#it needs to be the nastiest tasting thing on the planet. and i want to immediately regret it

[keeps-ache]

keep getting the urge to find a suspicious glowing substance and just chow down .-.

[saytrrose]

Tomatoes

I fucking hate tomatoes so much I fucking hate them god I fucking hate tomatoes holy shit man, everytime I see them or smell them or taste them they just taunt me they are the absolute worst vegetable or fruit or whatever the fuck the tomatoe identifies as on the planet. It has this stupid fucking red sheen it things it’s so important it’s like “yeah, yeah I’m in so many foods and ingredients” well FUCK YOU no one cares ketchup is fucking mid anyway god fucking damn bro tomatoes are just disgusting they look hard and then when they are cut open it’s mushy and slimy and gross and it’s so fucking disgusting how could anyone love them or even tolerate such a revolting FUCKING object I can’t believe they even exist I hate them I hate them so so much they are just so round and lumpy too they are so fugly so fucking ugly tomatoes just awaken my long locked away primal urges to rip them apart and destroy them and make them extinct I fucking hate tomatoes fuck you fuck you fuck tomatoes bro they are the nastiest shit ever and I shouldn’t care so much but that’s the issue man I do, I do care about the tomatoe because they are DISGUSTING they shouldn’t exist and the last time I ate a tomatoe I remember fighting god and almost throwing up it doesn’t matter if it’s raw or if you roast a tomatoe it’s just utterly horrific, I lay awake at night staring at my ceiling in the dark and I am completely and utterly consumed by my hatred of tomatoes and the fact that they exist I wish I could line up every tomatoe on the planet on a highway and just watch people street race over them I wish a tornado would sweep them all up in the air and throw them into the atmosphere away from Earth I hate ten so much I need to eradicate them and I hate tomatoes so much that they have their own very special place locked away in my mind for the worst and worst absolutely worst of the worlds issues and problems I fucking hate tomatoes so much guys I can’t stand them the smell of a tomatoe makes me want to gag and throw up and the sight of them makes me was to rip my hair out and scream I do not have a singular slur or profanity that could possibly describe a tomato and there is not a single fucking language in the world that could convey how much this monstrosity FUCKING SUCKS ITS GROSS TOMATO ENJOYERS DNI I want to light all the tomatoes in the world on fire and beat them to death and if god and satan are real then the TOMATO is fucking Lucifer himself and I will banish him I will banish the tomato and if they aren’t real then I KNOW GOD isn’t real because if he created the tomato then he sucks too and whoever crafted tomatoes should fucking die and rot in a dark place WITH TOMATOES AUSGDH I HATE HATE HATE THEM I HATE TOMATOES SO MUCH I will delete ALL TOMATOES I WILL KILL THEM ALL I HATE TOMATOES

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

So a buddy of mine bought me, unprompted, a Black Library book about the Death Korp – Krieg, I think it’s just called – and that was nice of him, and I am reading it now.

The style of the writing is, eh, adequate for me. Taste is subjective and all that, but so far it hasn’t dug its hooks in properly. But it's early days and I’m hardly an arbiter on good writing technique (mine has often been described as obtuse) so that’s not much of an issue.

What is sticking out to me is the wisdom of giving more background on Krieg. Just, as a concept.

Because the book is apparently split into two narratives. One concerns some Death Korp coming in to help some Cadians take back a hive from Orks and heretics and what have you, and the other is set in the past, prior to and during Krieg’s atomic cleansing, and centred around Colonel Jurten – the infamous dude who is responsible for said atomic cleansing.

(The main narrative is set during the Era Indomitus, also, so bleh.)

Now.

This is just personal, I know, but I always feel with things like this the less detail the better. Being aware that Krieg’s whole deal was that their ruling autocrats renounced the Imperium and there was a big ol’ civil war and five hundred years of atomic cleansing that left a formerly-nice planet a blasted wasteland and now they’re big into redeeming the sins of their forebears by martyring themselves in the nastiest places imaginable is enough.

(Also, I remember when they were just repainted Steel Legion and introduced as flavour back in during the worldwide Armageddon campaign – you’ve come a long way, baby!)

Right? So that’s what we know, with a couple extra details like about Colonel Jurten and, subsequently, all the vitae womb stuff – which I don’t mind, actually, as it’s appropriately gnarly and also does explain where a blasted wasteland gets enough bodies to throw them away so easily – and really that’s all we need to know. Personally speaking.

Getting to meet Colonel Jurten and getting to see those ruling autocrats really doesn’t add a whole lot, does it? We don’t need to see five hundred years of atomic cleansing or see the chain of events that led to it. I don’t think it adds anything, personally. It’s enough to know it happened, and enough to know what we all ended up with.

But that’s me, man, and I ain’t finished the book yet so maybe I’ll change my mind. Probably not though. I’m just leery of GW explaining too much on things that should be left spongy and amorphous.

But yeah, if you want a real nice Krieg book see if you can find Dead Men Walking, that was great. Probably not canon now, as it was pre-horrible-necron-retcon and before the Krieg got their vitae wombs too, I think, but it’s a good read.

[maandags]

can i have something with draco malfoy and plants

the Forbidden Forest is quiet this time of night.

granted, the Forbidden Forest is quiet pretty much always, which is mainly due to the fact that it’s — surprisingly — forbidden for students to roam and wander. for good reason, too; the man-eating spiders and the morally questionable centaurs that, among others, make up its population aren’t known to be particularly friendly towards Hogwart’s students.

this, like all the warnings your friends have bombarded you with to try and keep you from entering the Forest, did not deter you in the slightest. in fact, it just made you want to explore its woods more. and so that’s why, at twelve whole years of age, you first set foot in the Forbidden Forest. now, you only went maybe 50 feet into the Forest that first time, giggling to yourself, adrenaline coursing through your veins, hand gripping your wand — looking over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure the school grounds weren’t out of sight — but it was enough to give you a taste, show you the smallest of flickers of the life brewing deep inside the forest, and it left you addicted straight away.

now, four years later, your little excursions to the Forest are never more than a few days apart. you know its paths, know its flora and fauna, know every square inch of it like the back of your hand. you’re not scared anymore of going.

nevertheless, the first few steps are always a thrill. it’s the tangible change in atmosphere, the soft bed of grass beneath your feet making way for a layer of dead leaves and branches and rocks where the tiniest of creatures wriggle about. it’s not fully dark yet, so you walk slower than you usually would, allowing yourself to look around and try and recognise as many plants and beasts as possible. (another reason why you didn’t really want to stop your visits to the forest: your Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures marks have never been higher.)

after an hour or so, as you trudge deeper into the forest, the surroundings start to grow more visibly magical in nature. trees look blurred when you try to look at them directly. big leaves shift unnaturally in completely still air. sparkly birds let out trills that sound a little too human. a swarm of small, yellow-and-blue songbirds fly over. one of them swoops down and lands briefly on your outstretched arm, and you pet it, resisting the urge to bury your fingers in the fluffy plumage, knowing full well that instead of flesh and bones these birds are made of some sort of bluish-black goop that a) smells absolutely rank, b) along with sticky and very quick-hardening seems to be vaguely acidic in nature and c) is a major bitch to wash out of clothing.

the bird flies at your side for a while, trilling in response to your soft whistles, the tip of its wing tickling your cheek every other minute. you spot a few pixies, who respond to your cheery wave with a string of hoots and screeches, a cluster of three-feet-tall mushrooms pulsing with a harsh pink light, and a slow-moving cloud of gold mist, which you give a wide berth, holding your breath for good measure.

then an arrow whizzes past your ear, and your hand flies up with a gasp. your fingers come away red with blood.

you spin on your heel, hand pressed up to the side of your head, and narrow your eyes at the centaur standing ten feet away from you. ”haha, Brin. very funny.”

he levels an unimpressed stare at you. ”you know you’re not supposed to be here, Y/N.”

