#i might write a short companion piece to this one day… if i feel up to it…

[thealatvs]

smiles

tldr dante’s greatest enemy has always been himself

[justporo]

Be my remedy

Being in an established relationship is still very much uncharted territory for both Astarion and you. Thankfully, your companions arrange for you to have a moment of privacy.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Well, this was supposed to be nothing but a little warm-up drabble. But by now I doubt my ability to write anything below 2k words... So here you go with some fluffy fluff, enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: talk of past trauma if you squint Wordcount: 2,2k

Song: Be My Remedy - House of Say

~~~

It hadn’t been that long since Astarion’s confession at Moonrise Towers and your promise to each other to actually try and be in a real relationship with each other. You’d agreed to take it slow and especially allow Astarion to have all the space he needed.

You couldn’t be happier. Your heart was overrunning with love every time you looked at him. Wanting nothing more but to see those soft happy smiles from the vampire again. Those he gave you in these moments when he felt comfortable and content while being with you – even if those were still short and mostly quickly overpowered by other stuff: worries about the next day, insecurity, fear of the future in general, Gale being annoying.

And the way it’s been almost chaste with him since you’ve committed yourselves to each other almost broke you. With how gentle and tentative this budding relationship was this far.

You’ve gotten used to spending the evenings and nights together in one of your tents. And you enjoyed the time spent simply talking or cuddling endlessly.

You’d also stolen small little touches and kisses time and again when the others were around. But you were still cautious with it. Partly, because this was first and foremost for the two of you to share and keep. But mostly because a sudden shyness had somehow befallen both of you, now that it was more than just sultry flirting and sneaking off into the woods at night. Now that you were both sure that real feelings were involved on both ends, it was suddenly so different. And – without specifically putting it into words – you both felt a lot more vulnerable about what it was the two of you shared now. And the thought of someone carelessly putting strain on it scared you.

Not that the others didn’t know already. Of course, they had noticed. Although Astarion and you might have been wrapped up a little too cozily in your new little bubble of tender affection - to notice that they had noticed.

But the others had more or less silently agreed to not pester you about it although Gale could hardly hold back all his comebacks he’d painstakingly come up with. Karlach had needed to be elbowed more than once to not squeal out happily when she, for example, had seen Astarion cautiously grab your wrist, lifting your hand and pressing a small kiss to your knuckles. Coincidentally at the same time that Lae’zel had to be pinched in the side to stop making loud gag noises observing the same scene.

The day had been long and exhausting. Everyone had been happy when you had finally set up camp and barely even spoken when you’d sat around the campfire enjoying the latest of the wizard’s dinner creations.

You were sitting next to Astarion – like always as of late – and were softly talking to him. You were both excited to finally see your hometown again, no matter what more horrors might await you there. Sharing bits and pieces about different places in the city you each liked and how your experiences of being Baldurian were both so utterly different, you didn’t even notice how anyone else had been quietly getting up and leaving for their own tents. A few understanding nods and glances had been exchanged and now it was just you and the vampire sitting next to the warming fire.

“I really need to take you to my favourite tavern some time, you’re absolutely going to hate it”, you said to Astarion with a huge shit-eating grin while the vampire answered with a pained grimace.

“I’m beginning to ask myself why I volunteered myself for this relationship”, Astarion muttered mockingly under his breath and dramatically rolled his eyes at you.

You laughed and softly slapped his arm. And then you realised that you were the only ones still sitting by the fire. You looked around and found that no one even was in sight – very suspicious.

When you pointed that fact out to Astarion, he smirked: “Well, maybe our friends all got a sudden lesson on privacy.” “Astarion!” “What? I have nothing to do with this, I swear!”

You gave him a look and crossed your arms over your chest while he kept insisting that for once he was totally innocent (“Actually quite like most of the time, love, you are – all of you – just way to used to just, of course, conveniently blame everything on the big bad vampire!”).

The vampire pouted now, making these big red puppy eyes at you. You were pretty sure he’d already figured out that they made you positively melt and give him just about anything – bastard.

And it got you now, too. So you scooched a little closer to your vampire on the log you were both sitting on and embraced him tightly. You could hear the sigh Astarion loosened when he felt your arms around him, and you could really feel how he relaxed into your touch. His shoulders relaxed and his usually very straight and tense spine was allowed to bend towards you as he wrapped his arms around you in return.

Your thighs and knees were mushed together as you held each other. You buried your face at his chest – directly at the point where his shirt was opened, and you could feel his cool and smooth skin. You sighed as well now. Meanwhile Astarion put his chin on top of your head.

Ever since the first hug you had shared you lived for these moments when you could just hold him. Just knowing how much comfort it gave him, even though he himself might not yet be ready to admit to himself how touch-starved he was for non-sexual intimacy that had to go nowhere but the present moment.

And you were right there with him – basically never really in your life having had someone who would have held you to just console you or just because.

You remained in the embrace for quite some time. Astarion’s hands softly moved up and down your back as you held onto him desperately and tightly – not willing to ever let him go again.

After a long while you felt how the vampire’s hands sneaked both downwards. And then with his roguish quickness, Astarion grabbed you – one hand under your knees, one on your butt – and lifted you on his lap.

You yelped and clawed your hands into his shirt as you stared at him in surprise.

Astarion grinned playfully at you, adjusting you on his lap until you were both comfortable. You were still flustered by this sudden change of position and your mouth opened and closed helplessly a few times. Not because you didn’t like it – quite the opposite. But this was a sudden step up in public display of affection for him – at least the possibility of someone seeing you like this was existent.

When the vampire saw your reaction, his smirk dropped and he started fidgeting: “Oh uhm.”

He cleared his throat a little, his eyes darted around. And it was only made more awkward by the fact that you were so close to each other and he was firmly holding you so you didn’t slide off his thighs.

He coughed again and you felt that he struggled with holding your gaze. By now you had adjusted to the new situation and were quite endeared by how shy Astarion had gotten all of a sudden: overwhelmed by his own courage.

“Ah, I hope this”, Astarion finally began and wiggled his arms and legs around (which in turn made you wiggle around and giggle), “this is alright with you?”

You looked straight into his eyes once he had found it in himself to hold your gaze again. You softly cupped his cheek and let your thumb wander over his cheekbone: “It is – more than alright even!”

For a quick moment you softly dragged his face down to yours, so his forehead touched yours shortly. “I will just tell you if something’s not fine with me, Astarion. And…”

Now it was your turn to fidget awkwardly. You were only barely more experienced in this relationship thing than he was, but you were absolutely keen on giving him the space to find out what all this meant for him.

You took a deep breath and leaned back a little. You saw a single curl fall onto his forehead when you moved away a bit – you looked at it when you spoke again.

“And I’m more than happy to let you explore and experiment with what you want and expect from all this - whatever it is”, you finally finished and felt how a blush crept up your neck and then onto your cheeks. Although it might not seem much this had cost you some overcoming. Too many times had you had bad if not downright horrendous experiences with people you had offered too much before. But you were completely sure of doing this with Astarion. He had your full trust and you wanted him to know that and be as free as possible to explore this new chapter in his life.

You were still mesmerized by the soft strand of hair on Astarion’s forehead. So you lifted your hand from his cheek and lightly, between two fingers, moved it up again. A tiny sigh left the pale elf’s lips at the innocent gesture.

The vampire looked at you as your hand now lightly wandered through his hair. His eyes were shining like rubies in the warm, flickering light of the campfire. He carefully lifted one hand up to cup your face with one hand. He let his thumb wander over your bottom lip and that was also where his gaze dropped.

“That means an awful lot, my love”, he replied softly. “I promise to always tread carefully with the trust you’ve put in me.”

His eyes found yours again. “And I guess I know what I want to do with this trust right this moment.”

He leaned in to kiss you. His soft, cool lips met yours tenderly as any remaining thought in your brain just vanished. Your hand in his hair softly curled around one of his pointy ears, your thumb gently wandering over the edge of it.

You let him set the pace, patiently allowing him to decide how much he wanted. But you didn’t need to wait for long: Astarion’s lips parted and he eagerly deepened the kiss, making you sigh into his mouth yearningly as your other hand, that had been on his chest, now balled up in his shirt and unconsciously tried to drag him even closer.

Astarion’s hand was still cupping your face and now spread out. Caressing you lightly from your cheek, down your neck and almost reaching to your collarbone with his long, elegant fingers. His other arm was holding you securely on his lap but also subtly pushing to lessen the space between you even more.

It was passionate but delicate at the same time. Inducing a fire that was burning brightly, powerfully and, most of all, warming while not being all-consuming or destructive. And you were sure that this fire would keep burning unyieldingly – especially if it was fuelled passionately like this.

After a while of getting lost in the kiss Astarion’s hand wandered slowly from your face to where your hand was still clawed in his shirt – desperate to hold onto him forever – and softly loosened it, so he could hold it. He very tenderly pulled back as your mouth left his with a long low sigh leaving your still parted lips now swollen from kissing.

Your eyes were probably still glazed over but you saw how Astarion too only slowly seemed to come back from that particular cloud you’d just been on.

“I hope that was alright as well?”, he answered with his signature smirk and a teasing tone after a few more moments of regaining composure. You were just about to scold him for ruining such a romantic, emotional moment, when you heard something.

Somewhere behind you, you heard something squeal – almost as if someone was torturing a squirrel? You turned around on Astarion’s lap and quickly spotted… Karlach peeking out from behind her tent flap, her hands balled up into fists and lifted to her mouth. You could feel her giddy, happy energy from over where you were sitting. But you were too flabbergasted by what the tiefling had obviously just observed.

You felt yourself flush from head to toe. “KARLACH!”, you shrieked as you heard Astarion laugh (albeit a little nervously).

Karlach’s eyes widened as she realised that she might’ve been a little insensitive about this all.

“Uh – I’m sorry. I just…”, she started and then stopped again. “I’m just so happy for you”, she blurted out and you saw some of her joy return. But then she remembered that she should probably leave you alone. “Alright”, she muttered while she made to disappear into her tent again. Quickly she lowered her tent flap down again and was gone.

But then she stretched out her arm once more, offering you a firm thumbs-up.

“But just so you know, we’re all rooting for you two”, were Karlach’s final words before disappearing for good. You blushed again and turned back around to find Astarion smile genuinely at you. He softly started to laugh, then more and more. His head fell back and his eyes closed and you couldn’t help but join in.

And then that was settled.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

[yuanology]

Hey, i love your writing! Could you please write for

M!reader, a seemingly innocent guy, though appearances can be deceiving. Then there's Geto, who initially dropped subtle hints about having feelings for Reader. But frustration mounts as Geto's attempts go unnoticed, with Reader simply viewing their interactions as friendly. Eventually, Geto's patience wears thin, especially since Gojo and reader have been getting along well. As jealousy and frustration brew within Geto, he unknowingly directs it at reader through snarky and bratty comments. Reader, though patient, can only take so much. They finally snap, (Geto is surprised because reader is always so soft spoken and sweet) giving Geto a piece of their mind and putting him in his place.

Can i please be 👁️ anon?

welcome 👁️ anon! i forgot to actually write smut in this! so have a really long build-up and hopefully a part two in the future, holy shit. i am so sorry. (suguru's characterisation is also a bit weird here . i can't put a finger on it but my brain is not clicking rn. i am so sorry, 👁️ anon. i'll do better next time. please forgive me for this failure just this once.)

geto suguru was not an impatient man but you were an entirely different matter. you always had been.

there was something about you that drove your existence apart from all of the others— a steadiness in your presence, a constance in your friendship with him. you kept him grounded, an anchor and a light in the darkness that came with being a jujutsu sorcerer. had it not been for you, suguru thought he might have gone rogue so many times ago in the past.

"suguru."

ah, speak of the angel (yes, he knew that wasn't how the saying went, but you weren't the devil. how could you be, with your smile and your careful hands? you were an angel, sent from above to keep him from drowning), you slid into the seat next to him. as usual, you smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you did, before you dug into your meal.

suguru let his gaze linger on you for a few short seconds before he turned his face to eat his meal, too.

lunch was a contented affair, filled with small talk and the occasional sound of your laughter. there was something domestic, suguru would like to think, about the way you stole his chicken and he snatched your meatballs in compensation. suguru could hardly think of a time he had ever been this comfortable with anyone but you. you had him lowering his guards without ever having to ask him at all, an inane talent he doubted you even noticed. but it was there, and you were a miracle worker that never failed to hold him through his worst and his best.

so, really, it shouldn't come as a surprise that suguru would have to share you with others, too.

specifically, one fucking annoying gojo satoru.

don't misunderstand him, he loved satoru. satoru was his best friend, his one and only, his steady companion. they had been through hell and back together, shoving each other to further heights and hauling one another out of the deepest pits. he cared for satoru, loved him in every way a man could love his best friend. suguru loved his friend.

but jesus christ, could satoru get on his nerves sometimes.

because the thing is. the thing is that satoru knew—he knew the way suguru looked at you, he knew the way suguru spoke about you, he knew the way suguru's heart beat and ached for you. satoru knew all about the depths of his affections for you, every single beautiful and ugly thing, because that was what you do with your best friend, right? you trust them.

backstabber, suguru thought bitterly, shoving a now-acrid tasting meatball into his mouth.

because there satoru was, his arms thrown around you in ways that suguru could never touch you, his jokes making you laugh in a way that left suguru feeling ripped between wanting to watch your smile and punch satoru in the face hard enough that he'd be bleeding for days for stealing that sight from you and leaving suguru nothing but the left-overs to pick after.

in spite of everything, suguru was hardly ever really envious of his best friend. yes, there were moments where he wished satoru would get off his high-horse and someone would knock some sense into him (and that responsibility, more often than not, fell on suguru's shoulders), but he was never really jealous of satoru. there was never a need for it, not when he knew the worst and the lows of being gojo satoru.

however, in that moment, watching satoru cling onto you and make you grin, suguru understood what it meant to truly be seething with jealousy. that should be me.

the rest of the day passed by in a hazy blur after that. suguru vaguely recollected leaving lunch early, reciting robotically that he had somewhere to be urgently and ignoring the knowing grin satoru shot his way or the downwards curl of your lips. he thought he might have given you the cold shoulder at some point or another, the words leaving his lips a little sharp and a little cruel, but he didn’t remember what he said. you might have recoiled, you might have not. suguru couldn’t remember.

(and he didn’t want to remember— he didn’t want to remember the way he had turned his face away when he heard the sound of your voice calling out his name. he didn’t want to remember the way his shoulders had knocked against yours a little too hard as you passed each other by in the hallways. he didn’t want to remember the way your face dropped when he took a seat on a table across the room from your usual one. he didn’t want to remember because if he did, then he would have to remember all the tiny ways he hurt you. papercuts still stung like a bitch, after all.)

then, one day became another, and another became a week, and a week became a month—

and the end of the month brought you.

a beautiful, brilliant, furious apparition of you—one that stormed up to him and, without warning or another word, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him bodily after you. his feet dragged against the floor, his toes catching onto the heels of his own choes before he could struggle to right himself.

“what are you—” he began.

“shut up,” you interrupted him.

cleverly, suguru did.

he didn’t say a damn thing even as you slammed the door to your dormroom open, shoving him inside without another word. his lips parted in confusion when you began to lock the door behind you, but he still said nothing as you grabbed him by the wrist to direct him further into your room. he didn’t say a single word until you shoved him onto your bed, his back flat on the mattress.

“what?” he tried again.

“you’ll shut up and listen to me when i talk,” you said, your voice leaving no room for arguments. suddenly, you were looming over him, straddling his waist as your open palm pressed over his chest; right above his pounding heart. “do you understand?”

suguru swallowed thickly as he nodded. this was a side of you he hadn’t even known existed; rough and unafraid, your hands on him meant to firmly rule rather than to guide gently as you usually would. even in your anger, you had never been anything else but firm—steady and stubborn.

fuck, he thought wisely to himself. i'm in deep trouble.

but when your hand found the collar of his shirt, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, he finds that he didn't mind it. not in the slightest.

because you had always been beautiful, but you were damningly ephemereal now, peering down at him with something burning carved into your irises; bold and brilliant, striking and inescapable. suguru had never felt so wonderfully trapped before, caught in your stare and unable to look away.

"satoru told me everything," you began, your assessing gaze never once leaving him. "i'm disappointed, suguru."

static clogged his head immediately, all thoughts clearing from his head into an unbearable haze. dirty little traitor. his throat felt tight, his heart stopping in his chest. excuses climbed up the back of his mouth, tasting like bile and the curses that he swallows, and every single little ugly thing that had ever crossed his mind. explanations defining his inner-most thoughts, apologies creasing into the space between his teeth. nothing came out, nothing but a strangled sound; caught between a whimper and a whine. weak, pathetic.

your head tilted at the noise, your gaze sharpening into something vicious. "you should have told me yourself," you said. "i never took you for a coward, suguru."

