#or to right one of star trek biggest wrongs. whatever.

[antiqua-lugar]

finally catched up to the Garashir episode of Lower Decks. I think in all our celebrating we failed to pointed out how fucking UNNECESSARY it was. They made them Canon and married and they gave him Plot B1 about how they would follow each other to every reality and for what? Just to make us happy.

[entropicbias]

my blog post

friends, i have just now realized that tumblr is also a blogging website. so, despite the fact that i have a blogspot, i will share some fun little tid bits about my world.

ok, so first of all, the star trek fever is hitting me just as hard as my regular fevers are hitting me. i've been sick three times in the past three months. probably cause my sister keeps finding a way to get some new strain of virus from eating dirt or whatever the hell she does on a regular basis.

asides from that, i've moved and my room is starting to get some personality. this was the state of my desk pre- me deciding that i couldn't deal with my 8 year old shitty slow lenovo all in one from 2016/2017 and also removing that unstable cardboard shelf with all my games and movies.

on the bright side, i moved a lot of my stuff to a bookshelf.

doesn't exactly look how i want it to, but i guess it'll do for now. there are more shelves to it, i just think they're super ugly in comparison cause they are filled with notebooks and books i need for uni.

back to my star trek fever, it has very recently taken over a good portion of my head. which is great! less room for homestuck, right? WRONG! homestuck is still also up there, which blows. it's been a few years y'know? i thought this would send it to the grave. well, i'm glad it hasn't. don't let the spider-man stuff fool you, if i had to put my biggest fandom interests in order it'd be homestuck, star trek, and ghostbusters.

so, immediately without thought i got as much star trek merch as i could with 50 bucks. that shelf lacked a communicator replica and those novels i got are also new. i also have a TNG shirt from 2001 now, which is awesome. i have not seen star trek tng yet, but i've surmised that i'll probably most definitely like it. i cannot believe patrick stewart has been an old man for almost 40 years. i was like, but he looked exactly like that in x-men? geordi even has the cyclops visor it's incredible. data seems super funny from the clips i have seen, so i'm looking forward to it. i have started to also be particularly fond of writing. i'm usually not good at stepping out of my comfort zone when it comes to that, cause i regard myself as a super shitty writer but spock and kirk's beautiful relationship have inspired me to give it a try, and i kind of liked it a lot. so, maybe i will try and do it for john and dave as well? sometimes with art i just cannot be assed, so maybe in my quest of trying to show the world how GOATED their friendship is i can whip up some fanfiction. entropicbias flavored.

anyways, more art soon. i know i have a lot of asks and stuff. sorry, i will get to them when i can. i think i regard this site as a Q/A type deal where i just take requests but i've decided that's kind of what my strawpage is for? so, i'll start posting more art and less requests and messages from my inbox that don't particularly interest me.

entropicbias OUT!

[atopfourthwall]

Final modern Trek question then I’ll be good: What’re your honest thoughts and feelings on Strange New Worlds Season 1? Pros and cons, how it differs from Discovery and what it does either better or worse? The direction and writing, and if you feel it’s a step in the right path for current Trek shows? I watched it and I personally loved it, but I’m so curious to know what you think.

It is MOSTLY good. Its biggest strength is standalone episodes but compelling character arcs, which was the right call to make. We don't need a mysterious space hole or whatever to keep us invested week after week - just have a story with a beginning, middle, and end - do Star Trek stuff like meet new, weird, alien races and find interesting solutions to problems. The characters can change and advance and we can learn new things about them that influence how we next see them. The characters are just generally likeable and PROFESSIONAL. Professional is really the watchword I should keep bringing up - one of the reasons why I'm so uninterested in watching Lower Decks is because I continually see in gifs a bunch of BOZOS. Morons in command, morons doing the gruntwork. Oh, sure, I don't doubt they do their jobs and live and etc., etc., but nothing about them screams "These are people I would want to trust with exploring the galaxy." I see fanboys and people who shouldn't be anywhere near a phaser, much less the big chair. One of the episodes that many wouldn't put on their highest-ranking list of episodes for season 1 of Strange New Worlds is "Ghosts of Illyria." But it's entirely my jam - the stuff I want out of Star Trek. An interesting sci-fi mystery, character revelations, professionals doing their best to solve the problem, raising some interesting moral questions that will have to be revisited down the road, etc. For many it's just kind of "meh," but for me it made me want to watch more of it again after a long absence after watching the first two episodes. I want to see smart people being smart and solving problems. That's reductive, I know, but it's what gets me every time when watching. Now, as for the cons... well, ironically with that word the big problem is CONTINUITY. There are NUMEROUS continuity issues with this series, not the least of which being T'Pring - Spock's fiancé. There is no reason she should be such a significant part of the show. Everything that we saw in Amok Time seemed to suggest they were not close, had not seen each other in a long time, and the attitude T'Pring had in that is at odds with how she's portrayed as so loyal and dedicated to Spock in SNW. And given her reasons for breaking off her engagement in Amok Time, unless they REALLY openly contradict it with, I don't know, some kind of big betrayal or emotional fallout with Spock, I have a hard time believing that she'd break it off with him there. Don't get me wrong - the bodyswap episode was still good, but the problem again comes down to "I do not see a reasonable way for these two to no longer be together for Amok Time." The show focuses too much on old characters and not enough on new ones. I've already seen Spock's character development in TOS and the movies. I don't need MORE of it here, especially whenever they bring up Discovery. I don't need to see Pike's dilemma about his future - I know what's going to happen there. Uhura is a fine character... but I've seen her already. Give me more of everybody else - journeys for them, arcs for them, change for them. Killing Hemmer was dumb. Killing him while turning the Gorn into xenomorphs was dumber. Having the Gorn at all is dumb given we were pretty sure their first contact with the Federation was Arena in TOS. You could have invented a new baddie and gotten the same effect. Hell, it would have been better since one of the points of Arena is that we judged the Gorn as being aggressive, evil, and monstrous partially because of their appearance... but here comes SNW to be like "Oh, yeah, they are the absolute friggin' WORST. Unimaginably monstrous and horrible." Stop making all the uniform variants try to match with Discovery's stupid uniforms.

[youhideastar]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for inviting me, @chrononautintraining!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

133

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

1,392,316

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I tend to be a serial fandom monogamist; right now I'm writing for CQL/The Untamed, but my other biggest fandoms were White Collar and Hockey RPF (biggest in terms of how much I wrote for them, not the size of the fandom).

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

So Wise We Grow and its sequel, it may be that the gulfs will wash us down (Star Trek AOS); Unorthodox Methods (SPN/White Collar crossover); Living Proof (White Collar); and Concord (The Untamed).

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Almost always! If I'm feeling really low-energy, I may not reply to comments that are solely emojis, but I try to respond to those as well with at least a thank-you. The only exception to my general policy of responding is comments where I seriously cannot tell if they are positive or negative (e.g., "I hate you for making me cry" - I get that one a fair amount), because I don't want to be like "I'm glad you liked it!" when they actually didn't - I feel like that would make me look really arrogant lol. I respond to comments because I treasure them and want to encourage folks to keep commenting!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely Hands Open, Eyes Closed... and I was so bothered by it that I wrote a 200k follow-up getting those characters to their happy ending!

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh, jeez, I almost only do happy endings, so that's tough. I am partial to the ending of Dangerous, which is happy both interpersonally (WWX and LWJ are together! they have a baby!) and politically (that baby is going to blow up entrenched prejudices! yay!)

8. do you get hate on any fics?

I don't, and I have no idea why not, beyond the fact that I usually have anon commenting turned off. Don't get me wrong, I do get strongly negative comments sometimes, but nothing I would characterize as "hate."

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Oh, definitely. I guess I would say I tend toward tender, talky, d/s-inflected smut, but ultimately I do whatever the situation between the characters calls for.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Almost never - it's pretty much just Unorthodox Methods.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've been fortunate to have multiple fics translated, especially my hockey RPF fics.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

See above re: serial monogamist - right now I would swear that it's Wangxian 4EVA but check back in in a couple years.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Definitely my Wangxian lawyer AU. I have big chunks of it written, but it would be more than 100k and I have so many other WIPs in line ahead of it. It'll probably end up as WIP Amnesty, though it breaks my heart to say it.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and worldbuilding.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Physical description is often an afterthought. I default to describing lighting when I have to set a scene. I struggle to create a sense of the passing of time unless I have an external scaffolding to set the story on - in hockey RPF, the rhythm of the hockey season could give me that scaffold, but in my fics for CQL, the struggle is back.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Best kept to a minimum, when it comes to actual dialogue, but when it comes to individual terms (Wen-guniang, hai shi, zhiji, etc., and Russian and Czech terms in hockey rpf), I do it pretty liberally. It's good for English speakers to have to look stuff up sometimes. It builds character. 😂

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Stargate: Atlantis!

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

My favorite fic I've written is actually a WIP Amnesty piece I never finished (but which readers have told me is satisfying as-is, thankfully): The Words in Your Head, an X-Men: First Class modern AU in which Charles and Erik are college students who help start a GSA (that's a gay-straight alliance, for those of you who were not queer teenagers in the late nineties or early aughts 😂) at Raven's high school. It's so personal to me (the kid who started her own high school's GSA 20 years ago) and carries so much of my own feelings about gender and queerness and queer community, and I feel so tender about the characters. I think, ultimately, the fact that it made me feel so raw is the reason I couldn't take it across the line to a polished final draft. But I will love it forever.

If you’d like to play, I hereby tag you in spirit! For the meme, I’ll invite @queenofattolia, @travelingneuritis, and @existentially-yibo.

[newtonsheffield]

You probably have been asked this before and you probably are tired af of me but I was rereading the flicket about the pregnancy scare and was wondering if you would mind giving us a little insight of how things would have turned out to be if the test had been positive? If you are feeling it, of course!

If I had a dollar for every time someone said "You've probably been asked this before..." and it's a question that no one has ever thought to ask, I would not need to slave away as a redbull addict.

Ahh you, the creator of the Bridgerton Diaries cinematic universe? I could never be fed up of you.

An AU of an AU? Girl this is becoming my specialty.

(If you missed Anthony and Kate's pregnancy scare in the A Slamming Screen Door Verse it's here)

So now I guess here's the not scare?

Nausea of course, seemed to be constantly pushing at the back of Kate's throat these days, morning sickness seemed to bleed into all day, but really, that wasn't the reason why her stomach was heaving as she sat in Anthony's car outside her parent's house.

"We don't have to do this today, Katie." He said gently, squeezing her hand.

"We do." She said firmly, much more so than she felt. Unbuckling her seatbelt with a sigh. "I don't want them to think I'm keeping this from them. I'm not ashamed of it, Anthony."

And really, she wasn't. Maybe it was ridiculous, at 19, with your boyfriend just turned twenty a few months ago, to know how you were going to spend the rest of your life. Kate knew she would spend the rest of her life with Anthony Bridgerton, and from the minute she'd found out about the tiny life they'd created together she had wanted. Though she'd sat with Anthony and cried. Cried for the life they'd both have to give up, a future they'd never have now. Anthony had said, reasonably What do you want to do? no judgement, no expectations, as though this was really her choice to make. And as much as this wasn't the right time, wasn't the way she'd imagined them, very vaguely, starting a family, she'd known that it wasn't a mistake. As much as she strongly supported the right women had to do whatever they wanted with their bodies this was what she wanted to do with hers.

"I'm not ashamed either. I love you." Anthony said, the same soft smile he'd had on his face since he'd found out. She knew, no matter what the circumstances, he was thrilled to be a father, even if the argument still hung between them.

Anthony held her hand tightly as they walked to the front door, anxiety thrumming away as she pushed the door open.

"Peanut is that you?" Her Dad's voice called down the hall as soon as they were inside, her stomach rolling at the nickname, God knows how much longer he would want to call her that.

"Who else would it be Dad?" She called back, smiling anyway.

"Could have been your sister, she's at the library." Her Dad's gentle smile appeared in the doorway of the Kitchen. "Come on, Mary's making dinner." He wrapped his arms tightly Kate as she slipped into the kitchen, her heart aching, nerves rolling her stomach as she stepped aside.

"Anthony." He was greeted firmly, "Didn't know you were coming today." Her Dad said suspiciously, it was unusual, them being home at the same time, in term time. Kate could see the look that filtered between her Dad and Mary. They knew something was wrong already.