”you’ve been telling me that for four years now.”

”and you’ve been ignoring it for four years.”

”indeed I have.” you spin around, yanking the arrow from the tree it landed in. ”can I keep this?”

Brin glares at you. you roll your eyes but hand the arrow back to him. ”you’re no fun. that arrow has my blood on it, I should be legally allowed to keep it.”

Brin shakes his head, turning around and starting to walk back the way he’d (supposedly) come. ”I can’t even begin to explain how flawed that logic is.”

you snicker, hurrying after him. Brin might be a little stuck up, but he’s also one of the few friends you have in the Forest, and even then you don’t see him that much. ”so. how’ve things been here?”

Brin briefly glances up at the sky, and you immediately regret asking, already steeling yourself for an incomprehensible monologue about stars and the positions of planets and whatnot. if you were better in at astronomy, you probably would have been able to understand some of it, but you’re shit at astronomy, so it’s mostly gibberish to you.

but all Brin says is, ”things are stirring.”

you raise a brow. ”things?”

”are stirring, yes.”

”stirring.”

”yes.”

”the things.”

he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. ”I really don’t know what more you want from me, Y/N.”

you look back up at him, unflinching. ”literally anything else. ‘things are stirring’ is all I got out of you, and that’s not much to go on.”

Brin sighs, short and sharp. ”I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. forget about it. it’s not something you should concern yourself with.”

you pretend to gag. ”you sound like Bane.”

Brin opens his mouth, about to object, but stops dead, narrowing his eyes and throwing out an arm to stop you. his tail swishes from side to side and he stands still, head cocked, listening intently.

for all your joking around, you immediately shut your mouth, the tension gripping Brin all of a sudden leaking into your body as well. it’s all fun and games until a centaur gets genuinely nervous, and in those situations it’s best to watch the aforementioned centaur and do what they do. your hand slowly creeps towards your robe’s breast pocket, where your wand is stored, but you don’t pull it out yet.

Brin’s eyes flick to you, irritation flashing in them. ”someone’s here.”

you pause, not sure if this is an inconvenience or a Bad Thing. ”um. elaborate, please?”

Brin takes a deep breath. ”one of yours.”

as if on cue, the silence is split by a blood-curdling scream.

your head snaps towards where the sound came from, but it’s too dark and too far away to see. ”shit,” you mutter under your breath, before summoning a globule of light to hover in front of you and taking off in the direction of the scream.

one of you. did that mean another human? a wizard? a Hogwarts student? but no, it couldn’t be — no Hogwarts student would be insane enough to venture this far into the Forbidden Forest this late into the night.

as you follow the strangled cries of panic and yelps of pain, you start to get a dim visual of what happened, and you curse again.

Devil’s Snare. the little shits are everywhere, their roots creeping along the forest floor and waiting for any living thing to stumble across them. you’ve since learned to look out for them, jump over them and walk just fast enough to avoid getting entangled, having had a few close calls yourself.

this Snare is a particularly nasty one. old, gauging by its height and the thickness of the vines sprouting from its core. strong. fucking hell. you stop just out of reach, sending a few more globules of light to surround it as to get a better view of what the exact fuck is going on.

the person is almost completely covered in vines at this point. struggling, crying out in fear and pain, gasping for breath. the vines, of course, only tangle further around his body. after a bit of heated internal debate, you begrudgingly admit that if you’re going to help this guy, you’ll need to get closer. so you do, careful not to get too close just yet. the light you’d sent up is not enough to make the Snare let go of its prey, but it is enough to (mostly) prevent any stray vines from grabbing hold of your ankles.

”stay still!” you shout, kicking a vine away and shooting three more lights to hover around the trapped guy.

he does not stay still. in fact, he doesn’t look like he heard you at all.

in the meantime, the smaller vines have taken more of an interest in you as you approach, and you growl, muttering a spell under your breath. a straight blade of white-hot flame sprouts from your wand, and as you calmly swing it in a wide arc, the light and the heat makes the plant recoil. as you pick your way through the branches and vines, getting ever closer to the guy, whose struggling is starting to get weaker, you cup your hands around your mouth, almost singing your eyebrows with your sword of fire in the process, and repeat, ”STAY FUCKING STILL!”

”what?”

”STAY STILL. I can’t help you unless you stay still!”

a faint groan sounds, and the figure stops struggling for a split second, but the vines tighten around him and out of reflex his arms shoot out, trying to fight the pressure off his chest.

”oh my god, I cannot believe I’m doing this,” you pant, closing the rest of the distance between you with a couple big leaps, landing smack in the middle of the biggest and nastiest vines, and that’s when you discover that the biggest and nastiest vines also have spikes, because the vine that immediately wraps around your calf digs its spikes into your flesh and you cry out.

a hand flails in front of your face. you grab the wrist to which it is attached. a plan forms in your mind — a crazy plan, an insane plan that just might be the death of both you and the unknown guy. but it’s the plan you have, and thus the plan you’re going with.

with your fiery blade you cut through a few of the vines that cross the guy’s chest — and then you put your wand away, extinguishing the fire and quickly stuffing your wand in your breast pocket.

”what are you doing?” he asks, and that’s when it clicks. the indignant tone he still manages to have even though he’s being crushed to death; the curl of his lip you can’t make out in the fray but can picture perfectly in your head.

you reel back, though it’s not as dramatic as you’d have liked it to be, because a thick vine has already snaked across your back (but that’s okay, that’s part of the plan, it’s okay, it’s fine) and you only manage to be pushed back into his chest with an oof.

you wrangle free, pulling back just enough to be able to make out his face. ”Malfoy?”

recognition flashes in his eyes — nothing more than two specks in the darkness — and he says quietly, ”Y/N.”

”fucking — ow —” spikes dig into the back of your thigh — ”the fuck are you doing here?”

”I think we have other things to worry about right now,” he says faintly, grunting as he’s pushed closer to you.

you scrunch up your nose but concede, promising yourself that you’ll question him later — if you even get out of this alive. ”if I die right now, Malfoy — for you — I will come back to life so I can murder you myself.”

he purses his lips, but nods, as if to say, ”that’s fair.” it is. it is fair. little shit.

you take a breath, steeling yourself, then dive down into the tangle of writhing vines at your feet, ignoring Malfoy’s shout of your name above you.

this is where it gets gross, and where you might lose a hand. one hand comes up to your chest and yanks out your wand, and the other searches beneath you — vines, vines, spikes (ow), more vines, a single leaf, and then, finally, the disgustingly soggy pulsing heart of the plant. you give a triumphant ”AHA!” then stick your wand into the core with a squelch that makes you gag, pull out your hand and shout the sword of fire spell. the flaming blade cuts through the heart. the vines shudder — convulse — and then go limp, and you shrug them off, staggering away, gagging, tripping twice before falling against a tree and retching, a hand pressed against your stomach, taking deep breaths, trying to blink the black spots away.

as soon as you feel like you can shout without throwing up, you march up to Malfoy, who looks about as good as you feel, tear out your wand and stick it under his chin and yell, ”WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

you expect him to yell back. that’s how the two of you have always functioned: you shout something, he yells something back. he yells something, you shout back.

but he doesn’t. he just stands there, looking deflated and shaky and frankly on the verge of tears. ”thank you, Y/N.”

it catches you off-guard. you pretend it doesn’t. Malfoy never thanks anyone. ”no, fuck you. answer my goddamn question. what are you doing here?”