suguru couldn't help the weak, strangled thing that escaped his throat. he thought that it might have been a piece of his heart. "i'm sorry," he whispered, before he could think better of it.

the sigh that you let out was low, almost vicious in its nature. suguru hid his wince by turning his head, the side of his face half-buried into the sheets. before he could succeed, however, your hand caught his chin, forcing him to turn his gaze to meet your eyes once again.

"look at me when i'm talking to you, suguru." your voice sent a series of goosebumps rippling up his skin. he shuddered, trying to shake it off, but he couldn't when your grip on his face was firm. he still tried to nod a bit, wanting to appease you.

"i'm sorry," suguru rasped out once again.

"stop apologising."

all of a sudden, his forehead was flicked. the motion was so familiar in the face of such an unfamiliar circumstance that suguru couldn't help but blink, startled. for a moment, suguru couldn't think, couldn't do anything—much less suppress the faint smile that appeared on his lips. perhaps not much had changed after all. perhaps you could still have him as your friend, still care for him the way you cared for him before.

"so," he started slowly, "you're not angry at me?"

"i'm pissed at you," you told him bluntly.

before he could wilt, though, your grip on his chin became a gentle caress to his jaw, and suguru felt his whole world tilting upside down once again. your face was close to his, too close, and suguru felt like he couldn't breathe at the proximity.

"i am so, so angry at you, suguru. you should have told me everything sooner. i can't believe you made me wait so long just for this. all your attitude as of late, all your snark and sass, that was just a defence mechanism, wasn't it?" your voice was cutting as you picked apart his brain, dissecting all of his secret truths with all the precision of a surgeon's knife. "you got jealous—and instead of talking to me, you decided to push me away."

your voice was a low murmur, not meant to be anything seductive but still sending a sharp thrill up to suguru's monkey brain all the same. all he could think of was the curl of your smile—secretive, knowing, like you were in on some secret joke that he wasn't—and the way you were looking at him now—like a predator who had his hunt cornered—and how suguru couldn't do anything but take anything that you doled out.

fuck, that's so hot.

"i'm sorry," he said again, dutiful and polite.

and for a moment, simply a nanosecond, he caught a fissure in your exterior; that softness bleeding out for a moment before the cracks smoothened itself out. even so, that split-second was enough for suguru to realise oh. he's not actually angry at me. because all of this, he knew now, was part of the game that you were playing with him; a theatrical dramatic act to compensate for the weeks of silence you got from his end.

your head tilted slowly, dangerously, as if you're assessing him, and the newfound knowledge that you like were made a shiver run down his spine. because you wanted this, you wanted him too, even if you haven't said those words out loud. you craved him, and that single piece of knowledge was enough for suguru to feel like he was going to break himself apart and meld himself together until he fit all and every single one of your wishes; until he became perfect just for you.

suguru's smile was small, placating in the way he knew you hated it. "forgive me?" he asked, practically simpering.

you caught onto what he was trying to do—of course, you did, you always did—and you threw your head back in a sharp laugh. "i don't know, suguru." your smile was mean, dangerous, and suguru almost fainted on the spot. fuck. "do you think you deserve my forgiveness?"

all of suguru's bravado melted in that moment as he felt like a miserably delighted pile of limbs and bones and a beating heart that thumped and echoed and lived just for youyouyou. "no," he said, his voice coarse, rough with his own admission. his hand moved to rest on your knees, not reaching higher because he knew better than to touch you more at a time like this. he didn't deserve it yet. "but let me show you." let me deserve the taste of you, let me deserve to feel what it means to worship you.

your lips curled into a smirk, and suguru felt as if he was going to die right then and there. miraculously, he managed to stay alive just long enough to watch you crawl off of him, standing by the edge of the bed, your gaze still following him like you were going to eat him alive.

"hands and knees, suguru," you said. "you better earn it."

geto suguru was not an impatient man but in order to satisfy you, no time in the world was ever enough.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Local Flavor

Poe Dameron x Fem Twi'lek!Reader

Summary:

On a solo job to Ryloth to pickup a shipment for The Resistance, Poe runs into an unexpected hiccup. With his only transport damaged and BB-8 offline, Poe is forced to stash his cargo and venture out into the harsh Rylothian landscape, where he finds you. Or, more accurately... you find him.

TW/CW: Near death, infection, fever, dehydration, fluff, Poe is a disaster pansexual idiot, BB-8 is his son fight me. Bugs!!! Big!!! Bugs!!! Strip poker (technically), everybody checks everyone out, but nothing explicit happens.

A/N: It's about time I wrote something for Poe! I can finally do the idea I had now that I thought up a plot! This fic takes place before The Force Awakens! (I hope you guys like the reference I put in there! Dun dun duuuun!)

And like, I just wanted an excuse to show Leia being the "team mom".

Asdfghjkl god this is a long-winded one but I didn't wanna break it up into parts; and the ending feels a bit lacking, but i loved writing it.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

It was supposed to be a routine supply run for some extra credits for the Resistance.

Go to the location, pick up the package from the dead drop, bring it to his ship, and go deliver it to his contact for payment, then come on home.

What he didn't anticipate? Was the pack of gutkurr that ambushed he and BB-8, his droid companion after they spent almost a full day digging up the concealed cache.

The large carnivorous insects ambushed them on the way out of a rocky canyon bend, jumping from the well-camouflaged crevices they concealed themselves in and onto the speeder he'd paid next to nothing for.

It was a junker, for sure, but the fuel cells and thrusters were good enough to do the trip he needed it for. He wouldn't be able to fit his ship into these narrow twists and turns even if he tried.

Maybe if he had his X-Wing, but that would have been too high-profile for this run, which is why he had to settle for a simple, tiny cargo freighter.

But while on the ground he needed something more maneuverable. Hence that kriffing speeder.

As soon as one of the gutkurr landed on the hood, the thin metal folded in, the inner workings of the speeder sputtering and erupting into smoke as the sickle-like claws of the creature dug into the metal for better security as it snapped its jaws in Poe's direction.

He had to bob and tip away and try to see around the animal, while BB-8 shocked it if it got too close to Poe. Always his best sidekick, that droid was his partner in crime.

But try as the little droid might, he just was no match when the speedier just died, unable to take the strain anymore as the electrical system short-circuited and send sparks of light arcing every which way, sending the droid's head spinning with a high pitched "beep-wheeeeep!" before completely stilling.

The nose of the speeder was forced down, digging a gouge of dry craggy soil until it pitched forward because of the sheer weight in the front from Poe, the gutkurr, and the cases of cargo strapped to the sides.

Poe was sent flying through the air, just narrowly dodging the snapping maw of the gutkurr as it rolled back to its feet, a piece of jagged metal jabbing into its flesh where the natural armor plating had gapped.

Poe spun around, both blasters drawn as the rest of the pack caught up, salivating at the prospect of a fresh meal.

A big, handsome, juicy one, if Poe actually had to brag about it.

He'd tried to fire at them, but his blaster bolts simply bounced right off their thick carapaces.

Kriff.

He fired again, and once more the red bolts fizzed off the shells and into the canyon walls, sending shards of chalky rock and dust raining down on them.

"Kriff!"

There were three of them.

Three of them versus one of him. It may have been a bit more even had BB-8 not been fried by the overload to his system, but right now it was down to just what little he had on him to fight. And it wasn't much. He had a few grenades... but were they enough to get through their carapaces when his blaster couldn't?

The creatures all hissed as they slowly advanced on him, snapping their maws and growling deeply to intimidate him into turning and running away, just so they could strike at him from behind.

Poe was reckless, but not stupid.

Okay, well maybe there was that one time on Corellia, but--

He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly put one foot in after the other, backing away as carefully as possible with no sudden movements.

"Okay, buglies... Easy, there..." Poe said gently to them, his dark eyes darting around frantically for an out.

Firing his blasters was pointless, it bounced right off the ugly shells--

Wait.

His eyes quickly raked up the sides of the craggy rocks towering on either side of them. Maybe...

Ah... screw it.

Poe backed further from the speeder, leading the nasties away from his downed speeder and best pal.

If he timed it right... Then maybe he could pull this trick off.

"Come on, that's it... come get a nice juicy bite of some Dameron steak..." He continued to talk to himself as his hand slowly lowered his other blaster, letting it hang loosely from the worn leather strap. His fingers deftly found their way to the round objects in one of the pockets of his belt and he pulled one out, his thumb flicking the arming switch.

His feet moved beneath him in a blur.

In a second he was able to toss a grenade at the feet of one of the gutkurr, the creatures snarling and hissing at the object before it detonated, sending shards up through the softer shell of the underbelly through one of them, killing the creature with a thunderous boom and crack as the carapace gave way beneath the force of the explosion.

Poe had thrown himself backwards as the explosion tossed one of the remaining two insectoids against the canyon wall, disorienting it as the other lunged for Poe, snatching his leg between his jaws and crunching down.

Either the gutkurr didn't intend to rip his leg off or it was knocked off its senses by the blast, he didn't know. The searing pain as the animal's fangs shredded through his leather boot and ripped into his skin, sending hot gushes of bright red blood out onto the yellowish sand below.

Poe cried out, gritting his teeth and blinking back tears as he raised his blaster again, this time pressing the barrel straight against the eye of the beast; the white-hot bolt burning right through to the brain, killing it with a double-tap of the trigger.

Once it slumped to the side, Poe scrambled away once more, grabbing another grenade from his pouch and tossing it to the last surviving gutkurr.

He rolled into his side and covered his head as it detonated, sending chunks of rock crumbling from the canyon walls, falling and crushing the gutkurr beneath the weight of the stones.

Once the dust cleared, Poe laid back in the sand and heaved heavy breaths, sweat soaking his clothes as the adrenaline coursed through his body.

He managed to force himself to his feet and hobble back to his crashed speeder. His first action was to pull BB-8 free from the socket and proceed to check him over.

Upon seeing the scorch marks, Poe's brows pinched up and his heart fluttered.

"Oh, buddy..." He breathed as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to what would be the spherical droid's face.

"Don't worry," He promised. "I'll get us out of here. And then... we're getting the hell off of Ryloth."

Poe carefully set his droid pal to the side and began scrambling for his medical kit.

When he found the busted metal tin, he cringed when he saw the contents. One singular bacta patch and a bunch of bandages.

Seriously? What had he been thinking! The General told him he needed to keep a fully stocked kit on him, but did he listen? Noooooo.

"C'mon, General. It's me." Poe grinned at her. "How often do I get shot?"

She pursed her slightly wrinkled lips and crossed her arms, her brow quirking upwards skeptically, her bright beautiful brown eyes locking with his own.

"Do you want me to count on both hands or use my toes, too? Because I'd still run out if I tried to count."

Damn, the woman had been right. Again. He had half a mind to wonder if she didn't see a vision of him getting shot before this run, and reminded him solely because of that.

He read in a holo once that Jedi could use the Force to heal wounds, and he was currently fresh out of Jedi.

The throb in his leg sent fresh tears surging up to dew on the edges of his eyelashes as he dropped down.

Taking a piece of the cargo mounting that had broken off during the crash, Poe used his knife in his other boot to slice the remainders of his pants leg away and carefully toe'd the boot off his foot so he could better assess the damage.

And yeah, it was bad. He needed a medical droid or some kinda doctor, fast. With how bad the lacerations to the flesh and muscle, infection would be a death sentence. From a simple glance, even he could tell his tibial and fibular arteries weren't damaged (thank the Force) because of the gaps that were between the gutkurr's fangs.

But the force of the bite alone at least fractured his tibia, maybe even broke his ankle.

Kriff.

Poe ripped the foil packet containing the pitifully tiny bacta patch and pressed it down over the biggest hole in his leg.

Hell, if it couldn't fix it all, it was better it fix some than none.

He winced as the cold gel touched the open wound, and rifling through the kit once more provided him with some much-needed sterile gauze. No antibacterial gel however, so the risk of infection was still there. Especially from the saliva of that nasty critter alone.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Poe..." He grunted to himself as he broke another loose piece of metal from the cargo mounting and lined them both up, struggling to wrap them as tight as possible on either side of his leg so he could make a field splint.

He gripped the sides of his speeder and groaned as he felt his adrenaline wane as he looked at the wreckage.

Well... now he had another problem.

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By another graced miracle, Poe was able to create a sled that he was able to drop the crates of cargo onto, as well as his precious droid friend.

After he stashed and concealed the cargo in a small cave, Poe took stock of what little provisions he had, which consisted of some pre-packaged meals and two or three water capsules.

Barely enough to survive long; but, he remembered the way out of the canyon. There was a forest or a jungle on the fringes of the desert, not far from where he'd come in... Maybe he'd have a better chance of surviving. Maybe...

Poe talked to BB-8 as he dragged the offline droid behind him on the sled, murmuring stupid jokes and ideas about the shenanigans they'd get up to once they were home free. And about the ear-bending lectures the General would give him.

He realized though, after two days, that he was hopelessly, terribly lost. His water was running low, his food rations were okay because of the portions he limited himself to, but once the fever set in, the logical side of Poe's brain told him he was going to die an inglorious death in the middle of nowhere, thanks to a bum leg and a bacta patch that did a piss poor job.

Poe kept going until he lost track of time, walking on and on until he collapsed, face first into his own tracks, shortly lamenting his own life choices as he drifted from the conscious world.

Man, did the universe have a twisted sense of kriffing humor.

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It was a simple day for you. You were on your way back from picking clean a crashed Republic-Era ship for parts to bring back home to improve some of your farming equipment. Maybe you could catch some spare credits to stash in your emergency pouch beneath the floorboards in your bedroom.

Your blurrg, Kari, crooned deeply as she pawed at the rocky sand with her stumpy legs. You sighed, adjusting your sun visor back down to shield your eyes from the harsh light of your homeworld's star. It was an unusually clear day for this time of year, and the sun was especially unforgiving. You couldn't wait to get into the safety of the treeline and back to your meager little farm in the forest.

"C'mon, Kari. The sooner we can get home, the sooner I can get this cart off you." You say, leaning down to pat her, one of your lekku falling over your shoulder to dangle down, the tip curling slightly.

Sometimes you envied how humans could cut their hair, but if you cut your lekku, you were as good as handicapped, with how sensitive yours were to touch. Yeah, your head-tails were longer than average, and irritating, but hey, they were yours.

The sun gleamed off your sweat-soaked skin beneath your fatigues as you nudged Kari with your heel in the stirrup to get her to continue moving.

But once again, the stubborn she-beast refused to move, rumbling deeply in protest as she shook her stubby little head.

You grit your teeth and squint against the harsh sun, and that's when you see it. Your other animal companion, a can-cell, Cviki, circling overhead, his iridescent wings fluttering against the updrafts, the sun glimmering off his bright blue-green carapace as he made another aerial pass.

You frowned. There should be nothing in that canyon except the roving pack of scavenging gutkurr you have long known to avoid. Growing up in Ryloth, you knew Twi'leks were tasty snacks for the large insectoids. So why was Cviki circling like something interesting was there? There couldn't possibly be people, even the smartest smugglers knew it was dangerous in those canyons, all the locals avoided them with good reason.

You click your tongue and jerk the reins, "Alright, ma sareen. We'll go see what has you both so interested."

You bring your fingers to your lips and make a high-pitched whistle. The tune Cviki understood as "I'm coming, be careful" since you'd raised him from a larvae.

Maybe whatever was in the canyon was worth some credits in salvage?

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You carefully marked your path into the narrow canyon as Cviki led you from above, knowing full well not marking your trail was a death wish to the unprepared.

But you were anything but unprepared.

Your lekku flopping in the breeze as Kari galloped through and in-between the canyon walls, you make an audible gasp as you yank the reins on Kari's harness, squeezing your feet instinctively in a command to stop.

A crashed speeder of some sort (honestly it probably looked better in the ground than when it was running) and the rotting corpses of three gutkurr lay in the craggy soil, smaller scavengers already hard at work picking the remains clean.

Living gutkurr smelled bad enough, but their dessicated corpses were horrible.

You dismounted Kari, patting her flank as you walked by, pulling your long blaster rifle from its sling low on your hips as you carefully walked around the wreckage, poking the twisted metal with the barrel of your rifle just in case.

Upon further inspection, you see nothing of value. Not even the droid that was surely busted judging from the scorch marks in the docking port.

Damn shame. A droid was just the thing you were missing to help out on your farm. Parts from whatever droid had been docked there really would have helped finish up the one you had in pieces back in your workshop.

Oh, well...

You kept looking around, noting that there was not only no sign of a droid, but no sign of the pilot of the speeder. You shoulder your rifle again and kneel down, touching the soul with your fingertips as you study the boot prints that had almost been fully covered by the drifting sands.

