#my brainworms for this couple... it's too much

[thedeadthree]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ➸ irulanne . the rook .

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 . 𝐄𝐋𝐅 . 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 .

-`. template by @kanos . coloring . icons .

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[purplecelestial-buddy]

It's so funny to me that the fandom has come to see Hirano as a Sasamiya promoter of sorts because while he is, it took him some time to get accustomed to the idea of them together. And while he was never a hater Sasaki's actions towards Miyano certainly used to get on his nerves.

At first he was so worried and probably even felt a little guilty because (as mentioned in the following screenshot) because the only reason why Sasaki knows which class Miya is in, is thanks to him.

But like, that's not the face of a friend that's happy to play cupid and get their two acquaintances together. Not at all, that's the face of someone who puts his sempai-kouhai relationship with Miyano over his (pseudo) friendship with Sasaki.

Hirano from the first chapters would have jailed Sasaki if he were allowed to. (And he has his reasons, Sasaki has been something since the first chapters)

Anyway, the progression of events is really interesting.

He started, quite literally, shielding Miyano from Sasaki.

Then, he came to accept their relationship.

And at the end he really was rooting for them, to the point he ended up outright lying just so Miyano could meet Sasaki and they could talk it out and confess.

[presiding]

What is your favourite thing about Billie Lurk?

(Answers are obvious possibly but i love when people talk about her👍)

thanks for the ask!! YEAH ME TOO I love when people talk about Billie! I can't say I have a favourite thing specifically, but I can explain why she's my fav. apologies for not taking this qn literally, but -

short answer: she’s really cool

& you can stop reading there, or, for the maybe 2 mutuals who might have time to read this my thoughts on her as a character, her meta, and her character as raw potential...

long answer:

i considered making this entire thing a gush so you could read a gush about Billie. but, part of what draws me to her is that she’s not always well written, and in fandom she’s underrated for a literal protagonist.

since you ask...

billie is a cool character

when I played Dh2 (hadn't played Dh1), I was excited to see a black woman with disabilities who was captaining a massive ship by herself. wow.

then I discovered Billie’s backstory with Deirdre, the way she responded to that, then having to survive while living on the run, and her bisexuality. as well as her history with daud & delilah. fascinating!

she’s an outsider who has so much to lose, and knows what it's like to lose everything - having lost everything not once but three times - but nevertheless speaks truth to power. she's so brave! she went and helped Emily & Corvo and she must have known they might kill her! plus, she’s smart, she’s funny, she gets shit done, she’s gorgeous.

but... the meta

mild critique of fandom & arkane incoming.

skip this bit if you want - you've been warned twice now - jump to tired Hayao Miyazaki and read from there if you'd like my thoughts on writing her.

i thought Death of the Outsider was going to be amazing and then... well. *sad trombone* i've written about that before so i won't keep banging on. i figured others must be disappointed too, so I joined a few fandom spaces in hopes of finding camaraderie.

most people with complaints about DotO didn’t like how the Outsider and Daud were handled. which is valid & I agree. but it seemed like most paid no attention to Billie; when people talk about her it’s with respect to Daud, as opposed to in her own right. you could argue for fandom misogyny because people don’t talk about adult Emily Kaldwin that much either, but in Billie's case, it’s misogynoir (compare & contrast with the popularity of thomas, particularly the popularity of thomas portrayed as a white man for no particular reason that i've been able to discern - i keep asking around, is it in the books???).

i think this is a LOT better now than it used to be, which is fantastic. or perhaps i have found the correct echo-chamber? ha.

ultimately, The Fandom is a fraction of the entire picture, and not even the important bit since The Fandom is not who these games are made for. you can't make money relying on only your hardcore fans even if all of them spent a fortune on merch, this is true for any AAA game.

while it's true that Billie is underrated from a fandom perspective - but Billie as an underwritten protagonist is squarely Arkane’s fault.

it was reasonable when she was a side character - the lack of info in Dh2 makes perfect sense (if anything there was more lore in Dh2 which is kind of wild)-

- but as a protagonist in Death of the Outsider?

.... there’s lousy writing, and there’s whatever is going on with Billie Lurk, a black woman who mostly exists as a foil or saviour for light-skinned characters. In her own game there’s barely any of her own lore except where it's relevant to saving two dudes.

lore hints at, but barely touches on what race means in the Dh universe (xenophobia is stronger in Dh1; separate essay i guess), but Arkane has patted themselves on the back for portraying non-white characters, which feels like the same thing as the aesthetic of diversity we're seeing in advertising currently because it’s in marketing trend guides. it's self-congratulatory and it's a missed opportunity for deeper storytelling.

you can see an example of diversity at its most shallow in the way that Billie’s written: there’s little engagement with her as an entire person with history & wants & preferences, and the world she walks through in that game feels like it has nothing to do with her. you could make a case for alienation as a theme, but then, how do you handle the titular premise of 'Dishonored' without ever letting Billie make changes in an environment without a chaos system? it's disappointing from that angle too.

in my opinion, whatever it's worth, it was an accident Arkane created such an awesome character - they needed someone to betray daud. congrats billie.

all this said, it makes her an underdog as far as characters to enjoy & create art & stories for. it's nice to find so many like-minded, switched on people! <3

billie's character potential

she’s got a wealth of unexplored lore, being deeply intertwined with both Karnaca & Dunwall’s fates & criminal underbellies, as well as her connections to the witches & whalers, and three Empresses.

she’s lived a few distinct lifetimes and in the games we get to meet her at two peaks (KoD & DotO) & a low (Dh2 as Meagan).

her voice is very distinct, her dry & often dark humour is entertaining & fun to write. her perspective is really interesting - she’s had the widest variety of void-powers of anyone canonically, and she’s also lived through the highest highs and lowest lows.

she's got everything going for her :) i couldn't really pick a fav thing!

[akaaiholic]

Still your Honey

Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader — Word Count: 416 ☆ | sfw && fluff (author’s note at the end.)

It was 8pm at the dinner table and you’re currently swooning over your six year-old daughter as she praises Osamu’s cooking at the dinner table.

“Papa’s food is so yummy!”

Her Kansai dialect copied from spending time with your husband is audible and she looks just like him, she is him. You squeal as you stroke her soft hair to ensure the food doesn’t get in her freshly washed hair.

“‘Samu, our daughter is the cutest!”

“But Mama is the prettiest! Right papa?”

You were surprised. When did she learn how to flatter her mother? You look up to your husband staring at you with a little grin.

“That’s right darling, our mommy is the prettiest.”

Despite her love for food, she chooses to savor the portion rather than inhaling it because you told her it will make her stomach ache. By the looks of the once warm rice, she might’ve started savoring it a little too long. You rest your head against your palms as you observe your daughter eat, continuing to obtain a fever with how cute she is.

There’s a running joke between you and her and that she’s your honey. This all happened because you often called Osamu ‘honey’ around the house and she would see him melt, every time. You smile to yourself of the memory and muse,“Princess, whose honey are you?”

“Papa’s and Mama’s!”

Her tone was so enthusiastic, you smiled brightly until you heard a snicker from the other side and you lightly smacked Osamu on the chest with a huff and a frown.

“What was that for?”

“If you want to be her Honey then that’s fine too. Snickering because she said ‘Papa’ first and not ‘Mama’.. Hmph.”

Once your daughter finishes her meal, Osamu gets up to put the empty bowls and plates in the sink, preparing to wash them. After a couple paces from the table to the sink, he kisses your pout and your daughter covers her eyes with a squeal,

“Papa is kissing mommy!”

He chuckles and kisses her forehead as well.

“If I didn’t kiss her soon, I would be sleeping on the couch tonight. And then Mama wouldn’t call me honey ever again.”

The little one gasps. She leans over to kiss you on the cheek. Your sweet, sweet daughter, always so thoughtful and always wants to let you know how much she loves you.

“Then I’ll kiss her so I can still be her honey too!”

author’s note: hello osamu brainworms and girl dad osamu @_@ this was kinda based off a conversation i witnessed but it all happened in a foreign language so I apologize if it doesn’t make super sense.. m trying to discover what writing layout works best with me rn and also please be my mutual I don’t bite I promise!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Neverland

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18

Prompt: Vacation

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Cruise ship; Musician Eddie; Kids' entertainer Steve; Steve in a dress; Homophobic language; Sexual tension; Eddie being a horny disaster

Notes: Based on this brainworm. Artwork of Steve and Robin in their costumes, done by the incredible @arelliann this way.

“Hey, aren’t you on the band?” 

Eddie stops his beeline for the staff room, stuffing the hand that was just about to rip off the bowtie back into his pocket, and turns to face the couple that has strolled up to him. 

“Yeah?” he offers. 

“I knew it,” the woman smiles. “You play the guitar, right?”

“Um, yes,” Eddie says, unable to help the proud upturn of his mouth. “Glad you liked it.” 

The stuff they’re having him play is horrible, but at least he made an impression. It only goes to show how a skilled musician can turn even the most atrocious pieces into- 

“Oh, we didn’t,” says the guy conversationally. “We thought it was horrible.” 

Eddie gapes at them. They look back, like they’re honestly expecting him to reply anything that isn’t fuck you, you rich, entitled assholes. Maybe that’s what he should say. What are they gonna do, keelhaul him?

Except Wayne was so eager for him to take this gig. Two weeks on the board band of the MS Neverland, the Harrington Line's newest, shiniest, luxury cruise ship. He was so hopeful that this might be something Eddie would enjoy, and Eddie thought why the hell not? It sounded like an easy time, a paid vacation doing what he loved most. 

Except it isn't. The jazz music is making his skin crawl, the passengers are a bunch of stuck-up snobs, and the green suit jacket and matching bowtie make him look like some kind of demented leprechaun. 

But he can’t come crawling back home to confess that it didn’t work out.

“Erm,” he says. “Okay. Sorry, I guess.” 

Then, he books it for the staff room, stomach twisting and face burning.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he slips inside, slumping against the door and hiding his face in his hands. “This is so humiliating.” 

“Yeah,” says a voice. “Tell me about it.” 

Eddie lowers his hands.

There's a guy on the ratty couch at the other side of the room. A guy in sheer tights, glittering tulle wings and a dangerously short green dress. 

Eddie almost swallows his own tongue. 

“Hey,” says the guy, shucking off his slippers. There's little fluffy poufs on them. “I've seen you before. You're in the band, right?” 

“Hrrrgh,” Eddie says. The apparition tilts its head. Eddie pretends to clear his throat and tries again. “Yeah. I'm the guitar. I mean play. I play guitar. I've seen you, too.” 