"Katie, sweetheart, sit down, you look pale. I'll make you a snack." Mary said, bustling around her with a tight hug. Anthony hovered anxiously behind her as she sat on the stool at the breakfast bar. Kate's stomach lurched at the thought of food.

"No Mary, I'm okay." She said gently, her voice wavering slightly as she clenched her fists at her sides. She could feel Anthony's hand on her back, soothing circles.

"I was visiting my parents anyway, Mr. Sheffield, just so happened that Katie was coming to Town anyway." Anthony lied smoothly.

"Is Edwina going to be home for dinner?" It wasn't what Kate was really asking. Will Edwina be home soon? But no one seemed to want to correct her. Mary was looking at her rather too astutely, the same way she'd had since Kate had been a little girl. Like being xrayed.

"She will be." Her father said gently, staring astutely at her. and then he seemed to sigh. "Katie if you're getting married. You can just tell us. I promise we'll be happy for you."

And jesus, of all the things he had to ask why did it have to be that? Anthony flinched behind her. He'd asked her, of course he had, because Anthony Bridgerton did the right thing, always. That included marrying his pregnant girlfriend. But as much as she'd wanted to pull him into her arms and cry Yes! She hadn't. Because the thought of having a ring on her finger just because he felt guilty was almost too much to bear. They'd had the biggest argument they'd ever had, both of them furious. "So you want to break up?!" "No! Of Course not!" "You just don't want to marry me?" He'd looked so hurt when he said it, his face burned into the back of her eyes. "I want to marry you more than anything but I don't want you to ask me out of guilt!" And he hadn't had a retort for that apparently. Just been left, holding the ring out towards her helplessly, tears streaming down his face.

Kate felt tears sting at her eyes at the memory now. "I'm not getting married." She managed to gasp out, Anxiety clawing at her stomach, clinging to the last moments when her Dad would look at her like she could do no worng, like she was important. Anthony hand was still firm on her back, as she gasped out "I am Pregnant though."

Mary gasp loudly, her hand covering her mouth, dinner abandoned. Her Dad's mouth dropped open, Surprised as silence engulfed the kitchen. She closed her eyes as the tears started to fall.

"I'm so sorry, Dad I know this isn't-" She felt arms wrap tightly around her, but they weren't Anthony's.

"Is that all, Peanut? We thought it was something serious."

Kate's eyes flew open, Her Dad was smiling gently down at her, tears in his eyes. Mary had Anthony in a death grip of a hug across the kitchen.

"I'm not saying the timing is ideal." He said pointedly, "But sweetheart, how could I ever be disappointed by a baby?" He said the word as though it was the most incredible thing. "Your child is going to be the most incredible child that's ever lived. Even if Anthony is the father." He jerked his head back in Anthony's direction, though he still had a grin on his face. Kate couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up in chest.

Anthony barely had it in him to look indignant as her father slapped him on the back.

"Now Anthony, son. Just because you're giving me a beautiful grandbaby does not mean I'm going to forgive you for that shirt. Disgusting mate." He said gesturing at Anthony's Star Wars> Star Trek shirt.

[joel-millerr]

Righting The Wrongs

Chapter Eight of We Are One When Together

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17k (yes, I know, I’m sorry)

Summary: Reader must face her past, and also deal with something they weren’t prepared to do... be without Mando.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex (like... almost causing bruising so read with caution), oral sex (both female and male receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, shower sex, hair pulling, aftercare, a little bit of violence, angst (as per usual), 

A/N: I make shit up about using the force lol. also, my knowledge of coruscant is based off tcw and the prequels so if there’s something in here that doesn’t fit with the books or whatever, be nice :) 

--

“Who are we meeting here?”

“Someone I used to work with.”

As you make your way through the streets of Level 1313, you’re almost trembling with nerves. It’s a little over a year since you’ve been on this planet and you had been avoiding coming back ever since.

Firstly, Coruscant is way too populated for your liking. The streets are always filled with people, no matter the time of day. Crime lords, spice lords, rookies trying to make a living—legally or illegally, families seeking refuge; nearly every single person from all walks of life eventually made their way to Coruscant, overcrowding the streets and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Secondly, the lower levels of Coruscant basically have their own crime empire. Every illegal thing you could possibly think of existed here. The black market thrived, and the smuggling business was always booming. Despite your old profession being one of the very empires that fueled this economy, you didn’t like the idea of living and breathing that life. There was always a need to get away, forget about the job for a couple weeks and then, when you were itching for the thrill, you’d eventually return. Unlike you, your crew would live out their days here, getting high and drinking more than their own body weight in alcohol.

Thirdly, the last time you were here… didn’t really end well. In your defense, it wasn’t your fault that a shootout ensued—you were just trying to get the right amount of payment for the right amount of work. It’s not your fault they disagreed and resorted to shooting their way out of the deal, and it’s definitely not your fault a few of them died…

Needless to say, Coruscant was just another planet that you ended up leaving on rough terms.

Mando stays by your side as you walk together, so close in fact that your arms keep brushing against each other as you trek through the lower levels of the city. Even during the day, there’s very little light down here. You’ve ever only known what it’s like to live so deep underground and sometimes you’d daydream about what a life in the upper levels looked like. Do they live as extravagant as you imagine they do? You were told by a few drunk strangers in cantinas that the people who lived in the upper levels lived in huge apartments, way bigger than they ever needed to. Was that true? The idea of someone living in a home that actually overlooks the Coruscant skyline is something you can’t even wrap your head around. You’re convinced anyone who lives up there sold their soul for it. There can’t be another reason for it.

Upon arriving, Mando thought it was best to leave the kid on the ship. You—on the other hand, noted that the safest place for him is with you two. Besides, trusting that Grogu wouldn’t get himself into trouble while you’re both gone is a risk neither of you should be willing to take. Reluctantly, he gave in and now the kid is sitting in the makeshift pouch Mando made for him.

“Mando, I don’t like this,” you mumble under your breath.

“Neither do I, but we don’t really have a choice,” he replies, keeping his visor fixated on what’s in front of him. “You can go back to the ship with the kid, if you want.”

“And leave you here alone? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Realistically, you’re both aware Mando can handle his own in whatever could happen, but over your time together, you two have become somewhat of a unit. One doesn’t leave without the other. It’s an unspoken thing—no one bothered to mention it but also, neither of you have denied the company.

Ever since Mando’s confession, there’s definitely been a shift in your relationship.

The biggest change is that he’s become much more vocal. He shares his opinions more openly, he engages in conversation a lot more, and he’s not shy about showing you small displays of affection whenever he wants. When he moves passed you on the Crest, his hand always touches the small of your back or your hand if it’s within reach.

He’s also been a lot more engaging with Grogu. You can’t help but notice that whenever he holds him, Mando flexes his finger so that the kid can wrap his little claws around it. He speaks to Grogu a lot more and in turn, the kid mumbles incoherently back at him, as if Mando can understand him.  

It’s probably only been two days since Mando’s opened up to you about his favorite color—although you can’t be sure because time in hyperspace tends to blend together, but there’s been a lifetime amount of change that’s happened since and seeing him become more open and giving around both you and Grogu just reminds you of that softer side to Mando that he doesn’t share with many people.

As you look around and take in your surroundings, the streets begin to look extremely familiar. On your left, you see the diner you used to frequent with your old crew. They had some of the best sliders you’ve ever had. Even thinking about it now makes your stomach rumble.

Maybe you could pop in for a quick meal. You’re about to tell Mando about it but catch yourself just before you do.

He doesn’t take the helmet off. Kriff, how could you forget something so blatantly obvious. You haven’t even seen his face yet and for just a split second you thought he’d take his helmet off in a room full of people just to eat with you?

Stupid.

Shaking the thought of your mind, you try to ignore the sudden ache you feel in your chest.

“We’re close,” you hear Mando say and your previous thought is wiped from your mind. It’s now that you realize which cantina you’ve been walking towards, and when you turn the corner and see it, your heart drops.

The cantina you’re meeting this person Mando used to work with is unfortunately the very same cantina you used to celebrate with your squad after a successful spice run. A night full of drinking that usually ended with some random typical bar fight. Words spoken, blasters drawn, and the very rare shootout. Regardless of the night outcome, you were always back in the cantina the next night like nothing happened.

As you near the door, your feet suddenly feel like durasteel, gravity pulling you into the ground, stopping you from taking another step forward. Your heart is already in your stomach, heating your body up with haste. Stars, you haven’t been here in so kriffing long, and the possibility of getting smacked in the face with your past is something you didn’t plan.

Mando seems to sense your tentativeness because he turns his body to face you, his hand catching your forearm. “Are you okay?”

Trying to reassure him, the corners of your mouth curl into what could be considered a smile, although your eyes are screaming to leave.

Wherever he goes, you go, you remind yourself.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, passing him and squaring your shoulders just as the cantina door slides up. It’s in the early evening hours, so it isn’t too populated inside—just some of the regulars you’ve noticed that are always there, no matter what time of the day it is. Trying your best not to draw any attention to yourself, you drop your head down slightly, eyes shifting around the room, hoping you won’t catch sight of anyone who might know who you are.

Your attempts to be subtle are gone with the wind once Mando enters. The energy changes straightaway. All the chatter goes deafeningly quiet as a dozen heads turn towards you and having so many eyes on you causes your cheeks to heat up. For a moment, you had forgotten that travelling with a Mandalorian causes heads to turn and voices to hush. Of course, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride whenever you see strangers make the connection that you and Mando are together, but it’s quickly followed by major anxiety. Being stealthy and trying to keep to the shadows is damn near impossible when there’s a man standing next to you covered in what is arguably the most reflective durasteel in the galaxy.

“No fucking way,” you hear someone exclaim. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you turn your head in direction of the voice and see a female Twi’lek coming right for you. “Is that really you?”

“Dank farrik,” you mumble before they’re within listening range. Mando’s helmet cranes towards you.

“I thought you were dead!” Their arms wrap around your torso before you can even process what’s happening.

“Hey, Sula.”

“Stars, is that really you?” Another voice beckons, a hand clamping down on your shoulder, “You here for a job?” The male Rodian asks.

“Nah, not this time Odas,” you answer, angling your neck in the direction of the Mandalorian standing just a few inches away from you.

“Holy shit. A Mandalorian?”

“I’ll leave you to it,” The modulator informs you, and then he’s sauntering over to the bar. It’s not lost on you that for the first time in days, he’s left without reaching out to touch you in some way. Fortunately, you don’t have time to dwell on it before someone’s talking to you again.

“Come have a drink,” Odas begins to say, “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

Your eyes drift off to look at Mando who’s in the middle of speaking to the droid behind the bar.

“Uh—” Before you can kindly decline the offer, Sula grabs onto your wrist and nearly drags you over to the table they were all previously sitting at. Already seated is Venka, a nasty piece of work. You haven’t worked with many Trandoshans, but the ones you have worked with were ruthless and dangerous. Each of them wanted blood, no matter what the situation was.

Odas pulls a chair from a nearby table and gestures for you to sit. Unenthusiastically, you slide into the seat.

“Everyone said the New Republic got your ass. Glad to see we were wrong,” Odas says with a smile, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.

“Travelling with a Mandalorian? How the hell did that happen?” Sula asks.

“I didn’t even know there were any Mandalorians left,” Venka mutters, clearly peeved about something.

“How much are you paying him to protect you?”

“What?” Eyebrows pulling closely together, you look over to Odas quizzically.

“She’s probably paying him in other ways, if you know what I mean,” Sula laughs, bumping her elbow against your arm.

“Oh, shut up, Sula. It’s not like that.”

Odas props his elbows on the table and leans in closer towards you. “Then do tell us how you managed to slip through the New Republic’s grip and then somehow get a Mandalorian by your side, because they’re like the—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard the stories. ‘Best warriors in the galaxy’. So, they say anyway,” Venka hisses through his snout.

“Still hate them, huh?” Sula jests.

“I just don’t see it. Apparently, they’re the best warriors in the galaxy yet the Empire wiped them all out.”

“If that were true, there wouldn’t be one standing just over there,” your finger points to Mando still standing at the bar.

“Oh, okay,” Sula throws her hands up in defense. “We get it, you’re with him now.”

All of a sudden, you hear Mando’s voice coming from the commlink in your ear. “Stay here. I’m going to meet them in the back.”

Your body stills, wanting to get up and join in but knowing you can’t very well just get up and leave your old friends without so much as another word. As ridiculous as it seems, you feel like you owe it to them to stick around for a bit.