"Ah, hells." You mutter as you stand. Some poor fool had been sent on a fool's errand by some smuggler.

You turn, pushing your other lekku back over your shoulder as you whistle for Kari to approach. Cviki had stopped his flying to stick to one of the rocky walls, chittering down at you curiously.

You snap your fingers as you mount your blurrg once again, and whistle sharply at Cviki.

"Wachamio!" You shout up at him in Ryl, pointing down the canyon. "Let's go see if that poor sod is still breathing!"

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Yeah, he was breathing all right. Breathing and feverish. Hell, when you caught up to Cviki you had to swat at his beak when he picked up the human man's uninjured leg in his mouth and tugged, playfully trying to see if he would play.

Yeah... he was the guy who fought those gutkurr, all right. He got damned lucky.

"Oh, kriff." You sighed, kneeling next to him as he weakly swatted at you, his eyes dry and crusted closed. You could tell by the sweat and mucus that he was battling an infection, most likely from the deep injury to his leg. He probably got bit by that gutkurr; everyone knew to immediately disinfect any bites--if you survived an encounter with a gutkurr that is--because of the bacteria that lived in gutkurr saliva. It was a death sentence to anyone without proper medical supplies.

And when you'd looked inside of the medical kit at the wreckage, you could see he had none.

'Equal parts desperate and lucky.' You think to yourself as you effortlessly (and gently) wipe the crust from his eyes.

"Nu nala quin-nala wilo?" You ask him.

"Whuh--?" He rasped, his lips cracked and split from dehydration.

You roll your eyes with slight exasperation. The man was delirious, of course he wouldn't be able to understand you right now. And, for all you knew, he couldn't even speak Ryl.

"I'm going. To help. Youuuuu." You emphasize slowly and loudly in Basic as his head rolls around and he mumbles incoherently.

"Ugh, you better be worth it." You grunt, whistling for Kari to come closer so the cart was next to you.

Kriff, that man was all dead weight, you felt your muscles strain as you dragged him onto the cart that was still hooked to Kari. You had to shove your meager salvage off to the side to make room for him and his little BB-model astromech.

At least it wasn't a total bust, if this guy died, maybe you could get his droid back up and running to work for you. But those were thoughts for later.

Right now you had some dumb human to lug back home and try to save.

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Ugh... The only thing Poe knew was that he hurt. He hurt worse than that time he was tackled by that besalisk in that one cantina...

A drunken dare, mind you, but he still got flattened by the man's weight alone. There was still probably a dent in that cantina wall to this very day.

His head pounded, but he managed to drag his eyes open and force himself up with his palms.

His muscles ached and his skin hurt. He was shirtless and dressed down all the way to his undergarments.

Poe dropped back onto the bed he was resting on. It was comfortable, very much so; much more than the bunks on the ships and in the barracks he'd been hopping to and from the past few years.

So someone had saved his stupid kriffing ass, but he couldn't remember anything concrete.

He dropped his hand onto his forehead, the skin on his body peeling and flaking away as the sunburn healed; thinking back hard.

The last thing he remembered was his vision clearing somewhat, and then a bright light.

Wait...

He remembered a voice. A woman's voice, talking in a language he wasn't sure he was familiar with.

"Man... must've been an angel..." He chuckled sardonically, his voice cracked and throat dry.

Poe winced and looked to the bedside, seeing a glass of water next to him on the small table. Instinctively, he grabbed it and chugged it faster than a pint of cheap weequay beer.

By the Force, it felt amazing to finally have something wet his parched throat.

He turned his head when he heard whirring and a rolling sound approach the room, and a grin broke out on his face as the curtain was pushed open and a certain round little astromech rolled into the room with him.

"Aw, I knew I'd recognize the sound of those servos anywhere! BB! C'mere, you little--" He grunted, rolling off the bed and biting hit bottom lip as his injured leg hit the wooden floor.

BB-8 made several high pitched beeps and whirs in a chastising manner.

"I know, I know, but c'mere, you little cannonball!" Poe laughed through the pain, wrapping his thick arms around the round little droid as he trilled happily at his companion's better spirits.

BB-8 chirped and beeped again.

"Oh, my leg? It hurts like hell, where are we?" Poe asked, looking around. This was clearly somebody's bedroom, in some kind of small, prefab house that had been patched many times over. Probably purchased at a scrap yard. Hah. Like that kriffing speeder he wasted his credits on.

BB-8 whirred as he rolled about the room, making various noises as he explained to his human friend the situation.

"An infection?" His thick brows shot up. "Damn. Please tell me I looked beautiful when I went down?"

BB-8 stopped dead in his tracks, and the only part of him that moved was his head, and he made a few beeps.

"Okay yeah I knew you were out, it was rhetorical. Who do you think dragged you through that canyon?" Poe sighed, shaking his head, his sweaty curls dangling.

BB-8 tweeted in reply.

"A woman? Wait, so I wasn't hallucinating that part?" Poe blinked at the tiny droid as he wheeled his way up to him once more, bumping into him a few times affectionately.

"Okay, yeah, I get it. I owe the lady. Definitely owe her if she fixed you up, little buddy." Poe smiled warmly, patting the droid's chassis sweetly.

He was so caught up in the reunion with his partner that he almost jumped out of his skin when heavy bootsteps halted in the doorway and the curtain was pulled back, revealing... you.

Hot, gorgeous, sweaty and badass you. You were covered in grime and dirt from working the field you had and fixing your tiller that had crapped out on you. Hot damn, you were probably the hottest Twi'lek he'd ever seen, even your head-tails looked absolutely luscious.

You had initially sent BB-8 inside to fetch a tool, and when he hadn't returned you came inside to see why.

You tugged off your rawhide gloves and leaned in the doorway, smirking at the human as you shoved your gloves into the waistband of your pulled-down coveralls.

'C'mon Poe, put on the charm...' He chastised himself.

He cleared his throat and gave you his best debonair smile along with his signature quirked brow and squinted eyes; the smile that had won him the companionship from many women (and guys and others in-between) throughout the galaxy.

But he couldn't fathom the fact that he looked positively pathetic with a kriffed up leg, lying half-naked on your bedroom floor.

That is... until you broke out laughing, and BB-8 spun in a circle, joining in on your revelry at his attempt at flirtation.

Poe sighed deeply, dropping his cocky expression. "Eh, so... Uh... you're the lady who I remember from the canyon, right?"

You nod, your lekku quivering from within the soft leather quiver you'd bound them in, "Yana."

Poe blinked up at you. You did speak Basic just then, right? His hearing just messed up for a second? Right...

"So, on behalf of... well, me and my little friend here, thank you for saving us!" He grins awkwardly. "What's your name, miss..?"

You smirk again and utter something, your name, perhaps? And then ask, "Zul nala z'rate nala quora?"

BB-8 speaks to you for Poe when he doesn't answer, merely giving you a concerned look as he began to fear he was stuck with a woman who didn't speak Basic. He really needs to brush up on his xeno-linguistics...

You click your tongue and shake your head, "Su'un na, mesh'e yahte." You roll your eyes and tip your head to the side and tell him your name, this time clearly.

"Oh, man, am I happy you can understand me." Poe grinned. "Uh... Can you... help me off the floor? Please?"

"Yahte." You sigh deeply, walking over to him.

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The man you'd saved was someone called "Poe Dameron" a supposed "master pilot" for some "resistance". When Poe mentioned your skills as a medic and your ability to patch droids, he even hurled the suggestion to you that you join up.

You refused.

"What? Why?" Poe asked incredulously, setting his fork down on your tiny table as you both picked at your humble meal.

"Because I saw enough fighting when the Empire remnants sacked my hometown when I was a small child. They did it out of sheer spite for General Syndulla's role in the destruction of the last Death Star. I lost both of my parents, I lost my grandmother. If it wasn't for Numa saving me from the rubble I would have had nothing." You say, your lekku trembling at the memory of your home being blasted to smithereens.

Poe wilted. The two of you were close in age, the two of you were young enough and old enough to remember the Death Star, the war, the people you loved...

And, yeah, he understood your reasoning. Why get swallowed up by the war that devoured your family in front of you, when you can be a hermit, farming healing herbs and delivering produce and salted meats to one of the smaller towns further north?

"Okay... I'm sorry." Poe said, his eyes downcast as his own sour memories played back in his mind.

"No, no..." You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I shouldn't have blown up on you like that. Kriff, I swear, living in the woods shortens my temper."

Poe smiled at you and stretched out his leg beneath the table, the brace you'd rigged up for him squeaking as he bent his knee.

"How's the leg?" You pipe in.

"Oh, it's definitely better. Whatever kinda magic plants you got, they're certainly doing the trick!" Poe grinned at you.

"It's not magic. It's just natural medicine." You waved your fork at him. "And don't forget, you owe me for using half my stash of bacta to help fix your leg. You still got a few weeks to pay off that debt to me, Mor'ski."

Poe held up his hands innocently, grinning sideways at you. "Heyyy... I'm a man of my word! And the deadline on that shipment is... Well it technically doesn't have one."

"Did you ever think that it didn't have one because your contact knew sending people into those canyons was a death sentence? Because they knew odds of one person surviving in that canyon were like, maybe 2 to 20?" You snort. "Sounds to me that the people who hired you have been feeding people to the gutkurrs until somebody could finally nab that cache."

Poe blinked and you could easily tell that the thought had never crossed his mind.

Yahte.

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"Careful, Mor'ski." You snort, leaning on the fence as Kari bucks Poe off her saddle once again; before shuffling on to drink from her trough. BB-8 makes loud beeping and trilling as he spins in a circle, enjoying some humor at Poe's expense.

"Ugh!" Poe groaned.

Kari huffed and made a short bellow, trotting back around to nudge Poe with her flat snout.

Poe pats her as he sits up, "Okay, you like me but not enough for me to ride you? I mean I knew my charm worked on the ladies, but c'mon, I can't even stay on you for five seconds!"

"That's because I've raised her almost directly from birth, Poe." You grin victoriously before clicking your teeth, uttering a few words in Ryl before Kari abandons Poe altogether to rush up to you for affection.

"That's it, ma sareen." You coo at her.

"Uhh!" Poe scoffs as he stands up, dusting off the old worn pants you'd loaned him, his leg brace creaking as he walked over to you.

The damage Poe had sustained to his leg from the gutkurr was bad. Bad enough that even your small stash of bacta patches (some of which were probably past their best by date...) couldn't heal all the damage or regenerate properly. Or perhaps it was from the bacteria eating away at his flesh when you found him. You weren't sure, but the man would walk with a slight gait for the rest of his life.

But of course, knowing Poe, he would use it to his advantage just to cock his hips out to get some attention.

You were almost gonna miss that idiot when he was well enough to leave, and his cute little droid, too. It was nice to have company after so long alone.

"Well what about him?" Poe asked, pointing to Cviki, who had just plucked a fruit from a nearby tree and ate it messily. "I bet I could ride him!"

You laugh and smack your thigh, "Oh, be my guest! But remember, Mor'ski: Cviki is a can-cell. Not a fighter. If he decides he doesn't want you in the pilot seat anymore..."

Poe swallowed a bit nervously.

Maybe he should stick with the blurrg.

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Three weeks had gone by, and you knew Poe leaving was inevitable. He had finally done away with the leg brace and you inspected his healing leg. It was coming along nicely. It would scar, for sure, but he'd be able to walk.

And you were right, before. He did walk with a gait, one he carried with confidence in combination with that aggravatingly handsome smirk of his.

Could this man find a dark side in anything? Other than the First Order? You doubted it, he seemed good at turning bad situations around.

And oh, you would miss listening to Poe dote on that cute little astromech, BB-8. He was like a father doting on his infant child. You even caught him scooping him up and carrying him if BB-8 couldn't flawlessly roll over something (though BB probably pretended he couldn't just to be picked up by Poe).

It's a wonder that droid got anything done at all! You remember when you first brought him online and he assumed you were some nefarious individual who had hurt his pilot and friend.

It wasn't until you physically brought the astromech in to see the unconscious and feverish Poe to earn that little droid's trust. With BB-8's know-how, you were able to fix a few systems in your own defunct protocol droid that you honestly assumed you'd have to fully replace, making it that much cheaper to get the old droid up and running. Once they left, anyway. You weren't in a rush to have the help anymore. You liked having Poe around, his stupid snarky comments and weird giggle of his...

And you'd be lying if you didn't catch yourself staring, sometimes, too when he was working on helping with your monthly harvest.

He was skinny from lack of decent rations, when you brought him in, but after being with you for a few weeks, getting a proper diet and food in him, he bulked up.

He was muscular, sure, but not that almost scarily-defined tone so many found attractive. Poe's figure had softened out around his muscles, giving his belly a slight pooch and the dimples on his back to become more prominent. The softness was certainly appealing...

He looked handsome healthy.

Why did you just think that? Why did you just--

Your hands stopped as you tied down your equipment for the coming storm system that was approaching from the north, and you looked up to observe Poe for a moment.

Poe was busy helping cover your younger plants so they could survive the tough winds. He'd even helped corral Cviki into his créche so he wouldn't get injured. As thick as his carapace was, all it would take was one piece of debris to shred his wings and he could risk being permanently grounded.

Cviki seemed to socialize with Poe rather well, chittering and purring when Poe would pat his bulbous head, his wings fluttering curiously and excitedly when Poe would launch a small branch in the air for him to fetch and bring back.

Poe was a masterful pilot--if his words were to be believed--but something inside you told him he was also suited for a calmer life. Like yours, running a farm, taking care of the animals; not fighting in a near-pointless cycle you couldn't understand.

But, it was his choice to make, and his life to live. And nobody in the galaxy could take it from him.

But little did you know, that you were already tempting him to...

You rushed then, to tighten the wenches on the equipment bindings as Poe covered the fresh plants, grunting as the wind tousled his hair into his face and struggled to get the tarps down.

You look up at the sky and frown when the angry and flashing storm clouds approach faster than anticipated. It could be a short, fast-moving storm, that was the hope.

But you were worried. If the clouds began to circle...

At least you had a cellar.

"Poe! Come on! The plants are covered!" You wince when a small twig is caught in the wind and smacks into one of your lekku as the wind pushes them about. You forgot to wear your sheath today and were paying for it.

"You sure?" He called out to you.

"Yeah! Trust me, I'm sure! Now we need to get inside before the main storm hits!" You wave your hand. "Wachamio!"

Poe took the spare second to slam the mallet down on the stake for one last measure, before hopping to his feet, BB-8 chirping and tweeting from the threshold of your door, urging you both to hurry up.

Once inside, you quickly spin around and use the metal bar and slot it into place so the door wouldn't blow inwards on you; all your windows had been properly covered and locked with the metal panels so they wouldn't get blown in as well.

Not one moment later, you begin to hear the first fat raindrops pelt the walls and roof of your home from outside, deep rolling thunder announcing the arrival.

"Well, uh... You ever play sabacc?" Poe grinned awkwardly, and you slowly grinned.

BB-8 made a sound that could be universally translated in any language as: "I've got a bad feeling about this."

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It was just downright unfair. Clearly the universe did not favor him, or his hands at this sabacc game...

He was down to his socks and underwear while you were confidently sitting across the table, the only things missing from your outfit was your shirt, leaving you in your breastband only from the waist up, showing off the small scars and loosely defined muscles from your hard-working lifestyle poking through the light softness of your body.

You lean in as you see him begin to sweat, frowning at the cards in his hand. You'd both agreed on a simple game of sabacc, but because there were no credits to be put in the pot, you both settled on your clothes as the storm waxed and waned outside, rattling the walls and making his ears pop. He wondered how the sensitive little cones that were your sensory organs felt in the storm. Could ear-cones pop? It was a thought for another time.

"What's the matter, Mor'ski?" You rest your chin in your palm, grinning like a firaxan shark.

"...Afraid you can't bring much to the table?"

Oh, that was a low blow. He could feel the blush rise in his neck as his face heated up.

"Hah! Please, I doubt you could handle aaaallll this." Poe sputtered as he leaned back and huffed, forcing his confident demeanor back to the surface.

"Oh, I d'nno... I've probably handled farming equipment that was bigger." You toss back, moving a fresh pick between your lips and teeth as you boredly thumb through your cards.

"...Okay now you're just being mean."

"Hmm..." You look back up at him, a cold smile on your soft-looking lips. Poe felt a cold shiver creep up his spine when you looked at him.

And it was even worse when you flattened your cards on the table.

"Pure sabacc."

"Kriff!" Poe groaned, slapping his own bad hand on the table and pushing his hand through his curls.

"Oh, come on! I'm down to my skivvies, here!" He whined.

"Oh, I know." You giggle, batting your eyelashes at him and your lekku curl upwards a bit. "I'm not planning on making you completely strip. I'm feeling merciful..." You purred.

