranged even more blankets around Jod, and KB left to go refill his glass of water.

“Nah,” ‘33 said. “The cap’n always said, ‘who needs medicine when you have rum?’”

Wim, Fern and Neel looked at each other worriedly. This was not good.

“It’s gonna take us another eight hours to get to At Attin,” Fern said. “I don’t think he should wait that long.”

“Are there any planets we could stop off at along the way?” Wim asked ‘33.

Before he could reply Fern added. “ Republic planets, without any pirates on them.”

“Aye, there’ll be a couple,” ‘33 said begrudgingly.

Neel’s ears perked up at this.

Maybe Jod would be okay after all?

[sunshades]

Rereading your 1yr old gay writing and still nodding along like wow this is pretty good they should make more of this

[jedisandspacepirates]

Where My Demons Hide, Chapter II

Fern narrows her eyes slightly, pursing her lips. “Well, he probably had some self-interested reason for that. I still think he’s going to betray us at some point. You know, he’s–” Just then, whatever she is about to say is cut off by a sharp cry followed by the thud of something metal hitting the floor. Both girls jump. Even SM-33, returning from his task, pauses and looks in the direction of the sound. He swivels his head back around to the girls and peers at them with his one remaining headlight.    “Jedi being too noisy, Cap’n? I can shut ‘im up for you,” he offers.    “No!” KB blurts out, faster than she means to. Fern casts her a side glance. “I mean…I think he’s hurt. Maybe we could check on him? See if there’s anything we can do?”

Chapter 2 just dropped!