“Are you all waiting for the next job?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the fact that Mando’s just gone off on his own. He can handle himself; you repeat in your head.

“Yeah, supposed to take off at first light,” Odas answers before throwing back a glass of red liquor.

“Still room on the ship, if you want to join.”

“Thanks, Sula, but I’m pretty much done with smuggling.”

Venka all but chokes on his beverage. “Kriffing hell, you’re kidding.”

Shaking your head slowly and lips pressing into a thin line, “It’s just not for me, anymore,” you say, glaring at him.

“Not for you?” He grits out.  

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You snap, feeling the annoyance itching inside you.

“Okay, let’s just take it down a notch, all right? We’re just a couple of old friends catching up. That’s all,” Sula interjects, in hopes to deescalate the situation.

Venka rolls his eyes before finishing his drink, swallowing it with a snarl. Why are Trandoshans so aggressive with everything that they do?

Sula clears her throat to ask, “So, what are you doing back here? Last time you were here, I believe you said, ‘I refuse to return to this shithole of a planet’.”

“I’m sure we’ve all said that about this kriffing planet at least once or twice, but we always find our way back, don’t we?” Odas says to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m not really sure why we’re here—” You start to say but are cut off by Venka.

“So, your partner doesn’t bother keeping you informed? How nice.”

“Oh, shut up, Venka. You’re so negative,” Sula scolds.

Turning your attention to him with poison in your eyes, you ask him, “What’s your problem?”

He slams his cup on the table, red liquid spilling all over the surface. It’s not uncommon for him to try and pick a fight, so you’re not entirely surprised by his behavior right now. You’ve only ever lost your temper on him once and Tye was able to pull you away before something really bad happened.

“You’re seriously going to come back here as if you did nothing wrong? Everyone—and I mean everyone here, was worried about you, and not a single fucking one of us received a hologram from you saying you weren’t in prison.

“And when Tye told us that a kriffing Mandalorian snatched you up, we thought ‘she’s a goner’. But here you are, parading him around here like a fucking trophy.”

Caught up in the moment, you almost miss what Venka’s just told you. “Wait, Tye’s alive?”

“Yeah, he’s alive,” Sula confirms.

“He managed to escape just before your ship exploded. He was pretty fucked up for a while, but he’s a lot stronger than we give him credit for,” Odas admits.

“I… didn’t know,” your voice is low, filled with guilt.

Venka laughs, answering you with derision in his voice. “No fucking shit.”

“I didn’t come here to parade him around. I didn’t even know we’d be coming here,” you explain, then angling your head to Odas, you ask, “Is Tye here?”

Before Odas can answer, Venka speaks up. “Why? So, you can finish the job?”

“Fuck you, Venka.”

Reptilian eyes glower at you, your own are all but seething in anger as you scowl back. Trandoshans—at least the one’s you’ve had the unpleasure of meeting, are always on the prowl for a fight. They purposely get under everyone’s skin in hopes to rile them up. Usually, you’ve been able to keep your anger under control but that was mostly because you had Tye to keep you in check, to bring you back down from a blind rage. Now that he’s not here, you’re sure everyone at this table doesn’t really want a fight but that they’ll happily watch if it comes down to one.  

“Excuse yourself. We’re leaving. I’ll meet you outside,” Mando’s voice suddenly cuts into your ear. Thank the Maker.

“Let’s just all calm down, okay?” Odas finally interjects.

“Actually,” you start to say, taking the drink in your cup that you haven’t touched and chugging it all in one gulp, “I have to go. It was nice catching up with you guys, though.”

Once on your feet, you turn on your heel and make for the door. Just as you’re about to head out through the doorway, you hear Venka hiss at you, “Does he at least take helmet off when he fucks you?”  

You should ignore him; you should just take the last two steps through the cantina door and disappear. You reallyshouldn’t turn around and punch him square in the face.

But, sometimes, they deserve it. So without another thought, you’re already stomping back over to the table, pushing chairs out of your way as you walk straight up to Venka, and punch him in the nose with so much force, he loses his footing and falls flat on his back. The cantina goes dead silent—everyone staring at you in complete shock.

“Is Tye here?” You ask, chest heaving.

“Uh… yeah, he’s at your old apartment. He’s coming with us on the job,” Sula responds, stunned that you actually just punched Venka in the nose.

“Thanks for the drink,” you say to her before whipping your body around and making your way to the door. It’s not clear, but you think you hear Venka shout something at you, something with the word ‘bitch’ in it, but you’ve already made your point. It’s not worth going back to hear what he has to say.

Looking down at the hand you used to strike him, you notice three of your knuckles are split open, little drops of blood running down your hand. In an effort to conceal this from Mando, you wipe it haphazardly along your thigh, just as you exit the doors.

Mando’s leaning against the door, his hands resting on his belt and once he sees you, he kicks himself off the duracrete wall to stand.

“What happened?” He asks, taking note of how erratic your breathing is. When the visor looks down at your hands, he grabs hold of your wrist, pulling your hand to him and inspecting the small gashes on your knuckles.

“It’s nothing,” you attempt to assume him, trying to jerk your arm out of his grip, but Mando’s much stronger than you, so he pulls your hand closer to his cuirass.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I really don’t want to get into it.”

His sigh breaks up in his helmet and you know he wants to press you again, but he ultimately doesn’t. “You took care of it?”

“I did.”

“Good,” he answers tentatively, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze and then letting go, starting to head for the hangar. You linger for a moment, staring down at your busted up hand and watching the tiny droplets of blood bead down your skin.

Fucking Trandoshans, you think to yourself.

As you stroll through the crowded streets, mulling over the conversation you had with your old friends, you quickly realize that if Tye really is here, you need to see him. You need to explain why you did what you did or didn’t do, as well as show him that you’re okay. Actually, that you’re more than okay. You’re the best you’ve ever felt which makes you feel incredibly guilty.

“Mando,” you call out because he’s a few feet ahead of you. He stops in his tracks and waits for you to catch up to him.

“There’s something I need to do before I go back.”

Grogu coos worriedly, his ears drooping.

“I’ll be okay, little guy,” you assure him, simultaneously trying to convince Mando the same.

Mando shakes his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll leave the commlink open,” you say in an effort to ease his apprehension.

“No,” he says more sternly, the modulator dangerously low.

“Two hours. That’s all I’m asking for. If in two hours I don’t check in, feel free to tear this city apart looking for me, but I need to do this and I need to do this alone.”

Mando sighs begrudgingly, the sound breaking apart through the helmet. “Fine. Two hours.”

You mouth ‘thank you’ before disappearing through a crowd of people, and then darting down a dark alley.

With your hand hovering over your blaster, you slip through various streets and alleys on your way to the apartment you and Tye shared in between jobs. Every step you take makes your heart race faster, the reality of the situation sinking in. You hadn’t even taken the time to consider that Tye might not even want to see you. The last time you spoke, you hadn’t parted on good terms and now that he probably knows you’re still alive… it’s not going to be an easy conversation.

When you turn the corner onto the street of the apartment, you’re practically quivering. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage, palms are sweating, and you think about turning around. No one would know you were here if you left. The chances of you coming back to Coruscant after this are slim to none—you could do it.

No.

You have to stop running away from things that need to be faced. You’ve been running your entire life, trying to keep yourself busy in an attempt to forget about your responsibilities. Truthfully, you’re tired of running away. It’s time to right your wrongs.

Once you reach the building, your eyes slam shut and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through your lips and head inside. Climbing up the stairs slowly, you hold onto the railing to steady yourself. The anxiety is really getting to you, now.

Was this a bad idea?

Fuck.

To your surprise, the door is open. Either it’s been abandoned, or you think he’s expecting you. Feet hovering in the doorframe, the pounding in your ears is damn near deafening but you press on, taking a step forward and then another and then another until you’re standing in the hallway of the apartment. The door hisses shut behind you, causing you to jump at the sudden sound.

The place is almost unrecognizable. The furniture in the sitting room is flipped upside down, shards of broken transparisteel littered around the room, and the room’s so dark, you can barely see a thing. The only light source illuminated the room is coming from the outside lamp posts, highlighting the disaster that’s displayed in front of your eyes. You begin chewing on the inside of your cheek, becoming more aware of the possible danger you’ve just walked into.

“So, you’re alive,” you hear in the darkness.

“Tye?” You ask aloud, eyes shifting around the room, trying to locate where the voice came from.

A silhouette appears from the kitchen, illuminated by the outside light fixtures. The shadow look like him, but it also doesn’t. The voice sounds like Tye, but its’ darker, rougher.

“Kriff, you’re actually here.”

You take a couple steps forward, stopping just shy of the counter that separates the kitchen from the seating area. Tye stands in the kitchen, hands pressing into the marble surface, taking you in. As his features become clearer, your breath catches in your throat.

Your best friend since you were a child. The one person that’s saved your life more times than you can count. The single person in this galaxy that has been with you through the darkest moments in your life. The person you thought you had seen die right before your eyes, standing just a few feet away from you.

There’s a darkness in his eyes that you don’t recognize. His eyes were a gentle, warm shade of green that made others gravitate towards him. They used to bring you comfort; you could be at your lowest and then when you’d look up at him, you’d feel at ease.

Now when you look at them, all you see are broken fragments of tainted memories. Like all the pain and suffering he’s endured in the last few months has been bundled up and are now locked in his eyes for everyone to see.

You want to reach out, but something’s stopping you. There’s not a single thing you recognize about him. Hair that was once blonde is gone, shaved off. His shoulders are more sunken too. He used to hold himself with such confidence, not unlike the kind of strut that Mando carries himself with. Tye’s cheekbones are more pronounced as well, and it worries you that he’s begun using spice more than he used to.

Unsurprisingly, it was somewhat normal for smugglings get high on the supply they were trafficking, and you’ve seen Tye do it from time to time. You—on the other hand, never did. You had seen what it could do to its abusers, and you knew better than to do something that foolish. It was kind of a twisted morality code. Willing to smuggle it and let others abuse it, and yet you thought you were above using it yourself.

“What happened to you?” You ask him, completely in disbelief that this is what Tye has become.

“They said you were back, but I didn’t believe them,” he murmurs, his voice so low that you barely catch what he says, his gaze fixated towards the ground.

Maker, even the way he talks is different. Tye had the bubbliest of characters. He was larger than life, his voice echoed in every room he was in, boisterous and kind. The type of intonation that was infectious. Now, his voice is rough, it’s terse—like all the joy has been sucked out of him and now there’s just a hollow sound left.

This isn’t the man you grew up with.

The thought makes you nauseous.

Did you do this to him?

Are you the reason he’s so… different?

“Why didn’t you tell me or anyone that you were okay?” He nearly croaks.

Guilt overwhelms you. “I… thought you were dead.”

Tye lets out a noise that’s similar to a laugh, but you know damn well he means anything but that. He takes a step back, rubbing the back of his head and takes a sharp breath.

“You could have sent someone a hologram. You could have come back to Kijimi. Stars, you could have come here but you didn’t.”

Your jaw hangs, trying to find the words that might justify why exactly you didn’t tell anyone that you were never arrested, but whatever reason you come up with hangs on your tongue, unable to actually speak. It all just happened so fast.

“I had to hear from fucking Sula that you were—not only alive, but that you’re actually fucking traveling with the same Mandalorian that hunt you down. The one that shot me out of the kriffing sky,” his anger grows with every word.

“All these months, I blamed myself for what happened. I thought ‘she’s probably dead by now and that’s on me. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed’.” He rambles, voice cracking.

“I fucked up, Tye and I’m sorry, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t intend for any of this happen. Everything happened so fast, I couldn’t…” Your voice trails off, too many thoughts racing to your mind, unable to sift through them and think of a coherent explanation.

“Why are you with him?”

“He… saved my life, Tye.”

Tye crosses his arms against his chest, scoffing. “What?”

And so, you tell what happened. You tell him about Nevarro, about the Empire, about what Ahsoka told you. As you explain everything, Tye’s expression changes from resentment to almost disbelief.

“A Jedi?”

“If I wanted to train… yeah.”

“Well fuck, look at you,” he mocks.

“Don’t patronize me, I’m trying to explain myself.”

Tye holds his hands out in defense. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Wringing your hands, you wait for him to say something else… but he doesn’t. He stares at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something else.

