#brevity i know her not

[choccy-milky]

seb always has time for clora 🥰💕 ((from the newest chap of my fic! ao3 / wattpad))

[starryluminary]

If Noco were a canon couple’s stereotypes: The Arch Villain and The Queen Bee Schemer

[adickaboutspoons]

Oh boy. Okay. Here we go

A totes calm and measured response to this post over here by @themetabridge. Forgiveness for the whole new post. I had too much to say to fit into what Tumblr apparently thinks is an appropriate length for a re-blog.

First? I mean. Text just means the words and actions as they are said and shown in a given piece of media being analyzed. Which is what I’m here to do with my meta – textual analysis. That’s why I insist on textual support for any argument interpreting the media in question. Naked assertions do nothing to explain how you arrived at your conclusion. Vibes aren’t good enough. Show me what IN THE TEXT made you think what you think, and I will do you the courtesy of the same. Otherwise, I don’t see how we could possibly have much to say to one another.

The fundamental breakdown we are having is that you have failed to provide a textual basis for why you think Ed is a bad person. While I respect your assertion that a person’s essential goodness is predicated on the actions that they perform, I cannot respect the corollary supposition that there are actions that are either “good” or “bad” in a vacuum, as this completely ignores circumstance and motivation. WHY someone does something is AT LEAST as important as WHAT they did.

For example - Stede killed Ned Lowe in cold blood. Does it matter that he did it because Ned “shit-talked [his] friend and damaged [his] ship,” and “fucked Calypso’s birthday”? Does it matter that Ed, the person whom Ned’s shit-talk actually impacted, told Stede not to do it? Twice? Does it matter that Ned was a subdued enemy combatant, and as such could have just as easily been gagged like Hornberry and the overtly racist Wellington, who survived imprisonment and went on to watch Ed and Stede sign the Act of Grace? Do we compare Ned to the French Captain who got flayed for his racist rhetoric, though Ned’s comment was, strictly speaking, about Ed’s class rather than his race? How far are we going to go to disentangle class and race when one absolutely informs the other?

How about a more straight-forward example; Stede set an unnamed man on fire and quipped about it like some asshole 80's action hero. Does it matter that he threatened Stede’s life? How about if, when he did so, he was twenty feet away, armed only with the bottle he had just broken over his head, and there were half-a dozen pirates between him and Stede who all thought Stede was hot shit, and so Stede was in no immediate danger? What if Stede has a long history of people making attempts on his life, and being unsure that he even deserves to live, and this is meant to show that, now that he has something to live for, he’s done with the part of his life where he lets anyone try to take that away from him?

This is what I mean when I say that the show is careful to never outright condemn the use of violence. The narrative tells us clearly that, within the context of the show, some things are more important than an unnamed or one-off character’s life – preservation of one’s own life or the lives of one’s loved ones, dignity in the face of racially-based persecution, resistance to colonial oppressors. The reasons for and direction of violence matters. Context matters.

And speaking of context, you misunderstand me when you suppose that only what literally appears before our eyes counts can be “read into the text”. I refuse to give extra-textual sources of information (such as the historical reality of sergeant recruiters and being pressed into service or the historical Golden Age of Piracy) any weight unless they can be validated by in-text support, because the show itself cares fuck-all about historical accuracy. But extrapolations about the in-show universe based on in-text support are fine.

So, considering that the very first thing we hear in the show is Frenchie’s little ditty about the violent reality of a pirate’s life, and considering Jack’s comment at brekkie about how pirating is an "ugly profession”, and considering what we see of the raids in 1x5 and 2x2, we can reasonably conclude that pirate culture is steeped in toxic masculinity where the expectation of performing violence is de rigueur. Because Ed has carved out a successful reputation as Blackbeard, and because we see the ease with which he can go from being casually conversant with Stede to “giving it some oomph” to scare the location of the treasure out of the French captain in 1x5 with the THREAT of violence, we can reasonably conclude that he can successfully perform the required violent displays of piratical society (or at least, given that we know by his bathtub confession that he has not personally killed anyone since his father, he can adopt a convincing enough posturing that no one would doubt he COULD). From his interactions with Jack and familiarity with “yardies” and “whippies”, and his ruminations about “the old days” of “drinking all day and biting the heads off turtles or making some poor bloke eat his own toes for a laugh”, and Fang’s assertion that Ed made him kill his dog, we can reasonably assume that Ed has a history with casual violence for the sake of fun and cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

However.

I think “the old days” is an important qualifier there. Season 1 Izzy may be frustrated that Ed is not performing Blackbeard sufficiently well to suit him (on that point we can agree), but even by his own deathbed confession “for YEARS I egged [him] on, even though I knew [Ed] had outgrown [the Blackbeard persona]” (emphasis mine, and pin in that for a moment). In 2x1, Fang is crying into his cake saying “I’ve never seen Blackbeard like this” - indicating that the conditions of the Kraken era are NOT the norm. The slivers of Ed we see in 1x3 before the Spanish raid are marked by him speaking calmly and rationally to Izzy (in stark contradiction to Izzy’s insistence that he’s half-mad) never even raising his voice much less using threats or any actual violence to get Izzy to do what he wants. In fact, it is Izzy who suggests a course of action involving very normative piratical violence (“Do we open fire? Or would you rather we just attack them, kill them, throw them out to the sharks, sir?”), which Ed counters with a genteel proposition - inviting (not even ordering!) Stede aboard for a face-to-face meeting. Izzy being comfortable enough to push back against orders (“Oh, Edward, can’t I just send the boys?”) even suggests that he feels no threat from Ed at all. Every indication is that by the time we meet Ed, well before he ever meets Stede, he’s already well past done with violence for violence sake.

When Ed does meet with Stede, before he’d fallen in love (Even though the are the U-Hauliest, I would argue “fascination” with a possible side of “infatuation”, but certainly not yet love), one of the early conversations they have is about the depiction of Blackbeard in Stede’s book of pirates. Ed expresses revulsion and anger that the persona that he’s worked so hard to cultivate has been twisted into a hyper-violent parody - a “Vampire Viking Clown” that’s barely even human, with a head of smoke and overladen with weapons and hardly bears any resemblance to the real man. We’re meant to understand that this is not a valid or accurate representation of who he is. Violence is a normative part of pirate life, but he has “one knife, and one gun JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE” (emphasis mine, again) - he doesn’t shirk from using the tools of violence when it’s necessary, but he is NOT excessively or wantonly violent. 

And we SEE the evidence of this because of how Stede reacts to the way Ed acts around Jack. Jack keeps Ed drunk all day, decoupling his inhibitions from his decision-making processes and, in spite of Ed explicitly saying that he’s mellowed out, Jack eggs him into the kind of hyper-violent Jackassery that is excessive even for pirate society if the nervous reactions of Stede’s crew are any indication. Of course, this is all part of Jack’s plan - to manipulate both Ed and Stede and force them apart - and the reason that it works is because the way Ed acts around Jack is NOT the way he chooses to act under his own volition, hence Stede’s frustration and disappointment.

While I agree that piratical violence is not political praxis, I would argue that, considering that every raid we have witnessed Ed participate in has been against a representative of colonial power and, more often than not, specifically the enforcing arm thereof, it’s not unfair to conclude that Ed’s reasoning goes that if piratical violence is to be done, better against someone who deserves it than not - i.e. those who perpetuate the violence of colonialism. Regarding instances of violence outside the context of raids, here’s where we take that pin out of Izzy. Izzy and Ed are locked in a cycle of abuse over the first season, wherein Izzy decides that Ed is not Blackbearding hard enough, and, because he feels entitled to controlling Ed’s actions, bullies and harasses him into capitulating  - typically in the form of performing violence. Afterwards, Izzy performs some form of deference - apologizing and/or acting as though he’s going to leave, which Ed “talks him down from” and mercifully allows him to stay. It’s why, when Ed sees Izzy packing up a dinghy (lol. With what? It’s not like he’s on his own ship or would have brought his things with him, or sacked plunder from the Revenge. Clearly he was just stalling until Ed noticed him and swooped in to do his part of the cycle) he tells Stede he “should deal with this,” as though it’s tedious, but normal occurrence. I think an important part of this cycle as the season progresses, though, is how Izzy keeps upping the stakes.

