#glowrods

[armageddon-is-light-after-dark]

Most unsafe glowrod period

So I just want to complain about something briefly because every Jedi use the lightsaber as a light source whenever they're in the darkness it is literally the most unsafe thing they could do. What if you drop the damn thing and then when you need to fight now you're not using as a light anymore. This literally happens in Fallen Order. When you get attacked in the dark you then have to drop the saber to fight the enemy and it's darker.

[lightasthesun]

Comprehensive Lexicon Guide for First-Time SW Fic Readers:

Flimsi/Flimsiplast = Paper

Flimsiwork/Datawork = Paperwork

Stylus = Pen

Datapad = Tablet

Comlink/Comm = Communication Device/Phone

Binders = Handcuffs

Chronometer = Clock

Spectacles = Eyeglasses

Chrono = Watch

Conservator = Refrigerator

Caf = Coffee

Nerfburger = Hamburger

Blue milk = Milk (literally blue)

Hubba chips = French Fries

Sweet roll = Doughnut

Flatcakes = Pancakes

Tabac = Tobacco

HoloNet = World Wide Web

Holovision/HoloTV = Television

Holodrama/Holovids = Movie/Videos

Holocamera/Holocam = Camera

Holomap = three-dimensional map

Holojournal = Newspaper

Holocube = Picture frame

Holotable = Projector

Holoscanner = X-ray machine

Holojournalist = Reporter

Flatholo/Holograph = Photograph

Sonic Damper = Active Noise Cancellation

Refresher/Fresher= Bathroom

Sonic Bath = Bath

Sanisteam/Sonic shower = Waterless Shower

Hydrospanner = Wrench

Hydro Flask = Water Bottle

Power Cell/Energy Cell = Batteries

Authorization Chip = Decryption key

Datatape = Disk

Datastick = Flash drive

(Personal) Com Code = Phone number

Datachip = SD Card

Synthflesh = Synthetic skin

Glowrod = Flashlight

Sparkstick = Match

Slugthrower = Gun

Slug = Bullet

Vibroblade = a blade that can vibrate at high frequencies, increasing its cutting power and penetrating ability (tactical knife)

Rangefinder = Rifle scope

Turbolaser = Cannon

Ion pike/Vibropike = Spear

Electro Staff = Stun baton

Blaster = Pistol/Rifle

Stun Blaster = similar to a Taser

Landspeeder/Airspeeder/Speeder = Car

Turbolift = Elevator

Slideramp = Escalator

Starfighter = Fighter jet

Rotorcraft = Helicopter

Hoverpack/Jetpack= Jet pack

Speeder Bike = Motorcycle

Skylane = Traffic lane

Railspeeder/Hovertrain = Train

Power Chair/Hoverchair= Wheelchair

Windscreen = Windshield

Podracing = Car racing

Dejarik = Chess

Sabacc = Poker and Blackjack combined

Galactic Rebels = Combat simulator

B'shingh = Dungeons and dragons

Jizz = Jazz music

Wailer = Singer (ie. Jizz Wailer)

Cantina = Bar or Pup

Para Sailing = Paragliding

Aurebesh = Alphabet

Credits = Money

Sleeping Pallet = Bedroll

Naming Day = Birthday

Youngling = Child

Galactic Basic Standard/ Basic = English

Medkit/Medpac = First aid kit

Hypo = Syringe

Medic/Healer = Doctor

Medcenter = Hospital

Bactapatch = Bandaid

Nanoweave = Fabric

Transparisteel = Glass

Plastifoam = Packing material

Durasteel = Steel

Plasteel = Plastic

Duracrete = Concrete

Slicer = Hacker (slicing = hacking)

Identikit = Passport

Minder = Therapist

Synthleather = Vinyl

Viewport = Window

Cooling Unit = Air-conditioning

Honeydarter = Bee

Slythmonger = Drugdealer

Spice = Drugs

Stimpill = Caffeine pill

Power Socket = Plug

Cutters = Scissors

Cycle = Day

Standard Cycle = 24h

Standard Week = 5 days

Standard Month = 35 standard days

Standard Year = approx. ten months

Tenday = literally ten days

Cigarras/Smokes = Cigarettes

Click = Kilometer or 'a moment'

Parsec = a unit of distance

Tweezers/Clanker/tin head/tinnie = Droid

Separatist = Seppie

Promise Ring = Wedding Ring

Body Glove = Jumpsuit

Slicksuit = Wet suit

Civvies = Civilian clothing

Carbonite = a metal alloy used to freeze a person in a state of hibernation

Hyperdrive = device that allows a starship to travel faster than lightspeed

Moisture vaporator = device that can extract water from the air, commonly used on tatooine

Glareshades = Sunglasses

Gasser = Gas Oven

Repulsorlift = technology that can create an anti-gravity field and is used for levitating heavy objects

Heating unit = Heater

Utility Droid = Roomba

Sunbonnet = a Clone trooper helmet

Bad Batcher = a defective Clone Trooper

Banthabrain = birdbrain/ a stupid person

Bantha fodder = waste of space/nonsense

Blast! = word of exclamation

Blasted! = s.o in anger or annoyance

Blaster-brained = dimwitted

Blaster fodder = cannon fodder

Blast off = Piss off

Brainless = Stupid

Bug/Bugger = used to refer to Geonosians

Forceforsaken = godforsaken

Full of Poodoo = full of shit

Poodoo = Shit

Kriff = Fuck

Jedi scum = derogatory term for jedi

Kark = derogatory expletive

Larty = LAAT/i gunship

Laserbrain = insult

Meat droid = derogatory term for Clone Troopers

Redrobes = Palpatines guard

Rookie/Shinie = newly recruited Trooper

Scum = insult to refer to bounty hunters/rebels

Sharpie = Sharp-witted

Sithspawn/Sithspit/Hellspawn! = expletive

Sleemo = Slimeball

Son of a bantha = insult

Wizard! = Cool

Spaced = dead

Hutt-spawn = Bastard

Karabast = exclamation of dismay

Stang = Crap

Buckethead/Bucketbrain = derogatory term for Stormtroopers

Bucket = Helmet

Nat-born = Natural Born

Roger Roger = affirmative/copy that

Droid poppers = EMP grenade

Sitrep = short for situation report

Backwater Planet = any planet that isn't part of the core system

Holocron = device that can project a three-dimensional image of a person/object and is used for communication or entertainment.

Kessel Run = a risky Operation. Commonly used as a metaphor in impossible situations.

Thermal Detonator= device that can create a powerful explosion like a grenade or bomb

Ray Shield/Energy Shield = creates a (protective) barrier

Rebreather = device that allows a person to breathe underwater or in toxic environments

Phrases:

Wild goose chase = wild bantha chase

That's bantha shit = that's bullshit

As slippery as a greased Dug = untrustworthy

Credit for your thoughts = penny for your thoughts

Cut the poodoo = cut the crap

to get your gills in a twist = get upset about something

Holy mother of meteors = holy mother of god

Oh my skies/ Oh my stars = exclamation of surprise

Stars' end! = exclamation of disbelief

What in the blue blazes = exclamation

When Geonosis freezes over/When it snows on tatooine = extremely unlikely

Who pissed in your power supply = who pissed you off

Blast it = damn it

By the maker = exclamation of surprise

Great karking Dragon = expression of disbelief

Lothcat got your tongue = equivalent of 'cat got your tongue?'

Sod it = expression of frustration

[fanfoolishness]

Stargazing

Crosshair and his brothers sneak out to stargaze. For @summer-of-bad-batch prompts "stargazing" and "You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen." 2500 words with closer detail on the art at the end <3

---

Crosshair slipped his boots on silently, taking care to avoid making even the slightest noise. Here in the near-total darkness of lights out, he should be safe from his brothers’ prying eyes. While he didn’t have the flawless night vision of some species, the Kaminoans had assured him his vision was far superior to any human’s -- including his fellow defective clones.

He kept a close watch on his brothers’ sleeping forms as he slowly got to his feet. Hunter was the most likely to realize what he was up to, but he seemed fast asleep, lying perfectly still with his face turned to the wall. Crosshair turned around to hide his pillow under his blanket as a decoy, but he hadn’t kept his eyes off the others for more than ten seconds before there was a soft, slightly annoyed voice in his ear.

“You really think you’re going without me?” Hunter whispered. “Not going to happen.”

Crosshair’s hand closed into a fist at his side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed. “I’m just going to the refresher.” He pointed to the small, closet-sized refresher in their barracks.

Hunter clicked on his glowrod, illuminating Crosshair and his bunk. “With your boots on?” Hunter leaned around him, poking the pillow under the covers. “And a decoy? Come on.”

Crosshair sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. He glared at his brother, lowering his gaze slightly. They were all still far shorter than the adult regs, even Wrecker, who was clearly going to be enormous, but Crosshair had recently pulled a few centimeters ahead of Hunter. He used it to his advantage, narrowing his eyes and drawing himself up to his full height. “Fine. I’m going out.”

“You’ll get caught,” said Hunter. “You’re not stealthy enough. Obviously.” He gave Crosshair a gloating grin. “You’ll need me.”

“Oh really,” said Crosshair. “If I’ll get caught on my own, how are the two of us supposed to help that?” 

“Because I can tell you when the patrols are coming,” said Hunter smugly. “I’ll sense them long before you can see them. C’mon.”

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Crosshair said, though he had to admit Hunter had a point. He’d gotten the jump on him just now, and he did always seem to know when someone was just around the corner. Tech would say it was something to do with vibrations and electromagnetism, but Hunter would just shrug and say it was his gut.

“Yes we do,” said Tech from across the room, and Crosshair groaned. 

“We do?” Hunter asked.

“You’re up, too?” Crosshair sighed.

“Well, the glowrod and your voices were getting hard to ignore,” Tech said, sitting up in his bunk and leaning down to reach for his boots. “The weather forecast was for a clear night tonight, the first one in months. You’re going stargazing.”

Crosshair chewed at his fingernail, embarrassed. “How’d you know?”