“So… what does this mean for us, now?” Your voice is soft, hoping there’s some possibility of reconciliation.

“There is no ‘us’ anymore,” he says lowly.

“Okay, I half expected that…” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck absentmindedly.

Not surprising.

“Did you really think that you could come back here and give me some bullshit excuse and expect us to be friends again? After the shit you put me through?”

“I guess not.”

Tye says nothing else, keeping the same expression on his face. Betrayal, pain, anger. It’s all staring you right in the face.

“Time’s up,” Mando’s gruff voice whispers in your ear.

Cursing to the Maker, you want more time. There has to be something else you can say to him that’ll better explain why you didn’t ask anybody if he was still alive but then you realize, you just didn’t do enough. Quite frankly, you did nothing. You should have done something, you could have done something but ultimately, you didn’t and that’s something you’ll just have to life with.

“I should head back,” you tell Tye, who just shrugs at you. Turning on your heel, you look over your shoulder to see him still standing in the kitchen. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Please say something, you say to yourself as you make for the doorway.

He doesn’t.

--

“Everything all right?” Mando asks you as soon as you’re walking up the ramp.

“Yeah,” is all you answer.

He doesn’t press you, taking note of the way you’re clearly not in the mood for chatter.

You prop your elbows atop one of the crates, leaning on it and staring down at the ground. Feeling guilty about bringing down the energy inside the Crest, you find yourself trying to make conversation, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“What happened with your friend at the cantina?”

“They need me to do a job, and then we’ll have enough credits to pay for the fuel we’ll need in order to get to Tython.”

Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “What kind of job?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be staying here with the kid.” He answers dryly.

Stunned, you push off the crate and turn your body to him, facing Mando head on and crossing your arms across your chest.

“Is there a problem?” He asks, taking in your body language.

“What if you need help?”

“It’s a four-person job. They had three before I agreed.”

“Which means you’ll be outnumbered if something goes wrong,” you retort, eyebrow cocked.

“I need you to stay with the kid.”

You clamp down on your jaw, tapping your foot on the ground while you consider his last words. “I don’t like this, at all.”

“You don’t have to, but it isn’t up for discussion.”

“But—”

“No.”

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you know he’s right. It is safer for someone to be with the kid and it’s not exactly like you can do the job instead. Once again, you’re stuck following Mando’s orders.

“So then, when do you head out?”

“Soon. I should be back before morning,” he answers, rummaging through his armory.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Sleeping in the cockpit.”

“Mmm,” you hum in the back of your throat. Noticing Mando’s back stiffen, he takes one of the blasters off the wall, and inspects it.

As you watch him examine his weapons and take in the way he twitched hearing you purr, a cunning thought crosses your mind.

Since he refuses to let you come along, you want to give him a reason to be counting down the minutes until he’s back with you on the Crest. It’s not that you want him distracted, but the possessive side of you wants him to be constantly reminded that you’ll be waiting here—for him.

Without trying to be discrete, you saunter over to the armory, making sure to graze his arm against yours as you pass by him to pick up one of the multiple blasters hanging on the wall. Holding it your hand, you twist the gun around, in an unbashful attempt to get his attention, puffing your chest out as you stare down at the weapon in your hand. You can feel the visor on you, but you don’t look up. Instead, your gaze stays glued to what’s in your palm, knowing Mando’s studying you carefully, like he’s trying to understand what you’re trying to do.

Putting the gun back on its placeholder, you saunter passed him, the tips of your fingers hooking onto his cape, stroking the fabric between your fingers, then dropping it as you head over to the small closet where the ration packs are kept.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

Turning around to look at him, you cross your arms along your chest and with the most innocent tone you can, your tongue darts across your bottom lip and then whisper, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mando tilts his head and lets out a deep breath that scratches through the modulator, but he makes no move on you. Rather, he goes back to inspecting the weapon that’s sitting on one of the higher crates.

Okay… so you’ll have to be more unsubtle. Craning your neck to either side, you let out a small groan as you hear your bones crack, but once again, Mando’s visor stays peeled to the gun. Starting to get annoyed at the lack of attention he’s giving you, you start to wonder if you should pull back, give up and wait until he comes back in the morning, but honestly? You don’t want to give up. You know you can seduce him; you just need to find the right trigger. Feeling some courage and boldness suddenly overcome you, your feet bring you over to where Mando is standing, and come up right next to him, leaning back on the crate and propping your elbows on the crate behind you, puffing your chest out even more to showcase your breasts. He glances over at you for just a moment and clears his throat. “What?”

“Nothing,” you answer with a devilish smile. You’re almost close enough for your arms to brush against each other, but you stop yourself from closing the gap.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he tells you, voice strained and tight.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“No.”

Inching yourself closer to him, your hand grazes the vambrace on his right arm. He makes no sound, but by the way his chest puffs in and out, you know you’re getting under his skin, and that makes you even bolder. With your right hand, you grab onto his vambrace and slide between him and the wooden crate, essentially pinning yourself between the two. Mando groans deeply, his head craning to the left, exposing just the smallest amount of skin as he does. Stars, even just the sight of his neck causes you to squirm, rubbing your thighs together.

“Not enough time,” he pleads, nearly fucking panting.

“Mmm,” you whine back, bringing both your hands to grab at his waist, digging your fingernails into the fabric just above his utility belt. When Mando doesn’t pull away, you slide one of your legs between his, feeling his growing erection against your knee. His visor looks down at you and you can’t help but bite your lip in an attempt to hide the smug smile from forming. His hands are on either side of your body, pressing into the wood so hard you can hear it crackling under his firm grip.

Leaning into his body, your neck cranes upwards and you’re forced to go on the tips of your toes to whisper into the side of his helmet where his ear would be, “If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

“Fuck…” is all he manages to say, and then you’re slowly dropping to your knees, your face aligning with the bulge in his pants.

Your hands fumble down to the utility belt, but through hooded lids, you continue to look into Mando’s visor. Unhooking the belt, you push his flak vest out of your way and find the waistband to his trousers. Mouth practically watering, you swallow hard, and finally tear your eyes away to look at the bulge between his legs. Your pussy gushes as one of your hands push against the waistband to cup him inside his pants. Mando jerks forward at the touch, a guttural groan etching through the vocoder.

“Stars…”

You pull his pants down just enough for his cock and balls to spring free, and your jaw fucking drops at the sight. This is the first time you’re seeing him, truly seeing him. In that alley on Tatooine, it was too dark for you to be able to observe him, but now? Fuck, he’s a goddamn sight.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how fucking big he is, it’s a shock he’s able to fit all of himself inside you. Steadying him by wrapping your hand around him at the base, you take a moment to appreciate him. Mando’s uncut with just tip of his head poking through. There’s a bead of precome forming from the tip, and you dart your tongue passed your lips to lap it up, the taste of him on your tongue makes you hum.

Your free hand settles on his thigh, while the other begins to slowly stroke up and down his length, licking up every bit of precome that oozes from the tip.

“Ah, shit… Feels so go—” He begins to say but is cut off by you engulfing his entire length in your mouth.

Mando grazes the back of your throat, and your body tenses, fighting the urge to gag. You pull away from him slowly, hallowing your cheeks as you feel every vein of his cock until he slips through your lips with a loud, wet pop. Your tongue darts along your bottom lip, coating it with saliva before taking him once again. Repeating the process a few more times, and feeling Mando writhe from your slow taunt, he unexpectedly becomes impatient. His hips grind against you, practically begging for more. He’s entirely at your mercy, being the one in control right now is making you dizzy. To see someone as strong and commanding as Mando practically mewling because of you is sending you on a power-trip.

When you take him in your mouth again, instead of pulling away, you begin bobbing your head up and down his cock, the wet sounds echoing through the Crest walls. Already, you’re getting better at taking him into your mouth without gagging as much. Because of his size, you do end up gagging a couple times, your body tensing as he grazes the back of your throat, but you press on, because hearing Mando praise you over and over is intoxicating.

“Kriff, your mouth feels so fucking good… fuck… makes me want to bend you over his crate and fuck you until you’re begging to come.”

Hearing him only spurs you on, guiding him as far as he can go, and letting him just sit in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his girth, precome dripping down your throat. It’s salty, but it’s also the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted in your life. A mixture of saliva and precome dribbles down your chin, but you continue to swallow as much of him as you possibly can, nothing’s going to stop you from making him come like this.

Your panties are fucking soaking now, pussy throbbing and damn near hurting from the lack of touch. All your concentration is being focused on making Mando feel good, and he knows it. He knows this is for him, and he’s reveling in it.

“I bet you’re so fucking wet right now, pretty girl,” he pants, placing one of his hands behind your head and cradling it gently as he begins to fuck your mouth. Just as you start to feel him twitch inside you, a faint alarm begins to ring, and you feel him still.

He has to leave.

“I-I ha-ave to go,” he whimpers, your lips still firmly wrapped around his cock.

But you don’t stop. When you feel him try to pull away, your hands grab onto his hips, digging your fingers into him and trying your hardest to keep him right where he is, and begin sucking him even faster, bobbing your head up and down his length at a quicker pace.

“Oh fuck… that feels so fucking good.”

The alarm is still ringing, but you don’t care. You’ll make damn sure he’ll come, you just need a few more minutes…

He holds your shoulders, keeping you in place and then he’s backing away from you. His cock slips through your lips, leaving a trail of spit behind that falls down your chin. Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Mando hooks his arms under yours and lifts you to your feet, only to spin you around and push you against the crate, bending you over, the gun falling to the ground.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He growls at you, grabbing the waistband of your pants and pulling them down to your knees. “I have to leave.”

Your chest is heaving, arousal making your head spin as you wait impatiently for what he’ll do next. “So, go,” you mutter breathlessly.

“You want me to leave?” He taunts. You hear something light hit the ground, and then he’s pushing your underwear to the side and cupping your sex with calloused fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, the touch already relieving some of the building pressure.

“Maker, you’re fucking soaked,” he admires, and then he’s sticking two thick fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them and hitting that spot inside you that nearly blinds you. Jerking forwards, your stomach digs into the blunt edge of the crate, but feeling Mando’s fingers fuck you overpowers the discomfort. It’s desperate, it’s rough, and hurried but that makes it all so much more exhilarating.

“I’m gonna c-come,” you pant into surface, almost surprised at how close your orgasm is.

Mando suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out of you and smearing your slick all over your entrance and clit.

The tip of his cock pokes your entrance, but he doesn’t move. He strokes himself between your folds, teasing you. “I have to go,” he groans.

You grind your hips against him, and push your ass out, arching your back in the hope that he’ll slide inside you, and to your surprise, he does. He aligns his hips with yours and slams right into you, pushing you further up the crate, fully sheathing himself between your walls.

He wastes no time fucking you, holding both your shoulders and jackhammering into you so hard, there’s no fucking air in your lungs. Your feeble whimpers are breathless and empty, jaw fully slack as he continues to wreck your cunt.

“Mando? Where the hell are you?” A voice comes from the commlink on his vambrace.

“Fuck,” he growls, somehow quickening his pace and driving you fucking insane. You don’t even know how close you are to coming until it’s ripping through you, almost making you convulse underneath him, sobbing brokenly into the air. Your fingernails are digging into the wood so violently, you hear it splinter. Knees buckling, you’re already completely spent, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re supposed to be here by now. Mando, where the fuck are you?”

Grinding his hips even more into your ass, he bends over so his cuirass is pressed against your back, his cock hitting a part inside you that only he knows how to touch. You’re so fucking full, a second orgasm is moments away if he continues to fuck you from this angle.

“Do you see what you do to me? Ah—shit, I’m supposed to be with them, but—fuck, instead I’m here,” He snarls in your ear, the side of his helmet grazing your cheek.

Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, feeling his body weight press you into the hard surface, and his cock driving you fucking wild. Your mind is blank, your throat is bone dry—unable say a fucking word. You’re helpless underneath him.

“Pretty girl, you’re going to be the death of me.”

His weight leaves you, and then he’s grabbing both your hands, crossing your arms behind your back and holding them in place with one hand. He starts a pace so mind-blowing hard, pounding his cock inside you and hitting your cervix with every thrust. It’s the most delicious pain you’ve ever experienced. If it were anyone else, you’d tell them to stop, but this is Mando. He knows what you can and can’t handle better than you do, so you let him slam into you at a grueling speed. You can hear his balls slap against your skin, and another orgasm begins to form deep in your belly.