"...What are you planning?"

"The storm's let up a bit for now..." You hum casually, tapping your fingers on the top of your worn wooden table.

Poe blinked at you, his eyebrows raised up on his forehead. "No way..."

"One solid minute." You say, sticking your finger up. "Run around in the rain for one solid minute."

"Oh, come on!" Poe groaned, slapping his fist on the table.

BB-8 chirped and spun in a circle, almost laughing.

"Oh, whose side are you on?!" Poe glared at the droid with a scowl.

BB-8 whistled and wheeled over to your side, beeping and whirring in reply, making you grin even wider.

"You said you're a man of your word, Dameron..." You chuckle.

"....Agh! Kriff, why are women like this?!" Poe groaned, scrambling his hands through his raven curls.

"A bet's a bet..."

"Fine!" Poe scoffed, shooting to his feet and marching over to the front door, where your boots both lay.

He grumbled under his breath the whole time as he shoved his feet into them. Ah, well, at least the view from behind was nice...

You bite your lip as he pulls the metal bar free and the door rattles from the sudden gust of wind. Poe grabs the latch and it takes most of his strength to keep it from swinging open.

Oh, the moment he darted out into the freezing rain was glorious. The yelp he made as the first freezing drops made contact with his skin had you squirming and cackling madly as you clapped your hands and stamped your feet excitedly, BB-8 spinning in place and tweeting loudly.

He ran in a circle with his arms held out wide, shouting expletives the whole time as bumps erupted all over his body as his boots squished in the mud.

Once the minute was over with, Poe scurried back inside, soaked to the bone and shivering, his teeth chattering as he looked at you.

"Happy...?" Poe grunted.

"Very much so." You giggle girlishly.

"Good because I'm never playing sabacc with you again."

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You both sat on the fence, watching as Kari ate from her feed trough, bellowing in between bites, her thick tail swaying as she eats.

"So..." Poe began.

"Hm?" You mused, spitting the weed from between your teeth.

"I still have that cache hidden in the canyon... I mean, I know you've already helped me out and everything but..."

You quirk your brow inquisitively. "You want me to help you transport it to the spaceport."

"...Well. Okay, I mean... Eh. Yeah..?" He said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't have a mode of transportation or anything, and... I can give you a cut?"

You slowly look at him, blinking. "You'd pay me to help?"

"Yeah! I don't see why not... Plus it'll help pay back and replace the bacta patches I used... Might help pay for parts for that droid of yours..."

Your teeth gnaw at the inside of your cheek, thinking hard as you look down at the mud. He made some good points... He has no ride, he still needs those credits or his near death would have been for nothing...

And those credits really could help you out.

"Okay, Mor'ski. I'm in." You reply, slapping your palm into his.

Poe grinned and gave your hand a firm tug.

"Knew you would be, doll. Now let's get to it."

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You watched as Poe slid the last crate into the cart next to BB-8, fastening them down with wench straps so nothing moved. There had been no sign of gutkurrs since the two of you returned to the canyon, but that's also probably from the musk bombs you made to irritate their sense of smell.

Maybe if he'd hired a local guide through the canyons he wouldn't have gotten so screwed in the first place.

But if he did, he wouldn't have met you.

Hindsight is... well. A funny thing when you think about it.

"Do you even know what's in those crates?" You ask him as you mount Kari's saddle.

"Eh... no." Poe cringed.

"Did you ever think to check??" You frown at him.

Poe's gloved hands pat the crate in front of him, and even BB-8 whirs curiously.

"Ryloth is known for its spice production, Poe..." You sigh softly. "Interspace gangs like to use it for drugs, remember?"

"Yeah..." He said, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Screw it.

He popped the latches and peeked into the crate.

There were different objects, all bearing the sigil of the old Empire. Poe felt his blood run cold as he tossed the lid completely open, and began rifling through it.

Several objects had the Empire logo scratched out, some had them painted over. It was clear this cache no longer belonged to them, but...

"What is it?" You ask him.

"...A bunch of old Empire junk. The weapons are pretty much useless, their cells are drained. There's a few other things in here, but... They look like they'd only be useful to a damn collector than anybody of importance." Poe said, his body relaxed slightly. Nothing really dangerous were in these crates...

Except.

"Holy kriff." He breathed, reaching down to a small wooden box. It was half a foot long, and surprisingly, there was an image burned into the lid. A symbol he knew well as a young man, scrawled and graffiti'd on many Empire propaganda posters.

The symbol of the Jedi Order.

"What?" You asked, turning to look at him.

Poe reached in and pulled out a lightsaber. Its once shiny metal surface scuffed and dented, the black tips at the end of the handle flaked of paint, the clip snapped long ago. This lightsaber had been through hell, and had probably even seen action as far back as the Clone Wars...

"Is... Is that..." You stumble.

"A kriffing lightsaber." Poe said reverently. He slowly and carefully set the lightsaber back inside the velvet lined box, closing it and gently placing it back inside the crate.

"Nothing in here is dangerous, except the lightsaber, maybe. But nobody really knows how to use these except..."

"Jedi and Sith." You murmur. "Who would want that stuff if it's useless?"

"Like I said, a collector maybe. Or a dealer in war relics." Poe said, closing the crate again.

"Poe..."

"I know, but c'mon... Let's get going while we still got the sun."

"Right." You say slowly. You pat Kari's flank and jerk your head. "Get on, Mor'ski. We got at least a two hours' ride ahead of us."

Poe seemed wary. He'd ridden in the cart the whole trek out here, and all the failed attempts to ride that blurrg of yours made him hesitant to hop on her.

"Relax, if I'm riding with you, she'll be fine. Unless you wanna ride Cviki?" You smile wryly, the both of you looking up to where Cviki was poking at the rocks with his beak, his mandibles picking up smaller insectoids to munch on here and there.

"...No I'm good." He looked back at you as he stepped up to Kari's side.

As he grabbed onto your open palm with his, he looked at you with curiosity in his dark eyes.

"You good yourself, crazy lady?" He jabbed playfully.

"Rahn fanyo. Er... I'm fine." You mumble as he takes his seat behind you, politely placing his hands on your waist.

It was a gentlemanly thing to do, to avoid grabbing anything he shouldn't... but once Kari got into a good and decent trot, he'd bounce off her haunches faster than a blood fly.

"Poe, you're gonna need to hold on tighter than that. Or I'm gonna leave you in the dust and collect this bounty myself..."

Poe chuckled and awkwardly looped his arms around your waist, carefully adjusting it so your sensitive lekku were draped over his shoulders, so he couldn't squish them on accident.

"Like this?"

You rolled your eyes and tugged his hands until they were almost clasped together and his chin was practically on your shoulder. "There. Because being polite while riding a blurrg is gonna get you a concussion, yahte."

"Okay, you gotta teach me Ryl, doll." Poe chuckled.

You smirked over your shoulder as you snapped Kari's reins, nudging her with your heels.

"That would ruin the fun, Mor'ski."

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You watched as a group of children fed Cviki fruit out of their palms, giggling and laughing when his long tongue unfurled to wrap around their fingers and clean their hands of any lingering juices left over. Cviki was very approachable, for a cen-cell.

Kari on the other hand... She didn't really like anybody other than you. And, well, maybe Poe now, you supposed.

You sighed as you watched Poe speak with his contact, a rather fat Twi'lek man who was obviously well off. A broker, you supposed. One who sets up people with jobs like these. Technically avoiding any trouble with the law because brokers around these parts were simply like bulletin boards for smugglers, you could pick what jobs they conveniently had around, and if you got in trouble, they could disavow any connections to you while still making decent credits.

And it was obviously a very good front he was wearing, judging by the bejeweled rings squished onto the man's fat fingers.

When the two began walking over to you, you groaned softly, Kari huffing when she sensed your irritation. You detested people walking up to you when you didn't want to talk.

Your emotions were high for reasons you couldn't quite place, and a feeling of anxiety gnawed in the pit of your stomach.

Poe was leaving.

Soon, he would load the cargo onto this broker's ship and he would leave Ryloth, possibly forever. You couldn't blame him, after almost getting turned into a tasty snack for a pack of gutkurrs.

"And this lovely woman must be the person who saved your skin, eh, Dameron?" The Twi'lek man chortled, his fat jiggling merrily as he elbowed Poe in the side.

His thin mouth was stretched wide, making his cheeks appear even larger and more plump, his bright yellow skin drawing little attention to his sharp teeth.

"Yep, my savior all right. Worked me right to the bone to pay back half my debt to her after those ugly bugs tried to snack on me." Poe grinned back.

"My my, sounds like a keeper!" The man smirked suggestively at you two.

You rolled your eyes and curled your lekku slightly. The gesture was hidden behind you, but anyone walking by could see the irritation and hostility in the gesture.

Men have tried to get your attention for years, and certainly, a man of status like this was always looking for aides or escorts of some kind. That life wasn't for you, not one tiny bit.

"She's.... Uh. A good friend." Poe said, smiling at you.

His soft eyes eased the tension in you somewhat, but you were still jittery and anxious. One, about Poe leaving; two, all the people bustling about the spaceport; and three, these confusing kriffing feelings regarding the quirky pilot.

The Twi'lek man handed Poe a small box, likely containing his payment, and BB-8 drove into his shins twice.

"I know, I know, buddy! I was getting to that!" Poe sighed exasperatedly at the astromech.

"I'll make sure the dock officials don't snoop, say our goodbyes." The broker winked as he turned to walk away.

"So..." Poe awkwardly began.

"Mhm." You hum.

"I'm glad you dragged my sorry carcass out of that canyon." Poe chuckled, his fingers nervously brushing the sides of the box he held.

"I'm happy my effort wasn't wasted when Kari didn't eat you." You snort in reply, smiling despite yourself.

Poe laughed softly and opened the box, plucking up a few chips into his fist. He held out his hand and placed the silver and gold chips into your palm gently.

"Here. I'm a man of my word, remember?" He smiled at you warmly. "And I promised you a cut. This should cover the bacta, and some parts for that droid of yours. Plus, y'know. To get yourself somethin' nice."

When he winked, you felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you laughed.

"Yeah, well..." You shrugged, not sure what to say.

"...Hey." Poe said, his bottom lip sliding beneath his teeth for a moment before licking it.

"So, I know this is sudden, but--"

"Sir! Your ship is cleared and ready to go! You got five minutes!" A dockhand shouted from nearby, startling Kari to the point she made a concerned bellow and stumbled back a bit.

You shove the credits into your belt pouch, and coo and shush at Kari, patting her down affectionately to ease her sudden fright as Poe shouts back at the dockhand.

"Ah... Great. Fun." Poe sighed as he turned back to you, noticing how your lekku were twitching and swaying as you struggled to calm your blurrg mount.

You didn't turn back to face him, biting your plush bottom lip as you patted down Kari, trying now to calm yourself as much as her.

Poe was leaving.

Probably one of the only people you'd call "friend" was leaving, and then you'd go right back to your boring tedium from before, while he flew headlong into danger with BB-8 by his side.

You couldn't really hear him as he spoke to you, imagining just how many horrible ways he could possibly die out there, at the hands of the First Order, or some pirate scum...

You did however, become aware of how close he was when he slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you against him. You barely had time to gasp and ask what he was doing when he pressed his lips against yours in a rushed, but fiery kiss.

He pulled back from you, winking as BB-8 whirled and trilled, spinning in place a few times.

"See ya around, doll. And next time I'm in town, I'll visit."

You were left, blinking, mouth agape as he sashayed with that new gait of his towards the hangar of his ship, BB-8 hot on his heels, tweeting a farewell at you.

You stayed like that, the tips of your lekku twining around one another twice, your face flushed with a different shade as the ship shakily lifted off, blasting off into the clouds.

...If he did come back...

"Come on, Kari." You say softly before whistling to get Cviki's attention.

"Let's go get some shopping done."

Maybe you would buy yourself something nice to wear.

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Poe sighed as his ship launched into hyperspace, feeling sad as he kissed Ryloth's atmosphere goodbye. It wasn't as beautiful or as sweet as your lips were, for sure.

But it made his heart throb with sadness all the same...

He punched in a few buttons and the hologram of the broker appeared as the message began to play.

"Poe, my boy! Safe travels. I'm sure you and your companion had a lovely farewell, no?" He chuckled gleefully.

Poe rolled his eyes as he continued. "My contact got word back to me, and she's pleased that the cargo was intact and was impressed you were alive! How about that?" The man clapped his hands and laughed again.

"Well, just letting you know," His eyes twinkled. "Miss Kanata sends her thanks and hopes you enjoy the extra credits she left in your pay!"

Poe frowned at the name.

Wait... Miss Who?

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Leia watched as Poe studied the small hologram of a Twi'lek woman in front of him, squinting and mouthing the words as they left her lips.

The older woman smiled as she walked up to him, her long robes shuffling softly as her slippers padded the metal flooring of the base.

"Pick up a new language to learn, Poe?" She asked, her brown eyes shimmering as she sat next to him.

Poe almost jumped, unusually engrossed in the tutorial program he had been watching. He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck and laughed.

"You could say that." He replied.

"I noticed you walking with a limp, now, Poe." Her tone switched to a more affectionate and maternal tone. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... Someone on Ryloth saved my hide from a bad sitch. Unfortunately I'm probably gonna be stuck with it forever, but I'd trade a limp for my life any day of the week." He grinned.

Leia hummed with a sweet smile as her eyes were drawn to the paused tutorial. "Fall in love with the local flavor, huh?" She grinned mischievously.

Poe stiffened and coughed into his hand, a blush to his cheeks.

"You... Could say that."

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

Twi'leki/Ryl translation:

Wachamio! = "Let's go!"

Ma sareen = "My Sweet"

Yana = "Yes"

Wa-janeel = "Follow me"

Rahn fanyo = "I'm fine" or, alternatively, "Don't worry"

Twi'leki/Ryl Phrases I've smacked together/come up with (idk I'm not a linguist):

Nu nala quin-nala wilo? = "Do you know where you are?"

Zul nala z'rate nala quora? = "Can you tell me your name?"

Su'un na, mesh'e yahte. = "Oh great, he's an idiot."

Yahte = "Idiot"

Mor'ski = "Flyboy"

[tsarisfanfiction]

Family Reunion

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Apollo, Lee, Will, Michael, Cabin Seven Apollo-as-Lester wakes up for the first time in Cabin Seven. Having children older than him is just plain wrong, thanks. TOApril day 11 - First Meeting! This is set in the aftermath of an AU of mine that I haven't yet written, and for the sake of avoiding spoiling the whole premise of that AU before I do write and post it, there is a distinct lack of explanation hanging around, oops.

Apollo jerked awake, his breathing shallow and rapid while his weak, mortal body trembled and sweated in a broadcast of distress to anyone in the vicinity – and any hope that his immediate vicinity was, in fact, vacant of company was immediately dashed into tiny pieces by the gentle touch on his forehead.

It was cool, which meant that either they ran cold or Apollo was running hot (and yes, Apollo was always hot, in both senses of the word, but Lester was not, a fact he was still struggling to come to terms with).  Apollo did not consider that a good sign, although the gentleness of the touch at least suggested it was no-one meaning immediate harm.

“Can you open your eyes?” they asked – a familiar voice, and while the identity of the owner currently escaped Apollo (an alarming fact, given Apollo wasn’t used to forgetting sounds, or anything at all), he was reasonably confident that it belonged to a male.  “Blink once for yes.”

There was a wryness to the voice, a thread that might be light-hearted at the joke.

“What if I cannot?” he asked, cringing at the raspy slur that came out of his mouth.

“Well, you can always just tell me that,” his companion pointed out, and Apollo might feel half-deaf but he could still tell there was a new note to the voice – one associated with relief.  “But given I know you’re awake, I’d rather you at least tried before giving up.”

Rather annoyingly, he had a point – and Apollo was also getting rather fed up with not being able to place the owner of the voice by aural clues alone.  He knew he knew that voice.

His eyes resisted opening, perhaps basking in the chance to be lazy for the first time since crash landing in a dumpster and becoming the servant of one Meg McCaffrey, but his companion had more or less asked nicely, so Apollo persevered until his eyelids cracked open and he could make some sense of his surroundings.

The elegant ceiling was the first thing to catch his attention, simple but homely.  It was also vaguely familiar, a feeling that increased as more of the cabin – because that was clearly what he was in – came into focus.  Plain white walls, simple wooden bunk beds, and wide windows with heart-achingly familiar yellow flowers blooming along the sills.

“Curse of Delos,” he rasped, digging a clumsy elbow into the soft material beneath him until he could force his unwilling sack of mortal flesh into something resembling a sitting position, although perhaps a pathetic recline would be a more accurate description.