“I remembered how your curiosity was piqued during one of our astronomy lessons,” Tech said, pulling his boots on and adjusting his goggles. The little red recording light at the edge of his goggles clicked on. “You asked how much you would be able to see compared to a reg, and our instructor didn’t know how to account for your enhanced vision. You wanted to look for yourself, but with Kamino’s typical cloud cover, you’ve never had an opportunity until now.”

Crosshair had been curious. He’d tried peering out the hall windows several times during regular training hours, but the fluorescent lights of the hallways drowned out much of the night skies, which were always cloudy. He’d long decided he would have to sneak out to a platform on a clear night if he ever wanted to know. 

Leave it to Tech to have him figured out, as usual.

“We’re goin’ stargazing?” Wrecker asked with a yawn. “Let’s do it! Sneaking out’ll be fun!” He held up Lula. “As long as Lula can come with.”

Crosshair pulled at his fingernail so hard he tasted blood. He held his finger in his mouth for a moment before he buried his face in his hands. “It’s stupid. We should just stay here. It’s not worth the extra cleaning duty.”

“There won’t be extra cleaning duty if we don’t get caught,” Hunter said patiently. “I know a way to the accessory landing pad. Come on, lads. Move out.” He turned off his glowrod and pocketed it.

Wrecker finished getting his boots on and leapt to his feet, Lula in his arms. “Yes sir!” he laughed.

“Keep it down, Wrecker!” Tech said. They fell in line behind Hunter, who paused for a moment at the door, listening hard with his hand on the wall. 

“All right, move out,” he whispered. “Hand signals from here on in.”

Crosshair and the others nodded. Wrecker muttered something under his breath. He hated hand signals.

The door slid open and they slipped out into the hall, dimly lit with running lights along the floor and ceiling for nighttime. All was strange and silent, a far cry from the normal hubbub during the day. There were no lanky, wispy Kaminoans ambling through the halls, no older cadets marching in line and coldly ignoring them, no younger cadets making faces at them when their handlers weren’t looking. It was a different world, still and empty, and Crosshair shivered. He didn’t like it.

They followed Hunter carefully. At one point he gestured to hold back as a night patrol made their rounds; they pressed themselves against an alcove opening into a medical ward, holding their breath until the patrol passed. Hunter gestured again with the all-clear after a moment, and they slipped back into the hallway single file, their footsteps as soft as they could make them.

Crosshair was surprised when Hunter led them down a different path than he had anticipated. He had been thinking of going out through one of the main hangars, suspecting no one would notice a single cadet the size of a natborn ten-year-old among all the ships and cargo. But Hunter had a different idea. His hand signals flashed, explaining the hangar was too conspicuous. He led them down a maintenance hall instead, then gestured for Wrecker to join him at the front of the line while Tech and Crosshair kept watch.

Hunter had them stop in front of a barred vent, and Crosshair understood. Wrecker grinned, shoved Lula into Crosshair’s arms, and then shook out his hands. 

Wrecker crouched down in front of the vent cover, prised his fingers into its edges, and pulled. For a moment his brow furrowed with concentration and effort, but the cover squeaked, bent, and then lifted up. Wrecker gave one more wrenching pull and nearly lost his balance, but Hunter caught him before he hit the ground. 

Crosshair allowed himself a surprised smile. This just might work. He gave Lula a squeeze absently, watching Hunter and Wrecker. Wrecker leaned the vent cover against the wall, then frowned at Hunter as if to say, You want me to fit in there?

Hunter nodded, his hands flashing. You can do it.

Wrecker hung his head, then reached out and took Lula back from Crosshair. Hunter crept into the vent first, easily fitting as the smallest. For Wrecker, it was a tight squeeze, but not impossible. Tech followed next, and Crosshair brought up the rear, pulling the vent cover back into place behind him. It was cramped, but it was workable.

They crawled through the vent for what seemed like ages until they reached another cover. This one was easy for Hunter to kick out on his own, and he led them through the opening one by one until they stood up in a small dim hall ending in a single closed door. 

Crosshair pulled at his tunic, which had gotten all dusty and bunched up. He had to wear a tunic far wider than he needed to account for his recent vertical growth spurt, and it hung awkwardly on his thin frame. He stretched it back across his shoulders. There. Better.

This was the farthest away they’d ever been from the main halls and training areas. Crosshair had a funny feeling, like they were doing something much more transgressive than just sneaking out for a few hours. It made the back of his neck prickle. He turned around, looking cautiously, but there was nobody there except his brothers.

Hunter peered at the door, which didn’t seem to want to open. Tech stepped forward and nudged him out of the way, pulling up his datapad. He hunched over it for a few minutes, then inputted a code into the door, which slid open. A breath of cool air and the sound of waves greeted them. “Here we are,” Tech said softly. With the waves splashing beyond them and the evening wind to mask their sounds, Crosshair realized they could speak again.  

He and the others followed Tech out onto the platform, and he shivered, realizing it was their first step into a wider world.

For a moment they walked in silence, beneath the lights of the domed cities rising up behind them, above the waves rising and breaking beneath them. They trotted out along the platform to the point where it narrowed to a bridge that could be easily defended in the event of an attack, and they kept going until they reached the point where the bridge opened up again into a very small platform, sized for a single fighter.

Out here the breeze buffeted them, though it was Kamino’s summer and the air was cool instead of cold. Crosshair licked his lips and tasted salt spray. He sank down to a sitting position and leaned forward, blinking rapidly, trying to let his eyes adjust from the indoor lighting of the hall to the darkness of open space. 

The others sat down beside him. Tech sat cross-legged, with his datapad in his lap, reviewing Kaminoan constellations with his datapad set on the lowest brightness. Hunter lay down and crossed his arms beneath his head, while Wrecker flopped onto his back beside him with Lula resting on his chest.

Wrecker whistled. Tech let out a curious little hmmmm. Hunter was quiet, deep in thought.

Crosshair hadn’t looked at the sky yet. He stared into the water, waiting for his eyes to fully adjust, knowing there was more that he could see. He waited until he could start to see the patterns of the waves crossing each other in ephemeral diamonds of water, until he could see fish swimming five, ten, twenty meters down, until he could see the vast deep shadows of the platform above curving over the bulk of creatures far, far below. Then he took a deep breath, leaning back, and gazed up at the stars.

He saw everything.

The stars themselves were stunning. White glittery pinpoints twinkled far above them, mixed with golden stellate shimmers, tiny sparks of reddish or bluish lights from far distant worlds. But the stars weren’t the only thing to see, to his surprise. Clouds of rich blue-purple violets, shimmering at the edges with a faint color that forced him to squint and made his head hurt slightly, roiled and flowed in the skies behind the bright points of the stars. Delicate filaments of hazy bluish fog swirled and spiraled amid the deepest black. His mouth fell open.

“Well, Cross?” Wrecker asked.

“What do you think?” said Hunter.

“Is it what you anticipated?”

Crosshair shook his head. “It’s… it’s… wizard.”

Wrecker laughed. “Never heard you say that before! What all do you see?” he asked curiously. 

Crosshair glanced back at his brother, confused for a moment. “You see the nebula up there, right? And all the… twirly parts? It’s… fascinating.”

Wrecker shrugged. “It’s nice -- there sure are a lot of stars, way more than I thought! But I dunno about any nebula. What’s it look like?”

Crosshair frowned. He knew he’d see more than they would, but this much more? He nibbled at his thumbnail, tearing one edge into little shreds. “I don’t know, it’s -- like smoke, but in the stars?”

“Tech?” said Hunter.

“A nebula is a giant cloud of dust and gas in space, and it may comprise many colors. There is a large nebula adjacent to the Rishi Maze galaxy that abuts Kamino, but it is not usually detectable to the naked eye,” Tech said, checking his datapad. “I believe only you can see it, Crosshair.”

“Oh,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. He’d let them all come out here for nothing? He stared up at the sky, the brilliant stars blurring as he blinked back sudden tears. “Sorry,” he said haltingly. “It’s… it’s special.”

“We believe you. It is still a beautiful night, even if we cannot see all of it ourselves,” said Tech. “I for one have enjoyed exploring new parts of the city with you. It’s useful to know there’s an escape route here.”

“Yeah, sneakin’ out’s always fun. And the fresh air’s way better than that smell in the barracks.”

“Just because we can’t see exactly what you see doesn’t mean we didn’t want to come,” Hunter said. “I like this a lot more than just staying in our bunks all night. Besides -- what’s that?”

A blazing blue-white star streaked across the sky, weaving a long tail of light across the starry landscape. It danced along at incredible speed, growing brighter and brighter.

“Look at it go!” whooped Wrecker.

“It’s a shooting star,” said Tech. “A small meteor falling into Kamino’s atmosphere and burning up. Some sentients believe they are lucky, and wish upon them. I don’t really understand why.”

“Make a wish, Cross!”

Crosshair stared up as the shooting star began to fade, its streaking path glimmering in and out of the dark. He swallowed. A wish?

A dozen wishes flashed through his mind. To be the best soldier in the Grand Army of the Republic. To be the commander of his own squad someday. To win the war, and protect the galaxy. For none of his brothers to ever get hurt.

He closed his eyes.

I wish they could see what I see.

He opened his eyes, and the shooting star was gone. He let out a sigh.

“What’d you wish?”

“He is not supposed to tell, according to the lore,” said Tech. “Otherwise that invalidates the wish.”

“That’s a silly rule.”

“I didn’t make it.”

“But that shouldn’t matter!”

”Again, I did not write the lore —”

“Oh quit arguing, you two,” said Hunter. “Let’s just enjoy it. It’s a nice night out here. Right, Crosshair?”

Crosshair gazed up at the wheeling stars, slowly exhaling as the night sky glittered and shone and radiated far above him. His brothers looked up at the stars with him, and even if they didn’t see things exactly the same… they were here, and he wouldn’t have made it through the halls without them.

Crosshair smiled. His wish probably wasn’t going to come true, but somehow, he didn’t mind.

“Yeah, it’s all right.”