”I was following you, all right? I know you’ve been going into the Forest for ages, and I wanted to know what you got up to. that’s it.”

you scoff. ”right. you were just following me. that’s not creepy at all.”

”listen, Y/N. I don’t know what else you want from me.” he sounds tired and defeated and it makes you angry, because it’s so Not Malfoy that it’s unsettling, and the last thing you need right now is ‘unsettling’.

you throw your hands up into the air and start stomping away. ”I don’t know! I don’t fucking know. just — ugh!” you kick a dead tree stump, out of which comes charging a single fat gnome, waving a small stick and shouting an incomprehensible string of what are without a doubt profanities you’ve never even heard of.

”Y/N.”

”what?!”

”you’re bleeding.”

you stop walking, dropping your face in your hands and bursting into tears.

ten seconds. that’s all you allow yourself. ten seconds until you’ve got to get yourself together; ten seconds to scream and cry and sob your heart out. ten seconds, and then you take a deep, deep breath, wipe your cheeks and say, ”right,” and start walking again.

for a moment you don’t hear anything, and you think Malfoy is going to stay behind — but then he sighs and jogs a few steps to catch up to you. you walk in silence for a long time. the only words you say is when you quietly warn him not to step too close to a certain rock, or not to touch a certain flower.

when you absent-mindedly pull a leaf off a green plant and press it to your nose, inhaling deeply, he looks to you in alarm. you roll your eyes. ”it’s mint.” you inhale again, letting your eyes flit closed. ”it’s comforting.”

a little bit later, and there’s a faint rustling to your right. Malfoy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth; you rub a tired hand to your eyes. ”I was almost thinking you’d just left.”

Brin purses his lips, picking you up and wordlessly depositing you onto his back. you let your head drop against his back. ”thank you, Brin.”

”I would have helped you.”

”I had it under control.”

”I know.” he extends a hand towards Malfoy, who looks at it for a split second, then his gaze flits to you; you give a small nod, and a half second later he’s sat behind you, hands carefully resting on your hips.

”you…” your voice falters. ”you don’t have to do this, you know. Bane… and Magorian… surely they don’t approve of this.”

”they won’t know,” Brin says quietly. the forest around you slowly shifts back into a more peaceful atmosphere. the songbirds return. moonlight starts to filter through the foliage, and you take a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been needing.

a few hundred feet before the edge of the Forest, Brin stops. ”this is as far as I go.”

Malfoy slides off his back, then holds a hand for you to take, and you do, because you’re tired and wobbly and unsure whether your legs will hold your weight.

”thank you,” Malfoy says. you cast him a sideways glance. that’s the second time he’s thanked someone tonight, which is two times more than you thought he was capable of.

you nod curtly. Brin bows his head, then levels his gaze at you. ”I hope I don’t see you again, Y/N.”

you give him a lopsided grin. ”no promises.” and for the first time, something like a smile peeks through the centaur’s serious facade.

the last trek back onto school grounds is uneventful, bar the fact that the adrenaline has now completely worn off, and you start to feel sore all over, and you realise that your left leg — calf and thigh — is indeed bleeding. a lot. you have scratches on your arms and a nasty one on your cheek as well, and you’re covered in muck and grey slime. you probably look like something straight out of a Muggle zombie apocalypse film.

”you know the forest well,” Malfoy says as you step out of it.

you’re too tired to argue. ”yeah,” you reply simply. ”I love it.”

”you’ll be going back?” there’s a slightly incredulous hint to his voice, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself — you almost died. how could you possibly want to go back to such a place?

but the truth is that you do. you do want to go back. because the forest has been more of a home to you than Hogwarts has ever been. because you love its trees and its bushes and its weird magic plants and its pixies and centaurs and birds of enchantment. you love everything about it. even the near-death experiences. that’s what makes it fun.

”I will,” you say. ”I will be going back, Malfoy.” it sounds a little too much like a challenge. it sounds like you’re saying; try and stop me. I dare you.

he merely nods. he’s taken out his wand and cast a simple light spell, and the glowing tip of the wand sways as he walks. in the light, his eyes reflect gold. ”good.”

your eyebrows shoot up with the speed of a thousand Firebolts. ”excuse me?”

he grins; a boyish, sharp grin, that makes your stomach do a very irrelevant flip. ”I would have been disappointed if you didn’t.”

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

Teaser for “Where the Wild Things Are” - Part 1

More of this ongoing horny lunacy here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/46926720 ABO and soul-mark world where alphas significantly stronger than others and less well-behaved than in most stories, but no longer dominant. Seen as subhuman by many and legally discriminated against, they're either under house arrest if beta or omega mates will vouch for them or kept in prison-like fertility clinic holding cells...if they're lucky. ----- Much as thirteen-year-old girls might think otherwise, soul-mate marks are not romantic. Some people don't have to screw around with them at all, which is unfair. Half of the textual ones are filthy and ones like Lena's are heart-wrenching. It's not words, it's a shape. A face, burned into her skin as delicately as one of the Great Masters wielded a single-hair brush. One in a hundred thousand women has this problem, seeing a face but not a written mark. Those usually have a name, or a nickname, or some clue. Handsome. Female. Wild. A long neck corded with tendons. A slanted, toothy grin that pops the bottle cap off her fight-or-flight but doesn't spill it. It's a good scared, the idea of being fucked by her. Her soulmates' face makes it clear she's a fucking alpha and the first time she realizes this, when it really hits her, Lena sprints to the shabby bathroom and empties herself. How a boarding school this expensive has such shitty bathrooms, they've never determined. ----- She hears the thump of Andi's frame and then the slide as she sinks against the door on her side. Long fingers sneak under the gap and wiggle, demanding Lena's own. "You get a mark, Lena?" "Yeah." "Me too. A face." fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck "Uh, ah, a woman's face?" "Yeah. Absolute brick. Alpha, I think." ----- Alex slumps against her front door and groans. She can smell it—taste it—and Maggie's scent kicks her brain into memories of the taste of some Frankensteined vegan version of a mole poblano she had to learn from her grandmother because of her parent's efforts to dispose of everything Mexican in their heritage. Alex would have sworn the tofu clucked, Maggie had done such an amazing job. Her alpha needs her and hate groups and common knowledge be damned, that matters and that's compatible with Alex being a badass with a cool career. She can want that and want to be ground slowly into the blankets as Maggie rocks her knot in with all slowness her hormones allow and spills with a sigh. So much of it that Alex feels the sheer warmth spread through her guts for a half-hour. She can be her own woman and want to wrap her lips around the head just to hear the little squeaks 'babe' and 'good girl' and how 'Alex' is breathed out in sighing lungfuls that take forever when she picks up her pace and all Maggie has are moans. She's not able to. She's too fucked up with stress right now.Her wedding band feels more like barbed wire than a reminder of Maggie and Kelly's love. She wishes she could have came up with better wedding vows. Hell, she wishes she could have had an outdoor wedding rather than videoconferencing or her mom could have met her bride without scent-blocker vents and armed guards.