So by the time we get to the end of the season, when the last iteration of the cycle starts up again (when Ed is once more insufficiently Blackbearding by being emotionally vulnerable and open with the crew following his return to the Revenge and his stint in the pillow fort (note that Izzy is apparently FINE with Ed not being Peak Pirate, just as long as he hides it away from everyone), and Izzy once more bullies and threatens Ed) this time it is especially cruel - Izzy is a thumb in the wound, attacking Ed at his most vulnerable and saying it would be better if Ed was DEAD than “pining for his boyfriend.” This iteration now also brings with it a history of escalation (first in Izzy bringing Fang and Ivan in to force Ed's hand about killing Stede, lest he look "weakened by the love of a pet" before his crew, and therefore in danger of mutiny, and then by bringing in the British Navy to force Ed to take Izzy back - or rather, to force Izzy back into Ed's life because the terms of the agreement see Ed remanded into Izzy's custody as though he is property to be distributed at the will of the Brits) - an established pattern of the lengths to which Izzy will go to get what he wants, and so a very real threat implicit in Izzy’s warning that “Ed had better watch his step” as Izzy serves only Blackbeard. So Ed gives him what he wants. He Blackbeards it up just like Izzy insisted, and lets Izzy know in no uncertain terms that the insubordination is done. It’s not a "frat boy prank" when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him, or even something from which he's deriving pleasure as he might have in the old days; it’s a calculated, proportional response, done under duress and against his own inclinations, but exactly the tool required to get the message across clearly.

As to the question of why it matters if Ed is bad, first and foremost, because saying that he is bad requires you to explicitly read contrary to the text. If you’re not going to engage with the text on its own terms, I don’t see how you can do any analysis of what story it’s trying to tell. I already discussed the ways in which the narrative is specifically about how Ed is NOT bad, even when he himself thinks he is. I have also discussed how, while “violence is never the answer” may be broadly understood to be the correct way of comporting oneself in real life, the show never condemns violence across the board. The show condemns cruelty, both on an interpersonal and societal level, but positions the use of violence as an acceptable and reasonable response thereunto. It treats circumstance and motivation with nuance and weight. Living within this context, Ed’s use of violence by the time we meet him is well within the normative acceptable application thereof. Judging him by standards outside the context of the story within which he exists makes as much sense as judging the Stede from the show for being a slave owner because that’s historical fact - that’s just not applicable to who he is in THIS story.

But more importantly, it matters because Ed is a POC character. Describing him as “cruel and perverse” for utilizing violence, particularly when the violence he uses is NOT excessive or impulsive, perpetuates negative race-based stereotypes about hyper-violent men of color. Characterizing him as “bad” for his use of violence when other (white) characters, such as Stede, use violence in similar ways, or are cruel or petty, but can still be considered, on balance, “good” means that Ed is being held to a different, higher standard than those white characters, and perpetuates the frankly racist criteria of expecting POC exceptionalism for POCs to be considered for the base-line assumptions of acceptability that are afforded to their white counterparts. Saying that Stede’s love is what changed Ed’s behavior from cruelty to wholesale abandoning piratical principles is not only antithetical to what actually happens in the show, but suggests a read that POC Ed needs a good white man to show him how to behave, a real white knight to tame his savage heart. That’s some real White Man’s Burden shit there, bro. I highly recommend you put it down.

[flowers-of-tenebrae]

Random DotF musings pt. 1

(spoilers for the whole book)

A Savior Lost - Ardyn:

So I uh totally forgot there was an "animated prologue" to Ep Ardyn. I did watch it...back in 2019. That means between Episode Ardyn, the animated prologue and DotF, his story has been told thrice in three different forms. Huh. (Well it's par the course for FFXV tbh)

It starts off rough tbh, but I like how the author reminds us of Noct's "shaggy hair and wayward nature" in the opening paragraph. Then you realise it's set in chapter 13 so any slight amusement - at Noct's expense - becomes 😭

I've had DA brainrot, so the justice (Somnus) vs. vengeance (Ardyn) themes stood out. In executing his ideals of justice and governance, Somnus corrupts Ardyn's purpose (his calling) and leads him on the path of vengeance... Culminating in Ardyn doing unto Noctis/Somnus what Somnus did him: 1) Somnus slaying Aera before Ardyn vs. Ardyn stabbing Luna in Altissia, and ofc 2) Ardyn vowing to destroy Somnus' entire legacy and lineage (through Noctis), much like how Ardyn's past as the "savior healer and future king" was demolished/buried and how his wondrous future (as king with Aera by his side) was cut short. This all seems v obvious, but it sounds cool to me when framed with DA's concepts of spirits vs demons - i.e. "if you see them as a demon, they'll become demons and reflect your expectations back at you".

Also obv Jesus/Judas parallels

The last line goes hard ✍️🔥🔥🔥

Now, the train has clearly steered off the rails of canon and into new territory

Not a fan of them casting Bahamut as the big bad antagonist (so cliché). Like the way his speech (as an Astral) is formatted though

It's easier for me to accept the Noctis/Somnus and Luna/Aera parallels in 2024 than it was back in 2019. But even more important than those are the Ardyn/Luna parallels, which we can see taking shape in this part.

Verdict: A slog to read, denser than expected, less exciting bc I've experienced Ep Ardyn - and the animated prologue. Certain parts felt more like reading a "dry impassive timeline" than a story. (I still question Aera's judgement in telling Somnus.) But this chapter does set the stage, so I can see why they still included it. And it's worth re-treading for that last scene alone.

The Beginning of the End - Aranea:

There's anti-food promotion for once, too much of it really. (Ew stale popcorn)

We learn a little bit of Niflheim's past state and its decline. Cool

Omg mentions of Aranea's parents!? Do we know more about her parents than Iggy's?? 😂

Wow they have an aerial safety net system in Gralea (for dragoons...?) Also, Gralea 🔄 Garlean empire - yeah the ff devs weren't subtle (it's a FFXIV ref)

Aranea's penchant for nicknames strikes again -> Tiny = Diamond Weapon

I liked seeing more of Aranea's dynamic with Biggs and Wedge and learning a bit about the latter two. Not as much Aranea + Sol in this ch as I'd expected, but that's okay for now.

While not quite as impressive as [ME2 spoiler] Miranda giving her resignation to the Illusive Man, Aranea going "I really can't stand you" to Ardyn, winking, then diving off the edge of Zegnautus Keep is still pretty awesome

The ffxv devs keep trying to make me care about Loqi but it's never worked

BONUS: FFVI ref spotted! (dancing mad) + minor Tenebrae lore drop (they were a tourist trap /jk)

Verdict: Some parts were repetitive ngl BUT this was more engaging than the prev ch bc 1) it's new content, 2) ARANEA!! - however the action scenes would've been more exciting to play through vs. reading. I'm going to sound like a broken record here; I feel robbed we didn't get to play as her (DRG ladies ftw) and see her wink on screen 🥲

[cicerfics]

Tried to do a cheeky little oneshot for 007 Fest Week 3, and it's 10k and still undergoing edits.

Tried to do a cheeky little oneshot for 007 Fest Week 4, and it's 5k and still getting proofread.

Prayer circle I can wrap both of these up by Monday at the latest. 😭

[wellcollapse]

🎁 <3

hi spence!! here's some eddie & chris from blue skies for you:

Due to the last-minute nature of their trip, Eddie had only been able to find a flight that departed at six in the morning on Saturday. Chris had initially grumbled about missing out on his weekend plans with his friends, but Eddie knows he was secretly thrilled, spending the entire Uber ride to the airport chattering on to the driver about all of the stories he was going to tell his Abuela once they got there.  Despite his excitement, though, Chris nods off on Eddie’s shoulder halfway through the flight, and Eddie has to blink back the tears that threaten to overwhelm him at the sight of his son, exhausted and happy and loved.  One would think Eddie would be used to this kind of thing by now, having been Chris’s father for twelve years, but once in a while he still has to stop and take a moment, completely in awe of the boy he raised. Eddie wonders if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of having this kind of earth-shattering love for someone; before Chris was born, he didn’t even know he had the capacity to love any one person this much, and over a decade later, it still makes him feel like he’s just been bowled over. 

send me a 🎁 and i'll write five sentences!

[emilyjunk]

iconic milestone, made possible by diet dr pepper and tears

[spaceratprodigy]

could i bother u for more thoughts on faith and max in a mock apple orchard 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

@gayafsatan — I would absolutely LOVE to brainstorm some fun ideas of them in a mock apple orchard!!

I've been replaying again so they've been rotating around in my mind a lot extra hard and was especially thinking about mock apple picking bc the botanical labs also has a lil orchard where you can pick mock apples up off the ground! But I'm currently in Roseway so oughhh.. ideas....

I want you now I am going to ramble a LOT so please bear with me I swearsies it'll be more fun if we get the full lore dump from my brain 😩💖💕

–

👇 ROSEWAY THOUGHTS 👇

(I AM GOING TO TALK ABT ROSEWAY THOUGHTS AS A WHOLE AND THEN EASE INTO SOME SILLY MOCK APPLE ORCHARD IDEAS AT THE END OKAY. OKAY ILY THANK YOU).

–

My thoughts are very chaotic and rambly so let me try to walk though my ideas lmao

Roseway is typically where I peg Faith's death wish arc happening, and to summarize what all that entails, it's when the mask slips and the weight of everything finally hits her in full force.