[pagsys-writings]

do you believe in ghost stories?

thranto | 1901 words | rated T

horror; but like not bad - like I'm in a secluded hallway in the dark spooky vibes; or as I like to call it "Spooky Lite"; Comfort; literally wrote this last night at midnight but it's not bad

Based on this prompt

Summary:

“Hello! Anybody here?” Eli called out, partially out of boredom, even though he knew it was an absolutely ridiculous and terrible idea to call attention to himself right now. His voice echoed along the hallway and the eerie silence that followed sent a chill down his back. “Actually… I don’t want an answer to that,” he mumbled under his breath.

In which Eli and Thrawn investigate a deserted ship.

"Hello! Anybody here?” Eli called out, partially out of boredom, even though he knew it was an absolutely ridiculous and terrible idea to call attention to himself right now. His voice echoed along the hallway and the eerie silence that followed sent a chill down his back. “Actually… I don’t want an answer to that,” he mumbled under his breath. 

He was being absurd. The Chimaera hadn’t registered any life forms present and chances were that they wouldn’t find anything interesting. Eli didn’t really understand why Thrawn wanted to check out this decrepit “ghost” ship in the first place. Maybe he thought they’d find something related to Nightswan. They had run into a few pirates in the area, but that didn’t mean this was related to that man. 

Rubbing his hands along his arms, Eli tried to ward off the chill that seemed to have crept into his bones. “Kriff, it’s cold,” he grumbled. 

His heels scuffing against the floor was the only sound besides the buzzing lights powered by the backup generator that they’d managed to get going. Except the emergency lights didn’t offer much and they kept flickering like they were seconds from going out. Eli readjusted his grip on the glowrod, holding it a little tighter than before. He wanted nothing more than to leave this place. 

He passed doorway after doorway. He noted nothing of interest or importance. For the disarray the outer portion of the ship was in, Eli had expected to find the inside to be much of the same. But, it wasn’t. Besides the dirt and grime on the floor from disuse, there was no evidence of anyone ever being present. Either the people of this ship had plenty of time to evacuate, or it had already been looted by pirates or whoever came across the empty vessel. 

What Eli also noted was the absence of any evidence indicating a fight. No scorch marks from blasters and no bodies. It really was like a ghost ship — something like the stories he and his cousins would tell around the campfire when they were younger. He did not appreciate the thoughts that that connection brought up. 

I should check in, he reminded himself. Only to realize that he hadn’t heard anyone checking in, and that was always Thrawn’s requirement when they split up the group. He was adamant about a strict schedule of who should check in and when. There should have been three others by now, but his comm was silent. 

He lifted the device, speaking his name and a brief overview of what he’d found, which was basically nothing. The response he received was static. He tried again, but nothing changed. 

Looking up and down the hallway, Eli felt utterly alone. His teeth clattered as the chill seemed to get worse. Should probably head back… He stepped in the direction he’d come from when the emergency lights flickered — buzzing brighter for a moment — before going dark. The absence of their buzzing made the silence and dark feel alive.

“Son of a…” Eli froze as he blinked his eyes. He still had his glowrod light but his eyes were struggling to adjust and his mind was whirling as fear threatened to grip him. He tried the comm again and swallowed down his panic when he got no response. “It’s alright,” he told himself as he forced his feet to move. 

All he had to do was keep going in the direction where they’d docked the shuttle and he’d find the others. Then he could get off this ship and to the safety of the Chimaera.

With the new darkness, Eli’s senses seemed dialed up to 11. His breathing sounded extremely loud, as did his feet against the floor. He kept the light in front of him, lazily sweeping it from side to side to make sure he headed in the right direction. He was pretty sure he was doing a decent job — he’d carefully memorized the turns and counted the doorways as he went. 

He made a left and stopped short. He could have sworn he heard something bouncing and rolling along the floor — something metal. The hallway in front of him was empty, but his skin started to crawl with unease. 

Stepping back, Eli waved his light across the hallway he’d just come from. Nothing. It was empty and nothing appeared out of place. Not like there was anything there to begin with to be bumped into or moved. 

Turning back toward the direction of their shuttle, Eli took a hesitant step forward and shivered as something frigid seemed to pass through him. He really wanted to burn this place to the ground just so it would stop tormenting him. Another step and his glowrod blinked. Eli sucked in a breath just as it flickered again and went out. He let out a torrent of curses as he banged the light against his palm, praying for it to be just a bad connection that he could smack back into place. Nothing happened. 

Another curse escaped him as he blindly searched for the wall. Without his sight, Eli felt himself get turned around as he reached out. Once his hands were pressed against the cool metal, he took a breath. However, it did nothing to calm the racing thoughts in his head — the ones that said he was going to die here. He decided he was gonna haunt Thrawn’s ass if he did just for getting him into this mess in the first place. 

A puff of air touched the back of his neck and Eli felt his hair stand on end. A hand brushed against his elbow and instinct kicked in. Eli whirled around, breaking the person’s hold while bringing his other hand up to punch or at least attempt to fend off his attacker, but the person was faster. Fingers wrapped around his wrist, halting his movements before Eli could do any damage. 

“Easy, Commander Vanto.” Eli looked up and blinked. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, but he didn’t need them to find Thrawn’s soft glowing red eyes in the darkness. Why hadn’t he noticed their glow before? 

“Sir?” Eli asked dumbly. Thrawn’s grip on his wrist relaxed and he lowered Eli’s arm. He didn’t let go, though. “Why didn’t you say something?” he hissed in frustration. His heart pounded from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“I did.” Eli blinked. Had he been that lost in his thoughts? “You hadn’t checked in and weren’t responding,” Thrawn continued, “so I came to find you.”

“My comm isn’t working,” Eli said with a frown. “Yours are?” He noticed Thrawn’s eyes drop lower and back up, as if nodding. “Why don’t you have a glowrod?”

“The lights were still on and I knew you had yours.” Thrawn paused. Eli nodded to himself, reminding himself that the Chiss had better vision than humans. He probably didn’t mind the dark as much. “Though it appears you are having difficulties.”

With a sigh, Eli nodded. “Yeah, the darn thing just… fizzled out…”

There was another pause. Thrawn adjusted his hold on Eli so that they were holding hands. “Very well. I will guide you back to the shuttle then.” 

“That’s not necessary, sir,” Eli said. His wild space twang thickened with his embarrassment as Thrawn gently tugged him forward. Eli dutifully followed him. Even though Thrawn said it in such a matter-of-fact way, it didn’t help that this felt too intimate for Eli’s liking. He was definitely blaming the darkness for it. His other senses felt like they were in overdrive without being able to see, and he was very aware of the feeling of Thrawn’s touch. He tried to tell himself that Thrawn would have done this for anyone, but it didn’t prevent his heart from skipping a beat. “I can just follow you,” he said, briefly squeezing Thrawn’s hand and relishing in its warmth. Weird, he thought. Usually, Eli was the one who ran warmer.

“That would be unwise,” Thrawn replied. They made another left. If Eli remembered correctly, they had to make two more rights, pass seven doors, make a left, pass three doors, and then make another left followed by an immediate right. “I’m sure you remember the exact turns to reach the shuttle but it will take much too long when this is simply the most logical and efficient way.”

Efficiency. Eli pouted even as he flushed at Thrawn’s compliment. His hold on Thrawn’s hand tightened slightly. It made sense, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment in his chest. Something clanged behind them. Eli’s back stiffened while Thrawn paused, listening intently. Then they continued walking, but Eli noticed the tighter hold Thrawn had on his hand and the way they walked slightly faster. 

“Do you believe in ghost stories, sir?” Eli whispered if only to distract himself. 

Thrawn didn’t respond. He made a few more turns and Eli knew they were close to the shuttle. He could hear the voices from the others in their party echoing along the empty hallways. 

Finally, they made their last turn and Eli breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into the well-lit area. Thrawn immediately ordered the group to prepare to leave. As everyone hurried to move — apparently as eager to leave as Eli — Thrawn turned to look down the hallway they’d come from. 

“Check your comm, Commander.” 

With a frown, Eli did so and was surprised to find it worked. Out of curiosity, he lifted his glowrod. “What the—'' Its light clicked on without any problem. “But it was…”

Thrawn’s hand still held his own, but Eli’s hand ached with how strong Thrawn’s grip was. It was the only indication that something was amiss. His eyes didn’t leave the hallway as he said, “There is usually some truth to ghost stories,” answering Eli’s earlier question. A chill ran down Eli’s spine and maybe he leaned closer to Thrawn. “Though usually, the details are highly exaggerated.”

Eli knew that. He remembered saying as much to some of the other officers back when they were on the Blood Crow, but hearing it from Thrawn somehow didn’t feel all that comforting. He glanced back at the hallway and thought the shadows appeared unnaturally black. “I’m ready to leave this place and never come back,” Eli whispered — his voice thick with worry. 

“Indeed,” Thrawn said. He finally turned away and guided them to their waiting shuttle. Eli wondered what sort of stories Thrawn had heard growing up. He also wondered if he’d faced things that perhaps made him believe or at least wonder if something here was… off. If it was enough to unnerve his commanding officer, Eli wasn’t sure he wanted to know the stories of his youth.

As they boarded the shuttle, Eli couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He kept his eyes forward — too afraid to glance back and risk seeing something he shouldn’t. Once the doors closed, he let out a breath of relief. He didn’t comment on the fact that Thrawn’s hand remained wrapped around his for the duration of the flight back to the Chimaera. Neither of them commented on the unease they’d felt on the deserted ship while their crew chatted around them. And it wasn’t until the shuttle docked and everyone began to disperse did Thrawn and Eli mutually released their hold on each other.

[mariahjade2]

The flash of Mara’s holo-cam lit up spectral ghosts in the abandoned merchant shopping complex as she took her last shot.   The light caught a dusty mannequin leaning awkwardly against the corner window of a deserted store front like a trapped spirit.  This was the scene of her last assignment, one last judgment, now the photo would be the the last record of a way of life rejected in Coruscant's rush to the future.  Soon it would be gone, torn and ripped apart, a fitting metaphor for her own situation.  Were her emergency credits and false ID’s still where she’d stashed them? She had to hurry before Isard’s goons caught up to her.  The shop was dark and her glowrod’s light did little to push back the murky shadows in the decayed musty room. 