Maggie’s first rut was late—she’d assumed she was just a snarky beta—and three years into her and Alex’s relationship. At the time, they were team-flirting with their roommate, mostly to make the graceful, skittish omega duck her pretty little head and blush harder than anyone with a degree in sexual psychology should be able to blush.

In retrospect, that little game may explain a lot about Kelly’s sudden fondness for hot yoga in the living room. ----- Maggie has been so good and so patient on how her status upended her life entirely and now Alex’s hands are shaking on the knob and as much as she wants to waltz in there and drape her arms around her fun-size wildling’s neck, edging her until Kelly can come help after work, she is too fucking scared.

Not scared of Maggie. Never of Maggie. That’s what she promised right before ‘I do’.

Dropping Luthor that hint? That’s a dangerous gamble, and she knows it.

But only one prisoner they ever took made Alex feel so fucking sorry for her.

DEO Casefile #87153. Asset Kilo-Romeo-Yankee-Foxtrot-One. KRYptonian, Female Number One.

The only surviving female of her race, from what they can tell.

But unlike the world’s most iconic beta, she’s an alpha and subject to all the wickedness of that. Taken with minimal injuries and somehow, no fatalities. They brough her to Alex for analysis a few weeks after Alex and Kelly settled into the new normal, so maybe her opinion of muscular female alphas was a bit elevated… ----- CADMUS, probably. But maybe, juuuuust maybe, a trafficking ring.

Fucked up as it is, that’s the hope. That someone nasty took her and for use, not for dissection.

So if a one-percenter omega is blue-clitting it while she tears the planet apart looking and that lines up with Alex’s desire to make good on her I won’t let them hurt you promise spoken on her side of the glass to those wolf-like eyes that are so predatory but also so badly want to be tamed and rubbed on the belly?

She’s not going to kink-shame. Not one bit.

Glass houses and all. ----- This, though, this isn’t so bad. She’s not rutting, but if one zhriymin in the prison gets it, they all do. So they sent a zhraomin to her—her favorite one, with the tiny brown-pink spots on her skin and the pale blue eyes and red hair—and the zhraomin brought food!

She’s saying something in whatever language she speaks. Doing that thing they do where they pull their lips back when they’re happy.

She ignores Kara’s best, nastiest, scariest growl and makes that sound when they don’t believe something is real and it amuses them. Shakes her head. Her long legs slide over Kara’s and she slowly drags the sheet down while holding one of the...the…soft spicy things that come in the boxes! up to her lips.

Kara clamps both her hands on the female’s hips so she will stay and feed her.

[ma-lemons]

13 Things for You to Know About me For When I get Famous

Rules:

1. Share 13 things about yourself.

2. Answer the 13 questions asked to you and invent 13 questions the people you tag will have to answer.

3. Tag 13 people. (Tag-backs ARE allowed!)

4. Be creative with the title.

Tagged by @olyollyoxenfree

1. What names/nicknames do you go by?

- I don’t have any nicknames. People try to call me DD, but I’m not having it.

2. When's your birthday, and how old are you?

September 27. I’m 17.

3. Where do you live, or what time zone are you on (whichever you’re more comfortable answering)?

Central Time Zone

4. What language(s) do you speak?

I’m only fluent in English but my native language has slipped my mind a bit so I’m relearning.

5. What’s you go-to food?

Bread, rice or cereal.

6. Do you like pulp in your juice?

Nopeeee

7. When your hair becomes grey, are you going to dye it, or are you going to leave it alone? If you are going to dye it, what color(s)?

Probably leave it grey. Good question.

8. What would you do if you had $1,000,000 (1 million) USD?

First and foremost give some to my church. Then to my school. And then some kind of charity/ies. Then I’d give a lot to my parents and whatever’s left I’ll keep. I don’t know what I’d do with the rest of the money; maybe buy clothing.

9. Is there something you disliked when you were younger that you like/don't mind now?

Uhhhhh orange juice. And applesauce. I went probably four years without drinking orange juice because it didn’t taste like oranges. I drink it sometimes now. Applesauce was the nastiest thing on planet earth and now it’s meh. I can eat it when I’m hungry and it’s not as bad.

10. What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you/that you've done that you'll willingly admit?

The most embarrassing thing is something I will never admit. But something else I remembered that was embarrassing was during my third (?) grade play. It was a winter performance and just before we got onto stage, the class was playing a game trying to figure out each other’s crushes. It got around to me and I freaked and said my good friend’s (let’s call him CS) name. Everyone started to shout and “ooh” and “aah” and CS himself has stepped out. Then he came back and we did the performance. He later figured out and I had to spend the whole year convincing people that I didn’t like CS and it was a joke. (Doesn’t seem embarassing but third grade me was dying.)

11. Describe your favorite accessory or article of clothing that you own.

Uh.. uh... I have a really cute (I think) orange sweater in my closet that makes me feel like I can actually dress like my age and not like I’m five years old :)

12. How would one win your heart (romantically, platonically, whichever fits more)?

Romantically? I’m not sure; I’d need a while to think about that. Platonically? Have a similar music taste. People don’t really like the music I listen to, so if we even have ONE song in common, you are literally my best friend. (I mean I guess this could work romantically too)

13. Tell me about something you're working on (e.g. something you're writing, drawing, sculpting, editing; a concept you're tinkering with; an upcoming project you're in charge of; etc.)!

Right now? I’m working on keeping my mental health together because im slowly falling apart Um, right now I’m working on like four different fanfictions (rwby and acotar) and I’m also thinking of how my home country could have better sanitation laws because I’ve found that interesting lately.

Thanks for these very interesting questions!!! My 13 are:

1. What is your favorite TV show/webshow?

2. What is one stereotype you wish people would stop associating with you/your identity (sexuality, race, ethnicity, gender) ?

3. How do you stay true to yourself when you really want to impress someone?

4. What is your favorite candy (If you have one)?

5. I know sometimes we see horoscopes as a joke, but what is one star sign you’d stay away from at all times ?

6. Favorite flavor of ice cream?

7. If you could campaign for one world issue for the rest of your life, what would it be?

8. What type of music are you mainly into?

9. Do you want kids one day?

10. Foxes or bats?

11. If you could marry one celebrity or sort of famous person, who would it be?

12. Would you own a business or work for someone else? And if you did one a business, what kind would it be?

13. What’s your favorite animal ?

Do... do I even have 13 people to tag?

@lethiepie

@shining-universe

@nahoqo

@redwriter-redroses

@honeii-boii

@keeping-it-rosey

@captain-strawberrytrash

@blackhakumen

@whitennerdiest

@spiritwolf284

@olyollyoxenfree

@just-antiyou

@tolkpopfan

[quillyfied]

Cheeseburgers

a TAZ idea that wouldn’t leave me alone. To the person who requested the roadtrip fic, I’m still working on it, it’s grown enormous, but I had to get this out of my system.

Cycle 76 spat them out by a planet of storms, raining shards of ice down from a lightning-filled sky into a boiling sea, the chemical and arcane makeup of which made no sense to Barry or Lup. It was a small planet, alone and floating around its little star. Davenport circled it three times, but the cloud layer coated it pretty thickly. Approaching it further than the upper atmosphere proved impossible when a huge arc of lightning nearly knocked the Starblaster out of the sky.

“Well, gang,” Davenport said, rubbing his eyes, “looks like we’re shipbound this year.”