He grinds into you a few more times and then he’s somehow burying himself even more inside you, and you snap. A second orgasm splits you apart, whatever pathetic noise comes out of you is drowned out by Mando’s guttural groan as he reaches his own climax, his cock pulsing as his seed is pumped deep inside you.

“Mando!” The male voice shouts once again through the commlink.

Even though you’re entirely spent, a laugh escapes you. He’s just completely ignored someone calling him just so he could finish fucking you.

“Coming,” he responds curtly, pulling out of you quickly and tucking himself back in his pants.

You don’t expect Mando to linger any longer than he absolutely needs to, so with the very little strength you have left and using your palms, you push yourself upright, knees shaking profusely, and to your surprise, he grabs the waistband of your pants and begins tugging them back up your legs.

“Mmm, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” you try to assure him, but he doesn’t listen. He shimmies them back up until they’re around your waist, and then he’s turning you to face him.

“I have to go,” he tells you, and you sense some regret in his voice. He doesn’t want to leave, either.

“I know,” you smile at him, sheepishly.

Mando reaches out, both of his hands cupping the sides of your face and presses the helmet against your forehead. The coolness of the beskar feels amazing against your hot skin. He lets out a deep breath, baritone dangerously low as it comes up tight through the helmet. You press back into him, closing your eyes and taking in this sweet, tender moment. Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils, the smell of beskar and Mando’s own scent—a mix of soap that you’ve grown used to smelling on yourself, as well as hints of sweetness and musk, almost drowns you but in the best fucking way possible.

“Come back in one piece, okay?”

He doesn’t respond, only continues to hold your face in his hands. Time seems to still, and for a fraction of a second, it’s just you and him. It’s somehow the most intimate moment you’ve shared. Without saying a word, you say your good-bye’s and watch him head down the ramp, waiting until he’s no longer in sight before heading the fresher.

--

It’s been a couple hours since Mando left, and you hate to admit it, but you miss him… like a lot. Definitely more than you should. Come to think of it, this is the first time since Kijimi that you’ve been away from each other for this long. Ever since then, you’ve been beside each other, or at the very least knew where the other was, but right now? You have no idea where he is, who he’s with or how long he’ll be gone, and you’re driving yourself crazy.

You keep commlink open—just in case anything goes wrong, he’ll be able to contact you and while you pray to the Maker that nothing does go wrong, you can’t help but wish to hear his voice through the little speaker.

A simple check-in would instantly calm your nerves, but you know better than to call him yourself. He could be hiding; he could be in the middle of a gunfight. The last thing he needs is hearing your voice asking him if everything is okay and distracting him. Needless to say, the negatives outweigh the positives, so you continue to pace anxiously up and down the galley of the ship, waiting to hear that intoxicating voice of his.

The kid’s been up for the last half an hour, babbling to himself with that kriffing ball in his grip. You feel bad for him, being stuck in this hunk of metal all the time but risking both of your safeties just for a little walk around is simply not worth it. The quicker Mando gets the job done, the sooner you’ll be off Coruscant and on your way to Tython.

You could try to get some sleep, but you know damn well you’ll be tossing and turning in the cot, anxiously waiting to hear his voice on the commlink.

There has to be something you can do that’ll keep your mind occupied…

Grogu looks up at you in your lap, cocking his head to the side as his ears peak up at you, and then you get an idea.

Ahsoka had told you Grogu was trained at the Jedi Temple for years before being forced into hiding, and since you’re both bored, this could be the perfect time to practice. Albeit, you have no idea what you’re doing, but anything is better than sitting around waiting for Mando’s return.

At first, you consider staying within the Crest, but there isn’t nearly enough room, and quite frankly, you know the two of you could benefit from not being locked up in the ship. Picking Grogu up into your arms, and grabbing your blaster, you make for the ramp and descend it. The hangar is empty, now. The owner’s retreated for the night, so you don’t have to worry about being watched.

The hangar itself is much larger than Peli’s. Easily twice the size, and it’s located on a large platform that overlooks the underworld portal. It’s the perfect place for a quick getaway and doubles as a scenic view.

Sometimes between jobs, you’d come to one of these various hangars and spend hours just looking at the steady flow of traffic coming in and out of the lower levels. You’d sit on the edge of the hangar; feet dangling in the air and stare up in amazement that something this vast could exist in the galaxy. Thousands of different beings travelling through this canal, beings you’ll never know or see again, but being aware that each of them had their own life, their own struggles and triumphs, all travelling in the same place at the same time is almost hard to wrap your head around.

You settle Grogu on a nearby table and place your blaster just to his right, making sure to turn the safety on.

“Grogu,” you say softly, holding your hand out face up at him. “Give me the ball.”

He hesitates at first, pulling the ball closer to his chest, but you continue to coax him, speaking gently until he finally places it in your hand.

“Thanks, little guy,” smiling and wiggling your finger in front of him, you then take a couple steps back.

You could try to push the stone to him, but you haven’t the slightest idea how to do that, so instead you opt to get Grogu to take the ball from your hand. Holding the ball between your thumb and index, you begin to sweet-talk him into taking the ball from you.

“Okay, let’s do this, kid. Can you take the ball out of my hand?”

His head moves from side to side and his arms reach out as far as they can, cooing happily.

“Come on, you did it with Mando. I know you can do it.”

Squinting his eyes momentarily, his hands start to twist and all of a sudden, the stone flies from your hand into his. The baby squeals with excitement, showing you the sphere in his grip with pride, and then resumes sucking on the durasteel, no longer interested in what you had planned to keep you two busy.

You smile to yourself, amazed that this little creature can do things that you would have never anticipated. The thought of reuniting him with a Jedi and the possibility of having to say good-bye breaks your heart. You’ve grown such an attachment to him. Seeing him every day, feeding him, playing with him, watching his little face light up whenever you give him the ball, and even seeing the gentleness in Mando that Grogu exudes from him, it’s all things you’ll miss dearly.

Looking down at your palm, you wonder if you’ll also be able to wield the Force and carry something over into your hand. Eyes meeting the blaster that’s resting to Grogu’s left, you begin trying to clear your mind and focus only on the gun and bringing it into your grip. Extending your arm as far as it can, you take a deep breath and exhale through slightly parted lips, furrowing your eyebrows as your concentration on the blaster grows. All the white noise suddenly drowns out, hearing only the steady thumping of the blood in your ears. Your fingers are shaking but the gun doesn’t budge. It stays completely still on the table.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, your arm drops to your side. Maker, you know it’s possible, you’ve done it before during a fight, but of course the one time you actually try to do it without having the threat of death, you’re unable to get that kriffing blaster in your hand.

Squaring your shoulders, you close your eyes and once again try to clear your mind, focusing only on the Force—feeling it flow through your body, harnessing its power, and bending it to your will. In an attempt to steady your heartbeat, you take, deep, long burning inhales, feeling your lungs expand as much as they can, holding the breath for a few seconds, and ever so slowly letting exhaling through your nose, all the while keeping your eyes closed and maintaining your focus on the Force.

You crane your neck from side to side and roll your shoulders a couple times and then your arm slowly raises once again, lining up with the blaster, and transfer all the power you feel inside you to the palm of your hand, and then to the tips of your fingers. You can picture the blaster in your head. The soft curve of the handle that connects to its clip, the narrow barrel pointed in your direction. As you continue to piece the weapon together in your mind, you start to feel a strong current flow through your veins to the palm of your hand. It’s more powerful than anything you’ve felt before, and yet it doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Instead, it feels empowering and familiar. When you finally open your eyes, they shift to your hand and your jaw damn near drops.  

The blaster is in your hand, fingers wrapped around the handle tightly. Bringing it closer to your chest, you examine the gun as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen it. Your eyes move between it and the table a couple feet away, completely stunned that you were actually able to do that yourself.

“Did you see that?” You call out to Grogu who’s squealing with joy. You’re not sure if he actually understands why you’re so giddy, but you’d like to think he does anyway.

Making your way over to him, you wiggle your finger in front of him and gently bop him on the nose. Not too far away, you see a piece of scrap durasteel on the floor. Peering down at Grogu, you shrug your shoulders. “Should I try it?”

He coos curiously and you take that as him saying ‘yes’. Repeating what you did previously, you raise your arm in front of you and focus on the small item and inhale through your lips, exhaling through your nostrils. Clearing your mind and only thinking of durasteel, you watch it begin to shake on the ground. Excitement sets in as it slowly lifts off the ground, hovering in the air for just a moment and then, it flies into your hand, causing you to lose your balance from the power of it.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” You exclaim.

“Holy Maker, you weren’t bullshitting me,” you hear behind you. Moving quickly, you drop the durasteel to pick Grogu up in your arms, grabbing your blaster and whipping your body around to point it at the person behind you. Tye lifts his arms, showing he’s empty handed.

“Whoa! Take it easy, I’m unarmed.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you slip the blaster back in its holster on your thigh and take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, and how the hell did you know where I was?”

“I have my ways,” he says, eyebrows darting up and down in jest. “What is that?” He asks when he sees the green baby in your arms.

“I’m not sure, really,” you answer honestly, looking down at Grogu.

“Didn’t think you had any motherly instincts.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Neither did I.”

Tye passes by you, heading for the edge of the hangar. You eye him cautiously, trying to gauge what he’s up to. When you see him sit down, feet dangling off the edge like you used to do, you walk over to him, still holding Grogu in your arms. You catch yourself just before you’re within earshot and put the kid down.

“Can I trust that you won’t tear this place apart?”

The kid mumbles something at you and begins waddling away.

“I’m keeping an eye on you, you little womp rat!” You shout at him, before strolling back over to where Tye is and sit to his right.

You’re looking at him, trying to find something recognizable about him, something that could show you he’s still the same person you knew when you were kids, but everything about him is different. He looks like an entirely new person.

“Do you remember the first time we got here?” He asks, staring at the portal’s traffic.

Your eyes leave him to look at the various ships coming in and out of the ports. “I remember thinking ‘I hate it here’.”

The corners of his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, you always hated busy places.”

“They’re just too noisy. You can barely hear yourself think down here.”

“Yeah…”

Neither of you speak for several minutes. You know he’s here for a reason. Whether it’s to forgive you or kill you, that’s probably up to what you say next.

“Tye, I’m really sorry for what I did,” you whisper, tearing your eyes away from the portal to stare at his side profile. “I was being selfish, and I didn’t take anyone’s feelings—especially yours, into consideration.”

“You know, when I got the hologram from Sula and saw Venka’s bloody nose in the background, I just knew it was you.”

Rolling your eyes, you jab him with your elbow. “You did not.”

“You’re the only person with enough nerve to punch him.”

“That’s true… It felt pretty damn good too.”

Tye chuckles, shaking his head. The sound instantly reminds you of all the moments you’d tell him a stupid pun and watch him cackle like it’s the funniest joke he’d ever heard in his life.

“Do you ever think about getting out?” You ask him.

“Getting out?”

“Yeah, putting all this smuggling shit behind you and finding a nice, quiet planet to live out the rest of your days. Meet a local girl and settle down. Maybe even have a couple kids.”

For the first time since you sat down, Tye looks over at you, and the kindness in his eyes that had seemed to disappear is looking back at you, bringing you to your younger years on Tatooine. That outgoing, carefree kid that always got you in trouble. The guy who laughed at everything, who found the silver lining in any given situation; he’s looking right at you.

“Nah, I’m not built for that kind of life.”

“Life has a way of throwing you some curveballs.”

“I see that…” he says with that smile that always brought you joy.

It suddenly dawns on you that this is Tye’s way of saying good-bye. That—after this conversation, you’ll probably never see each other again. You’ll no longer be involved in each other’s lives. There won’t be any more meetups on Kijimi or Coruscant or any other planet, and while the thought makes your chest tighten, you understand why. Honestly, you don’t know how you’d be able to forgive a friend for doing what you did, let alone have it be your oldest friend. Without even knowing it, you’ve chosen who you wanted your family to be, and to your surprise, it isn’t Tye.

Against your better judgement, you lean your head on his shoulder. At first, he stiffens, and you worry you’ve gone too far, but then he relaxes, even craning his neck to lean his head against yours, breathing you in.

“I hate to admit it, but you seem happier.” He tells you, feeling defeated.

“Hey, are you there?”