“Your flowers,” his companion agreed.  “They’ve grown here for as long as I can remember.”

Finally, Apollo’s sight landed on the companion in question.  A young man, tragically older than Lester’s body by a couple of years, with short, honey blond hair and eyes closer to green than blue was perched on the edge of the cot he had awoken in.  His face was thin and drawn, a little too much to be strictly healthy, and there was dark shading around his eyes as though his eyelids had forgotten how not to have bags.

It was a sight that made Apollo’s already aching body ache a little bit more, because it was wrong.  So much of it was wrong, more wrong than right, although he’d seen those eyes before, set into the face of a first chair violinist in the Portland Symphony Orchestra.

“Lee,” he said, the name escaping him in as a breath.  His son – and the fact that his body was physically younger than that of his son’s was one of the things that was so, so, wrong – gave him a glimmer of a smile, tired and weary but a twitch of the corner of his mouth nonetheless.

“Hi, Dad,” he said.  “It’s good to see you again.”

Apollo couldn’t help the scoff that wrestled its way out of his choked up throat, because how could anything be nice about his current situation.  “Is it?” he asked despondently.

“Yes,” Lee said without hesitation.  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not great that you’re mortal now, but I’ll take that over not knowing.”

He didn’t specify what he didn’t what to not know, but even Apollo’s patchy mortal memory could put together enough of the pieces that he couldn’t really argue that point.

Or perhaps more importantly, that arguing that point would only drag Lee’s mental state down further, and his son didn’t need to suffer any more.

He pushed himself up further, internally grumbling at his reluctant body as it begrudgingly obeyed.  Lee’s hand dropped from his forehead, but settled on his arm instead, a cool touch to Apollo’s forearm.  His son had thick, soft wrist warmers on each wrist, the flicker of gold barely visible beneath the long sleeves of his hoodie.  Had he always liked those?  Apollo couldn’t remember.

Instead of letting on just how many holes his memory seemed to have, enough to make his mind a fully functional sieve, no doubt, he turned his thoughts elsewhere.  “Where’s Meg?”

The smile that crept across Lee’s face was fond.  “Making friends,” he said.  “Connor’s going to need an eyepatch for a few days, and Sherman’s going to be walking with a limp for a while after that kick to the crotch.”  He sounded amused.

Apollo couldn’t say he was surprised, given his brief but intense crash course in the consequences of spending time in the personal space of Meg McCaffrey, but he had to ask.  “Making friends?”

Lee’s smile grew.  “Michael was the same when he was her age,” he said.  “And she’s Kayla’s age.  Either those three are going to tear each other to pieces, or become a gremlin trio.  They’ll be fine.”

He seemed wholly unconcerned at the prospect of Meg potentially tearing apart other demigods – or other demigods tearing Meg apart.  Then again, the necklace around his neck was laden with beads, reminding Apollo that Lee was as close as an expert to camp dynamics as any demigod.

The cabin door crept open and quiet feet pattered across the floor, accelerating the closer they got to him until there was another blond young man in his eyeline, this one still a teenager, although still too close to Apollo’s mortal age for comfort.  “You’re awake!” he said, his hands immediately reaching for Apollo’s head.  “How are you feeling?  I tried to heal you, but-”

“Take a breath, Will,” Lee interrupted him gently, the hand that wasn’t still resting on Apollo’s arm coming to wrap around his younger brother’s shoulders.  “He can’t answer you if you’re still talking.”  Will – his hair had the exact same curl around the ears that that Texan country singer had had, this was her son – obediently silenced, and Apollo found himself the recipient of twin expectant looks.

If he hadn’t already known the two of them were brothers, he would’ve realised then.  Lee’s eyes were greener than Will’s pure blue, and of course he was about five years older, but the look was identical.

“I ache,” he admitted, his voice whining pathetically.  “I have acne and flab.”

“Welcome to mortal teenagerhood,” Lee said wryly, as Will gaped.  “Will, want to give him the rundown?”

“Swollen nose but not broken,” Apollo’s younger son – and Olympus he was not going to be getting used to this teenage son being a similar age to his body, let alone the son that looked to be more or less out of his teenager years and into full adulthood being obviously older – reported.  “Your ribs were cracked but are healing well, and your vital signs are all good for a mortal.”  His voice broke on the last word, and to Apollo’s alarm, his eyes started to dampen.  “I gave you nectar,” he admitted, his voice shaking.  “I didn’t know- your lips started smoking-”

Lee tugged him closer, rubbing his hand along Will’s arm.  “We didn’t know,” he assured him quietly, but that didn’t stop Will’s lip from quivering.  “It’s not your fault.”

Apollo distantly hoped that that explained his fire-and-brimstone-esque nightmare.

“I take it Meg didn’t think to tell you,” he said instead, and got a fond head shake from Lee.

“I think she was too busy screeching at us to remember to give medical critical information,” he said.  “Connor and Sherman winding her up didn’t help.”

“She’s waiting outside,” Will added.  “Along with everyone else.”

As if on cue, the door slammed open, the person responsible clearly not particularly caring that Apollo might have still been passed out.  It was exactly the sort of behaviour Apollo thought Meg would be capable of, but while the height of the figure was about right, the black hair was too long, and there was a distinct lack of glinty rhinestone glasses.

They were also, unmistakably, another boy.

In his wake trailed several other figures, all taller but something told Apollo they were all younger, too.  It might have been the impressive collection of beads around his neck, or – and Apollo was going to persuade himself it was the second option – his memory wasn’t so terrible that he didn’t recognise more of his children, even if some of the newcomers were also the same age or older than his Lester-body.

It took him longer than he liked to put names to faces, but at least they did come, before he had to face the awkwardness of admitting he’d forgotten any of his children.  The two African-American boys, both in their early teens and blessedly younger than Apollo’s current state still, were Elias and Austin – Elias with the long locs, and Austin with the intricate cornrows – while the third boy, the one with a permanent limp and a strangely-dangling jacket sleeve, to say nothing of the trio of slashing scars across one side of his face, was Nathan.  The older girl, liberally freckled with her hair dangling in brown bunches, was Joy, and he was pretty certain the youngest of the group with hair the colour of Greek fire was Kayla.

Then there was the oldest teenager at the head of the pack, striding forwards with all the confidence of someone that was going to get his answers, regardless of anyone else’s wishes – or Apollo’s injuries.

Michael came to a stop next to Will, flanking his younger brother and just about in arm’s reach of Lee if the young man chose to reach out any further, and Apollo found himself fixed with an unimpressed look.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

[icecreambeach]

For the "I wish you would write a fic where..." meme

Where Boba goes to visit Din and the baby at their little cabin and maybe cool Uncle Greef babysits so they can break in the bed, idk, I'm a simple woman with simple desires

I, too, am this woman!

(This maybe could be considered a companion piece to the one-shot I wrote about Din and Grogu first moving into the new cabin, "home again, for the first time," if only because I'm using the exact same layout.)

-

Greef arrives late. Important high magistrate business, he says. Din listens patiently to details he barely understands, but still makes sure to hand Greef some qartuum jerky in the hopes that he’ll share with Grogu, thereby hastening the process of Greef leaving with Grogu so that Din and his next visitor can be alone. Time is not on their side.

“You ever figure out what he eats?” says Greef, looking down at Grogu’s wide, pleading eyes.

“Easier to figure out what he doesn’t eat,” says Din, most of his attention on preparing the red tea the villagers donated to his home alongside the plants, the dishes, and nearly everything else. “I’ll let you know when I find one.”

As Greef bloviates about local agriculture initiatives, the wind blows hard, making the black volcanic chimes dance in the window. There’s nothing to slow the wind over the flats, but Din’s new cabin bears it well. Manual blinds just under the roof permit some flow, and the walls themselves withstand the pressure without much noise. Din isn’t sure about the receiver or any other delicate extremities, but he’ll cross those bridges when he comes to them. And Grogu seems to like it. He’s always turning towards the breeze like it’s whispering secrets.

It’s not a bad environmental asset, too. It can disguise many other sounds. Like the roar of the Slave I touching down not twenty yards from the front porch.

All of the frogs scatter into the pond like nervous shock troopers, but Greef takes no notice, still blathering on about pasture rotations while Din watches the entire landing through the window. Grogu has noticed, but apparently he cares more about obtaining the maximum quantity of jerky than he does about greeting ba’vodu Boba.

Din watches Boba descend the ramp with his rifle in his hands. Prepared for anything, as always. Din smiles, but it quickly vanishes when he realizes that he has no idea how to get Greef out of his house.

“Uh.” He pours boiling water for the tea without taking his eyes off of Boba's confident stride. “School’s starting soon, isn’t it?”

“Not that soon, don't worry. And that speeder can hit sixty in under two seconds. Had it suped up by the Anzellans just last week. They added all-new—”

Din watches Boba pause several feet from the porch. No doubt he’s heard Greef’s booming voice; Din was supposed to be alone already.

He’s definitely also able to make out the three lifeforms with his helmet’s infrared. Din faces Boba and makes a short beckoning gesture. Greef takes no notice, but Boba holsters his rifle and resumes his path.

“And the mileage! You wouldn’t believe the amount of credits I save. Then again, we might not have to worry about fuel again for quite some time. I’m working on this deal with traders on Abafar—”

“Abafar,” comes a gruff voice. “What a skughole.”

A sweeping feeling unfurls within Din like the first day of spring after a merciless winter: Boba Fett, armored and whole, standing in Din’s own home. He stops what he’s doing and faces him, hoping that Boba will be able to read his feelings from body language alone. By the slow tilt of Boba’s helmet, his hopes aren’t in vain.

Meanwhile, Greef has gone ashen. It’s dramatic enough to distract Din from his heartfelt bliss. The silence turns awkward.

Din gestures lamely to Boba. “Greef, this is—”

“Boba Fett,” Greef breathes out. He doesn’t reach for his weapon, but Din recognizes the look of his old friend’s battle readiness. “You’re Boba Fett.”

“And you’re Magistrate Greef Karga,” says Boba as he removes his helmet, donning the chilled, mountainous presence of the daimyo of Mos Espa. “We did not meet when last I visited your planet.”

Greef blinks, then whirls to Din. “When Cara said you’d gotten help from two bounty hunters, she didn’t mention one of them was Boba karking Fett.”

Din blinks himself. “I didn’t know you’d heard of him.”

“If I’d heard—?” Greef looks at Din like he’s gone insane before turning back to Boba.

Din starts wondering if he should reach for his own blaster, but—after another few seconds of tension—Greef sets his jerky on the dining nook’s table and strides over to Boba with an open palm. “Boba Fett, in the flesh. It’s an honor. If I’d known you were visiting our little settlement, I’d… I’d have—”

“Just a brief social call, I’m afraid,” Boba tucks his helmet under his arm to shake Greef’s hand. His eyes fly to Din even before the handshake has ended. “Old warriors do love to swap stories.”

“Don’t I know it,” Greef chuckles, ignorant of the heat passing between Boba and Din. “Wow. It’s too bad the Hunters all left. They would have a field day. The stories you could swap then!”

“They’ve probably heard all the best ones already. My versions are always a little less exciting.”

“You have to allow me to invite you to dinner. Nevarro is going to be an invaluable trade hub on the Hydian way, and with your connections in Mos Espa I’m sure we could—”

“Another time, perhaps.” Boba’s strident yet patient tone overrides Greef in a way Din has never seemed to manage. “I promised I’d share a meal with this little one before I leave.” He moves and Greef steps aside to allow Boba to press a hand into the kid’s eager grasp.

Greef lets out a huff of laughter, hands on his hips. “Well, this is still a pleasant surprise. You’ll have to plan better the next time he visits, Mando.”

Din, staring at Grogu happily babbling to Boba while clawing at his glove, responds to Greef a full beat too late. “It was a last-minute… thing.”

Greef shakes his head like Din is his least competent child. He steps back to observe Boba and Grogu. “He’s taken a real liking to you, huh?”

Din can just barely make out the ghost of a smile on Boba’s mouth. “Just because he’s a Jedi doesn’t make him a good judge of character.”

Greef laughs, but Din is wary of this turning into the kind of conversation that goes on for far longer than it should. And Boba is no help; he’s stroking one of Grogu’s long ears while the kid coos and leans into his hand like they have all the time in the world.

Din clears his throat and sways from one hip to the other. “Well, Grogu has school to get to…”

Boba gives Din a look, clearly judging him for his graceless segue. But Greef starts and across at the holoclock. “Ah, you’re right. Mando here is finally letting the little guy—uh, Grogu, excuse me—letting Grogu enroll in the school.”

Din takes a step forward as if that might encourage Greef closer to the door. “He’s not enrolling. He’s just attending for the day.”

“Just for the day, huh?” says Boba, still staring at Din, who is too embarrassed to move further.

“Maybe more, if he likes it!" says Greef. "Kid can’t learn everything he needs to know through bounty hunting. Did he tell you that’s what he plans to do? Take the kid on some training journey across the galaxy?”

“That’s how I learned,” says Boba.

“Well… we can’t all be Boba Fett.”

“I also learned that way,” says Din. “And it’s not all just fighting. He’ll learn what he needs to learn.”

Greef addresses Grogu as he picks him up, “I’ll at least make sure they cover local New Republic ordinances, since your Dad doesn’t seem too well-versed in those.” As Grogu burbles, Greef adds, “Yes, Dad gets lots of traffic citations. Yes he does.”

Din begins strolling towards the door, wielding his shoulders in a herding motion.

Greef, blessedly, takes the hint. “Well, we’ll be off then.” He almost accosts Boba with one more handshake on his way out, then seems to think better of it. “It was a pleasure and an honor.”

“Honor was all mine,” Boba drawls, obviously loving this.

Din gets Greef around the barrier wall separating the front entryway from the rest of the cabin and, finally, outside. He passes a gentle hand over Grogu’s head, his thumb brushing the same ear Boba stroked. “Be good, okay, kid?”

Grogu gurgles some noises that doubtlessly mean no promises just as Greef leans forward to stage-whisper, “Seriously, Mando. Let me know next time he visits. I’d love to open up discussions for business opportunities over dinner.” 

“Well, next time Fennec might join him, so you can have your big dinner then.”

“Fennec Shand—?”

“Goodbye, Greef.” Din shuts the door in Greef’s face.

Boba has set his helmet on the nook dining table. He's scanning the plants hovering above, the pots dotting the windowsill. “You’ve made quite a home here already.”

“Most of it was here when we moved in,” mutters Din. “The townspeople have been very kind.” He immediately realizes that he’s let the tea over-steep and goes to the counter to remove the sachet from the pot. “I don’t have any milk, but would you—hgn—”

Boba presses to his back with such force that Din has to push against the counter to avoid bruising his hips. It’s a miracle he doesn’t knock the pot over.

His cloak is yanked aside, “I don’t want,” his collar is pulled open, “Any karking tea," his throat is seized by Boba's greedy mouth, "Djarin."

[tac-bat]

Reboot

Characters - Siffrin, Mirabelle, Loop (everyone else is mentioned)

Summary - Siffrin tries something new.

Word Count - 2,434k

Warnings - Graphic description of violence, Major Character Death (but that's to be expected)

Tags - Body Horror/Blood and Gore/POV Second Person/Temporary Character Death/Hurt No Comfort/Unconventional Formatting

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ACT 6 DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T DONE ACT 6! PLEASE DO ACT 6!

this work is posted on AO3 if you prefer it over Tumblr, I love this game a lot so I thought I'd try something new and also post my writing here, enjoy! :3

You wake, greeting the pale sky. Your eye feels heavy. The scent of burnt sugar rests deep in your sinuses, and the sunlight warms your skin. You close your eye, yet the sun denies you that familiar darkness. You take a deep breath.

In—

       One

             Two

                   Three 

                           Four

                                    Hold it, and out—

                           Five

                    Six

         Seven

Eight. 

You opened your eye again and smiled. A genuine smile for the first time in—stars, years you think.  

“-frin?” The housemaiden came into view, her smile soft as. “Good morning!” She looked away. “Well, more like, good afternoon, I guess…”

For once, you don’t have to force a smile. “Aftermorning to you too, Mira!” 

The housemaiden looked a little taken aback but gave a short laugh. “Yes, aftermorning works too.” 

"Awww, thank you!" You stood, feeling the grass on your gloved palms once more. “Coined that one myself!”  

She watches you; you know why. “You sound a lot more chipper than usual. Did you have a good dream?” She looks content with your change of behaviour yet curious. 

“Oh Mari,” You grinned, touching your chest. “I’m hurt.”

“Ah —no, I didn’t mean to imply you weren't.” She closed her hands nervously. “It’s just—well—“

“I don’t talk as much." You mused.