In fact, seen may be too tame a word for what he's been doing. Ogle the way the skirt rides up his thighs until his eyes almost popped out of their sockets is more like it. It's kind of hard not to, he guesses. He's caught several passengers of various genders and ages do the same.

One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “Oh yeah?” 

Eddie nods.

“You're the … erm … kids’ entertainer. The fairy- no, shit, that sounds wrong. The … Tinker- … Tinkerdude.” 

The guy throws back his head and laughs. His throat looks impossibly long in the low-necked dress. 

“Oh my God, that's a new one. I love it.”

“What, really?” Eddie asks, chest fluttering with irrational pride. “I mean … you do?” 

Tinkerdude nods. Then, suddenly, something seems to occur to him. 

“Oh, do you mind?” he says, standing from the couch. “This thing is a bitch to get off.” 

Eddie is about to ask what he means, but then Tinkerdude gestures at something on the back of the dress, something half hidden between the wings, and … oh. Oh, fuck, Eddie’s in so much trouble. 

“Um, sure,” is what he says. Luckily, Tinkerdude has already turned his back, so he doesn’t see how Eddie’s legs wobble as he bridges the few steps between them. 

“So, why the dress?” he asks, just to say anything while his clammy hands struggle with the rickety zipper. “Wasn't there, like, a Peter Pan costume?” 

Tinkerdude chuckles. “There was, but I gave it to Robin. She was threatening to jump off board if she had to wear this, and I couldn't risk that. And besides, I make a great fairy. My dad calls me one all the time. Thanks, I got it from here.” 

The dress falls open, revealing broad, muscled shoulders, and inches upon inches of suntanned skin. It's riddled in moles. Small ones, large ones, some light and some so dark they look almost black, scattered all over the guy's back, all the way down to the dip of his spine and the curve of his-

Eddie reels backwards, trips over the slippers and just barely manages to turn his fall into a clumsy collapse into the sofa. It groans. Or maybe that was him. 

Tinkerdude, luckily, doesn’t notice. He's too busy shimmying into the jeans he's just pulled from the rucksack by the couch - all without taking off the tights, mind you, and how the fuck is Eddie supposed to live with the knowledge of what's under that skintight denim?

“What's your name?” 

Eddie jerks his eyes up. Tinkerdude, who has paused with his shirt in his hands, is looking at him with a quizzical expression and Eddie can't help but wonder if he's asked him that before. His chest has moles, too. So do his stomach and hips. The dress is bunched around his middle like a sparkly green miniskirt. The fact that the wings seem to be spouting from his butt does, unfairly, not diminish his hotness. 

“I, erm … Eddie,” Eddie croaks. Tinkerdude smiles and shrugs into his shirt. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” he says. “I'm Steve.”

He lets the dress drop to the ground, carelessly stuffing it inside his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Looking forward to hearing you play again,” he calls as he breezes out. “I think you're really good.” 

Then he's gone and Eddie’s left alone in the staff room, trying to recover from whatever it was that just happened. 

Neverland just got one helluva lot more interesting. 

More holiday drabbles

[cupcakeslushie]

Hey guys! Just wanted to give a life update. I’m trying to plan with a friend to do a local market on March 9th, so things might be a little slow for a while. And I also discovered I have to move in a couple months, so now I’ve gotta go apartment hunting. I am not too happy about this fact :/ lol

I was hoping to get a lot of drawing done during the previously mentioned 3 day, at home EEG, which I had to do this week, but it ended up being a lot more….distracting and cumbersome, than I’d thought, and sadly I didn’t get much accomplished. (Basically for four days it felt like fire ants were living on my head and it was insanely hard to concentrate. And I could only get up, and be disconnected from the bundle of wires for like 20 min at a time)

Febuwhump has taken a big backseat. I might put out a few more pieces before the end, but I’ve got a lot on my plate with this market so I’m not stressing about it anymore. So if you don’t see me posting at my usual level during the next two weeks please don’t panic! I haven’t “left” or “abandoned” the fandom or anything. Im still plotting out the next updates for EW, Feral Leo, and Brainworm Donnie.

Also if you’ve sent me anything for the TMNT AU competition, please know I’ve seen it, and would love to reply but it may be awhile. We might have to eventually do a bunch in big batches, but I love everything I’ve been sent! And please don’t feel like this is me saying I don’t want you to send me stuff, just be aware I might not get to it immediately!

I’m not gonna be disappearing completely during this time, but I think I’ll only be able to post little sketches and smaller scale stuff for a few weeks. Bigger updates will have to wait, and be worked on when I’m done with the market.

So that’s the skinny, for now!

💚💚💚

[yujateaandpi]

Hi! Internet stranger here!

Thank you so much for making this gravity falls comic. I've been having a rough couple of weeks, and seeing a new page has been uploaded every few days has really been what's keeping me going.

I have no idea how you're churning out these pages so fast! We readers love the timeliness, but we also want you to make sure you're not straining yourself, remember to take breaks and drink plenty of water :)

Thanks for the awesome creations and a comfort read <3

Sending you a sibling hug! I'm sorry to hear that you've been having some rough patches. It's gnarly out there, and the world is sometimes too hard on us. I'm grateful to hear that my sad story's been cheering you up, haha! Please take care of yourself and I hope life makes a sunshiny comeback for you soon.

LOL tbh I'm zooming through now because in about a year (IF ALL GOES WELL I REPEAT IF ALL GOES WELL) I will be venturing into Doctor School, where Free Time is an extinct species. After that is Residency, then Real Doctoring, then Life I suppose! I actually do not know if I will ever have the time to do a project on this scale again (maybe not until I'm old and retired hahaha), so I'm trying to cherish these particular fandom brainworms and create as much as I can humanly make now. I'm in a rare pocket of time in the application process where all my stuff is in The Void awaiting judgement (also called PLEASE TAKE ME Purgatory). So while I have some downtime (between like. A gazillion other passion projects) I am churning like an Amish butter maiden. Hey, if this blessed site is still up in thirty years, maybe I'll make a sequel LOL!

[covenofagatha]

miss covenofagatha i literally disintegrated because that chapter was so good??? oh my god im so excited for the rest of this fic my gosh.

also, this [https://www.tumblr.com/lotsofmilfs/776522844535504896/how-many-secrets-can-you-keep?source=share] made me think of you, lol. i think I've attributed professor!agatha smut to you automatically 😭

---

regardless, due to my sort of flunked exam, here is an absolutely filthy mini brainworm for you:

(g!p daddy agatha, somno, pervert!reader kind of, masturbation, cock and cum sniffing, underwear huffing, degradation)

thinking about coming home late after a stressful day at work, where agatha's asleep already, but you're worked up and need relief. you're already wet just thinking about her, and you realise with delight that she's thinking about you too, if the soft grunts and trembling of her hips is any indication. you squeeze your thighs together as you watch her fidget in her sleep, and you can't help but notice the growing precum stain in her boxers.

it's not your fault, really, that you start to strip and position your already leaking cunt over her face as you not so subtly bury your nose into the very stain. agatha jerks at the sudden weight but doesn't stir, and you take it as a signal to inhale, and the scent of her precum already drives you mad. which really makes you wonder, how will you react to her cum?

"oh fuck, daddy," you whimper, movements stuttering against her face, as you lower the waistband of her underwear to nose the crook of her cock. groaning at the smell of her musk, you unceremoniously graze your clothed cunt against agatha's parted mouth, and she seems to react instinctively, even in her sleep, because agatha bucks her hips and sends her wet cock slapping against your face, which in turn drives you to grind your cunt against her, and the cycle continues.

"daddy, fuck," you whine needlessly, humps getting more erratic as you pant against the crook between her balls and her cock, breathing in her musk greedily. she's not faring much better, and you're genuinely surprised she hasn't woken up yet, but the cock throbbing against your face tells you she's enjoying herself in some way.

when she cums, her eyes fly open, and the sight of your glistening cunt, the sounds of you sniffing coupled with the puffs of air hitting around the globs of cum in her boxers sends another load out of her. there's no holding you back when you move to sniff at the slit of her cock, and she borderline growls at the sight.

"fuck, baby, you're so fucking cockdrunk, hm? all cumdrunk too? so dirty, darling," she mumbles, reaching down to pull your hair. agatha's hands guide you, pushing you deeper into her skin, and your moan rumbles against her as she begins to rut her cock against your cheek. "you got so wet sniffing daddy's cock, hm? you like the smell of daddy's cum, baby? god, you're so fucking pathetic."

the words send you over the edge, and you can't find it in you to rebuke her -- because she's right.

---

i hope you like your sort-of reward, hehe! keep up the great work and do take care dear 💜

-lots of love, worm anon

Ahh I'm so excited too! Genuinely can't wait to write more. And YES I read that and it was SO good I love prof!Agatha and I think we need more of her

Sorry about the exam but FUCK that's a good one thank you so much for sharing I always appreciate your brainworms because god you say what we're all thinking about

Hope you're doing well! Lots of love too 😘

[misakiiis]

Usamisa & Takaritsu Omegaverse Headcanons!