A paragraph I might use somewhere at some point.

[scrumpledorph-writes]

Koben's First Date (She's 35)

Arrived at the agreed upon meeting point at 18:55 hours: five minutes to perform a reconnaissance before the date begins. Three suns casting a long set of shadows and a dangerous ambient temperature for anything not covered by them. Single story bar, wrought out of sun baked clay, outer walls a solid imperial meter thick. Would diffuse a whole platoon of blaster rifle fire.

Still a dingy rathole at the edge of town, but it’s what my date picked out. I’ve only been staying here two weeks so it’s not like I know anywhere nicer. I’ve done breach and clears on scummier places, so just coming here to relax should be easy!

Wearing my best suit of armor, picked out my most flattering helmet, and polished the outfit well enough to blind anyone who points a glowrod at me. I look good, I feel good: I can do this. Just walk through that front door and-

There’s half a dozen blaster pistols pointed at me. ‘What the hell’s a trooper doing here?!’ one of them’s asking. I figured the purple stripes and the mismatched helmet would be a flagrant enough violation of Imperial Dress Armor Maintenance Protocol to get the point across that I’m no longer officially Empire affiliated, but some people just don’t read their manuals I suppose.

My hands are by my side, I’m playing it cool. Don’t kill six people before sitting down, that’s coming on too strong.

‘Oh, uhh, don’t mind me! Just here on a date, was gonna sit down in that empty booth and-’

A blaster pistol pokes me in the side as I walk by. Killing one or two of these guys will probably get the point across, that’s a justifiable use of force in a naval court. I take a survey of the room: angles, positions, battery grades. Their guns are barely stronger than stunners, I could take at least three solid hits before the heat sinks start to fail – it’d ruin the polish though.

Okay just break this guy’s arm and use him as a shield to get the point across. Here. We.

‘Hey Buckethead, you got credits?’ The bartender! He seems amenable; this place is a hole in the wall so losing these scumbags would probably put him out of business. Turn to look at him, nod slowly, reach for my credit pouch even more so.

‘Good. You thirsty?’ Nod again. I scheduled this date to align precisely with my dietary schedule, so I plan to have one and a half glasses of water and a nutritionally complete meal. Ample spending for a single patron.

‘Then whoever shoots you pays your tab.’ The blasters recede back into cloaks and shoddy holsters. Sit down at the booth without further incident, good progress so far. Don’t remember any of my old squad-mates mentioning shootouts in their date stories. Face the door so I can keep an eye out for her.

She’s a few minutes late. Within acceptable standard deviation, not worth a reprimand. Even if it was I’d let it slide, because standing in the front doorway she’s just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Coral pink skin draped over legs built like tree trunks – waging a war of attrition against a pair of work pants eligible for veteran’s benefits, and winning it by the look of the tears. Cushion around the midsection: serving double duty as protection and a calorie reserve for long bouts of physical labour. Arms poking out of a sleeveless, tastefully sun bleached off white work shirt that look like they could heft up a laser cannon. Years of desert dust had taken up the venerable work of sculpting her a strong, hardy jawline that could come out the other end of a brawl with no more than a bruise. All this topped off with a half dozen shoulder length Nautolan head tentacles.

I didn’t even know women could look like that – they definitely can’t while adhering to Imperial Diet and Dress Guidelines – but I’m glad she does. Her deep black eyes are on me. I’m glad to be wearing a helmet, just now noticing my jaw dropped while I was looking her up and down.

They’re off me again. She’s looking around the bar. Oh shit, right, I’m in full armor. Wave her down. She’s pointing at herself incredulously. Nod, but don’t nod so hard I look desperate. Alright that worked. I never got sent on information gathering missions, so I don’t have any training for how to seduce a woman, but all the guys used to say just be yourself and act natural.

‘H-hi’ Terrible. Cracked, warbling voice, trembling like a schoolchild. Clear your throat, pretend this is a debrief with a particularly informal officer, and try again.

‘Hey! Brayli, right?’ ‘Yeah, you’re Koben?’ That husky drawl is just about making my knees buckle, really glad I decided to meet her sitting down. Her voice is bouncing around in my helmet like a concussion grenade bounces shockwaves around a cockpit.

‘Do you mind if I take this thing off?’ Point at the helmet to make sure she doesn’t think you’re some kind of exhibitionist freak. She’s nodding, good. Don’t put it on the table that’s weird and intimidating. The seat next to you is good, that’s normal, put it there.

She’s smirking now, oh no why’s she doing that, she’s making fun of me, now that there’s nothing keeping her from reading my face it’s written on me like a bounty poster how nervous I am.

‘Not sure why you bother wearing that, cute thing like you.’ Oh, I understand now, she’s forward. Really forward. Can’t keep the nervous laughter inside, but she seems to be liking it. Adrenal responses involve an up front surge and level off with time, take the conversation somewhere less stimulating and circle back around for another pass later.

‘I kept it this way by wearing the thing – an old squad-mate of mine took his off and took a blaster shot, looked like someone had smashed a tomato with a hammer.’ Why. Why did you say that. That’s weird, nobody knows what a smashed tomato looks like and nobody wants to know that it looks a lot like a blown open face.

Wait no never mind she’s laughing I’m doing great – mental note maybe this woman is dangerous – laugh too so you don’t look like a commando droid with synthskin draped over it. We’re having idle conversation, it’s progressing naturally. Keep talking.

‘That outfit looks practical, what do you need it for?’ She’s looking down at it, now back to me. ‘Speeder mechanic. I would’ve wore some nicer clothes, but I don’t own any.’ Another little laugh. She laughs a lot, it’s really pretty. I’d ask her to spend the rest of the night just laughing at nothing but that’s weird so I won’t. I’m already laughing too, I didn’t even need to remember.

‘Yeah I know what you mean. My closet’s this and a subcycle’s worth of identical underarmor.’ Too far, you were doing great but you were riding a thin line and now she knows you live like a soldier who has nothing else to offer – no wait another laugh she’s fine you’re fine it’s fine everything’s fine.

‘Well, it’s a very nice suit of armor. Maybe you can let me take a closer look some time.’ I’m pretty sure that was flirty, don’t be standoffish and professional about this. ‘You can take a look now!’ I’ll show her my gauntlet: it’s the smallest piece which makes people think it’s the least important but actually an incredible degree of engineering goes into all the microservos: nobody ever thinks unpowered armor needs microservos because you can move it just with your hands, but actually they’re there to subtly compensate for recoil. Normal Stormtrooper armor doesn’t have it, and in test environments where Purge and Storm troopers swapped armor it was found to reduce deviation by up to five degrees and increase hit probability by as much as fifteen percent. Why am I bothering to remember this; she’s a civilian speeder mechanic she doesn’t care about any of this.

She’s running her fingers along my hand. I know I’m not feeling her body heat because the suit is weather proofed, but it feels like she’s leaving lingering embers trailing along my skin. But not searing it like how the inquisition sears flesh with their lightsabers to torture dissidents, it’s more like the gentle warmth of a blaster barrel after a just slightly too long burst. It’s nice.

Her mouth furrows into a frown for the first time of the night. Why, what’s wrong, what’d I do, can she tell everything that these gauntlets have ever done? Is she a secret jedi? Does she feel them around her windpipe crushing the life out of her and her son is beating on the leg of my armor for me to stop but he’s so weak and I’m so much stronger and then there’s a crack and she falls limp and I walk away, leaving a scar that won’t ever heal in her son’s heart until he joins a resistance cell and I end up shooting him stone dead in the street?

‘It looks like this microservo’s a little out of tune.’

Oh. Well that’s fine. ‘Maybe you could tune it up for me some time?’ I didn’t even think that one through, but she’s smiling about it, so I guess we have something in common. She’s letting my hand rest on top of hers after giving it a complete once over. I know I should probably pull it back, but this is nice. Just a few more seconds. One. Two. Three. No more, it’s time to move on to something else.

‘So, what’re you doing for work now that the Empire finally let you go?’ Don’t correct her by saying I deserted. There’s a lot of things not to have said tonight, and I’m already safely past most of them, but don’t say that one specifically the most. Followup thing not to say: don’t tell her I’m a bounty killer. Definitely don’t mention that I’m specifically a bounty killer and not a bounty hunter because there’s an active bounty out on me and the only work I could get was the illegal version. Don’t lie to her, because that’s almost as bad as all those other things, but stretch the truth until it ends up somewhere respectable.

‘Freelance security work. Protecting transports and merchant caravans.’ Not a lie! Sometimes I end up guarding a dummy caravan as bait until the target shows up. She looks impressed. I’m out of things I can reasonably say, how do I follow this up. Drinks!

Yeah, get drinks, showcase my poison honed constitution, that’ll be really impressive! My inquisitor used to microdose me on common toxins to build up a resistance to ambushes and subterfuge. Whatever watered down swill a place like this can offer will be easy!

Speaking of, it’s been a long day. This place serve anything strong?’ Another little chuckle. I’m starting to savor every one of them. ‘Hey Glixnee, get us a couple snakebites.’ Oh, the mess hall used to serve those. Not really what I’d call strong, but out here I guess something recognizable is as good as I can hope for. The bartender is making the drinks and he’s bringing us the drinks and the drinks are here and this is the single most revolting substance that has ever entered my digestive system.

Poisons are usually engineered to be subtle, but this is just making no secret of how awful it is. She’s sipping at it with no trouble like it’s a glass of water. I think if I try that I’ll throw up. All of it, right now. It feels like molten slag going down, but it’s gone. Now I can dilute it over the night. She’s laughing again.