I always envision this story happening over a long period of time so a lot of time has passed since first arriving at Edgewater and the Groundbreaker.

Halcyon. Her situation. Her identity. The life Phineas threw her into abruptly and his expectations for her. Making split second moral decisions where no matter what someone is going to get hurt. Being so alien and alone, no one to understand her or believe in her predicament but having to be the mysterious competent captain regardless.

It finally gets to her. Bad. And she makes some self destructive decisions. She gets sloppy, careless, hoping someone else will end this nightmare for her. Until they almost do.

I am swiftly brushing past many details so we don't get too lost in the sauce. But Max went after her, found her collapsed and injured bad, carried her back to the ship for Ellie to do whatever she could, and then stayed by her side for as long as it took for her to wake up.

This is such a key moment for them getting closer. Because there was a lot of frustration and emotion and being forced to confront the possibility of feelings existing, but nothing they fully understand or are ready to acknowledge as such yet.

She tries to brush past the subject of what happened, deflecting everything until he raises his voice in a way he hasn't since she gave him the journal and she threatened he never talk like that to her again. And it was enough to break through her facade, for her to show just how utterly broken and vulnerable she is, and they have a proper fucking conversation about where she's at mentally. He still isn't ready for the truth about her life before. But it's a step forward.

There is a lot of patience and understanding and just. Yeah. A lot happens here. Some walls come down. There grows some room for them to become softer and closer over more time.

All of this is important because a short piece I had written a long time ago took place in this area roughly after this incident.

It was a personal outlet vent piece, I will be honest. When I wrote it it was after I had a very bad panic attack after an awful scare. And I wrote it into Faith because I just wanted to get some feelings from that experience out of my system.

The shortened version of that one is Faith recovering from a bad episode, trying to calm her breathing, waiting for her ears to stop ringing and for her vision to come back. Her legs gave out on her and she was sitting under the mock apple trees. Her voice locks up on her when she's seriously distressed. Yadda yadda yadda, Max had brought along his datapad so she could communicate anything important and she was incredibly confused because she knows he doesn't like using his datapad ever and then rendered even more speechless to know he brought it specifically for her in case something like this were to happen again. It ends with her just asking if he would keep talking to her, and they sit there under the mock apple trees for a while, in no particular rush to get anywhere.

And after this point, I think the mock apple orchards become a really peaceful, therapeutic spot for her when she just wants a moment to herself. Sits there, breathes, takes in the Roseway scenery and collects herself before jumping back into the horrors of Halcyon. Spends some time picking mock apples to take back to the ship.

I've been having a lot of ideas of her asking Max to go with her. I'm of the mind if she'd ask directly that he'd either decline, or at least pretend to be uninterested but she's the one who asked so he accepts the offer.

But I can see her being vague and just saying that she's heading out if he'd join her and she leads him to the orchards. By this point they're already often in each other's company, she indulges his interests often, letting him be the one who is finally listened to. But in general, they get along very well in conversation when it comes to a handful of similar interests and their personalities and attitudes bounce off of each other well.

(In my story anyway, since she spends an extended amount of time in Edgewater and the Vale, there was also a lot of time spent doing some early bonding with Max. So do with that info what you will. They're not likeee besties yet but they're much more than strangers by this point, ya'know? Just to get an idea of where their familiarity with each other is at and why there's enough respect and trust to some extent already existing. Not to mention how much time they had spent on the Groundbreaker).

They'd be having such a peaceful time away from the rest of the crew.

Oughhh hear me out, okay, Faith loves to bake. She doesn't even ask, she just makes Max hold her bag open while she starts collecting mock apples and after they finally head back to the ship she figures out how to make mock apple pie for the crew 😭 we already know Max doesn't care much for sweets (I wonder how sweet or tart a mock apple pie would be.. Faith girl what all Halcyon ingredients are you adding to that bad boy) but.. what if.... After everyone goes to bed...... He tries some anyway........ Because she made it..........

Most of what's bouncing around in my brain is them early on having wholesome bonding time in a spot just for the two of them. Just enjoying each other's company. Realizing they have genuine respect for each other, Faith feeling like she found a genuine friend who went to lengths further than anyone had in her entire life to make sure she survived. I am specifying Faith's feelings here intentionally. I write Max in a more complicated spot very blinded by his revenge scheme more or less unaware for a long while just how much the lines start blurring between his faith and his Faith. To put it succinctly. (Look I know I'm always drawing The Good Stuff™️ but in actuality their relationship is suchhhh a slow burn. They are not the most romantically inclined people lmao).

But also.. once she realizes she can talk to him when she needs to. I think coming back to this spot, off the ship, away from the crew, she just likes it there. She likes being there with him. She finds comfort in that spot.

OKAY BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE WOULD BE CUTE.... they should come back here.. post-scylla and post-gorgon...... Ya'know......... The first being when they establish not wanting to be apart and the second being when they want to make that partnership a permanent one......... ASKING HER IN THE MOCK APPLE ORCHARDS WOULDN'T THAT BE DARLING ough okay I need a minute my brain is going too fast to comprehend

My Roseway ideas aren't the most cleaned up I know BUT so many important bonding moments exist and oughhhh LOOSE IDEAS ARE STILL WORTH TALKING ABOUT OKAYYYYY

I just want them to go mock apple picking together and learn how to get smiles out of each other and not understand why it makes their chests hurt but they know they need to do it again

ACTUALLYYYYY post-scylla when he's much more mellowed out and they're the closest they've been I think would be so so nice. they'd be so much softer and he'd probably be so much more involved in wanting to enjoy silly lil activities with her.....

Currently imagining him reading out loud to her, all the conversations they'd have, maybe he brings his tossball cards to show her, maybe they bring one of the lil games, have a lil makeshift picnic....

Godddd the transition between just how much enthusiasm he shows spending time with her is enough to make me explode. Can you see my vision. The reluctance, to the hesitancy, to becoming absolutely inseparable.

I HAVE A LOT TO THINK ABOUT BUT I'M GETTING SLEEPY SO SENDING IT!!!!!!

Literally feel free to add on or share your own thoughts I'm begging you lmao I promise there is so much room for ideas to be fleshed out and better put together, I'm mostly just spitballing what all I think would be incredibly fun ideas to work with. Plus I'm kind of thinking across the timeline and how much their relationship would change between each visit. And how over time they would enjoy it more and more and make each visit more special than the last.

WAIT BEFORE I LOSE THE THOUGHT!! They make a stop RIGHT BEFORE HEADING TO SCYLLA TO GO TO THE HERMIT'S LODGE!! Oh that could hurt so good omgggg. Okay okay I need to stop now I NEED TO STOP.

[thatiranianphantom]

i love you, i adore you (i lay my life before you)

Always. Forever. (The first ten years of Nancy and Ace's forever)

Read on AO3 here.

[aeolianblues]

I’m a Strokes fan in the way only someone who hates the Strokes can be

[gingerbreadmonsters]

IT'S MY BABY!!! hello pretty rae!! 🤩🤩 hehe i lob u too - and while i may not be be able to reciprocate in chibi form, i'm sure i can cobble something together for you that might do the job 💕💕💕

chibi rae beloved

or: sometimes, you just have to commit felonies after midnight.

gn!reader, no content warnings, squishy fluffy stuff because i say so. it's 2am and i should not be awake.... and yet...... this entire formatting is a total farce and entirely for the sake of the bit, but whatever - you know what i mean. everything i do is for rae @sri-rachaa <3 vincent doing some early christmas shopping in just over 500 words.

"Did you miss me, lovely?" 

A familiar arm wraps around your waist from behind, warm and strong, trapping you against the pleased-sounding vampire who's just come up behind you. Moving the pan off the stove (you know Vincent well enough that he'll probably keep you distracted long enough to burn, and you really don't need that today), you lean back against him, closing your eyes as he kisses your temple.

"Mmm, I don't know,"  you say through your smile, head falling back against his shoulder. His jacket is cold and faintly damp against your skin, but he's warm - he must have just come in from outside. "Did I?"

You can hear him pouting, even with your eyes closed. "You should have!" His hand sneaks under your shirt, thumb smoothing gently over the skin, and it's not the cold that makes you shiver slightly. "I'll have you know that I've brought you back Christmas presents, thank you very much."

"Spoiling the surprise? I'm disappointed, Mr Solaire," you tease. It's always fun to push his buttons a little bit. Or a lot. It depends. "Going to put them under the tree or what?"

"Well…"

You turn slightly to look up at him, and you're met with that mischievous grin you know so well. Oh, god, what's he planning now? And, now that you think about it, where's his other h-

"I wouldn't say that's really the right place to put it."

Oh.

His other hand - so that's why he was only holding you with one arm! - sneaks out from behind his back, stopping just over both of your heads with a graceful flick. Of course. A delicate bundle of mistletoe, and you're suddenly very grateful that you turned the stove off. Ooh, you must be on the nice list this year.