“Yes, that’s exactly it!” The housemaiden nodded. “You changed!” She concluded.

You laughed—a light, hardy laugh. Being here so long, you already went through the stages of grief, depression, and insanity as you tried and failed to break this. A piece of yourself was taken every time you wound back here. The numbness has faded, replaced with a mania you've grown to like. Who cares if your companions are taken aback by your change in personality? They get used to it soon. 

"Well, my dear Mari, change is encouraged here!” And oh, what a welcome change it is! You’ll take this over the crushing weight in your chest any day! You walked past her. 

“Might as well look on the bright side for what we have to do tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Frin—wait!”

You hummed, turning around on your heel to face her. 

“I was thinking, before we fight the king. Maybe we could make it special somehow—“

[Zone out.] 

"Oh, I’d love to, but I’d prefer my own room tonight! I’m sure there’s an inn somewhere.” You beamed, watching the Housemaiden blink, confused. It didn’t matter if you went off script; you disproved an old theory that nothing breaks if you do. You had a new one to test out at all angles now.

“Ah.” She’s disappointed; you couldn’t care less; she won’t remember this. But, in her usual fashion, she picked herself back up, trying to appear strong. “No worries! We can meet up at the edge of Dormont on our way to the house.”

You gave a short chuckle. “Of course, Mari. Want me to tell everyone to meet at the clock tower?”

“Oh, um—yes! But do you—” 

[Zone out.]

My my, catching her off guard again? Perhaps you should take it slow; you wouldn't want to overwhelm her.

“I always remember, Mirabelle.” You tuned back in, pointing at yourself.

The Housemaiden hummed. “Alright then… But I made a—“

[Zone out.]

You think about it for just a moment. Then you realize she won’t remember, and neither will anyone else. It’s better to see them as actors; it makes that annoying grief throb less. But how silly is it to grieve for someone alive—talking and acting as they’ve always had? Stupid. She soon takes her leave, and you’re left alone. Might as well churn through today to the part that matters. You’ve seen everything already. So, you—

[Zone out.]

You stood on the path to the Favor Tree. The sun is setting as dusk takes over the sky. The Fighter, Kid, and Researcher should be at the tower to meet with the Housemaiden. You caught glimpses of their confused faces, but that did it matter. Even if you get new dialogue, it won’t amount to anything. Not this time, at least. You can always listen back if you need to. However, you needed to be alone. Certain nobody would come to interrupt you. So, with nothing else to do, you approach the Favor Tree. It stood tall, a grand set piece. You can’t remember when you were this close to it; it looked the same; everything did. You might as well improvise a use for your max strength instead of killing a sadness, would be nice practice. So you climb, and up and up the light grew dimmer, but you liked the challenge. It was thrilling to go so off script; a new scene can happen! Even if it’s just you. But that was secondary to your new theory—your current obsession. You’ll bend this until it breaks, then find another one to conquer in your prison. The branches are thinning, you didn’t care, you weaved, you rose, and finally—you poke your head above the leaves.

And the stars danced. For a moment, your breath was stolen, and your permeating smile fell with it. You stared in awe. It’s been too long since you sat back and just admired this plane of existence. You’re so used to going to and from Dormont and the house that you rarely see them anymore. It was nice. You could see a faint outline of the House of Change; you flicked your gaze to the top floor, where the King awaits. Ah yes, waiting. The reason you’re doing all of this. It’s a simple theory: what happens if you don’t go ? Easy as pie. You glanced back to the sky—the stars, watching them glitter and shine, free to do as they please. A certain one catches your eye; brighter and bigger than the rest, all the other ones were one with the sky. This one, as stupid as you sound, feels like it’s looking at you. You pause, and a foreign feeling washes over you. What is it called? Your body felt calm and lax; there was no need to act, no need for a show; the curtain already closed. You focus on that star; it grows brighter. Your eyelid feels heavy; you could be lulled to sleep if you really wished for it. Your eye slipped shut—for but a moment. You breathed in, then out, and forced yourself to look back up.  

Safe. You felt safe. 

Memories flicker, short and sporadic, mixed. You remember telling a joke, eating a fish head with two adults, and running away—walking with your party—your friends to the next town. The sand stuck between your toes, the sweep of waves on the coast. You could hear bustling streets, children laughing, the wind howling, a kid crying, someone soothing them—no, that was you. These are all you.The star was near blinding, brilliant, and bright—it asked for something, but what did it need? Another memory appeared, more complete than the rest. You’re a toddler, looking at the stars as someone holds you. Her features are unreadable. A shooting star flew by, leaving a streak in the air. You gasped; joy brimmed through you as you clasped your hands, babbling a phrase under your breath, once, twice, thrice. You folded your hands to make sure it’s safe.

That your wish is safe...

Tears fell from your cheek; the star could be the sun now for how it shined. It waited patiently; it didn’t have a face, but you could sense its presence. If you focus enough, you can imagine it’s talking.

[What do you seek?]  Its voice was layered, echoing in your skull, yet it didn’t overwhelm you. 

“An end.”  You choked out, not caring how weak you sound.

[To this?]  The sky seemed to warp around you, tilting, curious. 

“I want this to be over!” A sob escaped you; everything that you pushed back, crashed over you all at once.“Let muh— me get out of here—stars! I beg of you—please, please let me out of here!” You heaved, grabbing your hair. “I can’t go on anymore. I can’t do this anymore! Please, please get me out—“

A long sush wrapped around you, soothing. You swallowed, wiping away tears.

[Do you recall your wish?] 

You blinked, confused for a moment—but as if on cue, the star’s presence seemed to lift the veil, you did. You nod. 

[Do you desire it still?”]

“Yes!” You spat. “ But I’ve been stuck here for so long—winding, replaying, trying to find anything new, but I can't, I just can’t!”  You’re crying again. “I barely recognize them anymore!”

It hummed. [This paradox precedes even us; as much as we desire to give you a trivial out, we cannot. There are some things you cannot begin until the previous one ends.]

You looked down, defeated; you should have expected this.

[However.]  

Your head snapped up, breath-catching. 

[We could give you a more unconventional means to achieve your new wish—]

“Anything .” You nearly sprung up, almost forgetting your place in the trees. “I’ll do anything; try anything just—please.” You tried not to break down again, sensing the stars' hesitance.

[It will hurt.]

“I don’t care!” You screamed. “I‘ve died hundreds— thousands of times!” Your throat hurts. “Pain is nothing!” Except it was, no matter how much time has passed, you feel the star knows it too. Slowly, yet surely, you watched as it dipped; the sky warped around the star as it travelled down, down, down towards you. It was surreal, if you dropped a marble in a thin, slack sheet of silk. The star floated before you. As if by a forgotten instinct, you cupped your hands, watching it land in your palms. It was warm and soft. You watched the pulled sky regain its shape.

[If you do this, you will no longer be yourself.] It warned 

“Forever changed?” You guessed. It didn’t answer, but the silence was all that was needed. You wanted to laugh, but nothing came out. Well—you held the star a little tighter; if you die, you know where you’ll be.

So you wished; squeezing your eye you repeated it over and over— once, twice, thrice, more times for good measure. You folded your hands over the star to keep it close, unable to conceal its glow. You brought your hands to your mouth. Hesitating, you breathed in and out, then swallowed it.

 ...O-Oh.

You trembled, lurching as needles travelled down your throat and your stomach. A heat so intense spread through you, making your skin blister, your clothes melted with you-- you're nerves should've burned off by now, but you still feel it, smell it. Oh stars, oh STARS! It writhes inside of you, clawing at you. Every inch of your body felt like it was being strung, stretched, and boiled. A gurgled screech erupted from you, blood sputtering through your teeth. A headache erupted, worse than you’ve ever felt; it blinded you like you were staring into the damn sun! your vision was bright, so so bright. You grasped your skull to no avail. Doubling over; blood, drool, sweat, and tears mixed into one. The weight from your cloak and hat, are gone. From reflex, you tried curling up, forgetting where you are. 

And

       lost

               your

                      balance.

You feel through the branches, feeling them scrape and peel at your skin. You couldn’t scream, could barely move, your lungs filled with blood—suddenly, you bounced, tipped backwards a little. As if you were…Ahhhhhhhh. A thick pointed branch impaled through your chest met your gaze. It glimmered in the moonlight thanks to your blood. Slowly, you began sliding off it, your weight making it bend. With a chrunch, you landed on the grass. Its blades stabbing into you're muscles. But the star didn't wait; you watched in frozen agony as light pooled out of your chest, spreading—warping, fusing. Your head—stars, your head! You curled up, feeling a pressure building inside of it. An awful, growing pressure! You wanted it—no, needed it to come out. Come out! Come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out COME OUT COME OUT COME OUT OME OUT COME OUT COME OUTCOMEOUTCOMEOUTCOMEOUT—  

LET.

ME.

OUT!!!!

You wake, greeting the pale sky—no, leaves. Leaves of the Favor Tree. A gasp slipped out, echoing—followed by a gag as your mouth didn’t move, yet noise slid out. Shaking, you sat up, looking down at yourself in a growing horror. Your skin was like the night sky, tiny white flakes shimmering deep within you.  A four-pointed star shined brilliantly where you were impaled. Slowly, you brought your hands to your head, feeling the soft and warm texture.You freeze, and for a moment you’re paralyzed by what you’ve become, but soon, you laugh. A high, muffled laugh as waves of pain are still washing over you. Stars, it wasn’t kidding about changing you, oh stars, they weren’t kidding! You cry, yet you’re unsure if there’s even tears falling. You lay back down on the grass and take a deep breath.

Innnnnn—

                  One

                         Two

                                  Three 

                                             Four

                                                        Hold it, and ouuuuuut—

                                     Five

                            Six

              Seven

Eight.  

Wheeeeew . You stared up at the leaves, enjoying waking up to something new. It was only then that you felt it—not in your stomach but a presence around you—a person you thought lost and warped by time. You couldn’t see them, but you knew, you knew who it was. So that’s what it meant, about things not beginning until one ends. You sigh, long and hard. Well, you’re here now, with them; you might as well have fun with—hm, it feels weird to say their name. Should give them a new one; it’s the least you can do.You ponder, trying to think of one that fits them. Soon, your eyes creased upwards. Stardust sounds nice. And oh, it seems he just started their journey by getting that memory; if you’re this closely connected to them, it wouldn’t hurt to give a little exposition, right? You spoke, not physically but— mentally, somehow. It’s like you always knew how to do it. He’s taken aback, freaked out, but they’ll grow accustomed to it. You stand, legs shaking. You glanced up into the Favor Tree, its branches undisturbed. You don't know what you expected. By instinct, you grabbed for your— huh? Cool metal is pinched between your fingers, you bring it up to your face, staring at the coin. You giggle, not questioning how it survived your transformation. Hoisting it up, you give a toast to the sky.

Cheers.

[atimeofyourlife]

What's in a name

How transfem Steve (Evie) got her name Companion piece to my other transfem Steve fic

"I've found it," Stevie said, staring hard at the photo album in front of her.

"Found what, Stevie?" Robin asked, coming over to see what Stevie was looking at.

"My name." She ran her fingers over the photo, of her at the age of four with an older woman who had matching beauty marks. It was captioned 'Evelyn and Steven, 1971.'

"Oh. Who's the pretty lady?" Robin studied the photo.

"My great-aunt, Evelyn. She was incredible. She died only a couple of years after this was taken. But I want to name myself after her."

"Well then, it's nice to meet you, Evelyn Dingus Harrington," Robin replied, trying to hold back a laugh when Evelyn swatted at her.

"Still not taking the middle name 'Dingus'." Evelyn rolled her eyes. "And maybe Evie for short?"

"So from Stevie to Evie?" Robin asked.

"Yeah. Stevie to Evie."

-

The next people she tells are Dustin and Claudia, at one of the weekly dinners that Claudia always insisted she attend.

"I've found my new name," Evie said as they were finishing up.

"New name? I thought you were just going to use Stevie?" Dustin asked, looking a little confused.

"Stevie was like a placeholder? I guess? It's close enough to my old name that other people wouldn't question it, but it felt girly enough for me not to feel weird about it. But it never fit right. So I've been looking for the name that does." Evie explained.

"What is it?"

"Evelyn, after my great-aunt. Evie for short." She replied.

"Evelyn sounds like a an old people name." Dustin said.

"Shut it, dipshit." Evie shoved him gently.

"Dusty, be nice." Claudia added. "Evie, honey. Evelyn is a lovely name. If you think it's right for you, then go with it."

"Thanks, Claudia," Evie responded.

"Anyway, I might be a bit biased about it being a lovely name, as Evelyn is my middle name," Claudia admitted.

"Really?" Evie asked.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Well. I guess I'm named after two incredible, badass women." Evie said, and found herself wrapped in a hug from Claudia.

-

After telling Dustin, it didn't take long for Evie to tell others about her new name, and for it to spread beyond those she had told. There was no real conversation about it until one day she'd been talking into dinner with the Sinclairs after dropping Lucas and Erica off.

"Lucas and Erica told us about your new name. Evelyn is such a pretty name, and it seems to suit you so well." Sue said as Evie joined her in the kitchen.

"Thanks. I. It's after my great-aunt. She was amazing and I loved her so much, it's a way I could honor her. And when I told Dustin, I found out that it's also Claudia's middle name. So I've got two incredible women in my name." Evie explained. She paused for a moment to think, before continuing. "I've been thinking about adding a middle name. I want my middle name to be Sue."

"Oh, Honey." Sue stopped what she was doing and turned to pull Evie into a hug. "That is so sweet, I would be so happy for you to take my name as your middle name."

"Thank you. It means I've got three incredible women in my name." Evie returned the hug, feeling content with her choice.

-

"Are you sure about this, Dingus?" Robin asked as she watched Evie carefully fill out the paperwork.

"I've never been more sure of anything," Evie replied as she finished writing the information to make her name change official.

Evelyn Sue Harrington.

[himluv]

DA Review Series: Tevinter Nights

<<< Previous Review: Absolution

I've read this anthology once before, and I'm happy to say it holds up beautifully on a re-read. Since this features multiple stories, I'm going to review the whole work, and then do little reviews of each individual tale.

Title: Tevinter Nights Editors: Chris Bain, Trick Weekes, Matthew Goldman, and Christopher Morgan Year Published: 2020 In-World Year: ~9:45+ Verdict: Required reading. This is a fantastic look at the state of Thedas after Trespasser, as well as an introduction to a few of our companions and factions in Veilguard. If you only consume one piece of tie-in content leading up to release day, make it this one.

Tevinter Nights is a collection of short stories all set after the fall of Ventus. We meet Strife and Irelin, Evka Ivo and Antoine, Lucanis and Illario Dellamorte, Andarateia Cantori and Viago de Riva, Emmrich and Manfred, and Neve Gallus, among others. We also see all of our factions — Inquisition, Lords of Fortune, Veil Jumpers, Shadow Dragons, Antivan Crows, the Mourn Watch, and the Grey Wardens. This book really feels like a primer for the next game and is a ton of fun. I enjoyed my second reading as much as the first!

1. Title: Three Trees to Midnight Author: Trick Weekes Verdict: Set in the aftermath of the invasion of Ventus, this story feels like the perfect jumping off point. It picks up from the comics and introduces us to the Veil Jumpers and Arlathan Forest — a very exciting first story for longtime fans.

2. Title: Down Among the Dead Men Author: Sylvia Feketekuty Verdict: Undead murder mystery, what's not to love? Plus, we meet Emmrich and Manfred and it's absolutely adorable. And, I'll be honest, I'd do anything for Audric. This story makes the Mourn Watch seem pretty darn cool.

3. Title: The Horror of Hormak Author: John Epler Verdict: Absolute nightmare fuel. If you're worried that Veilguard isn't going to be dark enough... Read this story. A pair of Wardens are investigating a missing unit, and discover a very messed up underground lab of some sort. This story very much gave that same creeping dread as meeting the Broodmother in DAO. And if I have one fear for Veilguard, it's a Broodmother in 4k.

4. Title: Callback Author: Lukas Kristjanson Verdict: Heartbreaking. But also a really moving farewell to Skyhold. I love this story even though it kills me. In fact, I loved it enough to write some fanfic revolving around it! That's how good it is.

5. Title: Luck in the Gardens Author: Sylvia Feketekuty Verdict: This story introduces us to the Lords of Fortune faction. Hollix takes a job from none other than Dorian Pavus (and we see him with Mae!!!) to find out what's been hunting people in the docks. And it's uhhhh not anything you might expect. We see more evidence of gross, tentacled, briny-blooded monsters lurking underground. Again, things are getting real messed up in Thedas y'all.

6. Title: Hunger Author: Brianne Battye Verdict: In another throwback to Origins, werewolves are back babeyyy! This time a pair of Wardens (Evka Ivo and Antoine) are on their way back to Weisshaupt when they come across a cursed village. The pair decide to lend a hand and quickly realize they might have taken on more than they bargained for...