‘Wow, hope you’ve got a synth liver.’ My body feels like it’s unspooling, but my limbs still move so I guess I’m fine. ‘Whaddyu meen?’ That didn’t come out right. Try again, still wrong. She’s laughing the hardest she has all night. I’d chug a gallon of this expired swill if it kept making her laugh harder.

‘You know you just downed a glass of snake venom, right? You’re supposed to sip on it over the night, let it attack you in small waves and fight it off for a light buzz. It takes three hours to drink one dose safely without an enhanced toxin filter.’ I’m sliding down the bench. The lights just got a lot brighter and her voice is so loud now, she’s talking so slowly too. My mouth tastes like I licked the ashes out of the barrel of my blaster rifle, but other than that I feel gooooood. ‘Ooooh. Yaaaay.’

I’m having a great time halfway to the floor, giggling and drooling and now I can’t move my face any more so I guess I’m gonna rest in a pool of it for a little bit. She’s saying something to the bartender but my ears are ringing like one of the guys pranked me with a flashbang so I don’t really know what it is they’re saying. Oh now she’s picking me up, she’s giving me a hug, hooray! Oh she’s holding my mouth open, are we having a kiss now?

The bartender’s coming over, when’d he join our date? Get him out of here, I wanna flail my arms at him to get him out of here but they don’t wanna move for me, little treacherous bastards. He’s pouring something down my throat and it tastes even worse than the venom somehow and he’s carrying me away. Goodbye everybody at the bar! I want to wave but my arms are still mutinying so a little happy wheeze will do.

I’m kicking my legs and having fun with the ride and now I’m in a bathroom stall. I don’t really need to use the bathroom and now my tummy’s turning itself inside out and I’m purging the toxins from my system, coughing and retching as it burns even worse on the way up than it did on the way down.

The world’s coming back into focus and I’m mostly over whatever the hell that was but still reeling from the exertion, only dimly aware he’s talking to me. I’m looking up at him, and he’s laughing, but obviously at me and not with me like Brayli does. ‘Gotta admit I don’t see folks try that one too often. Wanted to look tough for your date?’

I’m being reprimanded, a role I’m a lot more familiar with. He’s talking again now that I’ve managed an embarrassed nod. ‘Well you put on a great show. I’ll go tell ‘em to settle down before you come back out, but hell: I’m not even gonna charge you for this.’ His apron has a lot more pockets than I expected, and that ever so slightly glowing blue vial is singing a siren’s song of relief to me right now.

‘I got most of it out, but not enough for it not to kill me, and this is the antidote?’ ‘Good guess. This a hobby of yours or something?’ It’s the least objectionable thing I’ve had to drink tonight, even factoring in the lumps. Splash some cold water on my face, swish my mouth out from the tap, and I’m feeling close enough to fine to go back out. I shouldn’t keep her waiting.

There’s a couple sets of eyes on me right now, but the only ones I care about are hers. They’re locked onto me and I’m not even forcing the little smile I can feel forming. ‘Hey. Guess a snakebite’s a little different around here than an Imperial canteen.’ We’re laughing it off together. It’s been a very nice change of pace to be laughed with instead of at.

‘Holy shit she’s got flesh and blood after all! Here I was thinking you’d found the last commando droid abandoned on the assembly line and dressed it up in a layer of synthskin so you could pretend anyone liked you!’

I could kill him, easily. He’s obviously drunk, so his reflexes are shot, and he’s a gangly little son of a bitch anyway. One of those chitinous species’ that don’t give in gradually to force, I’d get a nice satisfying crunch all at once. Put the helmet on so he can’t even hope for a glass to the face to save him, snuff the life out of his stupid compound eyes, reveal that I’m nothing more than a cold blooded killer, scar her for life. Forget it.

She’s giving me another smile, but this one’s forced. I had to study the way faces contort once during counterspy training and this one’s fake. Without another word she’s up, and then he’s down. One good right hook to the side of the head and – holy hell it bounced off the counter! Normally when you knock someone out cold they just slump over like a sack of meat and go through oxygen deprivation and die, but he might not even get the chance. By the Emperor I think I just swallowed my tongue. No, still feel it. Definitely made me jump in my seat a little, which even a proton torpedo across the view screen doesn’t make me do any more. I was infatuated before, but now I’m in love.

I’m still staring as she sits down, but now I’m worried that she’s mistaking how attracted I am for concern, or worse: judgment. Clear my throat, blink, put my face back on right. ‘Relax, his bug juice coagulates quickly. He’ll be fine.’ I’ll take her word for it. Not quite sure if I’m disappointed, but the swirling torrent of toxin hangover and flustered lust are definitely calling for some fresh air.

‘Hey, if it’s alright, do you maybe want to get out of here?’ ‘Please.’ We’re up, the helmet’s back on, my credit purse is a little heavier – my last job could only pay me in thousands so the barkeep had to break change – and we’re outside. I never thought I’d want to fill my lungs with this dry, dusty air but my head’s already starting to empty out.

‘Well, I should call a speeder. I had a great time though, if you wanted to swap comm frequencies I’d love to keep in touch.’ Unreserved, unabashed, not desperate, not apologetic, no promises to do better. I didn’t even know talking to someone could be like this. She’s giggling. It’s fine, she giggles a lot. I’m not in trouble.

‘I can give you a lift.’ She’s pointing at a land speeder. At least, the rough silhouette of a land speeder. More like a cobbled together pile of parts that failed routine inspection. Any requisition officer would scrap it, maybe even have it melted down and recast to be on the safe side, but if she’s a mechanic then I’m sure it runs. Can’t exactly say it looks out of place around here.

We’re in the speeder together. It’s cramped. Her thighs are laying siege to the unyielding plate of my suit. There’s no room for me to put it if I were to take it off. This suit’s the one thing that’s never failed or betrayed me over the years, but I’m half tempted to dump it out the side just so it could be my skin she’s pressed up against. I’ll settle for putting my helmet on the floor.

My place is a long way out of town. Little whitewashed clay hut in the middle of nowhere, an inconspicuous blip not worth paying any attention to. Suits my needs perfectly, but it’s a long trip. I always take a speeder halfway then march for half an hour just so there’s nobody who could trace my location.

We’re stopped. ‘Engine trouble?’ She’s shaking her head and pointing over my shoulder. ‘Just wanted to take in the sunset for a few minutes.’ Oh wow, that’s worth stopping for. The three suns look beautiful over the dunes; their usual oppressive hues are fading into a cool pink. Glittering and sparkling and reflected a million million fold over the sand. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Her weight just shifted onto me. The speeder is on the ground, so no danger of capsizing. I’ve seen other troopers use this maneuver before: put my arm around her shoulder. We’re sitting silently, just watching the suns disappear over the horizon. It’s nice.

The minutes pass, and the suns retreat with them. I’m looking into those fathomless black eyes of hers, completely devoid of texture and depth. I’d love to be lost in them forever. The speeder starts up more easily than the first time, and we’re off across the dunes again.

I can’t invite her in, she can’t even get line of sight to my place. Damn it! I clear my throat at the crest of a dune. Good enough visibility, I can find my way back home. ‘You can let me out here. I like the exercise.’ Not the whole truth, but not a stretch either: I always appreciated long marches.

Getting out is a modest challenge with the speeder still running, but I can manage. She’s waving me off, I’m returning the gesture. ‘Not quite the night I was expecting, but one I wouldn’t mind following up on. Call me tomorrow?’ I’m nodding, we’re both waving, she’s driving off, I’m walking alone with my helmet under my shoulder and a chill creeping across my face. Those last two solve each other.

Lots of time to think on the march. Think about what I am, think about what I used to be. Child slave, orphan, Naval Academy star pupil. Storm trooper, Purge trooper, assassin. Deserter, bounty killer. Happy. I was happy tonight. Maybe a little of those other things, but mostly that. I hope I can be happy again soon.

[virtie333]

Day 19 - Life Day Damerey Celebration

Prompt: Fire

Summary: Can we say enemies to friends to potential lovers?

Notes: Okay, this one did not turn out how I originally planned. With the prompt 'fire,' I automatically think 'smut.' And that's how it was going to go. But, alas, they took over, and a whole lot of surprising dialog happened instead!

AO3

“This was the stupidest idea you’ve ever had in a long list of stupid ideas.”

Poe turned and glared at the woman behind him, but it wasn’t like he could really see her face, and she most likely couldn’t see his glare. They were both swaddled up from head to toe to protect themselves from the wicked 80 KPH wind that was swirling around them. As if the wind wasn’t bad enough, it was also snowing, so visibility was nil. Luckily, Rey was staying close to him; it wouldn’t do to lose each other in this mess.

Poe turned forward again and looked down at the sensor in his hands. They were almost to the outcropping of rocks that had stood mid-way between where they had landed the little cruiser and the settlement they had come to visit. It had been Poe’s idea to land the ship a couple of kilometers away from the settlement so as to not startle the villagers, who were simple, planet-bound people. They knew about space travel, but had no interest in leaving their safe little communities.

Because of this, the First Order had no interest in them, and the Resistance had been using this community to acquire rations for the last few months. Poe had volunteered to go this time, and he had been planning on bringing Finn with him, but Leia had asked Finn to help her with a specific project at the last minute. “Take Rey,” had been her directive.

The weather when they arrived had been fair, sunny and mild, and they had already brought the foodstuffs back to the ship early in the afternoon, borrowing a cart the was pulled by an equine-looking animal with four horns called a Polinn. They returned the cart and animal, said their thank-yous and goodbyes, and headed back to the ship on foot. The wind had become stronger and cold during their journey back to the village, but the snow didn’t start until they had left. They talked briefly about turning back, but Poe decided it wasn’t too far a walk and that they should continue on. He was regretting that decision.

A dark shape appeared in front of Poe and he stopped. Rey crashed softly into his back, indicating that she had been focused on the ground in front of her. “These are the rocks we saw on the way,” he told her, shouting to be heard above the wind. “There was a recess that looked like a cave on the south side.”