Quiet groans answered him, but this wasn’t the first time they’d had to stay on board the ship for a cycle. Davenport put the Starblaster in orbit around the stormy little world, and their year began. By sheer luck, the Light crashed directly into Magnus as he jogged around the deck a few days later; forty-five seconds after that, the Hunger’s eyes lit up the void of space around them.

“Another tough getaway ahead,” Davenport muttered to himself, tapping his fingers on a table on the deck and watching as Barry helped Magnus up, the latter laughing so hard it made the former’s job difficult.

“Mm-hmm,” Merle nodded, shuffling a deck of cards. “We’ve got a while before we have to worry about it. Ever play Yooker with tarot cards, Skip?”

“No, can’t say that I have,” Davenport grinned, settling back into his chair. “Tarot cards?”

“Figure it’ll spice things up between us,” Merle said, and winked when Davenport chuckled.

“Gross,” Taako hollered across the ship, carrying a tray of sandwiches. “Lunchtime, idiots.”

Food wasn’t a problem when several party members could summon it at will. The same went for water, though coordinating bathing habits was a constant struggle. What couldn’t be magicked up, even with Davenport’s increasingly exquisite eye for detail in his illusions, was physical space. Cabin fever crept into the edges of the ship with each passing week. It was only a matter of time before someone snapped, and even with over seventy-five years of growing into the closest family unit in all the realities, fights and hurt feelings could last a long time.

It had been four months of orbit, according to Barry’s calendar. The whole crew was lounging in the rec room, which was really Lup’s old room stuffed with all the books, games, movies, and serialized video programs they’d collected during their journey, along with the appropriate consoles and a wealth of beanbag chairs. It was Lucretia’s turn to pick the entertainment. She’d been quiet and withdrawn this year, more so than usual and certainly more so than she’d been for about a decade.

“Anything but that gentleman detective tripe,” Taako deadpanned as Lucretia reached for that exact film. He was splayed across a bemused Magnus’ lap with his feet on Barry’s shoulder, crossing his arms behind his head and rolling his eyes like he was being paid to do it.

“It’s my turn,” Lucretia said, pulling the movie out. “When it’s your turn, we can watch something else.”

“Or you can pick something less stupid,” Taako retorted. Lucretia sighed, but didn’t put the movie back. Taako cast Mage Hand and snatched it from her hands, holding it over her head.

“Taako, come on,” Magnus said, dumping Taako onto the nearest beanbag chair, but Mage Hand stayed put, wagging the movie in the air a little. Lucretia took a swipe at it, color building in her cheeks.

“Honestly, why we even still have this is beyond me,” Taako said.

“Taako, give it back,” Davenport said with a warning note in his voice.

“Literally the worst thing in our inventory,” Taako yawned, shifting Mage Hand so it hovered over the garbage can.

“Taako, don’t—”

Mage Hand dropped the movie in the trash. It wasn’t much, just a shallow bin with a plastic liner, but the sentiment was enough. Lucretia yanked the movie from the trash and stomped towards the door.

“Lucretia, he didn’t mean it, he’s just being a jerk,” Lup said, sitting up as Lucretia flung the sliding door out of her way.

“I absolutely did mean it,” Taako sniffed. “If she’s gonna pout because of a little honesty—”

The door slamming shut in its port cut off the rest of Taako’s sentence, as did the weight of five different glares.

“You know what, no,” Taako said, straightening his legs and standing. “Every time Lucretia can’t take a joke, Taako’s the jerkwad. Poor Lucretia, poor fragile little Lucretia—”

“Her mother gave her that movie,” Barry said quietly. “She’s had it since she was sixteen.”

Taako floundered for a minute, then stomped his foot. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“If you paid attention for once in your life to other people—” Magnus started, and Taako whipped around, thunder building in his eyes (and possibly also in his fingertips, the static in the air was getting very active).

“Everyone calm down,” Merle said, also getting to his feet. “We’re all a little testy. Let’s bring it back down, chill out. I’ll go talk to Lucretia, Taako can take a walk around the deck, we’ll meet back here and watch her movie and eat so much popcorn we’ll all get sick. How about that?”

“Go hang out with your buddy John, Merle, he’s the only one actually interested in listening to your hippie cleric garbage,” Taako snapped, and Davenport slammed both his feet onto the ground before standing. His full height wasn’t so imposing, but his demeanor was.

“You’re out of line,” Davenport said, in the soft tone of voice his entire crew knew to obey without question. Taako’s mouth quivered, his hands clenched at his sides and spine at rigid attention. “No movie night. Everyone is excused to their quarters. I’ll be at the helm.”

After a tense moment, Taako stalked out of the room. After another, Lup, Barry, and Magnus followed. Merle, last to leave as always, looked around at the abandoned beanbag chairs and sighed.

“He has a point,” Merle shrugged. “Not like any of you are really gonna need me this cycle, and I know I can get something else out of John, I almost had him last time.”

“Not yet,” Davenport said sharply, and blinked at his own tone. “Not…not yet. It’s been…a while…since you’ve stuck around this long.”

“If Lup and Barry have sex in the shower when I’m waiting my turn outside again, I can’t make any promises,” Merle said, and Davenport doubled over laughing. Merle grinned. “I can wait. Time’s weird in the Parley Parlor.”

“Thank you,” Davenport said quietly. Merle put his hand on Davenport’s shoulder and smiled.

“Am I dismissed now, Cap?”

“Can’t show favoritism, so yes, yes you are,” Davenport said, and smiled when Merle shrugged. “One ship fire at a time. Let’s wait for this one to blow over, and we can work on the next one.”

“Take it easy, Dav,” Merle said, and left. Davenport took several deep breaths before following suit.

-

Taako stood outside of Lucretia’s door, where he could clearly hear sniffling, and gritted his teeth through the overwhelming wave of nope that coursed through him at the thought of going through with this. But…yeah, he wasn’t too proud to admit he’d crossed a line, it’d been way too many years of getting to know these space losers like the back of his hands. Besides, if he didn’t at least try to apologize, Lup and Magnus would keep shooting him disappointed looks and he couldn’t abide that. They were stuck on this metal tub for another eight months. Time to put on your big boy pants, Taako.

He knocked.

“Come in,” Lucretia’s watery voice answered. She probably thought it was Magnus or somebody, he was everybody’s go-to snugglebuddy. Taako slouched into the room, his eyes downcast and defensive, and didn’t look up until he was sitting backwards in her desk chair. She didn’t immediately tell him to leave, which was probably a good sign. When he got up the strength to meet her eyes, she did look surprised, and supremely unhappy.

“Nobody forced me in here,” he said. “Cap’nport grounded everybody pretty soon after you left.”

“Oh,” Lucretia said, scrubbing at her face. Taako crossed his arms on the back of the chair and rested his chin on them.

“Cha’boy got a little carried away,” he muttered. “And I’m sorry for chucking your movie, I didn’t know where it was from.”

Lucretia’s mouth quirked in a faint smile that didn’t reach her tired eyes. “I know it’s not the best movie of all time, but…”

“Doesn’t excuse me from acting like a jerk,” Taako shrugged. “Need to apologize to Merle at some point too, but I can do that later, Merle doesn’t hold grudges.” He sighed and sat up. “Anyway. One free meal, on the house. Anything you want.”

“Anything I want,” Lucretia repeated, and her eyes started filling up with tears. Taako felt a stab of alarm.