7. Title: Murder by Death Mages Author: Caitlin Sullivan Kelly Verdict: More Mortalitasi in this one. We get a peek at Nevarran politics, a brief glimpse of Cassandra, and more insight into the Mortalitasi. I will say, this is probably my least favorite story in the collection. While it showed Inquisition agent Sidony's power, it didn't really come together for me plot-wise.

8. Title: Streets of Minrathous Author: Brianne Battye Verdict: Helloooo Neve Gallus! This is an utterly stunning introduction to our private detective companion. A great noir-style tale that confirms that the Venatori are very much still a problem in Tevinter.

9. Title: The Wigmaker Job Author: Courtney Woods Verdict: Oh man. This is one of my favorite stories. There's just so much to love here! Lucanis and Illario are great together (I fell in love with Lucanis here and have rooted for him to be a companion since I first read it). The action sequences are great, and again, some real nasty, dark things are happening in Thedas.

10. Title: Genitivi Dies in the End Author: Lukas Kristjanson Verdict: This story is So. Much. Fun! It's also a pretty deep cut for fans, featuring Brother Ferdinand Genitivi (from DAO) and Philliam, a Bard!, as well as a few references to the Randy Dowager. All figures you'll only know if you are a lore hound in Inquisition. We also meet another Lord of Fortune and get a fun romp into elven ruins. What's not to love?

11. Title: Herold Had the Plan Author: Ryan Cormier Verdict: More Lords of Fortune, this time stealing an artifact from the Grand Tourney in Starkhaven. We also see Vaea and Ser Aaron at the end, which was a nice little treat. I will say though, this one had me a bit misty-eyed by the end. I usually want to see more of characters I love, but I hope Bharv retires to his farm and never treasure hunts again. Man has earned it.

12. Title: An Old Crow's Old Tricks Author: Arone Le Bray Verdict: After a troop of Tevinter soldiers attack a Dalish clan to make way for their camp, the Dalish seek revenge. That vengeance comes in the from of an old woman named Lessef. Watching her decimate the soldiers was gruesome good fun, and I cheered each time she said "Lessef of the Antivan Crows has fulfilled the contract."

13. Title: Eight Little Talons Author: Courtney Woods Verdict: This is the longest of the stories (I'd probably consider it a novelette) and it is maybe my favorite. I love a good whodunnit, and this one has a remote lake house, Antivan Crows, murders that replicate historically famous assassinations, AND sexual tension through the roof! We are formally introduced to Andarateia Cantori and Viago de Riva in this story, though we can infer from the text that they are the unnamed Crows we met in the comic Deception. I love them and NEED them to kiss on screen on Veilguard, okay?????

14. Title: Half Up Front Author: John Epler Verdict: It's hard to follow up Teia and Viago, but this little heist story is good fun. We see Gatt, and go to Kont-Arr! We also learn that the Agents of Fen'Harel are uhhhh real intense, Solas is after yet another artifact, and his feud with the Qunari is alive and well. We also learn that Dorian hired the narrator of this story to steal something from the Archon(?!) and at the end Gatt suggests the narrator and her girlfriend Irian head to Kirkwall to meet Varric. So, I guess we'll see if they show up in Veilguard?

15. Title: The Dread Wolf Take You Author: Trick Weekes Verdict: Look. As a Solavellan, I was never going to be normal about this story. I remember screaming (and crying) the first time I read it. It's a really interesting look at some different groups around Thedas, including the Carta, the Mortalitasi, and the Executors. We get to see Charter again, and she mentions Tessa! But the real gem here is that Solas himself shows up, and he somehow manages to break my heart all over again all while leaving me we more questions than answers. What an absolute banger of an ending for this anthology!

[untilteddocument]

After-Action Archive Caves of Qud - The Warmonger Revisited

Welcome again, one and all, to the After-Action Archive! Unfortunately, circumstances have caught up to this series. The UI update has rendered my previous save incompatible, and honestly that's on me. My in-progress report about the Tomb of the Eaters is now in limbo, and I will have to work my way back to where I was.

'Course, going back through the start of the game and seeing what's new has an appeal of its own, especially seeing how much better Joppa is as a way to introduce the player to the world. I'll be re-exploring the world with gusto, and I will share any further highlights as usual. With that in mind, it's time to revisit old troubles.

The work put into Joppa is mostly in the writing, and while appealing, is minor enough that I didn't pay it enough mind to take screenshots. Suffice it to say, Mehmet, Argyve, and Irudad get a lot more characterization and are able to establish pieces of the world well. I get the quests as before, to investigate Red Rock, visit the Six-Day Stilt, and assist Argyve with what becomes the pivotal series of quests in the game.

Much of it goes similarly enough to before; I decide to let Red Rock be for the time being, fearing the baboons that gather near the surface. Instead, I gather strength by pursuing Argyve's requests and defending myself against snapjaw attacks. I gain a fair amount of ability from these tasks, which I put into much the same as I did before. I intend to specialize in shield and axe as far as weapons go, but primarily focus on tinkering. With enough levels under my belt, I decide that it's time to approach Red Rock, though in this case I will do so through the secret passage that the watervine nibblers in question use to get to Joppa: the Waterlogged Tunnel.

Even with some decent equipment, it's not a walk in the park. The glowmoths in particular are dangerous, requiring me to dodge behind cover and ambush them from close enough that sprinting can get me to them before they shoot me down. Even the stronger snapjaws can be a match for me if I fight more than one. I move cautiously, though increasingly confidently as I feel more at ease with the challenges...

oh...

uh oh

WELL it looks like my first notable encounter is, once again, with the Putus Templar. They should be familiar to anyone who's followed this series for enough time, but in short, they're genocidal cyber-fascists who look even upon fellow True Kin with disdain at best. Lacking the mutations their victims possess, they compensate with weaponry and technology that imposes normality on their targets. The metaphor is hardly subtle.

And their leader...

ATOR PROY, WARMONGER AMONGST THE TRUE

Being a proper Knight Templar compared to her companion squires, she's much more dangerous than the previous Warmonger I had faced, and I wasted no time...

...running for cover, of course!

Luckily, they didn't pursue me, perhaps more preoccupied with purging the various snapjaws and centipedes in their area. I wasn't fleeing in a panic, though, no. I needed space to prepare.

Tinkering, as I said, is my primary skill, and even at this early stage, I had some options. With the few bits in my possession, I tinkered together a brace of high explosive grenades. I was unsure if it would be enough, but I was not going to give ground to them without good reason. Besides, with them down here, that meant far worse for the residents of Joppa than some nibbled watervine.

After waiting, I cautiously crept back into their region, hoping I didn't happen upon them at an unfavorable time. With luck, I might even run into one of them isolated, and be able to pick them apart one by one. This approach would only be bolstered by my fortuitous find of an Issachar rifle in one of the snapjaw chests in the area, which proved immediately useful against a lone squire.

This buoyed my confidence, but I knew I would eventually have to deal with their leader, and she wouldn't be likely to go down nearly as easily. More sneaking, more shooting, their ranks thinned, I took time to tinker up some ammo, and eventually I once more caught sight of her.

The squire wasn't a problem, but...well, of course. On the plus side, I was pleasantly surprised that the tinkering recipe for lead slugs yielded fifty rounds. That meant that I could actually use something I'd been keeping back out of fear of using too much ammo.

I found this carbine during my travels to help Argyve, where it had sat in my inventory due to the aforementioned ammo worries, but with over a hundred tinkered rounds in my pack, it was a viable option, though not my first option.

That would be the grenades, which I threw with ruthless progression, running when she drew too close before wheeling about and letting another fly. After every throw, I looked at her status, grimacing at how little 20-odd damage seemed to be against her, and carbine bursts weren't proving better.

WHY

WON'T

YOU

DIE???

There was some relief at seeing her brought down to Injured, but that was pretty much all I had, and it would take only one hit for her to put me down...

...so once again, I ran.

It wouldn't be out of the question for me to be admitting defeat at this point, the situation being as precarious as it is. However, there is one option I have left.

I run my way back up each staircase, making sure to stay just out of Ator Proy's reach, peppering her with lead and staying close enough for her to think she's got a chance to catch me. In all honesty, she's a bit too slow for that, but I don't want to have to evade her. She's too much of a problem.

'Course, there has to be something I'm aiming for. If I want her to follow me, she has to be following me somewhere, right? Now, hear me out...

Wasn't I just saying that the Templar would be trouble for the villagers? It's true, they would be. Ator Proy, however, is by her lonesome right now, and while a group would be too much to handle, me leading her here is my attempt to lure her to a bigger fish.

Sure, she's less kitted-out than Ator Proy, but she should be tough and strong enough to take her down. Seeing me fighting my running battle, she leaps to assist. Unfortunately, her assistance means the end of my contribution to the fight. Being that she's neutral to me, any stray shot would risk attracting her ire, and going in close would likely lead me to a quick grave.

As luck would have it, however, I did still have a part to play.

I keep running, and Ator Proy is so focused on me that she doesn't spare much if any consideration for Yrame, meaning that her Staggering Block skill, especially opposed by Yrame's Shake It Off skill, mostly serves to delay the inevitable.

I don't get any XP, since the killing blow was not struck by me or anyone on my side, but I'll take survival (and loot!) over glory any day. Her fullerite gear is worth a lot at this point of the game, and the cybernetics I'm able to get from her body are worth more. Most importantly, there is the stuff that every legendary Templar carries around.

Eaters' Nectar is a boon, and I will definitely take advantage of it when I can. For now, though, I need to get back to Red Rock.

[tranquilpetrichor]

as we navigate the stars

synopsis: it is never easy following the path of an aeon, let alone one whose existence came to an end unexpectedly. however, hongjoong and the rest of the astral express crew do their best, following the tracks of the star rail.

cast: hongjoong, yeosang, wooyoung, seonghwa (ateez)

genre: sci-fi, honkai: star rail!au

wc: 638

warnings: n/a, but not proofread

a/n: i love the idea of ateez in space. could expand on this au because i love this game so much but i wanted to write a few paragraphs to start out with and see how i feel from there. might need to make a glossary of all the unfamiliar terms i used lol. consider this very rudimentary because i want my inspiration for writing back and this piece just made me happy.

navigator kim hongjoong has spent a long time traversing the universe on the astral express. since the first time he was able to get the train to even start, to meeting the express's conductor and beginning to stride on the path of the nameless, he's seen countless events, enough to fill many lifetimes.

naturally, passengers come and go like the passing of seasons, becoming a small part of the express's journey. of course, there were a few passengers that have stayed for a while now and made a memorable impression on hongjoong.

there's kang yeosang, who's cold and somewhat awkward on first impression. hongjoong likes him, though for being a hard worker and protective of his friends. since his arrival, he's wholly dedicated himself to recording timely and accurate data entries in the express's database and guarding the express with his trusty spear, cloud-piercer.

sometimes, hongjoong wonders if yeosang is pushing himself too much, but it's yeosang. he's capable of quite a lot—perhaps, even more than hongjoong is aware of. still, that boy needed to rest sometimes.

note: check up on him in the next few days.

his own past on the xianzhou luofu is something he rarely talks about though, and the crew (mostly) respects it, even the perpetually talkative wooyoung.

ah, speaking of wooyoung. he too, was memorable in his own way. hongjoong still remembers the day the express encountered a boy floating in the middle of deep space, frozen in a block of ice.

after saving him, hongjoong asked the stranger what his name was.

he looked at the red-haired man before him with confusion. "well i... i don't really know," was his response. "can i choose one?"

the captain nodded, and the boy continued.

he was more hesitant back then, less sure of himself. "how about... wooyoung?"

hongjoong gave him a warm smile. "alright, then. welcome aboard the astral express, wooyoung."

as a passenger, wooyoung has been bright and energetic, capturing photos and making those around him smile. those who didn't know him well enough would never guess that he harbors a deep-seated desire to uncover his past. hopefully, he would get his wish.

hongjoong spots a sketchbook on a side table, no doubt belonging to park seonghwa, another seasoned member of the astral express. as someone with a wide breadth of knowledge on various topics, he is a valuable companion to have when visiting other worlds.

he also used to be an animator but still maintains his passion for art, hence the sketchbook.

but beyond that, seonghwa is perhaps the closest friend that hongjoong has ever had. everyone's paths are different on this train, but the two seem to be destined to be intertwined on this celestial voyage for a while.

maybe it was due to them being the senior members of the crew, but there's something to be said about a long-lasting friendship.

hongjoong walks into the passenger cabin. his energy is dropping, and even though he could probably get by with another coffee, a nap would probably be more beneficial. he opens a door leading to a long hallway—his room is further down.

on the way, he runs into the conductor, pom-pom. they're quite short and cute-looking with bunny-like ears, but hongjoong would never doubt the creature's experience. the cuteness of a child with the responsibilities of an adult.

(actually, he's not sure if the conductor's considered an adult within their species—well, he doesn't even know what the conductor's species is. an inquiry for another time).

"off for an afternoon nap?"

he stifles a yawn. "yep, the usual."

"alright then, get some good rest! wouldn't want you tired when we reach the space station."

hongjoong can't help but smile at their caring words. "thank you, pom-pom."

such is another day on the train that travels throughout the universe.

[novorehere]

Hey all! Just wanted to give everyone a bit of a content update.

I apologize for the lack of content for the past… year. I’ve been working through some stuff, and it’s been hard for me to find the motivation or inspiration to write. It comes in short bursts, meaning I’ve been (very) slowly chipping away at multiple projects at once. I just thought I’d update everyone on how things are going and make a list (partly for myself) of what I have in the works, what still needs to be done, and what you can expect from me in the future. Admittedly these are mostly obey me fics but I DO have other things tumbling about in my brain, I promise.

Opposite Day: 2/5 chapters finished, the rest 100% planned and around 30-40% written.

I’ve been sitting on an unfinished chapter 3 for almost a year now, and have written good portions of the other chapters in the meantime. This is the project I’m most excited to finish, and I feel bad for abandoning it for so long. Rest assured, I *am* still working on it, and am extremely happy it’s been so well received.

Untitled Simeon Comfort Fic: 75% finished.

Originally I wanted this written for his birthday (which was in February lmao) but as you can see that did not happen. I’ve got the beginning and end all written out, I sort of went off the script at the end with fun purgatory hall family fluff so the only thing I don’t have written is… actually the eating part. This will probably be the first fic I actually post, seeing as it’s the closest to completion.

“A series of Obey Me Vore Headcanons” Re-Write (Title Very WIP) 2.5/7 chapters re-written

This one I don’t think I’ve mentioned on here yet. I’ve grown increasingly unsatisfied with my original obey me headcanons list that I posted last year when I first got into the fandom. A. Because I hadn’t gotten very far into the story when I wrote it and didn’t get the full scope of the characters yet and B. (Most importantly) I feel like I really didn’t do the characters justice.

Since I originally posted it, there’s been a healthy amount of discussion on depth and nuance in vore media and reducing characters to tropes, etc. I’d like to re-write this series to focus less on physical aspects and “how they eat you” but rather more of an emotional and story driven story of why they eat you and their emotions and struggles that come with it. The obey me brothers are incredibly interesting characters, and I’d like to explore them in more depth and show you how interesting they can really be and why I love them so much.

This one might take a while to complete, but it’s gonna happen at some point. I‘ll keep up the original half-finished version in the meantime since I don’t want to delete it and ao3 doesn’t allow privating fics without orphaning them. I know it’s ugly in it’s current state, just know I’m working on it and the rest of those chapters will be overhauled eventually.

“Miss Em”: 80% written (kind of)

I’ve had this one sitting in my drafts for a while now. Originally I had plans to start another multi-chapter series but then Opposite Day sort of went to shit so I scrapped it knowing it was way too ambitious. But now I still have a mostly written Mammon fic in my notes app just sitting there and it would be a shame to just…leave it. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with this one, Maybe I’ll write the Beel companion piece to it that I had planned and just leave it as a 2-parter. Who knows. It’s really cute, and I want to share it at some point.

Untitled Obey Me mini-drabbles: 60% written

Honestly this wasn’t supposed to be a whole thing. I started randomly writing one day on a burst of inspiration and it turned into little mini “scenario slices” for all the characters and I really like how it turned out. I still need to write for two of the characters and polish up some others, but it’s a fun low-stress thing to work on in between projects. Also excited to share it possibly soon since they’re fairly short and shouldn’t take long to finish (but you know me…)

An unspecified ITWOM fanfic: 0% written, 50% planned

For those who aren’t familiar, “In the World of Monsters” is an amazing novel authored by @vore-toast that just recently received a fantastic ending and epilogue (Please read it! It’s fantastic!) And I really would like to write a little something for it to show my appreciation. I have an idea planned out, but details would involve spoilers so I can’t say much. I’d need to ask for guidance on what exactly to include since the things I would like to write about haven’t exactly *happened yet* but I’ve said too much already… hee hee. I don’t know when this fic is gonna happen, but I swear to you it will. And if my original idea doesn’t work out, it’ll be something. I WILL be writing for this series, mark my words.