Mando’s voice in your ear makes you jump. Putting a finger up to Tye, you excuse yourself and walk back towards the Crest, just far enough so he’s no longer without earshot, all the while making the kid hasn’t gotten into any trouble. You catch him waddling around the hangar, chasing what looks to be some kind of flying insect. Womp rat.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, pressing your finger into your ear.

“The job’s taking longer than I thought. It’ll take another day or two,” he speaks low, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s talking to you.

Your heart drops. Another day? You hadn’t even considered the idea that he might be gone longer than he expected. Does he need help? Has something gone wrong? Should you ask to meet him?

“Are you still there?”

“Shit, yeah, sorry I’m here,” you answer, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Don’t let the kid out of your sight. Stay inside the Crest.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll try to check in again, but I might not be able to.” There are voices in the background, calling for him. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”

The other end goes silent. He’s gone.

Refusing to let yourself get too upset, you exhale through your lips and roll your shoulders, turning back over to Tye who’s still sitting on the ledge.

“What was that about?” He asks as you get closer, using his arms to push him back to his feet.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“So secretive,” he teases.

A sudden crash grabs your attention. Twisting your body in a panic, you see Grogu standing alongside a pile of miscellaneous scraps that have fallen over.

“Dank farrik. Kid!” You call out as you jog over to him. Once he sees you coming for him, he runs over to you, squealing in fear.

“Don’t worry, little guy. I got you,” you assure him, picking him up and holding him close to your chest. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

Grogu looks up at you and pouts, ears hanging low.

“I should get going. Gotta head out soon,” you hear Tye say to you.

“Okay.”

You stand a few feet away from each other, shifting awkwardly because neither of you know how to say good-bye.

“Well, um…” Tye says before clearing his throat, and then rubbing the nape of his neck with one hand.

“Good luck on your run.”

He looks down at the ground, kicking it absentmindedly with his foot. “Good luck with… everything.”

“Thanks,” you answer, voice barely audible.

You watch as Tye heads for the hangar door, waiting for him to look back, but he never does. You think about chasing after him, wrapping your arms around him one last time but your feet never leave the ground. They keep you firmly in place. With your chest tight, you expect tears to form in your eyes, but they never do. Not even seeing your best friend leave can bring you to tears. Does that make you a horrible person? Maybe.

The door hisses shut, leaving you and Grogu all alone in the hangar. You feel empty, like a part of you has walked away with Tye, and maybe there was.

He was your childhood, your adolescence… he was everything, and now he’s just gone, existing only in your memory.

“Hey,” you say, trying to distract youtself. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Grogu fusses in your arms and you head into the Crest, shutting the ramp behind you and going straight for the sleeping bunk. You crawl into the cot, placing him in the makeshift hammock and closing your eyes.

It’s gonna be a long couple days without Mando.

--

It’s been a day since you’ve last heard from Mando, which means you���ve been stuck in the Crest for a whole kriffing day, and you’re getting serious cabin fever. There aren’t any more ration packs—you and Grogu have finished the last of them a few hours ago and you’re still hungry. You both need some real food.

Remembering that diner you and Mando passed yesterday, it makes your stomach growl. It’s almost too tempting. You’ll both get some sustenance, and you’ll get time to stretch your legs. Really, it doesn’t take you much time to make up your mind. One little venture out can’t hurt, right?

Before heading out, you make sure to take your blaster and a two vibroblades from Mando’s armory. It may seem like overkill but it’s better to be safe than sorry. With Grogu tucked in the sash across your chest, you head out of the hangar.

Walking around without Mando is more dangerous, for obvious reasons. Only an idiot would pick a fight with a Mandalorian, so wherever you walked with him, you knew you’d be safe. It’s completely different walking by yourself. You know the area, you know the safer spots to walk and the areas to avoid, but you’re sure to keep your eyes open and walk with caution. Coruscant—no matter the time of day, can be dodgy. Should you have checked in with Mando that you were going out? Probably but it’s only for an hour or two and the odds of him coming back while you’re out are slim, so you take your chances. If he’s somehow able to find out that you left the hangar after he specifically told you to stay inside the Crest, you’ll just have to deal with the consequences, but until then, you’ll enjoy the little freedom you have right now.

Trekking the same route as you did with Mando, you keep your head down and navigate through various crowds of people, all the while keeping your hand just above the blaster strapped to your thigh. Even though you hate this planet, you can still appreciate its culture, and diversity.

Here, you can see every single possible being known in the galaxy. From Jawas and Wookies, to Gungans and Vodrans. Everyone eventually came to Coruscant, no matter who they were. If it wasn’t such a shithole, you’d probably enjoy living here. The best way to learn about other planets and other beings is to come to Coruscant where they had the knowledge about such things, and knowledge in abundance. It’s the metropolitan of the galaxy and if you were able to forget about all the crime and injustices that occurred here, you could probably stay just to learn.

The diner is almost full as it’s now midday. You’re lucky enough to find an empty booth near the kitchen when an older looking woman comes to greet you at your table with a datapad in hand.

“Hi there, can I get you anything?” She asks kindly.

“Can I have some broth and a plate of sliders, please?”

Looking down at the pad in her hands, she puts in your order and looks back at up at you with a wide, toothy grin, “Coming right up, sweetheart.”

As you wait for your meal, you look out the transparisteel and watch as waves of people pass you by on the street, exchanging smiles with those you make eye contact with. You wonder what kind of trouble Mando’s getting up to out there.

Is he nearby?

Is he on the other end of the planet?

More importantly, is he safe?

You wish he were with you. The idea sounds almost too domestic, sitting in a diner with you and Grogu, sharing a meal like normal people. It’s probably something you’ll never actually get to experience together but it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming about it. Never would you have guessed that you’d be longing for domesticity, for normalcy. Mando’s brought that out in you which is pretty ironic considering neither of you have experienced something close to normalcy in years but then again, it’s pretty fitting.  After living such a nomadic life, moving from planet to planet, risking your life every time you stepped out on a run, it’s all led you to this, to Mando and Grogu.

“Here you go, sugar,” the waitress says suddenly, two plates of food in her hands. She gently places them in front of you and Grogu. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Perfect, thank you,” you say, all smiles.

Grogu starts to eat immediately, grabbing the spoon with his firm grip and sipping the broth. Looking down at the food in your plate, you’re practically ravenous. This is the first proper meal you’ve had in months. While living off of ration packs have satisfied you up until this point, there’s nothing quite like munching down on real food, something that didn’t come out of a pack. You make a mental note to take some food to go before heading out, for Mando. You assume it’s been even longer since he’s had a decent meal and you’re sure he’d appreciate it.

You eat quickly, just because it’s so kriffing good. The attempts to really savor it are lost on you. The juices from the patty nearly drip down your arm, you’re sure you look a hot mess right now, but you pay no mind.

The best thing about eating something other than a ration pack is that this actually tastes like nutrition. Ration packs are just enough to keep up your strength, but they’re not made to satisfy you. It’s just to keep your body up and moving.

Before you know it, you’ve cleaned your plate. The kid has also finished his broth by now and is giving you sleepy eyes, blinking up at you slowly. A proper meal is enough to make anyone tired, including you, but there’s still a few errands you want to run before heading back to the Crest. Before leaving, you had made a list of all the things you’ll need to buy on your day out.

1.    New clothes

2.    Ration packs

3.    Soap

4.    Food for Mando

It’s a short list but having only a few hundred credits, you’ll have to budget everything very carefully, even try to bargain with merchants if it comes down to it. Luckily, you think of yourself as a pretty good dealer, so you’re prepared to do it if it comes down to that.

The waitress comes back to pick up the empty saucers and you ask her to for another platter of sliders to go. She obliges, again with a smile.

While you wait, you take the opportunity to pick a sheepish Grogu and place him back in the pouch across your chest and walk over to the counter to wait. Within a few minutes, the kind woman reappears from the kitchen with a paper bag in her hands.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you answer, taking the bag from her hands, and placing a few credits in her hand.

“Safe travels, my dear.”

Offering her a smile, you turn on your heel and head out the door, back into the mayhem that is Level 1313.

Based on memory, you walk in direction of where ration packs are sold, remembering all the times you used to come to this very spot just before leaving for a job. Every building, every street sign, it’s all familiar. It’s like you’re taking a stroll through the past, almost seeing your old self in strangers you pass by, realizing how much has changed since you were last here. It’s funny to think that on a planet as vast and modern as Coruscant, you seem to be the only thing that’s actuallychanged. You’re no longer just looking out for yourself. Now, you worry about Grogu’s safety, you worry about Mando’s safety. It’s a change you couldn’t have anticipated but are so thankful for.

The merchant selling the ration packs cause you a bit of trouble, claiming the broth packs and bread packs are different prices—which you know is bullshit because you’ve been buying them for years. You’ve seen him do this before, to other women who try to buy packs. Why he thinks he could increase prices for women and not men are not unusual. Men tend to think women don’t know the actual price of packs and can therefore get away with selling them at a different price. It happens so often that most of the time now, women have their male counterparts buy the packs for them, since the exchanges usual end with them not receiving any packs at all, but you know his game. He’s been trying to hustle you for years and has never been able to get the best of you.

“This is enough for five packs, that’s all,” he says when you place some credits on the table.

“No, that’s enough for two weeks’ worth of packs,” you snarl back.

The man laughs at you. “Maybe on a smaller planet, but you’re on Coruscant, girl. It’s more expensive, here.”

“That’s such bullshit and you know it. Give me two weeks’ worth of packs and I’ll be out of your way.”

He scowls at you, his eyes glaring you down. “Have you gone deaf? I said five.”

Taking a deep breath, and craning your neck to either side, you press your palms into the table, leaning forward and stopping just inches from his face. “I’ll say it just one more time. Give me the fucking packs.”

“Hey, we’re all waiting over here!” You hear someone in line shout at you.

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“I can stay here all day, and you’ll lose out on way more than just a handful of packs,” you tell him, taking a step back and crossing your arms against your chest. “Your call.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. You can tell he’s considering it by the way he continues to glare at you. It’s not worth losing out on a whole day’s worth of business just for a handful more packs.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, grabbing two handfuls of ration packs and throwing them on the table.

“Thank you,” you sneer, grabbing them all and stuffing them into your backpack.

1.    New clothes

2.    Ration packs

3.    Soap

4.    Food for Mando

The rest of the afternoon goes by smoothly. You manage to get everything you needed without overspending, and you’re pretty proud of yourself. By the time you’re back on the Crest, the kid’s fallen asleep. You bring him up to the cockpit and put him down on one of the chairs and let him sleep. Since you’ll be rummaging through the galley to put everything away, this is probably the quietest place for him to sleep. After putting him down, you descend the ladder and begin unpacking everything you bought today. Placing the ration packs where they belong, the soap in the fresher, and checking out the new clothes you got. Nothing too extravagant, just another dark colored tunic and some cargo pants but it’s perfect for you.

You look down at the commlink on your wrist, checking the time. It’s early evening, making it almost a day and a half since you’ve heard from Mando, almost two days since you’ve last seen him, not that you’re counting the days.

Okay, you are but that’s not the point.

The point is you miss him terribly. Each hour that passes is an hour closer until you see him again, but it’s also another hour that you haven’t seen him, and your body aches. Is that possible? To miss someone so much that it actually hurts your body? The only logical explanation is that he’s taken a part of you with him, leaving you with a gaping hole inside your body, waiting for his return and waiting for him to refill it. It can’t be that it’s just because you miss him so fucking much, it can’t be.

It can’t be…

--

You’re half-asleep in Mando’s seat in the cockpit when you hear the hangar door slide open. Eyes opening immediately, the familiar sight of shimmering beskar instantly releases all the tautness in your body that you held onto while he was gone. The relief and joy you feel seeing him after basically two days apart reminds you of something like teenage love. The inability to be away from one another even if just for a couple of days is almost embarrassing, given that you’ve tried so hard to distance yourself from the very love you have for Mando, but quite frankly, it feels fucking amazing to have someone to care for this much. The kid is still asleep in one of the passenger chairs, so you get up ever so quietly from your seat and tiptoe your way to the ladder.

Once you hit the ladder, you shut the cockpit door and then you’re racing down the ladder, jumping off of it before you reach the bottom. You heart is racing, the smile on your face is impossible to hide—not that you’re really trying to, anyway. Standing just at the end of the ladder, you watch as Mando heads up the ramp without a word, pressing a button the vambrace that shuts the ramp behind him. Once closed, the air surrounding you changes drastically. The smile disappears from your face, and all of a sudden you feel heat prick at your cheeks.