He saw Rey nod. Poe turned to the right and followed the base of the rocky outcropping. The wind began to ease as the rocks protected them from it, but the snow still swirled around them madly. Finally, Poe saw the opening he had noted during their previous journeys by the outcropping. He ducked in, pleased to find it was indeed a cave, and a deep one. He pulled out his glowrod and lit it up.

Rey was already removing the scarf from her face and letting the hood of her coat down. The air temperature wasn’t too excessively cold, only a few degrees below freezing, so once out of the wind it wasn’t unpleasant. But it was still going to be too cold to be comfortable if they stayed the night here.

“Look!” Rey said, nodding toward the center of the large cavern. A fire pit lay in the sand, and along the wall not to far from it sat a stack of wood. “Someone’s used this for shelter before.”

“Often, from the looks of it,” Poe agreed. “You want to keep going and try and find the ship or do you want to hunker here until this storm passes?” While he could read the direction they were going on his sensor, they could still miss the ship and walk right on by it in the snow.

“You mean I get a choice?” she asked. She had griped more than once that Poe was being overbearing. Yes, he was in charge during this mission, but did he have to be so bossy?

Poe took a deep breath. “Yes, in this case, you get a choice.”

Rey looked back at the entrance to the cave. They could just barely see the swirling snow trying to get in, and they could still hear the wind howling. “It’ll be dark soon,” she said softly. “This isn’t much different than a sandstorm,” she continued. “You should always find shelter and wait out a sandstorm. As cold as it is, I’d think it’s even more important to do that now.” She looked back at him, her eyes wide. There was no fear in them; Poe didn’t think he’d ever seen Rey afraid. But there was worry.

Poe nodded. “Let’s make a fire, then,” he said. “And get comfortable. Hopefully this thing is done by morning.”

They worked together to gather wood, and Poe used his multitool to light one of the smaller pieces on fire, centering it among the rest of the fuel. Soon, a comfortable fire was crackling away. He pulled the strap of his pack over his shoulder and opened it, finding the ration bars he had stuffed inside before leaving base. He pulled them out.

Rey gave him a surprised look.

“Always be prepared,” Poe grinned. He offered one to Rey.

Smiling slightly, she took it, then pulled out her canteen. She shook it. “Not frozen, yet,” she said, then she sat it down near the fire so it would stay thawed. Poe did the same.

Quietly, they ate, occasionally looking outside. The wind sounded like it was getting even worse, and they could feel the temperature drop as the sun began to set. Eventually, it was dark enough they couldn’t see out the entrance, but they could still hear the wind.

“We should sleep,” Poe said. “We’d stay a lot warmer if we… huddled, together.”

Rey gave him an odd look. Or maybe it was just the way the shadows from the firelight played with her face. “You want us to cuddle?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’ll be a lot more comfortable.”

“Is that an order, Commander?”

Poe groaned. “No, of course it’s not an order,” he said, frustrated. “Kriff, Rey, if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I just know how cold you get.” He pulled out the emergency blanket out of his pack and moved to lay down. "I don't know why you have to be so contrary all the time. I know you don’t like following orders from me, but Kriff, Rey, what’d I ever do to you to make you so… hateful?”

“I’m not hateful!” Rey argued. “I just…”

“You don’t trust me,” Poe finished for her. He settled in, head on his pack, staring at the fire. It shouldn’t hurt this much, he thought. Not being liked by Rey. While he tended to get along with everybody, he’d had his fair share of people he didn’t get along with. They’d never bothered him like Rey did. Maybe it was because BB8 and Finn and even Leia all loved her and she loved and respected them. He really, really liked Rey… when she wasn’t talking back or arguing with him. He’d wracked his brain trying to understand why she didn’t like him.

“I trust you, Poe,” she said softly. He looked over at her. She was still sitting, her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. “I just… you make me feel so… I don’t know. Inferior?”

Poe sat up sharply. “What?!”

Rey glanced at him, but looked away quickly. “You’re so perfect,” she continued. “Everyone loves you. BB8 couldn’t stop telling me how amazing you were long before I ever met you. I felt like I knew you, and then when we met…”

“When we met what?” he pushed. He thought their first real meeting had been amazing. He still dreamed of the smile she gave him that day. She hadn’t smiled at him like that since.

She shrugged. “You looked at me as if I was special. And not because of what I had done, not because of what I was.” Her cheeks seemed to be darker, Poe thought. Maybe it was just because of the heat from the fire. “Then when things settled, I realized you looked at everyone that way. And that’s just who you are,” she emphasized, looking at him briefly. “You make everyone around you feel special and capable and important. That’s why you’re such a great leader.”

Poe felt himself becoming embarrassed by her words. “I hear a ‘but’ in there,” he said softly.

"But you started treating me different,” she continued. “Like I was… different.”

“You are different,” Poe agreed. “You’re a Jedi.” He could see her face scrunch up at his words, and he began talking again before she could argue. “You’re also stubborn and headstrong and independent,” he paused as she looked up at him. “And smart and confusing and beautiful and…”

Her mouth was open in shock as she looked at him.

He licked his lips. “The fact is, Rey, I’m not sure how to act around you. Do I treat you with reverence like a Jedi? Do I treat you like a green soldier under my command? Do I treat you like a friend, only to find out you don’t want that kind of intimacy with me?” He took a deep breath. “I like you Rey, and I respect you, and I want to be your friend, but I always feel that I’m so far out of your orbit that you don’t even see me as a colleague much less a confidant. I say things to you to make you mad because sometimes that’s the only emotion you show me.” He ended his statement quietly, looking down at the fire in front of him. Embarrassed for opening himself up so much.

They were silent for a long while, but then Rey spoke up. “You want to know something?” She waited for Poe to look at her. “You make me feel every emotion I’ve ever known. More than any other person I’ve ever known. It scares me.” She looked away, whispering, “That’s why I hide it.”

“It seems we’ve been misreading each other for a while now,” Poe replied, his voice hushed. “Projecting emotions onto each other that aren’t there.”

“How do we fix it?” Rey asked, her eyes huge and soft, glowing gently in the firelight.

“Let’s start over.” Poe held his hand out toward her. “I’m Poe.”

With a smile teasing the corner of her mouth, Rey reached back and took his hand. “Rey.”

“I know,” Poe responded.

Rey smiled. The same beautiful smile she had given him on the Falcon after leaving Crait. Only bigger. Warmer. Happier.

Instead of letting go of her hand, he tugged on it gently. “Now get over here and cuddle with me so we can stay warm while we sleep.” He let go of her hand as she sighed heavily and grabbed up her pack, pulling out the blanket and moving over closer to him.

“You are so bossy,” she grumbled, but there was no anger in her voice.

“See, now that you had right about me,” he told her with a grin.

She shook her head and smiled back, then sat down in front of him. She spread out her blanket and they both lay down, her back to his front, facing the fire. Slowly, Poe brought his arm around her. “Is this okay?” he asked. If she didn’t want him touching her, he wouldn’t.

“It’s fine,” she said softly.

He settled with his arm loosely around her waist. He could feel her relax in front of him, and his own body eased in response. “Goodnight, Rey.”

“Goodnight, Poe.”

[foiblepnoteworthy]

Tiny Vader

Posted this on ao3 yesterday but uhhh... yeah. 

No warnings apply, Vader and Piett, around 600 words.

This hadn’t, Piett suspected, gone according to Lord Vader’s plan.

He could be mistaken, of course, considering he had never seen Lord Vader fail in anything, discounting Skywalker’s repeated escapes. 

Still… he highly doubted Lord Vader had intended for the big magic Force Temple to turn him into a child. Assuming the child was himself and not a random one. Assuming they could even tell, considering he might not remember his adult self; considering that no mother would name their child ‘Darth Vader’.

The child was small. Which made sense, he was a child. Perhaps six years old - Piett didn’t know much about kids, but he was definitely past toddlerhood but not yet approaching puberty.

(Piett immediately wiped the thought of Vader in puberty from his mind.)

Either way, he was somewhere between five and eleven years old. On the younger side, he thought, considering he barely met Piett’s hip, and Piett was hardly tall. Lord Vader must have been tall for his age, considering how tall he became. 

He was blond. That was the biggest indicator that he was not Lord Vader at all. There was no way Lord Vader had ever been blond.

There were also the white robes, ragged and dirty - though the fact they were dirty with oil was a point in Lord Vader’s favour. Still, Lord Vader had never worn rags and never worn white, just as much as he had never been blond.

Before anyone could do more than blink in surprise, the boy proved that he was, in fact, Lord Vader, by summoning something to his hand from one of the troopers’ belts. It was only when he heard the tell-tale crackle that Piett recognised the EMP, and had just enough time to brace himself before all the lights went out. 

There was a beat of dark and silence, then a child’s sigh, then the snap as the men’s glowrods all activated themselves simultaneously. 

Lit in red and blue, surrounded by darkness, wielding terrifying power, Lord Vader was starting to look like himself again.

Piett blinked. No, he still didn’t. He should, now that it was obvious it was him, but he was still five. 

Piett couldn’t bring himself to ask for orders. 

“Medic Kickss,” said the tiny Lord, slurring every so slightly. “I requi-yuh youw assistance.”

Piett was not fond of children and this was his boss, a giant magic cyborg who could murder everyone in the room without the slightest effort, but Piett was not without a heart. He was objectively cute. 

Medic Kix approached as ordered, scanner in hand reflexively, despite it being broken by the EMP.

“The west of you may weave and guawd the entwance,” Lord Vader continued, with a rather vicious little glare. 

His eyes were a vivid yellow. It was reassuring somehow. 

The entrance to the room in the middle of the temple was hardly far from where the two of them stood. Even though Piett kept his back turned, it was not difficult to figure out what was happening. He had spent nearly two decades of his life hunting pirates; he recognised the procedure for removing slave chips. 

No wonder Lord Vader had set off an EMP. Not only would it block communications and stop the vidcorders in the men’s helmets, protecting Lord Vader and his dignity, it would stop the chip from automatically exploding, as it was surely outside the detonator’s field. 

Piett did not flinch when the chip exploded, thrown past the men to the main hallway in the Temple.