Inspired by recent conversations... ty for the brainworms guys lol

Usamisa:

Misaki is nervous to spend his heat with Usagi and INSISTS on spending the first one living together alone, but he ends up giving into his instincts by day 2 (mostly because he can smell Usagi down the hall and it drives him crazy)

Misaki probably didn't learn how to make a nest as a kid since his parents passed away when he was so young, and (in my headcanon) Takahiro is a beta. Usagi doesn't really know how to make one either so they learn together :) His nest would mostly consist of Usagi's bedding and both of their clothing, as well as some teddy bears. He would build it in Usagi's bed, of course, since he sleeps there every night, anyways

Usagi loves spoiling and pampering Misaki already, but when he starts pre-heat his instincts go WILD. He helps Misaki make his nest and tries his best to cook for him (which of course doesn't go well so he just gets food delivered, instead). Regardless, his sole focus is making sure Misaki is comfortable. Of course, Misaki is somewhat resistant to the attention, but his instincts DESPERATELY crave it

Misaki is very clingy in heat, but super shy about it. He's a lot more agreeable, though. Usagi likes to bully him a little, but he'll also give him anything he wants without question

When Misaki starts working at Marukawa (particularly after the whole Ijuuin fiasco), Usagi starts making him wear-scent marked clothing to show that he's taken. Misaki secretly loves smelling like his alpha all the time

They officially become mates after Misaki talks to Takahiro about their relationship

I think Misaki would (eventually) want kids. Usagi would be hesitant since he doesn't think he'd be a good father, but on the the other hand... he loves the thought of pregnant Misaki. Their kid would certainly be spoiled rotten

Takaritsu:

Ritsu is ALSO clingy in heat but soooo much more annoying about it (he tries to deny it but Takano just ignores him). I think if his heat gets strong enough, he might revert back to his high school self a little. Maybe accidentally call Takano "Senpai" again

Takano somehow gets even more possessive when Ritsu is in heat, especially if he's also in rut. He'll be glued to Ritsu's side when he first senses pre-heat coming on

No matter how much Ritsu complains (which is a lot; he's a bit whiny and needy in heat), he LOVES when Takano scent marks things for his nest. He also loves just seeing Takano in his nest in general

Takano would probably scent mark things (like clothing and whatnot) and give them to Ritsu constantly before they get together as a form of courting. Ritsu begrudgingly accepts these gifts

Ritsu's family still expects him to take over the company, though maybe there's a little bit more tension in terms of him being an omega (due to prejudice)

Maybe Ritsu's family would actually be okay with their relationship, since Takano is a capable, well-respected alpha in the publishing sphere

They would have so many pregnancy scares it's not even funny

Ritsu would have to wear a collar in heat to protect his neck from being bitten because NEITHER of them trust Takano not to claim him. They only become official mates after they get together

Feel free to share your headcanons (for any couple), too!<3

[goosewriting]

Across the Galaxy and Beyond

summary: some time after the Mantis crew split apart, Cal has an unexpected reunion with reader on Koboh

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Jedi Survivor, vague-ish mention of events from the Battle Scars book but i don't think it counts as a spoiler, hurt & comfort, flashbacks, kissing

word count: 8.9k 👀💧 ...i am unwell about this man what can i say

A/N: started writing this when i first started jedi survivor, and finally got around to finishing it now that i finished reading battle scars and the cal kestis brainworms are attacking me again. story doesn't follow the game exactly. also this could be read as a separate story from my wherever you go, i go trilogy, but i like to think it's the same reader and timeline lol so go read that if you haven't c:

Navigation: Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 (wip)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — Part 1: Just like old times

After Cal's escape from Coruscant, the Mantis was pretty shredded. The main problem was the gyro, but upon entering Koboh's atmosphere, all systems started failing and the Jedi had to make an emergency landing somewhere on some cliffs. 

It took a lot of climbing and wall-jumping and fighting the aggressive local fauna, but after a couple of hours, Cal and BD finally made it to the outpost where Greez' cantina was located. On the way there he also encountered bandits who called themselves the Bedlam Raiders, as well as old Separatists battleships and battle droids, of all things. Just what has Greez got himself into?, Cal thinks to himself after saving a local from Rayvis, the leader of the Raiders, and outing himself as a Jedi in the process.

When Cal and BD finally enter Pyloon's Saloon, they meet with Greez. Since the Raiders have just been at the saloon (and the place doesn't look all too inviting either), there are no customers, so Cal and Greez catch up at the bar. The Latero is extremely happy to see the boy and his droid in one piece after all this time. Over a drink, the redhead tells him about the last job on Coruscant gone wrong, how only two of them made it out. He expresses his frustration, how the Empire is only growing stronger and everything he does feels pointless. Things haven't been easy since the Mantis crew split up. 

After catching up a little, Greez tells Cal that he has some spare parts and will take care of the ship. He'll send someone to bring the ship to the landing dock behind the saloon. In the meantime, he should take a breather and explore the outpost. Cal doesn't like feeling like he's wasting time, but with the state the Mantis is in, there really isn't much else he can do. 

The Latero shows him the room in the basement, telling Cal he can stay as long as he needs. Greez wasn't kidding when he said he had a room just for Cal: there was a meditation area in the middle of the round room, and even his old clothes and some unfinished tech projects were all stashed away in a big chest. 

They both sit down on the edge of the bed, and it doesn't take long for the conversation to take a direction Cal doesn't like. Not because what Greez is saying is wrong; on the contrary, he's probably right, but the redhead doesn't want to hear it. Not right now. Greez, in a genuinely concerned tone, goes on about how the game is rigged and Cal should walk away while he can, maybe even settle down somewhere. Cal lashes out for a moment, claiming someone has to keep fighting.

— — —

You approach the stable in the outpost riding on your nekko, humming a happy tune to yourself. You're lost in thought, letting your trusty mount walk the last stretch to the stalls by himself, as he knew the way. Once you reach the structure, you get off and start putting away your haul; you just came from a successful hunt. You'd skin and prepare everything later though, so you pack the preys away in special boxes where everything would be preserved for a couple of days. 

“Hello master,” a robotic yet chirpy voice greets you. 

You turn around with a smile, facing the Separatist battle droid you had found and reprogrammed to help you out at the stable.

“Hey there, Connor,” you greet back. You've told him several times not to call you that, but he insisted, saying you saved him and now his purpose was to serve you. You take a moment to inspect his blue and black markings that have started chipping more noticeably; maybe it's time for a new paint job.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” you ask, taking the saddle off your nekko and placing it onto the designated wooden beam. 

“Yes, in fact,” Connor replies, placing new food and clean water in the trough. “There's a ship on the landing pad behind the saloon that I've never seen before.”

“Is that so? What kinda ship?” 

“A modified S-161 Stinger, and it's pretty busted up. I'm surprised it even made it this far.”

You stop in your tracks, your grip tightening around the halter you just took off the nekko, which is now happily munching away on its fresh feed.

“Interesting,” you remark, putting the rest of the equipment away and turning around to face the droid. Since you spent most of the day down in some caves, you didn't see or hear anything. “Do you know who was on board?”

“I didn't see who came off the ship, but I overheard some prospectors talk about a newcomer that went one on one with Rayvis,” Connor comments, then leans in closer to you, looking around as if to make sure no one would be listening in on your conversations, when it's clearly just the two of you at the stable. “I also heard Turgle mentioning a Jedi being seen around here.”

“Huh,” is all you manage to say, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. There was no way he was here, right? After all this time? As far as you know, he doesn't even know you're here. So if it is him, he isn't here to see you, but Greez instead. It's probably because of the Mantis; Cal is in need of repairs. This thought immediately replaces the initial anticipation with a strange, cold feeling. 

“Can you believe it?” Connor goes on. “I've never even seen a Jedi. I would love to meet them.”

You take a long look at the droid, remembering the state you had found him in. He had never been in the war, actually. He spent several years in an abandoned Separatist camp, never even getting to be activated. So he only knew his programming: serve the Separatists, fight the clones and kill the Jedi. Yet he had never lived any of it. Reprogramming him had been easy in that regard, as his memory banks were mostly blank. Back then you were looking for a droid companion to help you out at the stables, and even though you know what battle droids mean to the Jedi, you can't help but think that they are kinda cute. The B1 models, at least. The B2 series and commandos are pretty scary. 

So you gave your new friend a name (you couldn't decide between Hank and Connor, but decided to go with the latter as it somehow suited his demeanour better) and a new purpose in life, and he seems content with that. The only fighting program you left in him is for defending the stable and nekkos. First and foremost it is his mission that they are not harmed. You also ordered him not to leave the outpost, for his own safety. You don't want the raiders to find him and get access to his memory bank. They would use the information against all of you at the outpost, and either scrap him or reprogram him to join the raiders. Once they were dealt with, however, you promised Connor you would take him around Koboh first, then show him the galaxy. 

“I'm going to the saloon,” you announce. “Can you take care of the rest?” 

“Roger roger!” Connor replies with a salute, getting to work. 

You find yourself smoothing out your clothes and hair as you make the short trip to the saloon. When you reach the bar you're met with Monk, the witty bartender droid. He greets you with a happy tone and some strange phrase that you don't entirely understand, as he always does. You ask for Greez, and he points towards the door to the side, saying he's in the basement with some old friend of his that just dropped by.

With a gulp and a forced smile, you thank him and head down the stairs. The urge to turn on your heel and run away grows with every step. As you're about to reach the door, you hear voices coming from the other side.

“-to be something more than a lightsaber.” That's Greez, you think. He sounds… sad? “Think of yourself. Settle down, find a home.”

“What home, Greez?” You swear your heart actually stops beating and accelerates at the same time when you hear the voice, his voice. “There is no home. Home was the Order. It was my teacher.”

You've stopped a couple steps away from the door so it wouldn't open and have you interrupt the conversation, but you involuntarily lean forward to hear better what Cal says next.

“It was everyone I lost… Home was the Mantis with you, Cere, Merrin, and–”

The automatic door whooshes open and Cal and Greez turn their heads towards you as they stand up from the bed they were sitting on. 

“I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sheepishly state after a moment of uncomfortable silence from everyone, approaching him but staying at a distance. “Hey, Cal. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he retorts, and you can't really read the tone of his voice. 

You look each other up and down, taking in how different you both look since… Since the last time you saw each other. Since you split up. 

A thousand thoughts go through your head, and a thousand different feelings resurface, making your heart tighten in your chest, like there isn't enough space for everything it's trying to process.

Greez can't take the tension anymore, so he clears his throat loudly.

“Lemme show you something, Cal,” the Latero says as he walks towards a panel on the far side of the room. He presses a couple of buttons and a section of the wall slides open with a creak, revealing a path behind it. “This is an old smuggler's tunnel, you'll find spare parts in there. Just… be careful, I have a pest problem.”

With that, Greez walks by both of you, giving your arm an encouraging pat, before leaving the room. It's just you and Cal now.

“Spare parts?” you ask, trying to make some conversation. “For the Mantis, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Cal replies, looking at the tunnel entrance but not moving from where he stands. “Gyro's fried.”

You two stand there in silence, and you want to smack yourself in the face. You feel like an awkward 12-year-old all over again, not knowing how to talk to your cr– You stop your train of thought before you dare finish that sentence and potentially embarrass yourself further. The heat on your cheeks that refuses to leave your face since you've laid eyes on the Jedi can't possibly have gone unnoticed by him.

“You know, Greez has had this room set up for you for quite a while,” you tell Cal, shooting him a quick smile. “So I take it you'll be staying for a while, right? The Mantis isn't going anywhere.”

Cal shrugs and shoots you a quick, unsure glance, then casts his eyes back down, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I was just about to head out,” you lie. Your plan for the evening was to have a drink at the bar and unwind, but him being here changes everything. “You could join me and I'll show you around if you'd like…”

Cal looks at the tunnel again, weighing the options in his mind. One is going down there to fix the Mantis as soon as possible, then taking off to who knows where. The other… you're not so sure. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're too scared to ask.

“Sure, why not,” he finally agrees with a sigh and starts walking towards the door that directly leads outside from the basement, but you feel like something, or rather someone, is missing. You look around the room, scanning your surroundings for a certain droid, then turn back to Cal.