He damn near stalks towards you, only stopping momentarily to detach the jetpack from his back and then placing it on the ground lazily. It topples over, the noise making you jump but he doesn’t bother to bend over and pick it up. Mando’s got the visor planted on you, and you’re frozen in place, a pool of arousal begins to build in your lower stomach causing your jaw to slack open. Half of you wants to cower, to hide at the sight of him. A Mandalorian pursuing anyone is enough to trigger the fight or flight response but there’s something animalistic in the way he’s coming for you, and you’d be lying if your panties weren’t drenched right now.

“Close your eyes,” he says breathlessly as he draws in closer.

You obey immediately, and suddenly hear a hissing noise, followed by something heavy hitting the ground—his helmet? Before you can ask him, his hot lips crash into yours, pushing you up against the small wall that separates the refresher from his bunk. Large, gloved hands wrap themselves around the crooks of your neck, his thumbs resting on your cheeks. The yelp you let out in surprise is caught in his mouth, his tongue darting out to trail along your bottom lip before meeting yours.

The kiss is sloppy and rushed. His hands grab at your body, your waist, the small of your back, and then settle on your hips. Your own hands fly up to grab fistfuls of his hair. His locks are damp, probably due to sweat, and you pull tighter. Mando groans lowly in the back of his throat, feeling the vibrations in yours as your cunt throbs in response. He smells of gunpower residue and musk. It fills your nostrils, almost making you lightheaded from the sensation, it’s somehow the sweetest scent you’ve ever smelled.

Both of your chests are heaving, the need to pull away to catch your breaths continuously increasing. You continue to grab at each other hastily, one of his hands wrapping around your neck and craning your jaw to expose naked skin. His lips finally leave yours, although not without you trying to keep him still, and then he starts sucking at your neck. The stubble along his jaw scratching against your skin feels so fucking good.

“Thought about you… the whole… time… couldn’t… focus…” He growls into the crook of your neck between chaste kisses, already feeling the skin starting to bruise.

Maker, is it even possible to be this turned on, right now? Mando’s desperation throws you for a loop. You knew how much you missed him, but knowing he felt the same way is so comforting. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Need… need… to have you—"

“Stars… please…” You mewl back, hands dropping to his hips and pulling him closer to your body, his breastplate flush against your chest.

“Have to clean up first,” he whispers lowly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice is velvet smooth, like dripping honey. How can he be so gentle and commanding?

“Shhhh,” you tell him, before blindly grabbing at his arms in hopes to find his pauldrons and when you do find them, you start to detach them. Throwing them aimlessly on the ground and return grabbing at whatever piece of armor you can, you try to pry it off his body as he continues to lick and suck at either side of your neck.

It’s a little awkward trying to undress him while being so close to each other. You can’t even see what you’re doing so you’re sure it’s not the most elegant way of stripping him, and he seems to pick up on it because he finally pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. You feel his hot breath on your even hotter skin and the urge to open your eyes almost takes you over, wanting so desperately to look into his eyes and see him.

“Let me do it,” he coaxes, barely above a whisper.

“But—”

He presses his lips onto yours once more, and just when you try to deepen the kiss by moving closer towards his body, he breaks it off. Immediately, you begin to hear various pieces of his armor hit the floor, heart banging against your ribcage in anticipation. Stars, you want him so fucking badly. You become impatient, grabbing the hem of your tunic and beginning to lift it up your chest.

“No,” Mando orders.  

Feeling his body close to yours again, his hands grab onto your wrists, placing them on his waist. Rubbing the fabric between your fingertips, you assume he’s wearing only a long-sleeved tunic now. It’s soft to the touch, just like his skin. As your fingers trail down his sides to the hem of his shirt, you hike it up just enough for your thumb to circle the v-lines of his stomach, feeling small bumps form on his skin.

Mando grunts through gritted teeth and then he’s dropping to his knees. Your hands are back in his hair, running your fingers through his wavy locks. He grabs the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them all the way down your thighs, lifting each of your legs and helping you slip out of them. Discarding them to the side, Mando’s calloused fingertips trail up your legs, kissing the very tops of your thighs as he makes his way to your underwear.

Placing a chaste kiss on the thin piece of fabric, you can’t help but tremble. Mando’s ability to be rough one minute and then gentle the next is quite literally mind-blowing. It keeps you on your toes, never knowing exactly what’s going on in his brain.

He hooks his fingers around the hem of your underwear and slowly pulls them down. You’re naked from the waist down and beginning to feel shy, being exposed and the fact that you’re unable to open your eyes and see his face or gauge his body language—it’s eating you up.

His fingers slide between your legs, tracing all the way up the apex of your thighs, forming goosebumps on your skin. Once he reaches your cunt, two fingers slip between your folds, coating them with your slick.

“So wet, pretty girl,” he admires.

All you can do is mewl when he touches you. Mando continues to massage his fingers between your folds, gathering as much of your slick as he can and then he’s pushing two digits inside you, causing you to lull your head back and accidentally hitting it against the back wall a lot harder than you expected.

“Fuck, that hurt,” you giggle, hands rubbing the back of your head.

“Are you okay? He asks, stilling his fingers inside you.

“I’m fine—ah shit,” you answer just he begins to curl them inside you, hitting that angle that only he knows how to reach.

Rubbing tight circles on your clit with his thumb, you arch your back, pushing your hips right into Mando’s face. Using his free hand, he holds the small of your back in place and darts his tongue out to lick at your bud. Your whimper echoes through the Crest’s walls, his tongue flicking your clit as he continues to finger fuck your cunt. All you can do is pull on his hair tighter, unable to move or squirm as he holds you in place.

Knees beginning to buckle, you can feel the stirring in your stomach gradually building, your orgasm bubbling up to the surface. Mando seems to catch this because he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a quicker pace, now sucking on your clit and making you fucking squirm.

“Ma-Mando, I’m g-gon-nna come soon,” you tell him, voice breaking.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flings one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your legs apart and lapping you up with even more fervor. You’re basically quivering now, climax getting closer and closer, and Mando knows it. He knows your body better than anyone else, better than you know yourself.

“Shit, ah-fuck, Mando…”

Right as you feel yourself about to release, Mando pulls his fingers out of you and his tongue leaves your clit, placing a chaste kiss on your inner thigh and then rising to his feet. It’s damn near impossible to hide your disappointment. It’s infuriating—being so fucking close to release, only to be denied at the very last second.

“Why—” You begin to ask but the rest of your question is silenced by his lips crushing onto yours. His tongue finds yours and you can taste yourself.

“Shhhh,” he whispers onto your lips, and then he’s pressing his body on yours once again, arms wrapped around your back as he carries you into the fresher.

The space is just big enough to fit you both, your bodies practically stuck together. Your eyes are still closed and that only adds to the intimacy. His hands grab onto the hem of your tunic and he instructs you to lift your arms. You do as your told and he lifts the shirt above your head, discarding it at your feet. You stand there, naked and fully at his mercy.

“You can open your eyes,” he says just after hearing the door slide shut. At first, you hesitate, unsure if the room really is pitch black or if he’s trusting you enough to look at his face. When you finally do open your eyes, you can’t see a damn thing. The light inside the fresher is off and you feel a sudden rush of relief and disappointment wash over you because of course he’d make sure the room was dark enough so you couldn’t see his features. Why would you think he’d be comfortable enough to show you his face?

You don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s already pushing you up against the wall, hands resting on the wall to either side of your face and sucking at your neck once again. The skin is tender, little bruises protruding along the sides of your neck, but Mando is mindful enough to be gentle. Then his mouth trails down your neck, giving chaste kisses along your clavicle, travelling down just above your breasts, cupping the flesh with his hands. With his thumb and index, he rolls your nipple, pinching the skin and then giving it a gentle nip with his teeth.

“Maker…” you whisper in awe. No one has ever been so tender with you. With all your previous sexual encounters, you’ve made it clear that it was purely about sex—nothing more. With Mando, everything is different. Neither of you are in a rush. You take time to understand each other’s bodies; what makes you writhe, what makes you scream, what makes you come. It’s about what will bring out the most pleasure in each other. You could both spend the rest of your lives learning everything about each other, from the curves in your skin, to each birth mark, to each scar.

He pulls away momentarily and using what little time you have; you grab only his hips and spin you both around, so he’s flush against the wall. Your fingers grab onto the bottom of his shirt once more.

“Can I?” You ask him tenderly.

Mando says nothing and you take that as him consenting. You hike up his shirt just a little bit, waiting for him to either stop you or allow you, and when he lifts his arms up so you can remove it, you throw it on the ground, somewhere close to where your own shirt is. You stand just inches apart from each other, neither of you are able to see the other. Wrapping your arms around his biceps, feeling the curve of his muscles as your fingers trace down his arms, across his chest.

His chest is covered in marks, scars from previous battles he’s fought in. Your fingers brush over his pecks, down the centre of his stomach, all the way to the small trail of hair that meets his shaft. When your hands settle on the waistband of his trousers, you unbuckle them and begin to push them down. He helps you a bit, stepping out of his pants.

In the fresher, you’re both fully exposed, completely vulnerable in a way you’ve never been before. The last time you were in here together, it was after the first time you had sex. That was different. You were both still dazed in the aftermath of what happened, neither of you fully aware of each other’s own nakedness, but now it’s so different. You’re not only aware of each other’s vulnerability but you’re relishing in it.

Mando turns the water on. A warm, steady stream cascades over your bodies. Steam from the warm water quickly fills the air, blending with each other’s body heat. Within seconds, you’re both soaked and for the first time, you’re the one who leans in for a kiss. For the first time, you’re the one with the courage to plant your lips on his, to catch him off guard. Mando groans in his throat, catching the sound in your own and swallowing it. With your hands placed on either cheek, you think this might be the first time anyone’s actually held his face and Maker, how fucking lucky you are to be the one to do this. He’s opened himself up to you; something he’s never done with another soul. You might not know what his face looks like, but you’re able to make out enough of his features by touching them. The sharp cut of his jawline where you feel his stubble, his moustache has tickles and pricks at your skin whenever he kisses you. The curve and bump of his nose as it clashes against yours, it’s enough for you to paint a picture of what you think he looks like, and if he looks anything like what you’ve made up in your mind, it’s a damn shame that the helmet covers up something so breathtaking.

You lean down to plant a kiss on one of his pecks, feeling the goosebumps form right where your lips meet his skin. There are a million things you want to tell him: how much you care for him and Grogu, how much he’s changed your life, how thankful you are to have him by your side. All these things you’ll probably never be able to tell him because expressing how you feel about someone has always been something you struggled with.

Although, you get the feeling Mando is in the same boat. Like he too is carrying the very same confessions as you that he too is unable to express. Maybe you’ll never know how he truly feels about you, just like he might never know exactly how you feel about him, but sometimes, words aren’t necessary. It’s more about the way you lean on one another, the way you touch one another. It’s your own way of communicating. Expressing yourselves through each other’s actions—that’s what draws you together.

He deepens the kiss, wrapping his large arms around your waist and pulling you to him as close as he can. Sloshing your mouths together, darting each other’s tongues, lips saturated in each other’s spit, it’s the most chaotic, desperate kiss you’ve ever had. When you finally pull away, chests are heaving, you’re both practically panting into each other’s mouths.

Mando takes a small step forward, hooking his hands under your arms and lifting you off the ground. You lock your legs around his waist, feeling his rock-hard cock grind against your stomach and then, your back’s on the wall again. His large hands cup your ass, digging half-moons into your skin as he nips at your shoulder.

“Fuck me … please,” you pant in his ear. His cock twitches, feeling drops of precome paint your stomach.

He wastes no time obliging as one of his hands lets go of you to align himself with your entrance. You wait impatiently for him to fill you up.

His head pokes at your entrance and immediately you feel your pussy gush. Bucking your hips forward, you push his head inside you, a pathetic mewl escaping your lips.

“Impatient,” he scolds and thrusts himself inside you all the way to the hilt. “Fu-u-uck,” he grits, biting back a moan.

Your head drops down to rest on his shoulder, arms crossed around his neck. Mando doesn’t move at first, letting your walls acclimate to his size. When he feels you relax around him, he begins to slowly grind his hips against yours, making sure you feel every fucking inch of him inside you. Trying to stifle your moans, you bite down on his shoulder and he whimpers at the sensation, driving himself even deeper, hitting your cervix.