“Don’t do that, it’s—look, I know my cooking is the literal best, but—” Taako sputtered, his eyes wide with horror. Lucretia laughed, wiping her eyes, but it wasn’t a happy one.

“That’s just it,” she sniffed. “Taako, what I want more than anything is—is a lousy, greasy cheeseburger from that Fantasy McDonald’s in the IPRE food court.”

“That’s it?” Taako grimaced. “’Cretia, darling, I thought by now I’d beaten some taste into your head.”

“I know,” Lucretia nodded, her mouth buckling against a fresh wave of tears, “but—but—”

Taako let Lucretia cry for ten seconds before growling to himself and crossing the room, wrapping her up and pulling her against his chest, resting his cheek on her head. “Shh, bubelah, shh, it’s okay. I’ll make you the nastiest burger you’ve ever had, sshhh.”

Lucretia hiccuped a giggle against his shirt, her fingers curled into the fabric and her entire body trembling. Taako kept rubbing circles into her back, hoping to Pan, probably, that he was doing this right. He made soothing shushing sounds on-tempo with his ministrations, mimicking every time Magnus had done the same for a crew member that he’d been present for. After a few minutes, Lucretia’s sobs petered into sniffles again.

“I miss home,” Lucretia whispered, almost too quietly to hear. Taako’s heart wrenched violently in his chest.

“I do, too,” Taako murmured back. He gave her one last squeeze and let go, making his way to his feet. “Bad food has some artistry to it, I guess. I’ll see what I can whip up.”

“Thank you,” Lucretia said, and smiled, this time a true smile that lit up her whole face. Taako stored that away as a victory point in his favor and smiled back.

-

Long ago Davenport had mastered the art of keeping an eye on the various screens playing a feed of the common areas of the Starblaster while doing something else in the helm, checking up on his baby. He wasn’t particularly surprised to see Taako sauntering into the galley a mere hour after banishing him to his room, but the kitchen was like a second room to the twins, so he paid it no mind.

It was the smell that caught his full attention.

He couldn’t tell on the screen exactly what Taako was doing, but he could smell hot oil and grilling meat. It was familiar enough that Davenport left the helm to see what he was doing. He found Taako with his hair pulled up, a manic expression on his face as he shaped meat patties in his hands. In the background, the stove was taken up by a huge griddle filled with patties, and a deep fryer Davenport didn’t remember them having bubbled away with something inside.

“This is a secret best lost to the void,” Taako muttered as Davenport floated himself up to the counter to sit and observe. “Capn’port, if anyone outside of this ship sees me doing this, it’s your job to kill me instantly and bury the evidence.”

“What exactly are you doing?” Davenport asked. Taako snapped his fingers and two baskets of fries lifted out of the grease of the deep fryer.

“Apologizing,” Taako muttered. “Whoever founded Fantasy McDonald’s should’ve been shot first.”

Davenport watched in muted amazement as Taako produced, with lots of wincing and swearing, a basic burger and fries. He thrust the plate at Davenport. “Try this and tell me if it’s close enough.”

Davenport gingerly lifted the top bun of the burger. Limpid lettuce, an indiscriminate glop of ketchup and mustard, two sad pickles, a slice of cheese from the bottom of the fridge, enough pepper on the patty to feel a sneeze coming on…it certainly looked similar. He took a bite. Taako watched him closely. Davenport chewed with his eyes closed, swallowed, and opened his eyes.

“Disgusting,” he said, and smiled. “It’s spot-on.”

“Of course it is,” Taako said, flipping patties onto a plate and putting raw meat on the griddle. “Call the dork patrol, would you? I made enough gross fatburgers for everyone.”

The reception of the mockup Fantasy McDonald’s cheeseburgers was mixed. Lup ate one and disowned him, then had some fries and took him back. Barry and Magnus, between them, ate twelve total and praised the likeness, though Barry took time to scrape everything off of his but the patty and Taako yelled at him a lot. Merle ate a bite and left the room to, in his own words, “evacuate my bowels before your nasty meat does.” (Later, Taako would yell his apology through the bathroom door and Merle would yell back his acceptance and everything would be cool there, because Merle, according to Taako, was a good person who wouldn’t guilt him into making disgusting food.)

Lucretia ate hers and grinned. When she was done, she hugged Taako tightly. “Thank you.”

“I am never making this again, so I hope you savored it,” Taako replied. Lucretia laughed. Davenport sat back with his plate of fries and drank in the bickering companionship that folded the Starblaster in.

It would be a long few months before they could get out of this plane. Davenport wasn’t particularly worried about it. He trusted his family to see themselves through it.

Even if they were a bunch of dumb babies sometimes.

[captainderyn]

Thieving With Dignity: Chapter 1

Title: Thieving With Dignity

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: Captain Rielay Taqq has been in the smuggling business for more years than she can count on one hand. She’s known as the best shot in the galaxy, but that can only get her so far. After a job goes south she’s forced to the Heart of the Republic, Coruscant, where a meeting with a senator’s son may have just found her a way to get filthy rich. And if he sticks around…all the more credits for her.

Warnings: Some strong language and violence, nothing major and nothing gory. 

*Cross posted to fanfiction.net under the username CaptainDeryn 

Doing business on Nar Shaddaa was like trying to do business blindfolded and drunk off the strongest stuff in the bar. It was tough, cutthroat and favor was constantly being shifted on a day to day basis. There were some things that were constant, the slave trade, scumbags that would cheat you out of your well earned credits, and Hutts. Most of the time all three things combined in one disgusting, slimy, stuck up mess.

This wasn’t Captain Taqq’s first deal on Nar Shaddaa and she doubted it would be her last. There was a certain appeal to the planet’s lawlessness that drew her back time and time again for with the smell of credits just waiting to be grabbed. Here she could smuggle spice free of guilt and make a small fortune off of illegal goods she could sell to greedy Hutts for a pretty price. Most of those fortunes became less than ideal by the time taxes were skimmed off the top, but as long as there was a steady stream of green filtering into Rielay’s account she would gladly feed the Hutt’s greed.

All she wanted to do right now was put her fist through a certain Hutt’s ugly, squishy face. As she sat in the seediest cantina she could find, with the shitiest alcohol known to man, and even some alien species she sulked and licked her wounds. This had been starting off like any other well chosen job that was sure to yield enough credits to fuel the Promise for weeks, even months but after almost a week planetside her contact was losing interest, Rielay was no closer to being paid and her deadline was coming up fast. When she had taken her job it had seemed easy, presented to her in three steps. First, smuggle some extremely illegal drugs past law enforcement. Spice smuggling was a personal low in her long run of deals but there was a reason she had sent her crewmate Hugo to Port Nowhere to scope some jobs while she was here. Her moral code went entirely out the viewport whenever she came here.

The spice adventure should have only taken a day tops, but after a close run in with a ‘pub law officer she had been forced to lie her way around being searched and put off her delivery until the suspicion died down.  She was still preening over her quick save but the loss of two days weighed heavy on her mind.

Second, take out Exchange lackeys that were getting in the way of the Hutt. Rielay should have known as soon as she caught a blaster bolt to the shoulder that things were going to get bad. The Exchange had festered into more than just a street corner gang since she last time she had been here, practically running Nar Shaddaa under the Cartel’s nose at this point. With so many people and a list to get through Rielay’s diplomacy had followed her morals out the viewport almost as quickly as her body count went up. She hadn’t even bothered with the numbers this time. The hits to the gang’s key people should have sent them reeling, but all it seemed to do was piss them off. Whispers had followed her home about the small whirlwind creating havoc in their ranks and if they hadn’t decided to try and take her out she might have found the time to be proud of that rep.