“W-Where's BD?” you ask, fearing the worst. You'd really hate it if something happened to him.

“Oh, he wandered off somewhere earlier,” Cal says and you release a breath of relief. After calling for him, the little droid comes hopping down the stairs and into the room.

“BD!” you greet the little companion, and he excitedly beeps at your reunion. He comes running towards you and you pick him up in a hug.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” you spin him around a couple of times, then set him back down onto the floor. “I have a droid of my own now, but you're still the cutest. Don't tell him, though,” you add with a wink. 

“You have a droid?” Cal asks as BD climbs onto his back and you all make your way out.

“Yeah, he helps me out at the stable,” you explain, pointing at the building as you reach the end of the stairs. The stable is practically behind the saloon. From these stairs it's a very short trek to reach the paddocks.

“Those are nekkos, right?” Cal questions, approaching the fence and looking at the two animals chilling in the sun. “I met Mosey earlier. She said she worked at the stable,” he turns around to look at you. “But she didn't mention you.”

You're about to retort by saying she couldn't have possibly known that you two knew each other, but you're interrupted by a chirpy voice.

“Master! You're back already?” 

At the sound of the familiar robotic voice, Cal instinctively draws his lightsaber, and turns towards the side entrance to the stable. You hurry to get between your droid and the Jedi; you don't want to see Connor get sliced today. Not by him. Said droid peeks out from behind the archway, and BD beeps repeatedly, alarmed. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, holding your hands up into the air defensively. “That's my droid!” 

“Your- Your droid?” Cal repeats, clearly confused. He puts away his weapon nonetheless.

“He's reprogrammed, and he's never even been in the war,” you explain, walking backwards as Cal starts approaching the stable to inspect the battle droid further, with you still between them. “He was never even activated. He's good, I promise!” 

“Master, who's this?” Connor asks, walking back into the stable to make room for Cal and you. “Is he bothering you?” The droid activates the blaster you had built into one of his arms, and Cal's hand goes to the hilt of his sabre again, while BD beeps in exasperation. 

“No, stand down!” you order, and the blaster immediately turns off with a whirr. “Will everyone please calm down?”

Still standing between Cal and the battle droid, you let out a huff, looking from one to the other. 

“Cal, BD; this is Connor, my droid,” you start introducing them. “My good and reprogrammed droid, whose mission is to protect the stable and the nekkos, nothing more.”

Cal seems unimpressed, still looking at Connor with narrowed eyes. You turn to the droid.

“Connor; these are Cal and BD,” you start. “And you know what? Cal here–” You look at Connor with raised brows and lower your voice. “–is a Jedi.”

Connor brings his hands up to where his mouth would be, gasping in surprise. 

“You- You are?” he asks, quickly going around you to take Cal's hand and shaking it vigorously. “It's such an honour! I've always wanted to meet a Jedi!”

“So you could get up all close and stab me in the back?” Cal retorts, his voice laced with uncharacteristic venom, and pulls his hand from the droid's grasp.

“What? No, I–” Connor starts but you push him to the side a bit.

“It's okay, Connor. He'll warm up to you, eventually,” you comfort him. “Please go get the nekkos ready for us?” 

You've never heard a sadder 'roger roger' in your life and it sends a sting of pain through your chest. 

While the droid goes to prepare your mounts, you turn around to Cal and frown at him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“Why would you say something like that? He's genuinely excited to meet you,” you explain. “When was the last time someone was actually happy to see a Jedi, hm?”

“Not a battle droid, that's for sure,” Cal retorts with a huff. 

You look up at him for a moment, holding his rather cold gaze. You wonder just what happened these past few years that had him like this. Sure, you understand why he isn't a fan of battle droids. Normally you aren't either. But there's just something about Cal that's… different. He looks older, but it might just be the beard. He also looks more tired, carries himself differently. With confidence like he always did, but also in a “don't mess with me” way that wasn't there before. Gone is the spark in his eyes, that glimmer of optimism and hope, replaced by the promise of not holding back if anyone were to cross him. 

For several moments, you just look at each other, and you're sure he's analysing you just as you are him, and you wonder what is going through his head. 

“The nekkos are ready,” Connor announces, leading both of them out of their respective stalls by the reins. 

You allow the animals to sniff Cal and inspect him, while you give a short explanation on how to ride and guide them. Cal's mount is white with a dark face and legs, while yours is a dark purple and brown. After thanking Connor and waving him goodbye, you both hop onto the saddle and head out of the outpost. You know your way around, taking a route that would keep you hidden from the patrols, both the imperial ones as well as the raiders. You'd much rather deal with the local fauna. And you do come across a couple of rawkas at the river, and a pack of gorgers when heading further up the Southern Reach. But you two make quick work of them.

In fact, Cal has grown stronger, and not only that, but he also has a new array of weapons it seems; now he double-wields his lightsabers, and he also has a blaster, which completely takes you by surprise. 

Once you reach the base of the big silo, you get off your nekkos and climb the rest by foot, getting on top of the structure and sitting at the edge. It's not a super well-hidden spot; if the patrols under you decide to look up they would definitely see you, but it's a good vantage point to show Cal the different places. You point towards the landmarks, explaining them to him so he can orient himself and navigate beyond the outpost. You tell him about the caverns, the mines, to look out for different patrols and what areas to avoid; be it because of the raiders, like fort Kha'lin, or because of bigger fauna like bilemaws, goroccos and mogus. Especially mogus. They are fierce.

Once you're done with your explanation, you lean back onto your hands with a sigh. Cal attentively listened to everything, but he doesn't seem interested in keeping the conversation going, as he hasn't said anything.

He's looking out, scanning this corner of Koboh as far as he could see from here, taking in the view and probably trying to commit to memory everything you've said. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, your gaze falling onto the holster on his hip.

“So,” you try starting the conversation again. “You now double-wield and you have a blaster. Which, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for a Jedi, no?”

“A lot has changed, I guess,” is all you get out of him.

“Do you have any other new tricks?” you ask, and the memory of him re-discovering his Master's lessons after his escape from Bracca comes back to you, making you smile fondly to yourself for a moment. 

“Hmm,” Cal thinks aloud, also leaning back and finally tearing his eyes from the landscape to look at you. “There aren't any new Force-tricks, if that's what you mean. But I do have this.”

He brings one of his arms up, showing you the contraption on his brace.

“Grappling hook. Comes in pretty handy,” he explains, showing you some of the mechanisms. Your hands reach up to gently hold his wrist, so you can inspect the device better, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the contact. At that moment, you realise that's the first physical interaction you've had since he arrived, and you quickly let go. 

“We should head back,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your legs. “It will get dark soon, plus you must be hungry. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Cal replies, getting up to his feet as well, and BD beeps in agreement.

Cal climbs down the silo first, while you scan the area one last time for any patrols. When it's your turn, just as you're almost at the base of the rather unstable ladder, your foot slips and you lose your balance. You hold onto the next best thing, which happens to be Cal. Seeing you're about to fall, his arm reaches around you and he pulls you towards him while with the other hand he tightly holds onto the railing that goes along the walls of the structure. 

“You okay?” he asks, and when you look up at him this time, you're finally met with a pair of eyes that you recognise. There's concern in his gaze but also a certain warmth, amused at how you were a fierce warrior yet managed to be clumsy in small things like these. He found it cute, which you knew for a fact because he would tell you often, back then…

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, separating yourself from him now that you're back safe on the ground. Feeling the heat spreading on your face, you can't help a sheepish smile. “Guess some things never change, heh.”

“Guess not,” Cal says with a small smile of his own, and your chest tightens at the sight. 

The ride back to the Outpost is silent, and you wonder if his body is also reacting as strongly as yours; ever since slipping, your skin feels like it's tingling, and your heart hasn't calmed down in the slightest. 

Once you're back at the stable and the nekkos have been taken care of, Connor mentions that Greez left some food for you, and hands you several small containers wrapped with a cloth. 

“You wanna eat at my place?” you find yourself asking Cal, who's scratching behind the nekko's ear. He turns around to you with raised eyebrows in what you assume to be a surprised expression, but he's quick to relax his face back to normal. 

“I have a room behind Doma's shop,” you explain, holding up the food in your hands and you gesture to it with your chin. “And Greez knows this is far too much food for myself.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cal replies, calling BD back to him, who was scanning some stable equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

Cal takes the food off your hands, and you say your goodbyes to Connor, who stays at the stable. It's a quick trip past the saloon's entrance into Doma's shop. She's behind the counter organising some of her merchandise, and returns your “hello” from afar without looking. Only when she hears Cal's greeting does she turn around. She shoots you a look and you know exactly what she means, heat prickling again at your cheeks. You give a curt shake of your head, quickening the pace to evade Doma's questioning, heading for the door at the back that leads to the place you have been calling home for the last year. 

It isn't much, but it makes do: one big room, that's both kitchen and a living space, with two doors at the far side that lead to a small bedroom and the refresher. The main room is decorated, you like to think it's warm, cosy and inviting. You even managed to thrift an old couch somewhere, refurbished it yourself, and it now essentially serves as the centrepiece of the room. There are several rugs on the floor, as well as piles of pelts and leather in the corner that you still have to finish working on so you could sell them. These days that's your main source of income.

Cal stands at the door for a moment, taking everything in, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. The space is clean, but the fact that you can't read his face makes you a little nervous. To distract yourself, you take the food from him, bringing it to the kitchen counter.

“I think the food is still warm,” you say as you start opening the containers, the delicious smell filling both your noses. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Cal and you make quick work of getting everything plated and grabbing some drinks, then sitting down in front of each other at the wooden table to eat. You make some light conversation between bites, catching each other up on what has been going on in your lives recently. He tells you about some of the missions he's been on ever since the Mantis crew split up, and you tell him of your own solo adventures before you came to Koboh. 

When the plates are empty, your bellies full, and the conversation is about to die down, you ask if you can check out Cal's lightsabre. He unclips it from his belt to hand it to you, and you catch yourself being relieved at the fact he still trusts you enough to just give his sacred weapon to you without further inquiry. 

He's changed some parts and the materials, and you hold the device in your hands with the utmost care, admiring the beautiful design and intricate markings on the wooden accents. Rather suddenly, a feeling of regret and shame spreads out in your chest, thinking about how not only this sabre but also Cal himself went through so many changes, and you hadn't been there for any of it. There's so much you want to tell him, about how sad you are that you weren't there for him, about how sorry you are with the way you left, about how you've been thinking of and missing him every single day. But telling him that wouldn't be fair. You have no right to be selfish like that.