"So? What do you think, lovely?" He tugs gently at your hip, turning you to face him, sighing happily as your hands slide up his chest to rest over his shoulders. "Do you like it?"

Dork. "I'm not sure…" Oh, it is fun to wind him up a bit. "I can't really tell what it's for. What do you do with it?"

He takes the bait, of course, and the game is wonderfully familiar. "How about I show you?"

"Sounds like a plan - mmf!" He must have got tired of waiting, arm pulling you even closer as he leans down to kiss you. It's a bit tricky at first, getting the angle right, but you know what Vincent always says. He's very good at finding the best angles.

His lips are slightly chapped from the cold, but you've never minded. He hums quietly against you, tongue brushing gently over your bottom lip, and shifts his weight slightly as you press up harder against him.

"Lovely - mmm - baby, can I-" He's breathless against you, neither of you willing to break away properly while he speaks, and he "Can I put this down now and kiss you properly? My arm's going numb."

Like you need convincing. Once you nod, he wastes no time - a forgotten bundle of mistletoe hits the floor, and as he dips you backwards to kiss down your neck, you get the feeling that you're going to get a lot of use out of this particular Christmas present.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[onyxsboxes]

I just learned that you can't add more than 30 tags to a post 🥺

Where am I going to put my silly little thoughts now?

[hekateinhell]

Hi! Why do you think Armand never believed Daniel loved him? And did some part of Daniel believe Armand loved him? What do you think they would have needed to feel loved? Or was it a lost cause?

Hi! ❤️

So right out the gate with this one, huh?

I don't think Armand or Daniel thought that the other didn't love them per se. It was more an issue of questioning the depths and/or motives behind that love.

Armand would've easily been able to read mortal Daniel's thoughts and know what he felt (even when Daniel didn't realize it himself). And remember that Armand hasn't been in a relationship with a human since he himself was human (or ever had a proper relationship at all, really).

At this point (from Armand's POV), he's used to being rejected (Lestat), abandoned (Marius), and discarded (Louis). There's nothing in his history that indicates his relationship with Daniel can endure, that Daniel would choose to stay with him once he's been given what he wants from Armand over everything else. Furthermore, Armand has no frame of reference (that we're told of) for a functional, loving maker/fledgling relationship.

He has so much trauma with and from his own maker to work through, and all he's seen from Lestat's fledglings is that they've come to hate him, abandon him, and even try to kill him.

And from Daniel's perspective, it's more like, "How can you say you love me if you're willing to watch me die?" He doesn't have any knowledge of Armand's history at this point to understand why he's so utterly resistant to the idea. All Daniel knows about Armand's past is what Louis told him in the interview, and I think these two passages would've stood out to him in particular:

“‘Love?’ I asked. ‘There was love between you and the vampire who made you?’ I leaned forward. “‘Yes,’ he [Armand] said. ‘A love so strong he couldn’t allow me to grow old and die. [...]’”

It is for you [Louis] that I’ve been waiting at the Théâtre des Vampires. If I knew a mortal of that sensitivity, that pain, that focus, I would make him a vampire in an instant. But such can rarely be done.

Whether or not Armand meant what he said when he said these things to Louis, it must have been such a painful struggle for Daniel to reconcile that knowledge with all the worldly goods and expressions of love Armand bestowed upon him. QotD says they never discussed the contents of IWTV, so I have to wonder whether this ever came up, because how could it not?

I think Armand turning Daniel was what proved to Daniel that Armand truly did love him as much as he professed to. But already, as soon as he's lost that mental link, Armand starts questioning him:

"I love you," Daniel said. "Are you certain?" Armand answered.

Armand can no longer be certain; he has to take Daniel at his word, and doing so puts him in an extremely vulnerable position.

Even in the beautiful image of the garden he projects for Daniel during his turning, Armand still depicts himself in it being dressed as the ruthless, dusty, forgotten coven master. Which I think illustrates everything we need to know about Armand's sense of self-worth here. He sees himself being the person he was at the worst period of his life, and he can't accept that Daniel would come to see him any differently.

In my opinion, The Story of Daniel & Armand, Part One couldn't have ended any differently. Armand needed to be able to heal first and to prove to himself that he was capable of breaking the cycle of failed relationships (which he did with Louis, and I also think seeing Louis work to mend his relationship with his own maker helped drive the point home as well).

They did live happily ever after, so we have that at least?

[gourmet-trash]

Ok I really like your hobrinthian fics and they really give me what I've been dying for- casual sweet slice of life shots. So tysm writing <3 what's your headcanon for how they all got together if you have one?

AH! thank you so much!! it thrills me to absolutely no end that other people enjoy the silly, easy little stories i've been throwing together. they've been a lot of fun to write!

and great question! i don't think i'm hard set on any specific head canon (currently, i make most of this shit up as i go lol) on how they came together for the walker siblings + chaos boyfriends series. BUT. having said that. i will also say that the "corinthian suggests stabbing hob to help rose with her homework" bit was a very direct mental spin off from a serial killer walks into a bar lol. very "what if my man chilled out a LITTLE BIT and got to do some stabbing and everyone was cool with it actually?"

so there's definitely a chance that that i am, without realizing it, writing the very beginning of this threesome-to-be and the fucking slice of life sequels to it lol. like...okay, so hear me out:

let's assume somewhere in the aftermath of a serial killer walks into a bar (which may have some writing for it already, maybe maybe), hob and the corinthian actually do become something. what is that thing? who fucking knows, cause corinthian isn't gonna put a name on it. but a something. enough of a something that somewhere along the course of the show's canon, corinthian maybe kinda sorta starts to...second guess some decisions.

don't get me wrong, he is still suckin and stabbin his way through whatever the hell he has going on, and he definitely isn't second guessing those decisions. but what started off as a plan to get the vortex and use her to deal with his very complicated god-daddy issues is now...tainted. he's used to blood stains, right? knows how to get them, what they mean, how to clean them off. but this thing with gadling is like fucking ink. the spread and smear is similar, but he can't pinpoint the source, and it runs darker, stains longer. it lingers in a way he isn't used to, eats under his skin and settles like a tattoo over the violence. giving it outlines and borders and structure. a new frame of reference, if you will.

so when he gets to jed, he was always going to be a little soft for the kid. recognize a little too much of himself, project a little too hard. but with the stain of gadling on him, he's got a better frame of reference for tenderness and affection. not a great one, mind, but better. he's also gotten a more up close and personal taste of possessive, and it's obviously different with the kid, but gadling left ink behind on him, in him, and he's stamping, imprinting more easily on the little human he finds, shockingly, that he gives a shit about.

but, you know, he also has shit to do, and while he's second guessing some things, he isn't gonna just stop. so he maybe alters the plan. just a little. makes a call he doesn't expect to make and asks for....help is a sour word, so he wouldn't use it, but a favor. a big favor. the 'i wouldn't ask if i had any other choice' kinda favor.

and gadling, who is too fucking much at any given time, would agree. because his friend (more than? something, something) asked, sounds sincere and maybe a little, poorly hidden desperate. so corinthian still makes stupid fucking choices and still takes a child to a serial killer convention. but he also gets gadling to fly all the way out to meet them there, because it's suddenly overwhelmingly important that corinthian has a backup plan for bright eyed, desperate-for-affection-and-safety jed.

and rose is important to jed, which means rose is now important to corinthian too. and sure there's a lot to gain here, but there are stains now - fucking empathy and sincerity and he can't scrub it off, not entirely - so he'll be fucking damned if he's going to stand back and just let anything happen to her. kills several people along the way to keep them both safe, because fuck kids are a handful. and he still doesn't have the details of whatever the fuck there is between dream and gadling, but there is something, and he needs a trump card, if not to pull for himself to shake out with the rest of the chips when it's all over.

so when dream and corinthian are finally having their head to head and when corinthian is on the cusp of being entirely undone, and of course he doesn't fucking want that to happen, but at this point maybe it should? the flaws are running deeper than dream knows. all the stress cracks left behind from his creation are now full of fucking ink like so much gold in kintsugi.

and that's probably about the time hob walks in and is like "the fuck is all this???? i ran into the kids in the lobby and got them somewhere safe but-- DREAM? IS THAT YOU? do you know each other?????" and an awful lot of yelling and chastising follows, because "what do you MEAN you made him??? no you can't UNMAKE people for making bad decisions, what the fuck? and YOU! YOU'RE A NIGHTMARE AND A SERIAL KILLER? when were you gonna tell me that, huh!? how many more times were we going to fuck before that came up? oh, i'm sorry mr. i-only-gave-you-my-name-finally-last-bloody-week, you don't get to have an opinion on my sex life now!"

and then some truly outrageous negotiations and bickering follow, which coincidentally go on long enough for our main bitch lucienne to crack the code on unity and when the dust finally settles on all that, there's a weird, unsteady foundation they can spend some time smoothing out.