Ugh. She took a swig of her drink and wrinkled her nose. The stuff was horrible, but what was a trip to the Smuggler’s Moon without some of the worst stuff credits could buy. Some of the worst to fill up inside as much as it did outside. Rielay thunked the glass back down on the bar and rested her head on her forearms, glowering at the opposite wall. The chatter all around her or the scuffle in the corner that might have provided free entertainment to pass the night as she got more and more drunk to avoid the little situation she had worked herself into went unnoticed as she brooded over her third and final assignment.

Eliminate the Exchange leader.

Sure, it should have been easy. Just like taking the akk dog for a little romp in a Coruscanti park. Putting a round into one high-and-mighty guy on a cardboard box pedestal was something she could do with her eyes closed.

 Except she only had one day left to find him, the whole damn gang on her tail, and zero leads on a location. If the spice deal hadn’t taken that extra day or if she hadn’t gotten so overzealous with her blasters maybe she’d have had time to actually track him down, or hire a bounty hunter to do the hard part. Or maybe if the Hutt hadn’t given her a single week to do all his dirty work…

Hutts. Rielay huffed out a breath, swirling her drink in her glass and pouting into its murky depths. At this point she didn’t even remember the Hutt’s name, and as far as he was concerned hers was nothing more than ‘pretty little smuggler’ but she certainly remembers his foul stink and even fouler personality. She shouldn’t have expected anything better than what she got, especially since she had the nerve to walk in on Hutt territory. The Hutt Cartel was one of the nastiest groups she had ever had the misfortune to deal with, and if they didn’t readily toss out credits to anyone on the street that claimed they could shoot a blaster she would have ditched the work a long time ago and found herself some place pretty to work.

Instead she had fallen back into this cesspool. Again.

This time’s employer wasn’t even a big name in the Cartel, even by Nar Shaddaa’s standards. He was a small time Hutt with a large ego and a lust for credits and reputation than most of his fellow species that ruled Hutt space. Whatever territorial fight he was having her sort out was just a stepping stone for his name and an even larger boost for his bank account. He had snatched nearly half her promised earnings from the spice run and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.

Except maybe follow up her fist in his face with a blaster bolt.

She downed the rest of her drink, choking on the bitter taste that made her lips pucker and eyes screw close and threw down a handful of credit chips that would hopefully cover the space she took up and the drink she had brooded over for-she checked her chrono-over an hour. Great. Twenty three hours and counting down now until she had to either return with a gang leader’s head or empty handed. But she wasn’t willing to get up quite yet. Leaving would mean going to her apartment and there she would need to continue her search for leads on the Big Boss with only a datapad at her disposal.

She leaned back in her chair, tilting back until the legs were off the ground and letting them thunk down over and over until the bartender glared at her. There had to be something here…anything that could count as a lead.

Ah, the fighters in the corner had settled down to talk and she caught the magic word. Boss. If it wasn’t a Hutt, it had to be a gang leader. Random gang, Exchange, close enough.

They looked up as she sauntered over, grabbing an empty chair. “Trouble with your boss?”

“What’s it to you?” One of the guys was nursing a swollen nose and a drink, squinting at her. “Oh, no reason.” Rielay inspected her nails, looking up to flash a smirk and a quirked eyebrow at them. “Just, you know, I happen to be skilled with getting rid of ah…business problems.”

The snickers in response earned a wink in their direction, turning the snickers into low guffaws. “You don’t look like the bounty huntin’ type.”

“Bounty hunters are amateurs compared to me.” Rielay crowed leaning back in her chair. “Don’t become best shot in the galaxy waiting’ for someone to show up.”

There was a pause and her thoughts screeched to a halt. Kark.

“Best shot in the galaxy, huh?” Suddenly they seemed a lot less friendly. “Funny thing is, we’ve been lookin’ for someone like that.”

Her laugh was nervous as she tried to backpedal. “Oh huh, well ain’t that quite the coincidence. I might have over exaggerated, ‘m really the second best shot.” She laughed again, drawing back as the man with the swollen nose leaned his elbows on the table, his rank breath washing over her.

“Well isn’t that a shame. You fit the bill perfectly.”

“Who woulda thought, such a small girl to be such a big problem.”

Rielay yelped as her chair was kicked out from under her, sending her crashing to the floor. She scooched back until she hit the legs of another table, sending it crashing over and whatever alcohol remained on it to the floor where her hands now slipped. “Now, now, fellas.” She scowled as one of men knelt across her legs when she tried to kick him, reaching forward to yank the blaster and scattergun from the holsters at her hips. “Is this really necessary?”

She rolled her eyes when the other man finished binding her hands, letting them fall back to her lap. Most of the patrons had vacated as soon as things started to get heated and the bartender was mysteriously gone. Cowards. “I’m not moving from this spot.”

The grin tossed her way was slightly feral. “Oh you won’t need to. You wouldn’t be able to keep up anyways.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That was rude.” She swore indignantly as she was abruptly yanked to her feet and draped over one of the guy’s shoulders. Even as she was carried out of the cantina by way of a back door she couldn’t bring herself to feel nervous. They hadn’t tried to kill her yet and she still had a vibroblade tucked in the waistband of her trousers and a pistol on a holster at her shoulder. If it came down to a fight she knew she could handle it, she had got out of worse. They had made it clear they were Exchange members, and if she couldn’t bring the Big Bad to her, well then she might as well get a free ride to him.

“Classy ride.” Rielay remarked, settling down in the seat of the retired, old model sky-cab that might have once been in the taxi business. Her critical eye caught a dents on the side and the many times repaired parts that lay uncovered.  “Did you get it out of a dumpster?”

“Hilarious. You should be more worried. Our boss ain’t going to be to happy to see you.” The man piloting threw a glance over his shoulder, nearly slamming them into a passing vehicle.

“Worried?” Rielay shook her head with a shrug. “No need to be, I’m not scared of anything. ‘Specially not a gang leader.”

Silence. It wasn’t any fun being captured by thugs with good self control. Usually she came out of captures with at least a broken nose and a good story to tell.  

With a sigh she sat back, watching the city fly by. While the cantina had been all dim lights, loud music and hazy clouds the city was a chaotic mix of neon signs, speeder lights and light pollution. There was something pretty about it, if you could look past the disgusting people and even nastier upkeep. With this saved time she’d have hours and hours to admire it and her pockets would be heavier.

One member of their group had left, most likely to go warn his boss.  Good, let him get cocky before the fight even began. People were stupid when they got over confident. And while fighting might be hard without her blasters she was no stranger to fighting with less. They hadn’t bothered to check inside her jacket, where she had a detonator tucked into the inside pocket. As long as she could play her cards right, this wouldn’t be a problem.

The Exchange’s home of operations was even less impressive than when Rielay had been here before. Much to her satisfaction she could still see evidence of her fight, holes blown through crates, scorch marks along the floors and walls. Even the looks  sent her way as her entourage pushed her through the massive warehouse, filled with both fury and trepidation filled her with a pride that put a bounce in her step.

She was led down several hallways that she recognized and several doors still jammed open from when she had sliced into their locking mechanisms and fried the wiring. They would have one hell of a time trying to cover this up to their rivals. More points to her reputation.