“So what exactly happened that got the Mantis in such a state?” you decide to ask instead, reaching the lightsabre over the table to give it back. Cal takes it with a deep sigh, putting it back to his belt, feeling immediately comforted by its familiar weight. 

“A job on Coruscant that went… wrong,” he starts, telling you how his team was gathering intel for Saw Guerrera, and it had all worked out until the very last moment, where everything went wrong, and he lost his whole crew in an instant. Only him and another person made it out of there. In fact, one of his crew members saved his life by pushing him out of the way and taking the blaster shot herself instead. 

You listen intently, and your heart grows heavier by the second; you can hear the frustration in his voice, the voice of a man who's this close to giving up entirely, because he's just so tired, but he can't. He won't. You know Cal took it upon himself to fight the Empire by himself if he has to. A trait you genuinely admire but also despise. After all, that was one of the reasons you left.

Then he mentions the Ninth Sister, and your attention is fully back to what he's saying. 

“I tried to get through to her, I really did,” Cal says, his voice cracking for a second. “But she wouldn't let up. I had no choice.”

“Did you…?” you ask carefully.

“I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly, but you can tell it's been eating away at him.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you offer, reaching across the table and placing your hand on his. “That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

He doesn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on his half empty cup instead, watching the drops of condensation slowly fall along the outside of the glass onto the table, staining the wood. But he doesn't pull away either, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look exhausted,” you finally tell him, and he lets out a breath through his nose, as if saying 'you have no idea'. You offer for him to take a shower here instead of at the saloon before heading back, telling him yours is nicer, to which he chuckles lightly, and he accepts. 

He insists you take a shower first while he takes care of the dishes, so you do just that. Once you're out, it's his turn. You hand him a towel and a change of clean clothes, and you can tell he wonders why you have them in his size, until he realises that they're actually his. It's an old shirt and lounge pants that you would always steal from him and had apparently taken with you. He doesn't comment on it though, instead he simply stares at the clothes in his hand for maybe a second too long, deep in thought. Then he blinks a couple of times, as if he just came back from zoning out, gives you a short 'thanks' and gets into the shower. 

While he cleans up, you take a seat on the couch, pulling up the novel you're currently reading on your holopad. Only now that you're sitting with your legs stretched out along the length of the cushions do you realise how tired you are, both physically and emotionally. Out of everything you could have thought would happen today, meeting Cal was certainly not on the list. Still, you can't deny that you're happy to see him. For starters, he's still alive. And you've missed him, much more than you care to admit to yourself. 

After reading the same sentence of your book over and over, failing to focus, you sigh and look at BD instead, who hops onto the coffee table and tilts his head at you with an inquiring beep. 

“Has he been taking care of himself?” you ask the droid, pointing over your shoulder in the direction of the refresher, where you can hear the water running.

BD lets out a sequence of beeps and boops, and you narrow your eyes at him for a moment. 'He keeps himself busy' he said. Is he dodging your question?

“Is that so,” you reply with a hum, and BD shoots the question right back at you. You're a bit surprised at his concern, and for a moment you consider opening up to the little droid, but you hear the water turn off, so you bring your attention back to your book again instead, trying your darndest to focus on what's happening in the story. The washroom door opens with a whoosh.

“Where should I put the towel?” Cal asks, still standing at the door frame. 

“Just put it in the hamper underneath the sink,” you reply over your shoulder, and in the corner of your eye you can see BD still looking at you, waiting for an answer. Then he tilts his head with an amused boop; he's got you all figured out. 

“Oh shush you,” you start scolding the little droid, but Cal appears, walking around the couch to sit down. Except that your legs are stretched across it, so you start lifting them off the cushions and intend to bend them at the knee to sit properly, but Cal gently grabs your ankles, lifting them off the couch to sit down, and places them over his lap instead. His hand comes to rest on your shin, and you can feel the warmth he irradiates seep through the fabric of your pants. 

“You looked comfy,” he points out, his hand gently rubbing up and down below your knee, while with his other hand he props up his head against the back of the couch. 

You swallow hard, unable to answer, and bring the datapad up to your face to hide behind it. Why is he being so nice suddenly? Is it because you aren't outside where others could see? Or is it because he realised he still has you wrapped around his finger so he's just teasing you? You're beyond confused at the sudden sign of affection after he's been so distant the whole day, like he hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. And to be quite honest, you deserve the cold treatment. After what you did, the way you left. 

Feeling the sting behind your eyes, knowing what's coming, you shrink further into yourself, holding the holopad even closer to your face to hide it from Cal's view. He can't see your expression from where he's sitting, so he gives a light chuckle, thinking you're just flustered. The sound feels like a dagger in your gut, and you unsuccessfully choke back sob.

Now Cal's face changes completely to one of concern, and he pushes the pad out of the way only to be met with your crying face. 

“Whoa, wait-“ Cal says, and he retrieves his hands, holding them both up in surrender. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought we-“

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you croak, crying freely now, as you let go of the device and it falls onto the floor with a 'clunk'. “I'm so sorry for everything, for what I did. For leaving you alone.” Your hands wipe away at your cheeks in a vain attempt to dry off the tears, but they just keep coming. 

After the crew split up, the Mantis felt unbearably empty. After the failed mission on Hosnian Prime, after saying goodbye to Fret and Irei, who had definitely changed the dynamics of the crew (you still weren't sure if it had been for better or worse), everything felt like it started falling apart. 

The first to leave was Merrin, saying she needed to recentre her fire and find herself again, to be able to draw all the power she now knew she was able to use. 

Then, it was Cere and Greez. The Latero trusted Cal and left his beloved ship in his hands, telling him to look after it until he'd be back. Except everyone knew that he didn't really intend to. The loss of his arm had hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and for Greez it had been the wake-up call needed to “leave the game while you can because it's been rigged since the start”, as he would often say. Cere on the other hand took off with new-found determination. Her and Cal's goals weren't all that different: the endgame was to defeat the Empire, one way or another. However, Cal believed in taking action now, while Cere had her sights set on the future, being able to help those who would come next, long after she and everyone else were gone. She wanted to build a legacy, as the 'Jedi's knowledge was far too valuable to be lost to time and circumstance. 

After everyone was gone, it was just Cal, BD and you. 

The Jedi had become irritable, like he had already convinced himself that you would leave him soon too, as did everyone, apparently. You reassured him to the best of your abilities that you believed in what he stood for and wanted to stay by his side. However, now that you didn't have a whole crew to count on, you had to be more careful than ever.

“We have to be smart about this!” you'd plead, seeing Cal running head-first into danger time and time again. 

When the nightmares became too much, you'd hold him tightly, kissing his tears away as he'd cry out for his master, Tapal.

“You were just a kid!” you had yelled at Cal one time, when what was supposed to be a quick run-down of the plan had become a big argument. “You act as if the whole universe is counting on you and only you to defeat the beast that is the Empire. Do you think that that's your destiny? As dictated by the Force? We've had our share of big, successful missions as a group. Now it's time to back down, Cal. We're just two people, what do you expect we'll achieve here? It's time to move on.”

Needless to say, those words had not calmed Cal down in the slightest. Now he felt just as betrayed by you as he did by the rest. More words were thrown at each other like daggers finally let free after being pushed back for far too long in an attempt to keep some level of normalcy between you two. But there was no going back. So you did what you told him as well: you moved on. That same evening, you packed your things and left. 

Your heart bled and tears kept streaking down your face with every heavy step you took away from the Mantis, but at the time, you didn't know what else to do. You'd never wanted to leave Cal, and you hated yourself for doing this to him and to yourself, but what you had going on was no way to live anymore. Maybe, hopefully, now that you were gone, he would understand that. 

You know it had been a horrible thing to do, especially like that. After years of telling him how you'd follow him to the end of the world. After telling him every day how much you loved him. After promising you'd be there for him. The worst part was that being away from him was far more painful than it was with him. He left a void in your heart that only he could fill. You meant to go looking for him many times, but were too scared. You didn't deserve to have him back. Not after what you did.

But now he's here.

Between cries, you apologise over and over again, saying how what you did wasn't fair, that you wished you had never left and worked it out instead, that you missed him so much it was hard to breathe. 

Cal doesn't answer immediately, and you force your somewhat blurry gaze up to meet his eyes, and you see he's starting to tear up himself. He leans forward, lifting you up and settling you sideways onto his lap, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hold him just as tightly, crying into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” The more you say it, the emptier it feels, but it's all you can manage for now, and you mean it. “I really am.”

“I know,” Cal says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I felt it. When you gave me the clothes earlier.”

You remember the countless nights you've cried yourself to sleep in the very clothes he's now wearing, the times when you missed him so much you felt like your heart would rip its way right out of your chest, muttering your regrets into your pillow, as if it could carry your apology and bring it to Cal somehow. You groan in embarrassment; you always forget that your stuff also carries imprints he can feel.

“I'm so lame,” you mumble and pull back to look at Cal, giving him a weak smile that quickly turns into a grimace again as a new wave of tears come rolling down your cheeks.

“No, you're not,” Cal reassures you, one hand cupping your face and wiping over your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch with a sniffle.

“I've missed you too,” he finally says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I'm sorry—” He kisses your cheek. “—for making you feel like you were less important than the missions.” A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I took you for granted.” His lips brush over yours. “Can we try again?”

You close the minimal gap and kiss him hard, like Cal was the air your lungs needed after being underwater for too long. He reciprocates just as intensely, pushing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. You run your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses along your jaw, and you giggle at how ticklish his beard feels against your skin; that's a new sensation you'd have to – no scratch that, want to – get used to. Your giggles turn into a low moan as he bites the spot over your collarbone, and when you turn your head to give him better access, you're met with BD still on the coffee table, now sitting comfortably, looking up at you two as if it was the most interesting spectacle in the world. 

A strangled sound of surprise and embarrassment comes from your throat and you push Cal away a bit by his shoulders, to which he raises his head and grumbles in annoyance for interrupting him.

“We have an audience,” you whine, hiding your face behind your hands, and Cal lets out an amused laugh. BD beeps matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean 'don't mind me'?!” You turn to the droid and you swear that if he had a face, he'd be wearing the cockiest of grins right now. 

“Some things really never change, huh,” Cal comments with an amused smile, thinking back to all the times you'd become flustered when you kissed in front of BD, saying it was inappropriate or something. If only you knew that Cal often did it on purpose because he loved seeing your cute, flustered face.

“Unlike this right here,” you point out and bring your hands to his face, stroking over his beard, enjoying the prickly sensation. “This is new.”