......okay so turns i DO have a headcanon for how they got together! i am so fucking sorry anon, this got away from me.

[palfriendpatine66]

Tell about a time, a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

Because I am quite sure this is something you have tried.

For the most part my plans are loose and I feel like the characters are leading me where the story should go, so in a way this happens a lot but I just go with it.

That being said: my initial thought for the vibe of Can’t Buy Me Love Obi-Wan was that he was going to be pretty mean, and Anakin was going to be Into That.

And then as I first started writing I was like hmm I think they’re both assholes, and that’s why this works. Assholes still deserve to be in love, and you know what? It’s not going to ‘fix them’ and I like that. They can be assholes in love.

But then I wrote more and they both said nah, we’re both playing up our asshole tendencies as defense mechanisms for all the shit we’re going through. Because apparently I can’t stay away from Infinite Sadness Obi-Wan especially.

Oh also me and Criminal Minds Obi-Wan have been fighting basically from the start: he keeps trying to be manipulative even though I really want to avoid the vibe of him grooming Anakin to be his little murder apprentice (I wanted that to be 100% coming from Anakin and Anakin alone)

[notasapleasure]

A belated birthday present for @r0b0tb0y in gratitude for his encouragement of all things Brasso/Brassian/Joplin Sibtain. I hope you enjoy this! Riffing on the idea of Brasso’s fear of flying, but it’s really just a bundle of loose headcanons wrapped in a trenchcoat pretending to have plot :’)

I’m picturing 2008-era Diego (Sólo Quiero Caminar) and 2003-era Joplin (hair and all. See the Grease Monkeys recap I’ll post immanently that’s been haunting my imagination).

Escape velocity

Cassian is working his way through the crowds at Cavo's. Squeezing those skinny hips between tight-packed tables and dropping a friendly hand on the shoulders of those sitting at them. He smiles, he makes small talk, he buys drinks for a select few marks from the serving droid as it passes. He's coming this way.

Brasso chews his lip and contemplates his own cup of fortified ale. He acts like he's unaware of Cass's approach, like he doesn't expect at least one of the off-worlders Cass has brushed past to exclaim suddenly about their missing credits. Like he's never seen Cass schmooze his way through the bar for advances on his schemes before.

Cassian sidles up to him and leans his elbows next to Brasso's on the bar. He eyes him and his smirk grows, and he shakes his head as Brasso resolutely keeps his eyes on his drink.

"I'm not lending you any money..." Brasso tells him, raising the cup.

Cass looks pleased. Brasso can tell, even from the corner of his eye. He orders two more drinks and slides one over.

"I don't want you to," Cassian says cryptically, and takes a mouthful of his own drink.

Brasso looks at him, maintaining a stony, neutral expression in case anyone in the bar is looking to see who Cass is conspiring with now. "Oh? Come to whisk me away on a holiday for two with all your earnings, then?"

Cass snorts and runs his thumb and forefinger over the wispy moustache he's been growing. He's trying to appear less baby-faced, but Brasso can still see the softness of his cheeks beneath the thin cover. "Sure, actually," Cassian cocks an eyebrow and meets Brasso's skepticism with a look that would turn most knees liquid.  "That's just what it is."

Brasso's eyes narrow. There's no way he's going to rush into a trap like that, no matter how prettily Cass has arranged it. He finishes his drink and studies the one Cass bought him, taking it in his hand but not lifting it to his mouth.

"It's gonna be great," Cass sidles along the bar, touching their elbows together and leaning in as though he's sharing a secret. So much for Brasso's hopes of not looking conspiratorial. "Just you and me. A short break to the seaside. A bit of exercise on the beach. And we'll be back for the first ringing-in of the work week."

Brasso has to take a drink to give himself time to parse this. Cass smiles, like his doing so has sealed the deal.

"What?" Brasso concedes the question, turning to Cass and meeting his keenly assessing expression.

Cass can smile in a way where his lips convey one emotion while his eyes say something totally different. Usually, people receive a smile that looks genuine, but that masks a hardness in his gaze; Brasso, however, is more accustomed to this one, where a sharp, almost cruel smile is accompanied by warmth and respect nestled deep in Cass's eyes.

"I need your help," Cass says candidly. "I had to jettison my last cargo - Corpo fly-by."

Brasso sighs and closes his eyes. He doesn't like hearing about the near-misses, and there seems to be all too many of them these days.

"It's fine, they were never going to catch me with it," Cassian clucks defensively at Brasso's response. "But I need that gear."

A short break to the seaside. The beach. Brasso manages not to rub his palm over his face in exasperation, but only because he has a near-full cup of ale to drink. He takes a large mouthful and hisses through gritted teeth, "Please tell me it's this side of the sea, Cass?"

"Yes!" Cassian is still on the defensive. "Yeah, of course. It's just... it's a little way along the coast..."

"You said we'd be back before the week started -"

"Yeah, Brasso, I'm not talking about taking a speeder to haul this stuff," Cass says urgently. "I can get the ship off Pegla again, we don't need to - Brasso. Brasso look at me, we won't even be leaving atmo -"

Brasso's shaking his head and Cass is gripping his arm, repeating his name, repeating that he wouldn't ask if he didn't need to...

"Cass no. No. Ask someone else," Brasso rubs his forehead. He doesn't fly. Cass knows he doesn't fly.

"I need you, this stuff is heavy, Brasso," Cass insists.

"How did you get it on board in the first place?"

"Droids, how do you think?"

"Ask Vetch, Cass."

"No, I need you," Cass is right up in his space now as Brasso tries to turn away from his appeals. "I need someone I can trust, Brasso."

---

He can't believe that line worked. On the following night, Brasso stands by the gap in the fencing round Zorby’s shiplot and looks up at the hulks inside, feeling an icy chasm open up where his insides are meant to be.

Cass has squeezed through the gap already and he shrugs impatiently, his arms wide. "Well?"

"I can't believe that line worked," Brasso murmurs out loud. "What are we doing?"

"I come in this way all the time," Cass gestures to the jagged cuts in the wire fence.

"You said you'd okayed it with Pegla!" Brasso seethes, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched and his cap pulled low - as if most Ferrixians wouldn't recognise him by silhouette alone.

Cass looks confused by Brasso's objection. "I said I could get a ship. Come on!"

He reaches out with a gloved hand and pulls the fencing back, and Brasso goes through, shaking his head at Cass. There are always going to be things Cass doesn't mention. He should know that by now. He should pay attention to the wording.

He follows Cass with a reluctant, loping stride, feeling sick to his stomach as they pass by the enormous bodies of the ships docked there. Brasso could turn to any one of them and tell you what needs to be stabilised and removed before the hull is dissected, where to aim the laser cutter for maximum efficiency, which parts of the structure contain the densest thickets of wiring. He couldn't tell you how they're meant to get off the kriffing ground and stay off it - how they stay sealed against the heat of passing through atmosphere and sealed against the cold of space beyond it. They're so easy to dismantle, such frail, fallible things - he's trained to look at a star ship and see its flaws, so climbing into one and putting his life at its mercy doesn't come naturally.

Cassian is different. There's a spring in his step as he approaches his chosen steed. He smiles up at the ship with none of the complexity he reserves for the lifeforms he interacts with and he runs his fingers almost lovingly along the Beskar to the panel that will drop the landing ramp.

"Oh, no..." Brasso curses and stands back to watch the ramp descend. He can see the scorch marks on the hull from old journeys. He can see how often - and by how many different tools - that control panel has been popped out of its housing and tinkered with.

"Come on," Cass repeats, one foot on the ramp.

Brasso grimaces. "I really don't think I can, Cass. Is this the best Pegla's got?"

"She doesn't look like much, but she's reliable," Cass says. He pats the ship's belly. "And we're only going a few hundred klicks, remember? We're staying in atmo. It'll be an hour or so, that's all."

"I still think you could've asked Vetch," Brasso looks over the body of the ship again and repeats the words of a Ferrixian ballad in his head like a prayer. He knows he's not going to back out on Cass, not now, but making his body accede to that truth takes a moment of focus. His knees feel stiff and his boots feel heavy, but he persuades himself to walk up the ramp after Cass and into the hold of the little ship.

Cassian grins fleetingly at him and slaps his shoulder. "I'm closing the exit now, go on, go and sit..."

Brasso chooses to stay and watch Cass secure the hatch, to follow every movement of his fingers over the console and hear every piece of steel lock into place. Then he follows Cass to the cockpit and sprawls dejectedly in the co-pilot's seat.

The ground is really a long way down already. He's not afraid of heights, but it gives him a sense of the ship's size again, how unwieldy it must be for one person to manage, while simultaneously being so small that a team of grapplers could gut it in half a day.