“Might want to fix those.” Rielay stepped over the shattered remains of transparisteel windows and light casings, casting the room in only the struggling white of the remaining lights and the colors of the planet outside. “It’s creating a draft.”

When she looked over her shoulder the men that had brought her in were gone leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room. The pricing of the hairs on the back of her neck and a bad feeling told her that there were blasters trained on her from all around.

“You’re the captain that took out my men?” And so the Big Bad shows himself.

Rielay raised her chin. “I am. Surprised?” Her heart, already quickened from when she realized she was surrounded seemed to forget how to beat as she inspected the subject of her final task. Besides the height and mass he had on her, that was nothing unusual, he had a high tech blaster at his hip and Rielay couldn’t tell if it was the dust swirling around him, or a shield generator.

“Not what I was expecting for the reputation that precedes you. But you are…something.” He was in her space now, crowding her. Rielay took a step back, fists unclenching and clenching. That was definitely a shield generator and if there was one time she wished she had backup, it was now and-

And her wrists were free.

“You’re little stunt caused quite the chaos. Already our territory is being intruded on. You need to be taken out, but we won’t be taken seriously unless you go down swinging.”

Rielay rubbed her wrists, eyeing him warily. “I won’t be the one going down.”

As his hand went to the holster at his hip she reached back to grab the pistol in hers, firing the first several charges. They all bounced of the shield generator but when he opened fire she was already tucked behind a set of cargo boxes.  There was only so long that shield could stay charged. If she could stay just in range until then she might be able to get out of this.

“Hiding isn’t very professional captain.” Shots sparked over her head as they connected with the wall. “Come out and play.”

With a deep breath the popped up, firing the next charge from her pistol before diving towards a new section of boxes, the weapon whining as it charged.

Fire. Dodge. Sharp, quick breaths. Fire again, swear at a close call.

Burning metal and short circuits assaulted her nostrils as shots hit the walls and circuit panels. Lights were shorted out left and right until they were fighting in the dull shadows of the city.

A bolt caught her across the thigh and she cried out, retreating until she could dig through the pack at her hip for a kolto stick. She swore, almost all the stims kept neatly there had been smashed when she had been shoved against the wall. Her hand found a stim still in its casing and she jabbed it into her leg. Within seconds she felt a new rush of energy and she could put the stinging pain into the back of her mind.

The rhythmic repetition as her blasters charged and fired, charged and fired kept time with her breath as she held her ground, always staying just out of sight.

She hit the ground hard on her shoulder, rolling with the force of a pulse detonator that hurled her way. When she scrambled to her feet, firing another shot with her pistol that was rapidly overheating she saw the plasma bolt go through, hitting the boss’s arm.

It’s dying.

In the brief reprise as he took several steps out of her range, clutching at his arm she dug in her jacket, pulling out the detonator. Her fatigued, shaking hands almost dropped it as she tried to pull out the pin and the blinked against the sweat dripping into her eyes.

He was recovering already, tossing aside the empty canister of a kolto stim. She pressed her back against the crate she was behind, yanking the pin out with her teeth and spitting it onto the ground.

Using the box for support she limped out so she could see around it, hurling the detonator as hard as she could towards him and firing her pistol when it hit the ground. Bright white light crowded her vision as she blinked, the rumble of the small explosion ringing in her ears. From above blaster bolts began to rain down and as she hightailed it back to her cover spot. “The blasters, Rielay, the blasters.” She snarled to herself. “How could you forget about that gut feeling!”

With no detonators and her blasters missing she couldn’t hope to get through the hailstorm of bolts to get any ID off of the boss, or even to take out any of the snipers with her low range weapon.

So she ran, darting around crates and skimming along the wall until she burst out into the main space of the warehouse. There she stalled, searching for her stealth generator that she prayed had had enough time to recharge since she had killed it earlier in the day. After jabbing the button three times the generator sputtered to life and Rielay was able to breath again.

Moving slowly and with great care she was able to maneuver her way through the thinning crowds of Exchange members, slipping through through the shadows as her generator began to fail again until she was back in the streets of Nar Shaddaa. She wasn’t even spared a glance by the vagrants and smugglers that still wandered the streets so late at night.

Eliminate the Exchange boss. Check.

Although not as easy as she had hoped. The stim Rielay had injected into her leg was wearing off as she sunk into a sky-cab that would bring her back to her apartment and the burn was starting to sting again every time she moved. Her deadline still stood, but with the job no longer threatened she felt like she had all the time in the world.

“What do you mean you aren’t going to pay me?” Rielay cried, digging her nails into her palms.

There was a delay as the protocol droid at the Hutt’s side translated her words into Huttenese and then listened to the deep rumble of his response. Her lips curled in disgust as she waited, tapping her foot rapidly on the ground. This whole room was a shrine to the Hutt’s wealth, filled with fancy trinkets and droids. The Hutt himself was sprawled across cushions made of exotic silks and by his side were several Twi’lek slaves in typical Hutt fashion.

“My master wishes me to inform you that you brought no evidence back that you were the one to kill the Exchange leader. Therefore your contract was not met.”

“I did kill him!” She seethed, throwing her hands out. “He shot me! Do you seriously think that I just shot myself in my leg to try and trick you?”

The longer the pause went on the more agitated she became. “My master says that this is non negotiable and you will not be compensated for your failed contract.” The droid moved closer to it’s master as the Hutt rumbled something more. “He also advises you to leave before he you wear his patience any thinner.”

“But I did the job.” She protested, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she saw the hope of credits sliding through her fingers. “I smuggled your stupid spice and killed all those gang lords for you so just give me my damn paycheck!” She rose her force, flinching back as the Hutt became angry, roaring something in Huttese.

“I am going to have to ask you to leave,” The protocol droid shuffled towards her, lifting it’s hands. “Your audience is over.”

Rielay slammed her foot onto the ground when two guards from the door outside grabbed her elbows. “You scheming, lying maggot!” She bellowed. “I did your dirty work you slimy piece of-” She yelped as one of the guard’s elbows caught her in the nose as the tossed her out into the hallway, the door sliding closed in front of her.

Clumsily she caught herself against the wall, rubbing a hand over her throbbing nose. A week on this nasty planet dealing with a Hutt and she wasn’t even going to get paid for it. If he wouldn’t give her the credits in hand then she’d just have to find a way to get them anyways.

There was a cantina for the Hutt’s patrons out front and Rielay took a table in the corner, pulling out her datapad and opened up several different files and programs, her fingers flying over it’s surface as she worked. Within the hour she sat back with a sly smirk, watching the credit count on her account going up and the credit total sliding down in the Hutt’s account.

“Take that.”She muttered spitefully, wiping the datapad’s history before shutting it off and putting it back inside her jacket. Her compensation and then some was gone from the total and wouldn’t be noticed until she was long off planet. And there wouldn’t be any way to trace it back to her. No one could jip her of her well earned credits without paying for it.

Hours later she was back in her apartment, packing up her things she would need to take with her back to her ship. With a content sigh she closed the drawstring on her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and going to shut off the holovision where she paused with her finger poised over the power button. 

Wanted: Smuggler accused off breaching into private Hutt accounts and stealing thousands of credits. Large reward offered.

Rielay whacked the button and the holovision screen flickered out. She looked out the viewport into the traffic lanes, biting her lip.

 Shit.

She really screwed up this time.