“Do you like it?” Cal asks genuinely.

“You know I like your scars,” you say, tracing over the one on his lower lip. “As long as they're not covered up, I think I can get used to it. It does look good on you.”

Cal smiles down at you tenderly and for a few moments, you simply enjoy each other's presence, taking each other in. Making sure that this is real and it's happening, that you're back again. Until you let out a hearty yawn. 

“Let's get to bed before we fall asleep on the couch,” you say, rubbing your face, but stop to look up at Cal, who seems very content with his current position and hasn't moved yet. “You are staying here tonight, right? I mean, if you want to, you don't have to. Greez has the whole room thing for you, so I understand if—“

Cal interrupts your rambling with a quick peck. 

“Yeah, I want to stay,” he assures you and finally stands up, helping you get off the couch. 

“Let's go, BD,” you tell the droid to join you as you take Cal's hand and guide them to the bedroom. 

You climb into bed, BD at your feet as he would always do on the Mantis, and Cal lifts the covers to get in as well but stops for a moment when he sees the holopicture on your night stand. In the small frame he recognises Greez, Cere, Merrin, Cal, BD and you in the cockpit, all grinning at the camera. Smiling to himself, he finally gets into bed, hugging you to him.

“I have the same picture of us on the Mantis,” he says after letting out a content sigh at finding a comfortable position. “Guess we still were connected somehow all this time.”

You hum in response, a bit surprised at the romantic implication, as if you were lovers who found comfort in looking at the same moon even though you were separated. But you like the idea nonetheless, and you agree. 

The warmth both on your skin and spreading in your heart makes quick work of carrying you off to dreamland though, so before you can even give a proper reply, you're fast asleep in Cal's arms.

— — —

The next morning, you wake up to BD's beeping. You groan, turning over to cuddle a little longer, except that the other side of your bed is empty. You blink away the sleepiness in your eyes, and pout at the lack of Jedi in your sheets. Your nose is quick to pick up the scent of freshly brewed caf however, and the grogginess is quickly forgotten as you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, where Cal is preparing breakfast. 

After a quick meal and lots of stolen kisses, Cal announces it's time to go check out Greez's smuggler tunnel to find that gyro. 

“Be careful,” is the last thing you tell him before he leaves. 

“Always,” he shoots back at you with a wink and takes off. You playfully roll your eyes at that, thinking back to the countless times on the Mantis you've had to patch him up after a mission inevitably went astray from the original plan.

While Cal is looking for parts for the Mantis, you go back to your own things, checking in on Connor and the nekkos at the stable, as well as preparing some pelts and sewing up your most recent leather project. 

Time goes by fast as you skilfully work the needle and thread through the thick material, finishing the piece after a couple of hours. Setting it aside, you stretch your arms and back with a satisfied grunt. You check to see if your comms are working; they are, but there's no new messages. Strange, you think, Cal sure is taking his time to find that gyro. Is he not back yet? 

Suddenly feeling uneasy by your own thoughts of how he might have got lost in the tunnels, or how he may have encountered trouble down there, you decide to go check with Greez yourself. 

You quickly make your way to the Saloon, going down the stairs that lead to the bar with such speed that when you reach the end and see someone standing there, you bump into them before you can stop yourself. 

“Whoa,” a deep voice exclaims at the impact, and you push yourself away from the man's back you just ran into. He turns around slightly towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn't see you there” you reply, regaining your composure and walking around him to get a better look. 

He's not super tall, but he has a strong and broad build. Although you already felt that when you bumped into him and it was like walking into a wall. You give him a quick up-and-down, trying to gauge if he's friend or foe, but you can't quite read him. He narrows his eyes at you ever so slightly, probably doing the same.

“A new face, how rare,” you start, walking over to the bar and leaning on it with one arm. Your other hand finds its way to your hip, where you realise there is no holster or weapon; you mentally reprimand yourself for leaving your staff at the stable. 

“Care for a drink?” asks Monk from behind you. 

“No, I'm looking for someone,” the man says. 

“Of course you are,” Monk replies with sarcasm. You give the bartender droid a nod; you'll take care of this. As he wheels back into the kitchen, you hear him mutter something about how his bar isn't a lost and found counter. Before the stranger can go on however, the doors at the back of the saloon whoosh open.

“Who's this?” asks Greez as he enters the main room.

“I was just about to ask him,” you reply, your eyes still trained on the man.

“I'm looking for Cal Kestis,” the man in question says instead, and your hand on the bar involuntarily curls into a fist.

“Who? Kal Restis?” Greez asks as he approaches him. “We don't know any Kales. Listen, if you're not gonna order something, get out of my saloon.”

“No, not Kale”, the man says, getting slightly exasperated as he repeats the name slower, and Greez keeps getting it wrong on purpose. 

Just as you're about to intervene and send the man away, the entrance doors open and in comes Cal, a soft smile of self-satisfaction on his face. 

“Cal!” The man greets the Jedi. You hear Greez mutter “Oh, this Cal Kestis” under his breath as they clearly recognise each other.  

“I found the gyro,” Cal announces first, throwing a small mechanical part to Greez, who's taken by surprise but still catches it. Then he turns to the intruder with a smile. “You made it!”

“Good to see you, Cal,” he replies, and the two share a friendly handshake.

“Greez Dritus, this is Bode Akuna,” Call starts introductions, telling this Bode your name as well. You merely give him a short nod in acknowledgment as Cal continues. “He was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have made it out alive without his help.”

Oh, that changes things. 

You leave your spot at the bar and drop your rather cold gaze to join the group. Coming to stand next to Cal, you take his hand, and try your best to give Bode a thankful smile. He returns it, quickly catching on. 

“Wait a minute. Another one?” Greez quips, looking behind Cal. You were so focused on Bode, that you hadn't even noticed the strange looking droid that came in with the redhead. “Cal, you have a very bad habit of picking up strays.”

“I am ZN-A4,” the droid introduces herself with an exaggerated bow. The design and material she’s made of is something you’ve never seen before. “Humble servant of the Jedi Order.”

What.

“Oh, I take it you haven't broken the news yet,” Bode says to Cal, who sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. 

Cal then brings everyone up to speed, telling you how when he was in the tunnels with BD, they stumbled upon this old chamber where the droid was stuck, so they freed her. Turns out she's a droid that belonged to a Jedi from the High Republic, of all things. Her master, Sandari, had sent her to activate the so-called forest array (that strange building the other side of the river that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery; you've always wondered what it was but never found a way to get in). However, Zee, as everyone started calling the droid, is in really bad shape, and she'll never make it that far. She looks dejected as she says that if she fails her mission, then the key to Tanalorr may be lost forever. 

At the mention of the name, Greez chimes in, telling the group that there's an old prospector legend about Tanalorr being a world filled with treasure. But treasure or not, the important part is that it seems to be a real place, one potentially beyond where the Empire can reach: a safe haven. 

Zee is delighted and very thankful that everyone seems on board with her mission, and the group is quick to formulate a plan: while Monk gets her up to speed regarding the state of, well, everything, and she gets some much-needed repairs, Bode and Greez will take care of the Mantis. Meanwhile, Cal, BD and you will go to the forest array to check it out. 

As you're making your way to the stables, you nudge into Cal's side with your elbow.

“You didn't get hurt down there or anything, right? You sure took your time,” you ask him. It did not go unnoticed by you how in Cal's retelling of events, he skilfully left out how he happened to find that mysterious chamber in the first place. 

“The tunnels were pretty old and unstable, but we're okay,” Cal deflects, shooting the droid a quick look. “Right BD?”

BD beeps in response, and you shoot Cal a glare accompanied by a muted gasp, stopping in your tracks.

“You fell through a hole the equivalent of several stories?!” You can't believe this guy. 

“It's fine!” Cal tries to reassure you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. “I promise, it's nothing a stim didn't already fix. So there’s no need to worry, okay? We have a job to do.”

You sigh in defeat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You first cup his face softly, then pinch both his cheeks.

“Just what am I going to do with you, Cal Kestis?” you ask rhetorically, taking his hand into yours and resuming the short trek to where Connor is already waiting and waving at you both. 

Once you're all geared up and hop into the saddle, you tighten the strap of your staff, adjusting its position on your back.

“Just like old times, huh?” you ask at no one in particular, scanning your surroundings and taking in the scenery; it just never gets old. Cal's nekko trots up next to you.

“Just like old times,” he repeats, with that boyish smile you can't get enough of, and the glint of adventure in his eyes. 

Your nekkos take off, and the freckles on his face seem to shine in the sunlight. They form the ever familiar star map that you'd follow time and time again, finding your way back to him. Because from the first time you looked at him, you knew: you'd follow this man across the galaxy and beyond.

— — —

A/N 2: if you understand the droid name reference you get a cookie 🍪

A/N 3: in the book Battle Scars there’s a part where BD tells Cal, and i quote, “Where you go, I go”, and when i tell you that i screamed omg (the first part of my “wherever you go, i go” fic was actually called ‘where’ but i changed it to ‘wherever’ when i added more chapters because to me it sounded better asdsdf) BD-1 and me sharing one brain cell obsessed with Cal fr😌

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

[fishfooddude]

I'll Raise You One Better

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader

Part of the Double Trouble universe, it was a brainworm that didn't stop diggin'

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 1

“Yeah, my sister sucks sometimes.” Sierra frowned as Richie paced Carmy’s living room. She looked over to see a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, “You really thought Sierra would cheat on me with you?” Carmy managed to ask without laughing too much. Richie’s arms flew up in the air, “Cousin- I’ve been beating myself up for fuckin’ days about this! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Sierra had a fuckin’ twin?!” he grunted in a mix of annoyance and anger. He felt like a fool. Since he’d staged at Ever, he felt like he’d found his place in the culinary space. All of that could have been thrown away if he’d actually had sex with Sierra at that party. Carmy would’ve finally cut him off, Natalie would have followed suit due to family ties, and he’d lose his job, his friends, and everything else he’d worked for.

“Richie? Sit down, okay- you’re gonna worry yourself into having a fucking aneurysm.” Sierra sternly cooed as she guided the man to sit on the couch. Carmy leaned back in his chair, absolutely loving this; Sierra rolled her eyes before shooting him a dirty look. “Do you want me to beat her up?” Sierra offered as she sat down next to him. Richie flinched and shifted further away from her. “I just feel like shit Sierra. I thought she was you. I thought I fucked Carmy’s girl- what the fuck does that say about me? I’m a fuckin’ loser scumbag. I fucked my cousin’s fuckin’ girl.” 