"Buckle up, but don't be sick on the console, Brasso - we won't have time to clean that up and Pegla will feed you to his hounds." Cass is initiating the ship's start-up and Brasso follows the instruction to buckle up with unthinking obedience - all his concentration is on controlling the nausea that is fighting to fill his body up.

But then he has to speak, when Cass seems ready to go and he notices something: "The landing lights, Cass - you need to put the lights on."

Cass's eyes flicker over him, a momentary distraction from the processual pleasure of a familiar task. "We're trying to be subtle, remember, Brasso? I don't need lights for take-off."

Brasso swears again and closes his eyes. He grips the arms of the seat and breathes in deep, irregular gulps, trying to wrestle back enough composure to breathe through his nose instead. The ship comes to life with a whole orchestra of noise: whirring and clicking and humming and buzzing. At first, Brasso tries to identify the sounds of all the things the ship needs in order to operate, but then, when he realises he can't unravel it all, he gives up and returns to his breathing.

Cass's take-off is so smooth, so steady, that it's only when Brasso cracks his eyes open that he realises they're fifty feet up in the air and he feels his stomach plummet. He lets out a long, shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut again.

He doesn't move until he hears Cass's voice, gentle and quiet. "We're away from the city. I'm keeping us low, we're flying towards the dawn, and there's no cloud-cover. It's a pretty good view, Brasso."

Brasso swallows and tests the depths of his nausea. He can probably manage this, right? Keeping his eyes so tightly clenched is starting to be uncomfortable.

Stiffly, he squints out of the front port.

Oh no - the ground is moving far too quickly. The sky is full of colours - beautiful colours - but there's such a sensation of wrongness in travelling towards the dawn rather than letting it come to you. "Bugger that," Brasso says hoarsely and turns his head to the side, eyes shut again.

After a moment, Cass speaks. "Sorry, Brasso. I forgot it was this bad for you. You going to be ok?"

The sound of genuine apology in Cass's tone rallies him, strangely, more than anything else could have.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine," Brasso says thinly, not opening his eyes.

Cass shows him the respect of granting him a snort of laughter. "Oh, my mistake. It's just that you're pale as a Bith and I think you've permanently altered the shape of the foam in those arm rests."

One of Cass's hands covers Brasso's and squeezes, and Brasso forces out a tight laugh of his own. It takes him a moment, but then he realises Cass is trying to pry his fingers away from the surface of the arm rest. He's able to relax his hold enough for Cass to do so, and feels Cass's palm find his, offering a tight grip for Brasso to reciprocate.

It's nice, for a little while, actually helpful. Then a thought occurs to him - "Don't you need two hands to fly?"

Brasso turns to Cass, eyes wide, heart hammering so hard he'd be amazed if Cass couldn't hear it.

He sees that Cass really does look sorry, and it gives Brasso another jolt of motivational adrenaline - Cassian has nothing to be sorry about.

"We can cruise this part, the computer will alert me when I need to go manual again," Cass explains.

Brasso's next question relies on looking outside. He tightens his hold on Cass's hand and slowly lets his gaze travel to the front of the ship. They're flying through a lavender twilight, where earth and sky fade together into an indefinable blur. It's only on the console in front of them that Brasso can confirm the topography of the area - now they're above the desert and there are no mountains for miles around. There's nothing for them to unwittingly crash into. Just the ground, his treacherous mind notes.

His throat is dry and closes up on speech, but Cass sees him looking at the console.

"You know what all this stuff is, yeah?" Cass scooches forwards in his seat, gestures at the screens with his free hand.

Brasso blinks at the lights and the switches, the visualisation of planes and angles in glowing lines on the screens. He tries to concentrate, for Cass's sake.

"Uh," he frees his right hand from the other arm rest and wipes the sheen of sweat from his clammy forehead. The switches go in the barrel for plasteel recycling. The screens need to be taken out in one piece - if they're cracked, they go in the barrel for plexiglass. They're all labelled, but the abbreviated terms squeezed on between the controls are abstract, and the aurebesh is faded from use in many places. Still, Brasso scans the panel until he has something to answer with. He points with his free hand: "Altimeter. And that's the throttle. This is....oh, Sithspit...we're doing a thousand klicks an hour..."

Cass squeezes his hand, and it reminds Brasso that his grip must be turning Cass's fingers numb. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax.

"You're right - and we'll only be doing this over the desert. The quicker we get there the quicker we get back, yeah?" Cass stares at him until he nods acknowledgement, and then he starts to point out other parts of the control panel, speaking in a chatty tone that gets under Brasso's skin and pushes all the other noise coming from the ship away into the background. Cass knows his stuff, and it's impossible not to be touched by his enthusiasm as he explains the point of every switch and dial.

As they near the mountains by the coast of the Farside Sea, Cass puts the controls on manual again and slows them down. Brasso's able to follow his hands across the console and understand what he's doing, and as their speed reduces by a few hundred klicks per hour, Brasso can even glance up at the landscape without wincing. They've met the dawn, and the sun is orange over black, choppy waters of the ocean. It paints the mineral rich land in the colours of Ferrix's streets: reds and ochres and mossy greens and yellows.

Cass takes them on a winding course down towards the shoreline and then asks Brasso to fish a transponder out of his coat pocket as he pilots. It should take them to the location of Cassian's lost cargo, but Brasso doesn't like the way Cass keeps trying to look at the transponder screen and pilot at the same time.

"Cass! Cass, you wanted someone you can trust, well trust me - I'll tell you what it says! Just - please, keep your eyes on the front port..."

"I'm not going to crash into anything Brasso, I told you about the proximity warning, yeah? And I need some idea of where we're going so I can find a place to land..."

At least bickering over this keeps Brasso's mind focussed. His directions are better than Cass wants to give him credit for - and Cass's flying is steadier than Brasso wants to admit. They hug the coastline, flying low over rocky strands and outcrops until both of them spot it at once and yell in triumph: a collection of small plasteel crates scattered like the eggs of some giant beast on the sand of a crescent shaped cove.

Cassian slaps his shoulder and his fingers squeeze tight over Brasso's collarbone.

"Hands, Cass!" Brasso yelps. "Both hands - on the controls..."

Cassian laughs and pinches Brasso's cheek for good measure before returning his hand to the console. Brasso shakes his head and notes the way his pulse has spiked - probably just from fear at Cass's antics, of course. He looks down at the cove hungrily and can't wait to be able to set foot on solid land again.

--

The cold sea breeze quickly dries the sweat in Brasso's black hair. He's left his cap and his coat on the co-pilot's seat and he relishes the feeling of the wind beating his thin cotton sleeves against his arms. The noise out here is all organic - waves roaring, not thrusters - and it seems to wash away the last vestiges of grubby panic that clung to him.

The crates aren't huge, but he admits that Cass would have struggled on his own. Brasso hauls them across the fine red sand to the ship's ramp, and then he and Cass lift them together into the hold.

"Don't you want to know what's inside?" Cass asks, a dangerous twinkle in his eye as they stack the first box of a second layer on top of the others.

"Nope," Brasso tells him shortly, giving Cass the most non-plussed look he can.

It annoys Cass, as it's meant to. "Come on, you're not curious?"

"I don't wanna hear it, Cass," Brasso turns to go back down the ramp.

"You think you wouldn't be implicated anyway for helping me retrieve these?" Cass trots down after him.

"Implicated? I'm just helping a friend move his gear..." Of course, every time Cass is getting ready for some new scheme, Brasso does ask him where he's going and why. But Cass never tells him - so it's only fair that Brasso makes him commit to his secrets at a time like this.

In return, Cass insists on helping him get the next crate back to the ship - and it's about the most unhelpful thing he can do. With just one person dragging the crate by one handle, it glides fairly easily through the soft wet sand, but with Cass pushing it as well it keeps stopping, the corners ploughing uneven furrows that their progress catches on.

"Cass!" Brasso says in exasperation. "Go and get another one, or wait up at the ship again. I've got this."

Cass glowers at the crate, his hands on his hips. The wind ruffles his hair into wild shapes and his jacket flaps around his skinny body. "I think we're short some," he says uneasily.

Brasso pauses before hauling again, looking up at Cass. "If they're not on this beach they're lost, Cass."

Cassian nods and swears, but it doesn't seem to be a nod of acceptance. He turns and frowns at the arc of the shoreline and mutters something about the transponder before heading back to the ship.

As Brasso drags the remaining crates to the foot of the ramp, Cass strides up and down the cove with the transponder, cursing and chewing on his fingernails. Brasso has to call him back to help lift the crates inside, and then he's expecting to steel himself for another flight - but Cass looks at him with that expression that's part apology, part plea, and Brasso knows they're not done yet.

"Cass, we're not dredging the sea..." Brasso sighs.

Cassian shakes his head and beckons for Brasso to follow him outside again.

"Look," he leans close and points at the far side of the cove. "There's a cave there. I think that's where the last ones are."