Heroes Off-Duty. 0% written, ??% planned

Huh? That’s weird... That one’s not supposed to be there. Ah well, It’s not relevant anyway. Carry on.

[flynndesdelca]

For Day 25 (Behind the Testing Chambers) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts.

soon i'll come around lost and never found waiting for my words seen but never heard

Aperture was a perfect space for testing.  Even from its humble, early origins it had excelled there, and throughout the years it had redefined the testing experience over and over again.  With the new facility testing had been modernized, and the key factor to that was its overseer, its central nervous system.  GLaDOS had been designed to manage things, and she took to her testing duties with zeal but also a sense of dignity.  Despite everything that had been heaped on her, it was the one thing that she truly enjoyed.

The facility itself was there to support testing just as much as it was designed to support anything else that Aperture needed.  With but a thought she could draw elements together to create a testing chamber.  If such elements didn't exist she could simply create them herself.  The virtually unending army of panels ensured that any kind of room was easily within reach.  The essential testing materials: pellets, lasers, hard-light bridges, cubes of the weighted or companion style, as many buttons as she could ever desire.  All were there in troves, awaiting their use in the inexorable onward march of science.  Of course there were also turrets aplenty, and neurotoxin if she ever felt like she needed to make a point.  If for whatever reason she needed something that wasn't in stock somehow, or perhaps that didn't even exist yet, as long as she could make a schematic for it - an easy task for her powerful mind - manufacturing could provide it.  There was technically no end to the types of tests she could perform if she could keep coming up with new and innovative ideas for elements to introduce.

There was one wrinkle in things, though, one part that irked her.  It hadn't been a thing up until she had decided it was time to put her foot down for good.  Certainly there were parts of the facility that were outside of her reach, that was what neurotoxin was for.  It would take care of those hard-to-get-to areas, leaving her to focus on the spots that she could control.  Unfortunately, even in those spaces the humans were resourceful, and had found ways to wiggle past the walls and panels into the spaces that they should not be.  Despite the neurotoxin and despite the threat of her lurking in wait for them, they would attempt to find salvation out-of-bounds.

What was back there that they thought they could use to escape? Was it the thought of finding a path that she couldn't follow them on? She had very minimal monitoring ability back there, knowing only that someone was there through a vague sense of 'feeling' them.  Like a feather caught up in her shirt, she decided, was an appropriate idiom.  She couldn't be sure where exactly it was, but she knew it was in there somewhere and every now and then she'd get a phantom itch or tickle to keep her uncomfortable as she tried to locate it.  Unfortunately, it never stayed still, and much like a human attempting escape she could only ever be aware of its presence in the loosest sense.  She could call out, but not hear or see any response.  She could have a vague sense of their passage without knowing exactly what they were doing.

These were areas that humans largely weren't meant to go.  It was dangerous back there, especially in testing zones where the wall panels were lined up in multitudes, presenting a large force of crushing pressure.  Those nimble enough to escape the forest of pivots and pistons there might think they had a reprieve, but then they were lost in the massive structure of the facility itself.  Perhaps they would be fortunate enough to be in areas that had the bare minimum of human servicing requirements.  Perhaps they wouldn't be so lucky, and would be forced to traverse heavy machinery in an attempt to find their way to a less fatal location.  They might find their way to major locations in the facility, such as manufacturing.  They might just wander lost until they somehow managed to get out of the areas behind into places where she could actually see them, at which point she'd swoop down on them in her displeasure.

It was kind of funny in its own way how they thought that it was a way to escape.  Often their actions would tell her just what was going on.  Errors would come up due odd fluid leaks where there shouldn't be fluids in the case of them being crushed or punctured or otherwise having their blood escape from their bodies.  Jams in vital machinery due to someone not making it through a narrow squeeze in time.  Cooling issues from fans or water pumps being stopped or tampered with.  There was an endless parade of potential ways to detect human progress through the back areas.  Their inherent mortality meant that they had to make concessions to survive, which would light up her internal control board.  Even if she couldn't see them directly, it was a good enough hint that she could focus as much attention on a given area as possible, attempting to exert her will over it in the limited ways that she could.

Really, it was amusing how humans thought they could outsmart her by going back there.  In the end it wasn't really doing anything other than prolonging their suffering.  If they'd just submitted to the testing, then neither of them would have had to go through all of that.  There had only been two people who had actually managed to use the space behind the test chambers effectively, but she didn't like to think about that.  The first one made some degree of sense, the paranoid schizophrenic.  The one who truly could understand just how much the facility was really watching, and exercise enough caution to avoid drawing enough attention for her to zero in on him.  She'd tried to appeal to his paranoia to get him to come out, to convince him that it was all simply symptoms of his unmedicated mind, but he'd managed to evade her right up to the end.  She could grudgingly accept him having won his freedom, though she still did not particularly like it.  The other had gotten back there two times, but only one time had been with actual purpose.  The first time it had simply been survival, hard-fought and thus hard-won.  That hadn't mattered, of course, as in the end Chell had just been brought back inside by the autonomous functions of the facility itself.  The second time she'd been smuggled in during an actual escape attempt and gotten up to a lot of mischief during her little sojourn.  Of course, that was her nature, to take the lovely orderly parts of things sitting around innocently doing their functions and destroy them.

The notion of someone going back there, into the spaces that weren't designed for humans, made GLaDOS uncomfortable in a way that she wasn't sure she could describe.  It was a violation of sorts.  Those weren't places for people to go.  They weren't supposed to be there.  Good people didn't go back there.  If you went back there you were trying to hide, and while it may start out as a game of cat-and-mouse, it would become a matter of survival for her and she would react appropriately.  No one who had good intentions would go back there and not come out.  She'd learned that the hard way, after both successful and attempted murder.  Going back there was not what anyone was supposed to do, and any time that they did... well.  She had every right to be upset about it.

[shynmighty]

oh oh oh, 53 holding the other’s jaw forrr Aeseca and Rass? :3

53 from this list it is!

I'm hanging onto @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen's ask because, let's face it, I'm totally going to write 20 & 28 for Aeseca/Rass (because I, too, am obsessed with them!!) but I gave this one priority since it was requested twice!

Anyway, I wrote this as somewhat of a companion piece/sequel to this one, hope you all enjoy it!!! 😁

53: Holding the Other’s Jaw Pairing: Aeseca Silverblade/Rass Ordo

Nar Shaddaa was a riot of lights and noise. From where Aeseca stood across from the Promenade, a vast array of colored signs cast the rooftop in a fluorescent glow, flickering from purple to blue to yellow and back. She pressed a finger to her temple to stave off the oncoming headache brought on by the constant noise and bright flashes at the corners of her vision.

A standoff with a Hidden Chain informant had ended in a showdown atop that very roof just a few minutes earlier, with backup arriving from Odessen to see the slippery Rodian captured just before he could escape. Aeseca could feel her heartbeat start to return to normal as she wandered to the sidelines. Behind her, Alliance officers led by Theron Shan took the Rodian into custody, escorting him to the shuttle they had arrived in.

The mission was a success. Shae would be pleased. All in all, a good day for the Alliance.

Even so, Aeseca could not suppress the less comfortable, pinching sadness deep in her chest. No more mission meant she and her companion would go their separate ways. Even if they partnered up again, there was no telling when that might happen.

Then came crushing guilt. As a Jedi, this developing attachment was strictly forbidden. She knew that, and yet it had been so effortless to cultivate. Even one-sided as it was, something would have to be done before it became a bigger problem.

Aeseca glanced at him as the shuttle’s ramp ascended. He had taken off his helmet and slung it casually under one arm. To her surprise, he was already looking at her, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned as he approached.

“Don’t say it, Rass,” She told him.

“Don't say what?” The Mandalorian replied with barely feigned innocence.

“Whatever joke about shuttles you’ve been preparing,” the Jedi cast a level gaze at him from the corner of her eye. “Specifically, crashing them.”

Rass chuckled. “You know me too well.”

Behind them, the shuttle became airborne. Other ships that saw the Alliance insignia emblazoned on the hull gave it a wide berth as it soared into the clouds overhead, leaving Aeseca and Rass alone on the rooftop. Despite the echoed cacophony of the city around them, the area seemed somehow quieter than before.

“What’s on your mind?” Rass asked.

Aeseca frowned, cycling through all the possible responses before deciding to deflect. “What do you mean?”

“Just the way you’re frowning at me,” The slight, infuriating smile remained on his face. “You’re not the only one who’s picked up a thing or two.”

Her gaze dropped to the ground, but somehow even his feet were too difficult to look at. Turning away from him, she leaned on the rooftop ledge. The city, foul and dazzling as it was, seemed easier to take in.

“I’ve just been thinking,” she said, stopping short of admitting that it was him she had been thinking about. “I guess I haven’t really been feeling like myself lately.”

“Want to talk about it?” Rass was leaning on the ledge beside her, and she could feel his soft brown eyes searching her. She deliberately remained facing the city. “Can’t say I can solve big, important Jedi problems but I can listen.”

Aeseca sighed. “It’s not a big, important problem. I just feel…” she stopped herself from saying anything about him directly. “I feel disconnected. From myself. I worked so hard to get where I am, I was so single-minded in my goal – to be a good Jedi. But I have doubts, and they’re making me question everything I’ve achieved.”

“You are a good Jedi, I’ve seen that firsthand,” Rass said. “Whatever your doubts, they can’t erase everything you’ve done.”

“I wish I had your certainty,” Aeseca remained stubbornly facing away. She knew speaking in half-truths would only lead to his partial understanding.

This was accompanied by a somewhat terrifying thought: that if she looked at him now, she might just tell him everything. That she was falling hopelessly in love with him, how part of her wanted to cast the Jedi code aside completely for him, that she would realign the galaxy if he asked her to, and that these illicit feelings became more overwhelming by the day.

“Aeseca,” His voice was accompanied by a soft touch, his gloved fingers gently pressing against her jaw as he turned her head to face him with one hand. A short eternity passed in the space of her meeting his gaze. The glow of the city shone in his eyes making them look even brighter. If he had not been holding her jaw, she might have had trouble staying upright. “I’m not just handing out empty platitudes, okay? You’re remarkable. You… amaze me.”

For a brief moment, Aeseca knew what it felt like to fly over the city. Her heart was unleashed from her very chest and was doing a barrel roll somewhere in the clouds overhead. The rest of her was frozen in place, wide-eyed with disbelief and delight. At the same time, he was looking down at her with sincerity in his eyes she had never seen before. He thought she was remarkable. She amazed him. Perhaps there really was a chance he felt the same…

There is no passion, there is serenity. The thought brought her back to the rooftop. Once again, she was a Jedi, and he was a Mandalorian, and she reminded herself that this was all wrong. In her enjoyment of that moment, she had already gone too far.

“I need to go,” the words escaped her weakly, in a whisper. She took a reluctant step back, ignoring the feeling of Nar Shaddaa crumbling around her as his hand slipped away.

“Go where?” He asked as she retreated.

“To Tython,” she called over her shoulder. Her fists clenched at her sides as she battled the tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

She would go to Tython… and try to forget.

[m1smatched-starsigns]

All This and Heaven, Too?

in response to this post:

my Silverstream one/two-shot! In a similar fashion to HHIEOY it's a character study that follows Silverstream from her apprenticeship to her death, and covers everything in between, including (but not limited to): the pressure to be Crookedstar's perfect daughter; her complicated feelings towards Willowbreeze and the way the Clan compares them; her relationships with Mistyfoot, Stonefur, Oakheart and Graypool; finding out that there's a secret surrounding Misty/Stone; her relationship with Leopardfur; and falling in love with Graystripe and finally making a choice that brings her happiness... however short-lived it may be.

It can be a standalone fic, but I do mean for it to be a companion piece to FAB, and possibly the Hawk/Feather fic that I plan on revisiting someday.

I tried writing it from Graystripe's perspective and I gave up rather quickly. It felt like pulling teeth and I'm a firm believer that if it's not enjoyable to write, then it might not be enjoyable to read, either. Everything started to flow better once I switched to Silverstream's perspective!

For fun, here's an excerpt of what I currently have written:

Stonepaw and Mistypaw mumble half-heartedly as Graypool covers them in licks; they’re embarrassed by her antics, but only because they have to be embarrassed. Silverpaw’s smile softens, bittersweet. Watching Graypool coo over the littermates always stirs that feeling inside her chest.

“I won the competition,” she speaks up.

Graypool looks up at Silverpaw, then, and her smile softens a bit as well; bittersweet. “Today was your day, huh?” Graypool licks the top of Silverpaw’s head and says, “Well done, Silverpaw.”

Graypool loves Silverpaw, loves her the same way she loves her own two kits. But Silverpaw thinks, sometimes, it must be difficult for Graypool to look at her and see anyone but Willowbreeze. Sometimes she wonders if Graypool looks at her and sees the reason that Willowbreeze is dead.

[fonulyn]

My turn, my turn, my turn.

1: Which fic did you finish and go, "Well, I didn't see that one coming"?

2: Which fic were you surprised did as well as it did?

3: Which fic did you feel sad to finish?

oh fun! :D

lol okay i (surprisingly) couldn't pick just one so here's my top contenders and my reasoning for them.

heal the scars and change the stars (Piers/Leon, getting back together, near death for Leon but what else is new :'D) lmao this one came to me in a dream, i literally woke up all "okay then" and had to then work it into a bit more coherent thing, but it ate at me until i did so. but yeah didn't see it coming, my subconsciousness cooked it up from somewhere lol.

also life healed like a wound (we will be alright) (Piers/Leon, breaking up and getting back together) was a similar thing, I woke up one morning with the breakup scene seared into my brain and I just had to write it. but of course I couldn't let them be unhappy so i also had to fix it! i thought i'd write a couple of fics for this pairing, but somehow it ended up taking over my heart in a storm. now this series has over 100k words and i've written like a hundred fics of the pair so :'D we all see how that turned out.

my jaded heart is yours to poison with your flame (Krauser/Leon, DC-ish) was also something similar, I played Darkside Chronicles with my brother and I thought I'd just write one quick fic to get the pairing out of my system :'D surprise, lmao, to this day it remains one of my top fave pairings :'D

there are others, too, that I never thought I'd write but somehow did. the Chris/Wesker smut, it's not a pairing I'd be particularly into but the fic demanded to happen, or the Adam/Leon companion piece for Tir's fic that I legit still don't understand where it came from :'D, or the monsterfucking series considering I thought I'd forever be too chickenshit to write any of it, or the Krauser's back series I firmly thought would be just one fic but turned into a trilogy :'D

or last chance garage (ot3 retirement fic lol) that was supposed to only be a quick 2k at most, but turned into 8k somehow before letting me go. not complaining, i think it turned good, but it wasn't exactly the intention lol.

2. the angsty answer is that the ones i desperately want to do well never seem to, and then the ones that actually do well are some random things i just threw out there lol. the less angsty answers are:

outside of the RE fandom I'm legit surprised that nobody's perfect (TOG, mostly a group fic tbh) got so popular, it's a feelgood "I think I'm funny" kind of fic lmao and it's got almost twice the kudos to the next most kudosed fic of mine. i mean it was fun to write, it still makes me smile, but i thought some of the more serious fics i put much more thought into would be better received :'D not complaining, it's nice that the feelgood fic did well. another one i'm surprised about is the super old kpop fic (Resurgence) that I reposted on ao3 on request, because holy shit i've never gotten that many comments ever. not even when I was actively in that fandom.

in the RE fandom I'm mostly surprised that now drunk on lust I drown in you (forever within I'm lost in you) (Chris/Leon, get together pwp) was as popular as it was. it was supposed to be a quick short pwp, it ran away from me, and i guess that's a good thing :'D also my first fic in this fandom, we didn't know how to fly so high (burned down before we reached the sky) (Chris/Leon, getting back together, idk what else random tropes), i... when I posted the first chapter it got exactly one comment and I thought "oh well, might as well finish anyway" and it was supposed to be my first and last RE fic. but looking back at it now? it's accumulated quite a nice amount of feedback over the years, which is nice :)

also the Leon has a son, surprise! -series did surprisingly well lol especially since the second part has an OC-centric pairing.

3. short answer is none, really, because i'm in general always happy when I get something done and finish a story! it's such a nice feeling of accomplishment when i can look at a complete fic and let it be free.

but I suppose that when I'll finally wrap up the self-indulgent series it'll be a bittersweet moment and i'll be sad to let it go. although right now i've been stalling with it anyway. feelings are complicated. but yeah, that series has been a part of my life for so long it'll require some mourning when it's gone.