Sierra frowned. “I can deal with this if you want, Richie,” she offered, hoping to appease some of the man’s guilt. Richie shook his head. “I just—I don’t know.” He was defeated. A silence fell over the room. Sierra looked at Carmy to see a quizzical look on his face; he had an idea, and she felt like it would be bad. 

“She fucked with you- you fuck with her,” Carmy suggested breaking the silence. Richie looked at him, “What do you mean?” he queried, raising an eyebrow in Carmy’s direction.

~

Sierra invited you out for dinner only to stand you up. You ended up ordering dinner to go and then went outside to wait. As you scrolled through your phone, you heard someone call out, ‘Sierra?’ You looked up and felt like a deer in the headlights—it was none other than Richie. 

“Thought you were workin’ tonight.” Richie laughed as he walked up to you. You shrugged, still playing into the idea of being Sierra, “Nah, I got a coworker to cover for me.” you bluffed. “Surprised you’re not hangin’ out with Carmy. We closed early- he said somethin’ ‘bout havin’ plans with you.” Richie said as he shoved his hands in his ill-fitting track pants pockets. You glanced toward his crotch and could swear you saw the outline of his cock; even soft, it was impressive. The thought of it filling you up again made your core quiver in anticipation. “Nah- I wanted some alone time, ya know…” you played off quickly, looking back up in his stormy blue eyes. “I told Carmy about what happened at Marcus’s party…. I didn’t think you two were that kind of couple.” Richie sneered, hoping you didn’t see through his own bluff. 

You shrugged in response. You tried not to think about your sister’s sex life, but now you were a little curious: what were Sierra and Carmy doing behind closed doors? Growing up, Sierra told you everything and the idea of her being some kinky sex freak would be an interesting lure reveal. “Things were gettin’ dry, ya know? Turns out Carmy’s into some… interesting stuff.” you subtly flirted back at him. Richie chuckled before quickly swiping his tongue over his top lip, “You know my place is just up the street. Wanna have some fun before the big night?” he asked as he stepped closer to you. 

“Big night?” you wonder, fidgeting with your phone case as you blankly stare at Richie. A wicked smile spread across Richie’s face, “Didn’t he tell you ‘bout it? He said he did… wanted to watch you get fucked… by a real man.”

You felt your breath hitch at Richie’s words. What the fuck did you get yourself wrapped up in? Richie sensed your hesitation and moved his hands on your hips and slowly pulled you toward him, “You scared princess? What happened to my good girl? Carmy said-”

You cut Richie off, “I’mnotSierraIdon’twannadothis!” 

Richie chuckled and shuffled his hands from your hips to your lower back, dangerously close to the top of your ass. “I know you’re not Sierra, Y/N. Why did you let me think you were?” 

“Uh- I uh- I never um said-” you mumbled softly as you looked away from him, “You let me believe it. You let me believe I fucked my best friend’s girlfriend. You know he’s gonna propose to Sierra, right? You let me think that I ruined the one thing that makes Carmy happy.” Richie hissed.

You swallowed, “I-I-I-” 

“I-I-I,” Richie taunted, “What! What you tryin’ to fuckin’ apologize for being a fuckin’ bitch? You’re just such some dumb little slut, aren’t you? Get off on fuckin’ up people’s lives? Makin’ think the worst of themselves?” he laughed letting his hands fall. “Fuck you, Y/N. You’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ whore.”

Part 3

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

Having some Tashiro (and prev pres) Thoughts

mostly just re-hashing things my fellow tashiro fans have said but I just felt like making my own post about it. be warned i wrote this while on a 4 hour drive on paper so im not sure how the length translates into a post, this will be a long one haha. also beware of inconsistent caps lock usage.

OBLIGATORY WARNING FOR SASAMIYA FIRST AND SECOND YEAR NOVEL SPOILERS

This whole thing was mainly brought on by two things, one is my non-ssmyverse friend dming me a twt screenshot with the most bland and uninspired description of tashiro's character ive ever read, signaling to me that tumblr has really spoiled me with the good tashiro takes. the other thing was that i got inspired to bring the first and second years novels with me on my previously mentioned long drive, which means that i got the pleasure of rereading both and, most importantly, rereading Tashiro Love & Passion. safe to say i had a lot to think about afterwards.

The whole thing really reminded me of the aspect of tashiro that i've always found interesting: his observant nature. And i dont just mean how he views others, but also how he views himself. How this perspective breaks the most of what we'd expect from a character like him, something Harusono loves to do with their characters.

From the first couple of pages in L&P alone, we get a lot of insight on how tashiro sees himself and how he bases much of that on how others view him.

He mentions a lot of clubs that he was a part of in the past or helped out with, describing his tendency not to stick around one club.

"The all-rounder." A "pinch player" anyone could call on.

I feel like this is an important place to start because just from this we see a bit of how Tashiro breaks from the mold of what an unassuming reader may expect him to be.

In the Sasamiya manga/anime, we dont really have too many chances to really view tashiro for who he is as an individual. with our limited perspective of him, we get to know miyano's friend tashiro, a bright, fun, and earnest character who says whats on his mind and is apparently on the ping pong team with hanzawa which is neat.

and if you werent a bit unhinged like myself and some others, this would be a fair assessment of his character. but ohhh boy once Love & Passion hit the towers there was no turning back.

there have been some posts getting into the themes of this chapter that i feel analyze it better than i ever could, so i wont do that, but i do want to talk about how tashiro's character is portrayed throughout the chapter.

And by far the main part that i want to focus on is how hardworking he is, and his and other's perspectives of him are effected by this.

Because tashiro is someone who wants very very badly to win, as he says numerous times throughout the chapter. Even under the guise of someday getting to quit the ping pong club, he pushes himself to get better; even going as far as practicing against the grannies and grandpas at the bath house that totally didnt adopt him.

For all his complaints, it would be easy to push off his actions as comedic. maybe, and im just making stuff up as i go, saying that he is only behaving as a stereotypical fun-loving slacker would. that his only motive truly is just to leave the club and drift through the rest of his high school days.

But then, that just isnt true is it? what kind of slacker would put so much time and effort into a club that he never even wanted to stick with in the first place?

This my dear friends, is how the Tashiro brainworms Fucking Get You.

Because why indeed, why is tashiro, who drifts through life wondering if he'll ever find his purpose, his Passion if you would, so impressive to the Previous Ping Pong Club President (prev pres) that he finds himself in line for future president?

While tashiro never really seems to figure this mystery out himself, we can take a few guesses.

While we will probably never see prev pres' thought process here (unless we get those 10k words of hanzawa lore that he'd probably be a part of) his actions speak for themselves in a way.

Afterall, this is the same president that got him stuck in this club to begin with, the same one who watched him complain, the same one who'd help drag him back whenever he would try to skip.

He's also the same president who watched him keep to their deal instead of just trying to find a way around it and quitting anyways. the same one who played against him at every practice, watching him learn and grow as a player. who saw him work hard, determined to not bring the team down, even if he wasnt as into it as the others. who saw him stick around.

in his perspective, tashiro takes multiple chances to not how he feels different from the people around him, that he has never known their "love" and never felt their "passion".

He finds himself surrounded by the Passion of others each day. His teammates, his friends, his bath house grandparents, just about everyone in the whole world. but what about him?

i mean, its not as if he's not interested in anything, he has things he likes. hobbies he enjoys. he just... never got that burning Passion, that unabashed Love for something like everyone else seems to have.

I think prev pres understood this part of him. that he saw what tashiro, for all his insightfulness, couldnt see for himself.

because for all tashiro believes that he doesnt have Passion, he sure does love to watch others indulge in theirs.

he takes note of what little he can catch while kuresawa and miyano talk BL, just so he can ask questions later. he gets to know the people at the bath house, listening as they talk about their lives and interests. and while he may not be "super into" in the ping pong club in general, he still wants to see his teammates succeed. he may never have stuck with a club for very long, but he still made himself reliable enough that he's seen as someone they can call to step in when needed.

in my mind i think that is what prev pres saw in him, how tashiro's dedication to see the Passions of others flourish assured him that the club would be safe in his hands.

and, while i cant say tashiro's passion is one specific thing right now, i can say that it encompasses every dream he wants to see grow. every love he curiously watches bloom. every ping pong match he fights to win.

[thelordofgifs]

WIP Word Train

Rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that start with that letter.

Tagged by @thescrapwitch, thank you! <3 This is very fun. My word is CRAB. I had to dig into some of the "for later" WIPs for this one, which actually gave me all sorts of brainworms.

C: the "Curvo-Maglor roleswap" AU

Curufin does not really believe in ghosts. He has spent too long, perhaps, seeing one in the mirror. But it does seem to him sometimes that Celegorm is not really gone — he is out on the hunt as he used to be, that is all, clearing the forest of Morgoth’s foul beasts, and he will come back with a wild boar slung over his shoulder for them all to feast on, whistling; his footsteps will sound in Amon Ereb’s little forge any moment now, and he will show up with ten knives in various states of bluntedness and expect Curufin to put them all right instantly. Curufin would not scold him, if he did so. He chides himself, sometimes, for indulging in the fantasy. There is no use now in dwelling on what-ifs: his father is dead, and Celebrimbor is lost, and now Celegorm too has been taken from him, and all that is left is to avenge him, and make sure he did not die in vain. He corners Maedhros in his rooms one evening, and says as much. “Our brothers are dead and all we did is sit here! Shall we not seek our vengeance?” Maedhros blinks at him, slowly, as though he is moving through some fluid more viscous than air.

R: The Unburied (the longfic I'm gonna finish!! someday)

“Russo,” Fingon said. It was his own nickname for Maedhros – he went by Nelyafinwë in court, Nelyo with his brothers, and Maitimo amongst the rest of their kin. Russandol was the name he used with friends and casual acquaintances – a public name which Fingon had turned into something private, a lover’s name. “Is that a yes?” Maedhros asked with a crooked smile. Fingon busied himself with peppering kisses on Maedhros’ upturned cheeks and exposed white throat, on the tip of his nose and on the delicate skin beneath his eyes. The blaze of him! One could almost feel the heat of his fëa through his skin, the eldest son of the Spirit of Fire. “Stop – stop!” Maedhros said breathlessly at last. “You will leave a mark.” Fingon brought his fingers to Maedhros’ collarbone to trace the kiss-bruises he had already left there. “Are you scared of people knowing you are mine?” he asked. “Shall you wear furs and high collars, and cover these up?” “Only leave my face unblemished,” said Maedhros; “or else let me return the favour,” and he put his hot mouth to the hollow of Fingon’s throat. Fingon laughed, for this was an old joke of theirs. Maedhros’ ivory skin betrayed his every blush when he glanced Fingon’s way, every bruise that Fingon’s over-eager fingers and lips might leave on his body; but Fingon’s skin was darker, and gave up his secrets more reluctantly. “You may try,” he said, turning his head a little to bury his face in Maedhros’ hair, “but you have never left a mark on me yet.”