He's brought the macrobinoculars and peers through them. "I swear I can see one, look Brasso..."

Brasso accepts the binoculars with a sigh and takes a look. There is something that might be white plasteel there, but then again it might be sea foam caught on the rocks.

"I need to get them all back. I can't lose this, Brasso, the money from this job is already locked up..."

He doesn't need to beg, Brasso's already walking, and Cass catches up after a couple of paces with a nervous laugh. "Thanks. You still swim, right?"

"Better than I fly," Brasso rolls his eyes. He likes swimming, actually. There aren't many opportunities for it in the town, but his family used to take a sandspeeder out to the coast for the designated holiday weeks. "How about you? You remember how?" he glances down at Cass.

Cassian is cold, his hands tucked in his armpits and his arms wrapped tight around his body. He lets a breath hiss out from between his teeth and chuckles. "I remember."

"Ok," Brasso stops when they're at the far side of the cove, slips his sleeveless vest off and hands it to Cass. "You wait here. I'll go and check it."

Cass clutches the warm fabric to his body. "I'll come too - then we can start bringing them back if they're there."

Brasso shakes his head and pulls his shirt off. It takes more than this for him to feel the cold, but Cass is shivering just watching him. "Don't worry about it, Cass. If they're still sealed they'll float - if they're not, then even the two of us won't be able to get them back."

He takes off his boots and trousers and raises a brow at Cass, who's watching him with an unreadable, intense expression. Stripped to his underwear, he offers a brave laugh and turns towards the restless waters.

"Brasso!"

He's waded in up to his thighs and the temperature of the water is cold in such a different way to the cold of the air. It's not unpleasant - it brings a flush of heat to the surface of Brasso's body, though he knows that won't last. He turns back to Cass, squinting past the hair that's blown into his eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid, ok? The sea looks rough," Cass is still clutching Brasso's clothes to his body, standing on the edge of the water and watching Brasso intently.

"I won't do anything you wouldn't do," Brasso calls back.

Cass swears, and it's carried away by the wind. "That's what I mean, you moof-milker!"

Brasso laughs and wades out further, letting out a gasp as he launches himself into the water. The waves are big, but Brasso's comfortable in them, striking out towards the rocks. It's a battle, but with enough concentration he can navigate the currents and pick his way over to the cave. He manages to get to its rocky mouth without anything more than a graze or two and pulls himself up onto the skerry. Cass is pacing on the shore, so he waves reassurance and makes a gesture to affirm that the crates are there. There's three of them, scattered across the jagged floor of the cave, and Brasso winces as he picks his way over the sharp rocks to the nearest one. He checks it all over for damage and gives it an experimental tug by one handle. There's no sound of seawater sloshing inside it, and it doesn't seem heavier than the others were. Still, moving it over this surface is going to be more of a challenge, and Brasso briefly regrets his confidence in coming out here alone. But he wants to prove his use after the meltdown he had on the flight, wants to be worthy of the trust Cass puts in him. So he digs his toes into a patch of gravel and heaves, and the crate lurches willingly towards him, only narrowly missing his feet as it thuds down from its perch.

He swears triumphantly and takes a step back, finding another place to get purchase before he tugs again. Step by step, foot by foot, he manoeuvres the crate to the edge of the water and sits down on the rock with a sigh. No chance of getting cold with that kind of exertion. And this is meant to be his rest day.

He looks up expecting to see Cass on the shore, and blinks when there's no one there, his heart sharpening with panic, beating against his breastbone. Then he spots him, his long arms forging a path through the waves as he makes his way towards Brasso.

"For Force's sake, Cass," Brasso yells down at the sea as Cassian splashes determinedly towards him. "I've got this."

Cass raises his head and reaches out to secure himself on the rocks. "I couldn't see you. It was taking a while," he hauls himself out, hair and underpants dripping with seawater, and pulls the weighted fabric back up as it threatens to slide off his skinny arse.

Brasso gestures. "It's not the easiest ground. There's two more. I was going to get them over here and then float them back."

Cass nods. "They're intact?"

"Seem to be."

He's shivering, miserable as a drowned mynock, and Brasso shakes his head. "Get out of here, I'll do this."

"You need some cable," Cass says between chattering teeth. "It'll make dragging them easier, and you can lash them together so you only need one trip back."

Brasso says nothing - it would make things easier. Cass's skin is puckering in the wind, to the extent that it's making Brasso cold just watching him. Cass goes to take a step over the rocks towards the crates, like he wants to check for damage himself, but wobbles on the uneven footing, and throws out an arm that Brasso catches hold of.

"How about you go to the ship for the cable," he tells Cass firmly. "I'll do what I can here without it, and you be as quick as possible. Don't stand around in this air catching hypothermia - you think I'm going to be able to fly us back?"

Cass looks at Brasso's brown hand on his arm and his lashes flutter as he shivers. Brasso thinks, for a minute, he's going to have to argue with him, but then Cass nods.

"All right. If you can't get the others just wait for me, yeah?"

"Go," Brasso turns him by the shoulders, feeling Cass's marble-cold skin under his hands. He can't quite resist the impulse to give a protective, warming squeeze before he releases him, and feels a glow in his chest at Cass's furtive, grateful smirk.

While Cass is fetching the cable, Brasso does manage to get the other crates to a more accessible position, through sheer stubbornness and force of will. It leaves his muscles feeling stretched and used like he's spent a day unravelling kilometres of wiring from inside a freighter, but that's just part of the satisfaction of getting things done.

He waits for Cass to return, dangling his scraped feet in the seawater and contemplating the view across the cove. He admits to himself that he's enjoying all this, despite the flight there and the imminent return journey. It's a nice spot. He wonders how long it would take to get here on a speeder - then again, his family wouldn't change their holidays on a whim when they have a perfectly good beach they've been visiting for generations. There's only one person Brasso would come here with, and he's currently arranging a coil of cable across his body, preparing to swim out to the cave again.

"How are you not freezing out here?" Cass sputters when he swims up to Brasso's legs and grabs an ankle for purchase.

Brasso shrugs. "I don't feel it, it's fine. Natural born Ferrixian, you see?"

Cass snorts. "It's all that coolant you drink at Cavo's," he mutters, squirming out of the coil of cable he's wearing like a bandolier and passing it up to Brasso.

"Nog is good for you, I keep telling you, Cass," Brasso takes the cable and offers a hand to help Cass up onto the skerry again.

They secure the three crates together end to end and push them into the sea. There's a moment where the first one bobs beneath the surface and Brasso thinks it's just going to keep sinking, but then it pops back up and they both let out a sigh of relief. One all three are afloat, Cass takes a running jump and splashes back into the water by them.

He gestures to Brasso to do the same and, laughing, Brasso takes his own leap and plunges like a knife, feet first into the sea.

The exertion of getting the crates back to land and then dragging them up the shore to the ship is enough to keep him from cooling down, but as before, Cass is shivering pathetically by the time they've got the last of the cargo on board. Brasso grabs his own coat and approaches Cass from behind, wrapping it around Cass's shoulders as he tackles him a bear hug.

Cass yelps in mock objection. "Let go, what are you doing?" He laughs and wriggles, so Brasso tightens his hold.

"Nope - not until you stop shivering." He's taller and stronger and his arms are long enough to keep a wiry off-worlder in his place. Besides, Cass isn't fighting that hard - now it's more like he's squirming to dry himself off on the lining of Brasso's coat.

Brasso exclaims in disgust when Cass whips his face with the wet hair at the back of his head, but he doesn't let go. Cass tries standing on his toes, so Brasso lifts him off the floor of the ship a little and Cass swears breathlessly, laughingly.

"All right, all right!"

"What, you don't like flying?" Brasso cackles back, dropping Cass and giving him a shove so he takes a couple of steps away.

Cass grips the damp coat around himself and turns to Brasso with more colour in his cheeks than he's had all day and a smirk that could gut a fish it's so sharp. "Oh, you want to go there? Remember I'm flying us back, I could take us up into high atmo, we could make orbit, go out into the system..."

Brasso's hands are planted on his hips, and he represses a shudder at that. "You wouldn't..."

Cass just twitches his brows and gives Brasso a look to leave him questioning, and then goes to raise the ramp and seal the hatch.

Brasso tries to pay as much attention to the sounds of it locking as he did before, but there's a significant part of his mind that's elsewhere now, unable to focus on the details in the same way. He shakes his head at Cass, at himself, and goes to find his clothes.

-

With the heating inside the ship on it doesn't take long for them both to dry out properly. Brasso doesn't take his seat in the cockpit with quite as much trepidation as before, but that's largely because he's exhausted. He watches Cass cycle through the start-up with miserable inevitability and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back into his seat like his distance from the console will give him extra distance from what's about to happen.

Cass starts the engines but doesn't activate the thrusters. He frowns at the screen, though Brasso can see nothing wrong with it. It makes him uneasy.