He very definitely did not flinch when he heard a small child whoop at the explosion.

[spell-cleaver]

Day 20: Death’s Companion

(Also Day 29: Sand Towers)

@angstober​ 

Building sandcastles with his grandma was a habit that Luke had picked up as a child, when he’d first noticed that someone was leaving toy ships for him to play with at her grave, and he’d never really stopped. She was a great help, sending him love and playful affection whenever he pulled off a particularly elaborate design, or whipping up tiny flurries of wind to demolish them when it was time for them to fall.

He helped direct her, and together they stampeded through the kingdoms they built together, wind tearing the sand through his hair and clothes, until Aunt Beru would find him, tut, and brush his hair for hours until it was all gone. But he always left one—a tiny construction that imitated the homestead—next to her grave, shielded by the gravestone, for her to enjoy overnight. She needed somewhere to sleep, had been his young logic, and then he kept doing it until he forgot why.

It meant that when the homestead had been crushed by a booted foot one morning, he noticed. Noticed, and frowned.

His first instinct had been to accuse Uncle Owen. He’d been curter that day than usual, giving Luke a dismissive look and telling him to stop playing; he had chores to do. But Luke pushed, until Owen saw he was genuinely upset, at which point he reigned in his temper and assured him, brusquely and frankly, that he had not visited Ma’s grave in over a week.

That was true, Luke knew, so he let it go. He went to do his chores—but not before rebuilding grandma’s homestead and giving her a few more buildings, for fun. Aunt Beru had brought him back another plant pot from Anchorhead market that morning, smiling, and she’d smiled wider when he immediately took it up to show Grandma Shmi. He built a great palace around it, with the plant as the ancient tree at its centre, like in fantastical stories he’d read about temples and kingdoms and knights.

The next morning, the homestead was in one piece, but the palace had boot prints tramping all over it. The plant had been knocked over.

It wasn’t Uncle Owen—he’d gone to bed early, too tired to stay up with Beru and Luke and make biscuits. It definitely wasn’t Aunt Beru. So, when Beru and Owen said goodnight to him and shut the power down, he waited until they were asleep, then dug up his glowrod and crept out to visit his grandma’s grave in the dead of night.

The desert was frigid. He wrapped his poncho around his shoulders and shivered, but forged on, sand scratching in his slippers. His efforts were rewarded: there was a man standing at his grandmother’s grave.

Before he could say anything, a voice boomed out: “Leave, child.”

Luke’s light shivered—or maybe that was his hand shaking. He didn’t leave. Instead, he jutted out his chin. “You’re the one who’s been crushing my sand towers?”

“They are petty and childish. You are surely too old to desecrate a grave with such disrespectful games.”

Luke stepped forwards. “She likes them. We build them together—she tells me what she’s imagining, and I make it. Then we destroy them together, but I leave one up for her. You don’t need to crush them.” He saw the plant had been tipped over again under the man’s foot. The pot had cracked, even, and soil spilled into the sand. “That’s her present!”

“What?”

“The plant!”

“Your sentiment is unwelcome. You have no place here.”

“This is my home.”

“And this is my mother. Go back to your bed and forget she exists. She is nothing to you.”

Luke glowered. “She’s my grandmother.”

“Lars was no son of hers. But your parents will surely grieve if they find you slaughtered here tomorrow morning because you tested my ire too thoroughly.”

“They’re not my parents, they’re my aunt and uncle!” Luke snapped. “My father was Anakin Skywalker. She’s my grandmother.”

The man paused.

He turned towards Luke, and Luke lifted his glowrod so he could see his face. It wasn’t a face. It was a mask, of black plasteel with red lenses, and behind those red lenses, two irises burned like the suns at dawn. They glowered at Luke, studying him, before softening imperceptibly.

Luke didn’t wait for him to speak. He knelt at the grave and gathered sand into a pile. As he worked and shaped it by the gleaming light of the rod, he felt the man’s gaze on his back.

“What are you doing?” he asked at last, haltingly.

Luke folded sand into a tower. “Making a new place for her to stay.”

He didn’t know what shape this was, but he was used to his grandma feeding him shapes, so he followed it. But this didn’t seem like something she would have known—it was a tall, two-pronged tower, pointed at the top, with bridges and lava flows around it. The image that rang in his mind was chilling. He made it dutifully, but…

The man beside him staggered back when he saw it finished. “What is that?” he asked, the sharpness in his tone returning.

“A new sandcastle.”

“That is not a place for your grandmother to be, child,” the man said. “If these are places for her to call home, she would not enjoy living there.”

“You destroyed her other home,” Luke said matter-of-factly. “She can’t be picky.”

The man stared down at Luke, then the castle. Luke did get a bad feeling about it, if he were honest. A cold desert wind swept through, almost malicious in its intent, and the castle exploded into it.

The man knelt next to Luke. “She can be,” he said. “I will help you build a better home.”

“Alright, uncle,” Luke said. He rolled his eyes a little, but got to work. That was two destroyed castles, now.

“Uncle?” Vader stiffened.

“You said you were her son. You must be a brother of my dad’s. I never met you, but—”

“No, Luke. I am not your uncle.”

“I never told you my name.”

“No,” he agreed. “You didn’t.”

When he reached out his hands to gather sand, Luke was startled by how big they were. Big, metal, and incredibly strong. But they were good for building with.

[murielles-crowsnest]

Tell us about the Haunting a Ghost WIP?

This one focuses on Kallus and Rex on their return to Yavin IV and some things they get up to while the Spectres are off saving Lothal. Because I really wish we had gotten a Yavin episode at that point. Show us what Kallus and Rex and AP-5 and the others were up to. I also really feel like after the initial mildly stand-offish phase that Kallus and the Clone Bros could have made good friends but we don't get a chance to see any of that in the show.

Rex swiftly slammed his hand on the panel, shutting the door between them.

He had only caught a glimpse of Kallus in the beam of his glowrod, but it was more than enough to realise he had likely gotten this all wrong. 

"...kark." Rex put his hands on his hips, slumping out of combat readiness.

The man had been curled up in front of Zeb's bunk, but spun frantically to face the door as it opened. His eyes were wide with panic, but still obviously red from the tears streaming down his cheeks. Rex holstered his gun and rubbed absently at the back of his neck. Yup. Gotten it very wrong.

[revenge-of-the-shit]

Part 4

Previous

INVENTORY: Blaster (no magazines), Ration bars, Glowrod, A Note

You run up and slap the controls of the door. Thankfully, it works - the door hisses shut, and for good measure, you slam your palm on the locking mechanism. There's also a manual lock on the door, thank Force - you engage that too.

There's another clatter behind that door. Something thumps against it. You feel cold. It might just be scraps falling apart, you tell yourself. You're not sure that you're convincing yourself.

Behind you, the looming blackness of space stares at you through the transparisteel. There's nothing but emptiness and the distant pinpricks of light of the faraway stars. You realize you have absolutely no idea where you are. You look at the note, the letters of

U P

taunting you in their simplicity, and you look up and see nothing but ceiling.

There's another thump on the door. A shriek of metal - or something else? It doesn't seem to be able to get through that door, though, whatever it is.

[kylo-wrecked]

@mayxthexforce sent:// ❝  the world is so big.  why do i never feel like i fit into it?  ❞ ( Voe for Soft!Ren, for something happening later in our current threads? 👀)

{ from this meme }

— ☾ —

"Because you're so bigheaded," he replies instantly.

He wipes a bead of sweat from under his eye and looks into the fuchsia cerulean and ever-present piss-yellow lights swirling in the cesspool of jostling, sweating bodies below, bodies that pass through twelve-foot-tall holograms of whores and gambling holes seeming more like ghosts than the holos themselves. It's the smell and the bedlam that reminds one they're on Nal Hutta's glowrod moon and not suffering the hallucinogenic consequences of a neural lapse. 

Their passing glances catch in the neon's bloom. Voe turns to glare at him, and Ren freezes, gripped utterly by the hurt on her face. 

"Err—" he doesn't look away, though he blinks so many times maybe he should have. One day, he'll learn to make a mask of his face. Ren avows to himself that in the course of time and through vigorous discipline, his face would never reveal fear, regret, shame, or anger. Not any of the things it now puts on display. Not even when he wore the helm.

Ren joins Voe on the rafters, lowering beside her in a feral half-crouch, his hand gripping the iron ledges of a bygone city level that's become a barrier between the newfangled. In the event that Voe chooses this particular moment to yield to the siren's call of her rage and push him off. It's a testament to his sturdiness of form that he doesn't waver.

"I'll presume the question rhetorical," he says. 

He hasn't touched Voe's thought shield since tracking her down. She hasn't even attempted a mind probe on Ren, perhaps because she's the better person, because she has less and more of a heart than he.

Since they won't communicate with each other through the Force, since they've cast all feeling aside, they rely on crude speech. 

"If you'll grant me the privilege of answering, I would say you're caught between. You're living a half-life. Joining the Resistance may be the closest you'll ever get to living by the code, but it isn't the same. Is it?"

At first glance, it seems unfair. Unfair that Voe levels such a question at him. Unfair that he should respond as such. But then,

"I did kriff up your trials," he admits. "I took a lot from you."

Ren looks at Voe in no particular manner. He looks to see.

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 11

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Female Revan

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

Dak woke them at some unholy hour to return to the gallery, following a trail of dying glowrods through the corridors. Exhausted and satisfied from last night’s work, Juhani did not see the danger until a shape detached from the black, and then Rahaya was staggering under a sudden weight. Its jaws clamped around her neck, and her scream cut off with a sharp crunch.

Across the room, T3-M4 shrieked as a grey blur crashed into him, knocking him flat. HK-47 reacted first, firing off a shot that skimmed the creature’s shoulder as Velire sprang into the fray. The tuk’ata jerked around; as soon as it spotted the lightsaber blade, it lunged for her, teeth bared to meet her throat.

Juhani shouted, vibroblade in hand, only to feel a thrill of alarm through the Force. She turned—a half-second too late as another tuk’ata’s mouth clamped around her wrist, its weight nearly dragging her to the ground. Her vibroblade clattered away out of reach.