A: the "Fingon survives the Nirnaeth" AU (a casualty of last year's Russingon week... oops)

After, when he had slipped from Fingon, Maedhros was yet so blissfully content that he might have drowsed for a time in his lover’s arms, for all that their absence would be sure to be noticed soon. But Fingon was stiffening beneath him. “Darling?” Maedhros murmured, his eyes half-closed. His awareness of Fingon was still a shining sunlit thing in the back of his mind, as though some part of them had remained coupled together even now. “What is it?” “What is it?” Fingon repeated, his voice shrill and panicked. “What is it?” Maedhros sat up and opened his eyes. “What do you mean?” Then he saw several things at once: firstly, that Fingon was clawing at the base of his throat, his face twisted in real distress; secondly, that his dark eyes were rimmed now with a thin line of gold, as though the Tree-light in them had somehow grown in strength; and thirdly, that he was staring at Maedhros with the same look of slow-dawning realisation.

B: The "Bragollach" WIP (which I am sadly unlikely to finish for Maedhros & Maglor week)

But Maglor’s skin, although reddened from the heat, bore no burn-marks. His tunic was soaked with black orc-blood, but he had not sustained any wounds of his own. Even his hair, which had long since come loose of its braid, did not seem singed. His eyes were bright and alert, even fearful as they met Maedhros’. “Káno,” said Maedhros, reaching up to touch his brother’s hand. In the stinking air it seemed suddenly that he could draw a clear breath for the first time in many days, as though some invisible vice around his chest was loosing — so it always was, in Maglor’s presence. “I could not hold,” said Maglor, and his voice was a gasping, ruined thing, like to rocks scraping against rocks on the cliffside. “It matters not,” said Maedhros, and just like that it was true. “Come here.” Slowly, stiffly, moving with some odd reluctance, Maglor dismounted. As his feet hit the ground with a thud — uncharacteristic, for Maglor was the most graceful rider Maedhros had ever laid eyes upon — a wince flashed across his face, so swiftly that Maedhros might have imagined it. On instinct he reached out to draw his brother close, just as Maglor’s knees buckled. Maedhros’ hand was wet. Why was it wet? He drew it away from Maglor’s front to find his fingers red.

tagging @eilinelsghost, @welcomingdisaster and @zealouswerewolfcollector! Your word is HOPE :)

[hisaacswrites]

See, Soap is a bartender. Well, he’s actually whatever his boss says he is while he gets used to civvie life again, but right now he’s a bartender. And before that, he was SAS. In both professions, being able to read people is invaluable. And even before that, Soap had always been good at getting a feel for people, at reading a room and seeing what’s underneath it all.

Which is why he’s been keeping an eye on the bar’s back booth. There’s a couple there. A bombshell of a woman and a hulking mountain of a man. For all intents and purposes, they look like the stereotypical lovesick couple who’ve had a bit too much to drink to understand the boundaries of acceptable PDA- The woman is draped across the man’s lap, her hands are wandering across and under, her lips working furiously over his skin every chance she gets in between sips of her drink and eyeing the crowd.

But something sets Soap’s senses on edge. Something is wrong.

Maybe it’s how stiff and awkward and downright uncomfortable the man looks.

Maybe it’s how the woman keeps shoving drinks into his hands despite his clear reluctance, watching him like a hawk until he finishes the glass.

Maybe it’s how the man subtly flinches every time the woman touches his bare skin with her oxblood nails. Or how he tries to hunch in on himself when she’s not focused on him, how he seems to be pressing back into the seat as if he could disappear into the upholstery.

Maybe it’s the panic in his eyes, the resignation on his face, the ignored “no’s” that Soap can read on his lips even across the dark room.

Something is wrong.

So even though the man is built like a brick shithouse and looks like he could bench Soap without breaking a sweat, and even though he has scars across his face and knuckles that prove he can take care of himself, and even though Soap can feel the aura of “leave-me-the-fuck-alone” radiating from him-

Soap still approaches the man when the woman stumbles her way to the bathroom. Because something is wrong and he’ll be damned if he ignores his intuition.

So Soap goes over under the guise of picking up the empty glasses, undeterred by the man who’s unfocused gaze is boring holes into the sticky table. He picks up the glasses and plays it cool, rapping his knuckles to get the man’s attention, as if taking his order for a refill.

Asks the stranger if he needs an angel shot.

It takes a moment for the man to respond, for him to understand what Soap is asking. But when the man’s shoulders slump in relief and gratitude shines in his dark eyes as he nods up at Soap, looking like a lost child staring up at their salvation, Soap knows he made the right decision.

The woman returns, sliding into the booth and spreading possessively over the man’s lap when Soap asks him how he wants his drink.

The “On ice, please,” spoken in a rough and tired baritone has Soap nodding and heading back to the bar with a grim but determined expression.

In a few minutes, he’ll head back to the table and tell the man that something is wrong with his credit card and he should come with him to settle the tab. He’ll take the man to the back office, safe and secure, and get the woman an Uber of her own. He’ll learn that the man’s name is Simon and that he’s been in an abusive relationship with the woman for two and a half years. Soap’ll learn that she physically, mentally, emotionally, financially abused Simon, that she controls his every move, that she cost him his job, she wrecked his car, she killed his cat-

But right now he’s grabbing a refrigerated bottle of water and a bag of crisps, dropping them off in the back before putting his best apologetic-server face on and heading back towards the booth with the “bad news” about the man’s card.

First, he has an angel shot to deliver.

A brainworm drabble that’s near and dear to my heart. Abuse comes in all shapes and sizes and doesn’t discriminate against gender. Please keep your eyes peeled, your ears sharp, and your hearts open to those who may need help, including yourselves. A part of me wants to make this a full fic, but I’m not sure. For now it’ll live with the other brain worms.

[platonic-soulmates-gencest]

Happy Wincest Wednesday! My topic of the week (because let's be real, i never actually ask questions. I give topics that i want people to rant about and you all seem perfectly happy to take it from there) is food! We of course all know about Sam and Dean's fights over it, and their constant scoffing at each other's diets, but let's dig a little deeper.

Personally, I've had a brainworm for a while about diners, and how much their entire dynamic would change if they couldn't go to them anymore. The Impala might be their first home, but diners are their second. They're open all night, and basically the same no matter where in America you go. And the menu is varied enough to make them both happy. There's always going to be burgers and salad, plus enough coffee to keep them both awake.

Anyway, let's hear about what they cook for each other, what meals they will both share... And yes, of course we can make it about alternate uses of food, too.

- @schizosamwincester

Happy Wincest Wednesday! Thanks for the ask! And here's my weird answer.....!

Okay, so my biggest headcanon when it comes to food involves my Mommy Dean agenda a.k.a. Dean is obsessed with being able to provide food for Sam. This obsession comes from their childhood when he still couldn't always get enough food for Sam (not his fault, but of course Dean makes it his fault). So in my head I just absolutely love when Dean always makes sure Sam eats something, even when Sam is depressed or sick, Dean always makes sure that his brother is fed properly. He won't stand for the opposite. (And naturally I can take this to the idea of Dean breastfeeding Sam as the best way for Dean to feel that he's properly providing for his brother. Linking my fic about this.)

Other than this, I love the idea of Sam getting more and more obsessed with making Dean eat healthy food. Especially as they get older and Dean starts showing signs of high blood pressure or cholesterol or something. Sam would be so strict about it because he wants to keep Dean alive for as long as he possibly can. (but he will still find ways to recreate the tastes Dean likes using healthy foods instead. maybe he spends months researching about all the ways you can get the taste of grease without actual grease being involved. he would not be above using magic to make healthy food that tastes like junk food. he's efficient like that.)

So I guess that what I am gunning for here is these two ending up making one another's food in the long run? And it's not even romantic or anything, it's just their way of keeping each other alive. (Cue one of them dying and the other being completely lost on his own and kicking the bucket a couple months later.)

[wdba]

I feel like I need to get the brainworms out and talk about the contrasts and how much cooler the Owlks make the Nomai look (cause Nomai the gentle alien folks my beloved)

Okay, I've recently finished watching SovietWomble and an Astrophysicist's playthrough of the DLC and they both made couple points that I did not realize: SovietWomble noticed that the Owlks were living in on a single planet they frequently remind themselves of, while the Nomai were... Nomaidic and have no reservations about having to settle on two planets they crashlanded on.

Their technology, too! The Astrophysicist noticed the Owlks made use of solar sails to propel the Stranger away from the growing sun, while the Nomai made use of warp technology to go anywhere. The Stranger relies on centrifuge-based artificial gravity. The Nomai treats artificial gravity almost like an afterthought that they made tiles that allow you to walk on walls and ceilings (not to mention the gravity cannons they use to launch ships). The Owlks have light-based projection slides that you manually turn to view the images. The Nomai have 3D projections that allow you to walk in them???

And everything about the Owlks seemed hedonistic and excessive, too; they had wine and board games. Theaters, music halls, art galleries, painting and photographs, and what appears to be a restaurant? A viewing room for the solar system and its eventual supernova death?? Billboards that seem to point out that This Is A Tourist Spot??? Our beloved Nomai only had the basics, and those structures focused a lot on knowledge: a forge, an observatory, a museum, a school. Their greatest projects, the Sun Station, Ash Twin Project, and the Orbital Probe Cannon were just functional and minimalistic enough that all three of them pales in comparison to the grandiose that is the Stranger ringworld.

Which is getting to the point why I made this post: their dam. It almost feels like a monument to how excessive they were, second to the Stranger itself.

We eventually find out that the Owlks stripped their homeworld bare, turning it into a wasteland just to build the Stranger. And yet they have a dam, which isn't even implied to generate electricity! It's seems to be there for the simple purpose of holding back water, which they appear to have a surplus of. We accidentally harvested too much water from our homeworld and turned it barren, oops! The Nomai (beloved, gentle, caring, wise) took great care to leave ore for the Hearthians in the distant future where they evolve and discover space travel. Nomai!!! Best!!!

It feels to me that the Owlks represent the entertainment side of curiosity while the Nomai, the scientific. Which makes us wonder why they came to the Eye at all; were they like the Nomai wanting to study the Eye? Or were they there to gawk at its rarity, much like how they were going to treat a local sun going supernova as Yet Another Amusement?