"What's up?"

Cass pulls a face and shrugs one shoulder before looking away from the console. "I was just thinking..."

Brasso gives him a withering look. "Dangerous."

Cassian's patchy moustache twitches and he narrows his eyes. "You've never left atmo?"

Brasso draws a deep, steadying breath and his arms tighten across his chest. "Cass..."

"Never?"

"No, never. And I don't have a problem with that."

Cassian chews the inside of his lip. He doesn't look convinced, and frowns at the console rather than taking on Brasso's glare. "You'd go your whole life, never seeing that..."

"I don't need to see it!" Brasso insists.

"How do you know, when you've never seen it?" Cass responds quickly, the eagerness in his voice saying he thinks he's made a winning point.

Brasso closes his eyes and sighs. "It doesn't matter how stunning it is Cass, if I feel like emptying my guts all over the ship it's not going to be a memory to cherish, is it?"

Cass tilts his chin, conceding something. But he's not given up entirely - once he's got his mind set on something he's as focussed as Pegla's hounds when they sense a rat. "Do you trust me?" he asks, entirely unfairly in Brasso's opinion.

The answer is yes, of course. Unequivocally. Always, even when he knows he absolutely shouldn't. That's the difference between Brasso and Cass's other friends: even without all the information, even without the context or the background, Brasso trusts Cass. Maybe that can't last, Brasso reflects sadly. If Cass corners him into agreeing to this, maybe it'll be the last time he can trust him so completely.

"Brasso?"

"Yeah."

"You trust me?"

"I said yes, Cass," Brasso repeats, looking back at Cass and letting some ferocity into his voice.

Cassian studies him, perhaps weighing up the same costs Brasso's been contemplating.

"You trust me to fly this thing?"

Brasso frowns. "I trust you - the ship is a different matter."

"But I'm flying the ship," Cass says crisply. "Do you trust me to know what this ship can handle, and to know what it can't?"

Brasso presses his lips together tightly and looks Cass in the eyes. "Right. I guess so, then." He's been outmanoeuvred, as he guessed he would be.

"I want you to see this. You're not going to come up in a ship with anyone else, are you?"

"Seems unlikely."

"So let me show you - next time you're back at the yard and you're taking one of these things apart, maybe you'll think about where it's been? What it's for."

"You want to tell me about the wonders of space travel?" Brasso says drily, though Cass's tone holds a genuine excitement and awe that it's hard to be cynical about.

"Sure," Cass gives him a crooked smile. "I'd never have found out about it if Maarva and Clem hadn't kidnapped me."

"They adopted you..." Brasso is taken aback.

Cassian raises his brows and shrugs, activating the thrusters. "Call it what you want. But I'm kidnapping you," he smiles and turns to the controls, and Brasso feels his stomach sink again as they leave gravity behind in a swirl of red sand.

Cass's take-off is as steady as his gaze on the console. His hands rove across the controls with unhurried fluency, like he's speaking a language with them that Brasso doesn't understand.

He finds himself compelled to watch each movement, following Cass's gestures and finding an unexpected calm coming from it. The juddering and roaring of the ship still sets his teeth on edge, and he has no interest in looking at the landscape he was quite content being in a little while earlier. But he finds he's not engulfed by it like he was on the flight out, not when he focusses on the competence with which Cassian navigates the controls.

The number on the altimeter goes up, and Brasso swallows as he feels the ship spiral in a loop over the mountaintops.

"We'll take it nice and slow," Cass says.

Brasso checks the speed on the screen for good measure and unfolds his arms to grip the seat as he did earlier. "Well I might not have done this before, but I know we can't go too slow if we're leaving atmo," he summons as much sarcasm as he can from the pit of nausea within him.

Cass laughs, the sound sparks with delight, and he cranks the throttle forwards steadily. "Good point, thanks for that, Brasso..."

Brasso gulps down another wave of horror at the way the numbers on the screen are racing now, but the nose of the ship is pointing up, he's being squeezed back in his seat, and there's nothing left outside to blur sickeningly with speed: it's just blue sky, as delicate as an eggshell.

The ship's engines sound confident - there's no screech or whine of exertion as Cass works the throttle, and Brasso lets his eyes drift from the blue outside to Cass's face.

He's wholly absorbed by what he's doing, immersed in the pleasure of flying. His lips are a little parted, moving with silent words of encouragement to himself, to the ship. His eyes are keen and bright and there's a flush of colour high in his cheeks. It deepens when he notices Brasso watching him, and a dimple marks the cheek nearest to Brasso as he smirks self-effacingly. "See? I'm not worried. You don't need to be worried," Cass says.

Brasso just pulls a face, but he feels his own skin darken with heat at being caught out staring.

To show off, Cass tells Brasso what trajectory he expects the navicomp to give them for leaving Ferrix's atmosphere, and he gives a triumphant laugh when the numbers come up right.

"Ok, just sit back and enjoy this, Brasso," he tells him, leaning forwards eagerly over the console, like he's the one straining against gravity, not the ship.

"It's a light show, but the port's shielded and it adjusts automatically. It's not gonna blind you, so keep your eyes open," Cass gives him one last meaningful glance and then flicks a switch to give them the thrust needed to push through the upper atmosphere.

Brasso intends to do as he says, but finds he can't take his eyes off Cass in the end. The 'light show' is reflected in his face, which is drawn in ethereal levels of contrast. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hungry, and again Brasso thinks of the way the ship itself has to challenge the laws of nature in order to escape the planet, but it only does so because Cass demands it - it's only hurtling through fire and vacuum at his behest.

The colours on Cassian's face begin to fade out from the harsh fluorescents of singed minerals, and the soft glow of Morlani's light takes their place. Cass has arranged their passage into orbit just so that they face into the sun, and he beams with pride and pleasure when the noise levels reduce and the thrusters go off and they settle into a silent, weightless place between Ferrix and the stars.

Brasso lets out a breath he'd forgotten he was holding and hazards a glance at the galaxy.

"What did you think?" Cass asks.

Brasso looks out at all the stars and represses the urge to shudder. He closes his eyes and rubs a clammy hand over his face, but he nods for Cass.

"Yeah, it really was something."

Behind his eyelids it's Cass's face, lit up by the burning atmosphere, that he sees.

"Told you..." Cass can't resist saying. He glances mischievously at Brasso. "And you didn't feel like throwing up your guts too much, I hope?"

Brasso gives him a sideways look, and then the tension inside him that's built from all the pent-up nerves bursts all of a sudden and he lets out a laugh. He feels light-headed, maybe hysterical, but he doesn't feel like throwing up. He feels like a fool for even thinking the trust he puts in Cass would be shattered by something like this, but he shakes his head, still laughing, and looks over at his kidnapper.

"Let's not speak too soon - going back in is going to be worse, isn't it?"

"Oh..." Cass affects a worried expression. "I totally forgot about that."

"Sithspit..." Brasso leans his head back against the headrest and rubs his face with both hands. He's smiling, but thinking about re-entry really does remind him of his terror.

"It'll be ok, Brasso, I promise," Cass says assuredly. "You can close your eyes, or look at - I don't know, look at me, you'll know if you need to worry about anything then, because I'll be worrying."

This time, Brasso's laugh is weak, like he's been found out for cheating on a test. But Cass is concentrating on the new trajectory and only glances up to say with a smile: "Say goodbye to space! One last look..."

"I'll see it again when it's night-time," Brasso grumbles, wincing at the view of his homeworld below them, powdered blue by the haze of its atmosphere, curving away beyond the port.

"Might be cloudy," Cass shakes his head. Grins. "Ready?"

Brasso just casts him a pleading look, and Cassian reaches out to give his hand a squeeze.

It's easier, on re-entry, to just close his eyes. Cass's expression is severe with concentration going back in - it's less an act of reverence and rebellion and more the inevitable consequence of the former. Brasso leans back in the seat and feels the ship's body rattle with exertion, and he sinks into the cushions and imagines himself a part of it, shaken to his bones but not coming apart, driven to survive this because Cass has asked it of him.

Cass whoops when the ship settles into the planet's atmosphere again. He tells Brasso when they're on an even keel, but warns him he's going to see the town zoom by as they circle over it, and Brasso chooses to keep his eyes shut.

They land a little way out of town and unload the crates at one of Cass's hideaways.

"I'll take the ship back to Zorby's later," Cass says. Returning it during daylight is only going to raise questions he'd rather not answer.

They walk back to Ferrix together and by the time Brasso's alone in his place, arranging his seawater-wet coat to dry in the sonic, his legs don't feel hollow and numb any longer. His muscles remember the effort of dragging crates of contraband alone the beach, of swimming against strong currents. When he closes his eyes he doesn't remember the stars or the proximity of Morlani, filling the port with its light. It's Cass, lost in the work of piloting them, lost in his own awe at the galaxy, that Brasso won’t forget from today.