Juhani raked her claws across its face; it recoiled with a yelp, dark blood oozing from its ruined eyes, and it shuddered at a quick rapport of blaster fire as Carth turned to her defence. Juhani was already turning to the tuk’ata leaping for her back, cracking her elbow across its jaw. That bought her a half-second to yank her arm free from the dying tuk’ata and call her vibroblade back to her hand, driving it through the beast’s ribs.

With its dying whimper, Juhani turned to face the rest of the tuk’ata pack tearing out of the shadows. Eight more beasts, snarling and slavering with eyes full of death. Two circled Dak, drawn by his ignited lightsaber. Canderous was already firing; one tuk’ata tripped over its own feet as it died, crashing into the pair on its heels. HK-47 fired into the pileup with his usual glee, and they did not rise again. In the chaos, Juhani couldn’t see Lashowe at all.

Something moved in the gloom; a glimmer of animal eyes, far above them. Juhani cried an alarm as a monstrous shadow detached from the crumbling terrace, easily three times the size of the others. Light flashed off scarred, leathery hide and a coronet of horns spiralling from its brow; one tip had been snapped off, leaving a jagged edge.

The den mother landed just metres away from Juhani.

[Read on AO3]

[sk-willow]

#instawrimo Día 24: Los bolsillos de tu MC — El cinturón de herramientas Jedi fue un tipo de cinturón de herramientas que el intendente Jedi puso a disposición de los miembros de la Orden Jedi durante el tiempo entre las Nuevas Guerras Sith y el final de las Guerras Clon. Por lo general, consistían en el sable de luz del Jedi, que tradicionalmente se usaba a la izquierda, raciones de supervivencia en forma de cápsulas, un comunicador Hush-98, un gancho de agarre de cable de fibra y / o un lanzador de picos de agarre, un holoproyector, como un Imagecaster, un holomapa, un A99 Aquata Breather, un transceptor Jedi Beacon, un Glowrod y herramientas de reparación de sables de luz. ; https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Jedi_utility_belt

[scrumpledorph-writes]

Koben’s Rude Awakening (Regret)

Had that dream again. Wish all those memories would stay behind me where I left them. Don’t need all of that weighing on me during my date. Maybe I’ll pick up a quick afternoon job, take my mind off of it. Forgot to pick up that thermal weave from Vranki, guess I could patch up my armor until the evening – meticulous handiwork always leaves me feeling satisfied, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about ruining all this beauty treatment I spent so many credits on.

Two fifty, too early to start the day. Guess I should head to the refresher and see about getting in my last two REM cycles. Know this room layout well enough to navigate it in the dark by now: stand up, walk left to the foot of the bed, follow the wall to the first door. I’ve always admired the efficiency of these low wealth housing designs, everything connecting to the main room so there’s no space wasted on hallways. Imperial designs could get downright opulent even for standard accommodations.

Relieved, thirty second sonic wash complete – my mouth could use a rinse while I’m up. A healthy body is a honed weapon, even the slightest physical affliction is a spot of rust on a blade or corrosion on a battery terminal. A parched mouth is a distraction, a distraction is a lapse in reaction time, and a lapse in reaction time is lethal. Resolved, now there should be no impairment to my ability to fall back to sleep. A flashbang just went off in the main room.

Whoever threw it isn’t tracking me actively, or they’d have thrown it in here. Vibro-blade cutting through the wooden deadbolt. Figured just being located remotely enough would deter forced entry, but I need to acquire a better lock. The door is still wood, so if I bought a better lock it would be wasted on it, meaning I need to invest in a full steel door after this. Suppose if I’m doing that I should also upgrade to tamper proof shutters. Home ownership is a real hassle.

‘I know you’re in here Tarani. There’s a nice price on your head, enough to kick-start my bounty hunting career for real, and celebrate my first catch with an unforgettable red light weekend.’ An amateur? I figured I’d be facing down a kill squad, what a relief – this guy barely sounds old enough to pilot a speeder. Guess I’m far enough out that the Empire has better things to do than chase me.

‘Come on, don’t make this difficult. All your gear’s in here with me, just come out so I can blast you already.’ His voice is close now, just a little longer. The light of his glowrod’s poking through the door, just cross the threshold – there! Control the blaster, aim it towards the ceiling – wow this really is just a kid, he doesn’t even come up to my chest – swift knee to the groin, followup to the throat. Couple scorch marks on the ceiling, nothing I can’t wash off. Not a bad blaster, might keep this one under my pillow in case this ever happens again.

He’s reaching for the knife, can’t fault him for trying. One shot to the hand should suffice. ‘Aww fuck, that thing wasn’t on stun you bitch!’ Better search him. Just the vibro-knife for weapons, but a lot of survival gear: ration packs, stims, climbing gear, distress flares, emergency battery, repair tools, inflatable tent, water purifying tablets. Commendable preparation for everything but combat – would have made a great field scout. No idea why he picked bounty hunting.

‘Talk. When and where did you accept the bounty?’ ‘Why would I tell you anything?!’ ‘I have to kill you to keep my location safe. If you answer my questions I’ll shoot you in the head, if not I’ll break your limbs and drop you out on the flats for the scavengers.’ Honestly would have preferred a professional just so we can skip this part. ‘Eat shit lady, when my dad finds out about this-’ Ah, that explains it; rich kid looking for some excitement. Oh well. Right arm is as good as anywhere to start: kneel down, rest the elbow over the leg, brace it at the shoulder-

‘Wait! Holy shit you’re really gonna do it. I’ve been tailing you for three months, from two systems back, using my connections to put together the paper trail on the Buckethead In Black – and it finally led me here.’ That’s what they call me? I was prepared for the life of living off the grid, cutting and running at a moment’s notice – but even the boot-camp nicknames were more flattering than that.

‘Were you working with anyone?’ ‘Do you think anyone else would chase such an old lead this long, hell no!’ ‘Then why did you?’ ‘I wanted a bounty with some real wow to it! I figured your charges had been trumped up – the desertion sounded believable, but I’d never even heard of the Purge Corps or the Inquisition until I started digging – so I thought you were just some nobody who got stuck with a bad reputation by a prick with a grudge on the way out! You get sloppy after five years, I put a stun shot or two in your gut, bring you back in, get a nice fat juicy payday and be the talk of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild for a few months, leverage it into some better work.’

‘You mentioned your father, who is he?’ ‘Doubt you’d know him, he’s an Inner Rim corporate bigshot. Wanted to set me up with a nice cushy desk job, I figured the paperwork would kill me faster than this. Stole one of his spare shuttles, got the tracker ripped out so he couldn’t send a goon squad to rain on my fun. He...He won’t come looking.’ This is depressing. Maybe I should scare him so bad he gives up the life, pack up and find somewhere else to settle down for a while. He goes back home, gets a big teary eyed reunion. I never see Brayli again. Damn it. Sorry kid, you picked a dangerous line of work, and made all the worst mistakes.

‘That’s all my questions. Get up.’ ‘Don’t wanna get blood on your floor? Not like this place is nice enough to bother.’ ‘It’s not that. You haven’t done enough wrong to deserve to die face down in the dark, and the suns come up early here. I don’t want to kill you, but I have to – the least I can do is let you see one of the most beautiful things I can think of before I do it.’ I’ve never been good at handling people crying.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I understand. You get the bounty or the bounty gets you, I guess I just figured that only old bounty hunters who couldn’t keep up any more died.’ He’s taking this better than I expected. I guess all the bluster and machismo loses its appeal when you know it won’t make a difference. ‘You got it backwards kid, the hotshots who think they’ll live forever are the ones who go down first.’ ‘Yeah, that makes sense now that you spell it out. I could take you back with me, get you hired as a bodyguard. Six figures.’ ‘I have other commitments here.’ I can’t blame him for trying. It might have worked a week ago. Hard to keep a blaster pointed at someone while getting dressed.

We’re on the highest dune I can see within walking distance, this will have to do. I can see the light creeping up, nothing to do now but wait a few more minutes. ‘You said something about hotshots. Were you ever one?’ ‘No. I was excited to join the corps, but I was excited to learn the standard way to do things. Spent a lot of free time training.’ ‘Yeah, I can tell. Laid me out so fast I was on the floor before I noticed you.’ It’s the one thing I know how to do, I should be good at it.

‘Oh wow, that is pretty. I’ve never really seen a sunrise before, all the skyscrapers just block it out back home. Thanks. I’m ready whenever I guess.’ ‘You can let the heat soak in for a few more minutes.’ My hand is shaking. This is absurd, I’ve done far worse than this to civilians without flinching back in the Corps. I did it because I needed to, without questioning, because it was an order. But nobody’s ordering me this time.

It’s self defense, he tried to kill me. Even if he’s just a kid in over his head running from his old life, just like I did. Killing for credits, just like I did. Realizing all his mistakes too late, just like I am.

I have enough credits to get Brayli out of here, pack up both our lives and start them over somewhere else. Sure I haven’t told her, but I’ll have to eventually, and if she doesn’t react well then we weren’t meant to be, so it’s better for me to rip off that bandage sooner rather than later. ‘Hey, I’ve soaked it all in. Do it before I get a sunburn and ruin it, okay?’ ‘Okay.’ I never knew a hair-trigger could feel so heavy.

[b3n2ts]

"There are two kinds of light -- the glow that illumines, and the glare that obscures."⁠⠀ ⁠⠀ -- James Thurber⁠⠀ ⁠⠀ TFTI Live Arts, studio shoot. ⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ hosted by @tfti_la⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ Model: @oprrator⁣⁠⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀⁣⁠⠀ #tftila #tfti_la #photography #studiophotography #photoshoot #sonya7 #sonyimages #strobist #lightchasers #onelightsetup #b3ngoco #sonyartisan #sonyalpha #godox #godoxphoto #glowrods #lightspinning (at Downtown Los Angeles) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0aQiAhnfgr/?igshid=1fiaaffr18obj