“Fuck!” You cry out, head lulling back to hit the wall behind you.

Mando begins properly moving, slamming into you at a fast pace. The sound of skin slapping skin is only exacerbated by the water still pouring down over your bodies.

“Ah s-shit… fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good,” Mando says through gritted teeth. You clench your legs around his waist and feel him grind his hips in response. “Kriff…”

He stills inside you for a moment, and you start to wonder if he came prematurely. When you open your mouth to say something, he answers the question before you can ask it.

“I didn’t come, don’t worry,” he mumbles breathlessly, and then he’s pulling out of you.

It’s stupid but you feel empty. You already miss the feeling of his cock stretching your walls, the way he fills you up so perfectly, like you were made to take him.

Your feet touch the ground, and you only have a moment to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. Tongues darting out to catch each other’s; it’s a wet, sloppy kiss, but with his hands cupping your face, hands that almost cover your face entirely, it nearly throws you for a loop.

He pulls away just far enough so you can still feel his breath on your lips, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Maker, you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you just from his words. Turning you around so that you’re facing the wall, you hear him spit and then his cock is teasing your entrance again. Rubbing his length between your folds a couple times, slathering it with your slick, he lines himself up and slams into you with as much force as he can, knocking the air right out of your lungs as your cheek clashes with the durasteel wall.

His hands find their way to your hair, and he grabs as much of it as he can and pulls, forcing you to arch your back and steady yourself by holding onto the wall in front of you. The rhythm he sets is so brutal and rough, the only thing you can hear are his balls slapping against your clit. Your throat is raw, unable to make a single sound. Wrenching your eyes shut, the way his cock hits that spot inside you is making you see stars. There’s something desperate in the way he’s fucking you. The day and a half without you seemed to have really taken its toll on him, and now he’s taking it out on you. You’d let him leave without a fight if it meant you’d get fucked like this whenever he came back. Feeling your slick drip down your thighs, you know you’re so close to coming.

“Ma-ando, I’m go-o-onna c-c-come.”

“Good girl,” he praises.

When you finally come, the cries burn your throat, raw and broken. Mando fucks you all the way through it, never once relenting his rhythm, pushing as many whimpers and screams out of you as he can. Your body nearly convulses from the sheer power of your climax, exploding pleasure from every nerve-ending inside of you. Maker, you’re fucking spent. Knees barely able to keep you standing, almost going limp as you come down from your orgasm.

“Come again for me, pretty girl,” he says gently, dropping one of his hands to spread your legs and cup your sex.

“I-I can’t,” you answer with a trembling voice, making a feeble attempt to close your legs.

“Yes, you can,” he hums, forcing your legs open and using two fingers to rub your clit.

You squirm underneath him, the overstimulation really hitting you as the rhythm on your bud gets faster and faster. Your cunt is fucking worn out, you’re barely able to take any more pleasure but you refuse to let Mando down. You want to make him proud. Taking a shaky breath, you attempt to relax your trembling thighs and within seconds you’re coming again, biting down on your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ll end up breaking skin.

Mando makes a guttural noise, a purely animalistic groan as he feels you come around his cock. “Fuck, yes… good girl,” he growls with praise.

Grabbing your upper arms, he pulls you upright and flush against his chest, peppering wet, messy kisses along the nape of your neck. Your arm wraps around the back of his neck, pulling at his wet hair. His cock drives into you at a ruthless pace, and then he finally stills inside of you. Pulsing between your walls, he pumps his seed deep in your pussy, moaning your name into your ear.

When his hold on you slackens, you nearly double over and fall to the ground. He pulls out of you quickly and lifts you back up to your feet. Turning you around gingerly to face him, he leans you up against the wall.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He says with his hands on your face, a hint of guilt lingering on his lips.

You’re pretty sure your eyes are closed but you can’t be sure. Everything is so dark, your mind fuzzy. “No, ‘m okay,” you answer sheepishly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m okay, Mando.”

Feeling his forehead press yours, he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. If you had any energy left, you’d kiss him back but you’re teetering the line between consciousness and unconsciousness, too fucking exhausted to move any of your muscles.

After that, your mind goes… fuzzy.

It hits you in flashes.

You vaguely remember Mando cleaning you both up.

The water turning off.

Being guided out of the fresher.

Something being wrapped around your body—soft and warm, his cape probably.

Him slowly putting you down on the floor…

Someone warm close to you.

And then you fall asleep, the last thing you remember is feeling calloused fingertips grazing up and down your back.

[astrologanize]

*this is about your next mutual romantic connection - it could be that you both like each other but nothing may come of it, it could be someone you choose to date casually or not, or it could be someone that you go on to enter a serious relationship with. it’s a ‘connection’ for a reason! what you make of this connection is your choice, this is just the next mutual romantic connection that is coming towards you (yay for free will)

please take a moment to take a deep breath, ask yourself the above topic, and select the icon you are most drawn towards

pile 1: this person is not the most forthcoming with their emotions and i wouldn’t say that they’re cold but they are emotionally constipated. you’re showing up as closed off though so both of you are hesitant when it comes to romance, or at least for this romance in particular. it could be possible that when this connection comes around you’re still not entirely over someone else which is why you’re not as quick to get attached to this person. you’re going to need to decide whether you are going to move on from the previous person and pursue this new connection wholeheartedly or, if that doesn’t apply, then you’re going to have to work through the emotions of discomfort with this person by sharing your worries and concerns and make a more conscious effort to bring that sense of togetherness. to be fair this person reaaally needs to learn how to be bolder with you anyhow because they aren’t very expressive about their feelings for you so you’re both needing to learn how to open up in different ways. as your icon, the north star, suggests - it’s a time to figure out where you’re going! will you move on? will you make the trek towards opening up? something has to bring brightness! 

pile 2: this person has been through some things but they’re overcoming those issues or have already overcome those issues so this person doesn’t want to allow for anything to knock them down again Or this person has not properly dealt with past woes so they struggle with having healthy connections. for the former it will seem at times this person can shrug things off or have the mentality of “like water off a duck’s back” and it’s not from a lack of caring but because they’re trying to avoid pitfalls. for the the latter, this person shrugs things off because they genuinely don’t have the will to deal with it. this seems like a connection where neither of you expected to like the other because they aren’t your usual type at all and you’re not what they were looking for but somehow a romantic connection formed. i don’t see this as being a long-term connection because neither of you are heavily invested but if you both wanted to invest in it then the expectations would have to change (lol aka there would have to be some) and there would need to be quite a bit of effort put into this. honestly i think you both kind of like the freedom that the connection grants so idk how well the transition to a relationship would go with the workload it would require. your icon is the plum and a plum is great for keeping things in motion; it’s important that in this connection you remember to keep things regulated and adaptable because the best thing you can do in this connection is remember that this is uncharted territory so do your best to stay nimble without losing yourself 

pile 3: this person is spacey and they’re not what you think they are (which doesn’t always have to be a bad thing), its a tip of iceberg kind of person where there’s an internal jumbling under the surface so it may take awhile to feel close to them. this could be a connection that becomes a serious relationship because it seems that you’re both rather committed towards the long haul and there is a good level of reciprocation happening in the connection. kind of not surprisingly enough though, you do need to work on intimacy issues when it comes to this connection because it seems like you have some emotional distress due to past attachment issues and you could be the type that gets uneasy when things are too settled. this person’s biggest enemy is themselves and they easily feel like they did something wrong and get caught up in negative mental patterns so they have to learn to inject more positivity. your icon is the cupcake so when it comes to this connection you need to take a bite and enjoy the sweetness; like the “cupcake phase” of a relationship you have to make sure you continue to keep that lighthearted, saccharine quality so that the relationship doesn’t become stale or make you feel trapped. embrace this connection in spite of fear because love will always be a gamble and there will be rough patches but if it’s worth it, it’s worth it

pile 4: this person radiates youthful energy so they may seem immature or naive but they’re a joy to be around. you will feel like the mature one between the two of you and i am seeing that the connection is more in your hands than theirs so you’re the one who is initiating most of it. this person takes on a c’est la vie attitude so i wouldn’t count on this person being the best at serious conversations or being the type to face things head on. this connection will take both of you out of your comfort zones - you’re going to have to work on your tendency to play things too safe and this person is going to have to be more willing to demonstrate substantial effort instead of flying by the seat of their pants all the time. with your icon being (blue) crystals i feel that this connection is an important experience for you in teaching you how to find relief because there’s both a liberation and an acceptance that’s needing to take place. there is emphasis on this being a connection to experience above all, i’m not seeing any definition so i doubt this will become anything serious but it’s a connection that could alleviate something that has gone repressed for a long time

pile 5: this person is all over the place. the icon of the car is showing through right from the get-go i guess lol. you’re not in the clear though either because you’re seeming like you’re trying to control the connection out of fear and there is a concerning lack of accountability on your part. neither of you have a clue what to make of this connection, there is emotion and attachment to each other but too many mind games are taking place and intentions are obscured. this person is going to feel iced out by you with the way you’re behaving, like they’re way in over their head because they aren’t feeling that support from you - it’s mostly just you asserting harsh boundaries that make them feel like they don’t have a say. it’s okay for you to take the lead in this connection because this person does have problems with focus but it’s not okay for you to be so heavy handed. when it comes to this connection you’re going to need to keep things light and open and the car icon may also suggest that this connection could benefit from some adventuring/traveling (covid safe pls). this is not a connection that fits into a box so don’t try to force it to 

pile 6: this person tends to fight the tide in life and it seems like they attract hardships because of it - they may seem like they can never catch a break almost. they might be older than you or more experienced because you’re showing up in this connection as being juvenile and using this connection as a way to bide time. this person has fixed energy though so despite the fact that they are the committed type, it’s also them having issues with taking things too seriously and not wanting to change their expectations. as your icon suggests, there is cyclic behavior happening from both parties and within this connection and both of you are needing to learn responsibility in different ways; you’re needing to learn to be more practical and heedful while they’re needing to learn to not take things so seriously and be more responsible in the sense that their expectations are unrealistic and unfair. you should let this person care for you, i gotta be honest and say that i’m not seeing this connection as necessarily equal but it does very much seem like this person is wanting to give and it can be a lesson of you learning how important it is to have someone that does ground you. this connection is specifically beneficial for you, not exactly a symbiotic connection, so if you’re wanting to learn about priorities and follow through then this person/connection will provide the opportunity to do so. since this person is pretty set in their ways i’m not seeing a loss or a gain on their part, it’s like you have a tree (them) in front of you and whatever is growing on it you can choose to take it or leave it. this one was interesting because i was like ??? is this manipulative??? but since this person is lowkey trying to have the upper hand and does prefer being the provider i don’t see the problem in you accepting what they offer - do still be aware though and don’t let this become a dependency or about power plays

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // THREE

(gif credit)

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

part one. part two. 

read on till the end for notes!

SAWBONES

THREE // WRONG

Poe had worked his ass off for every title, credential, award, or accolade that he received. He earned Commander. He earned Black Leader. He was so good at what he did, at being a pilot. His skills, his fervor, his determination are why Leia got the heat off his back after the stint he pulled in recovering information from the Yissira Zyde.

His latest title differed only from the others in the fact that he gave it to himself.

Biggest jackass in the galaxy.  

If Poe had to admit he had a flaw, it would probably be that he was so fucking stubborn. He could get so focused that anything in the peripheral of his latest fixation was blurred. He wasn’t concerned with collateral damage, not if it got the job done. But in this case, when it was actually him in the wrong, when his inability to compromise not only hurt him but hurt you, he knew he had messed up.

Nobody told him this, of course. Poe had to come to terms with it on his own accord. Retiring to his quarters after his failed operation, dodging hands that were grabbing at his shoulders, his biceps, his wrists. He wasn’t interested in having a warm body next to him that night. He deserved to lay in his cot and deal with the chill his bones felt under the too-thin sheets. He deserved to lay in the darkness and finally come to terms with the thoughts that swam in his head, the ones he was getting really good at ignoring.

The way your forehead creased, face twisted and lips pursed as he said what he did to you were crystal clear. The way he referred to you as a ‘fucking medic’, completely undermining and disregarding your intelligence which you most definitely possessed in order to get to the position you currently held. But most of all, Poe couldn’t stop replaying how your face distorted when you’d gotten the last word, and the immediate sharp pain that radiated up his arm from his smallest digit that followed.

Poe’s reflexes were quick, though his mental acuity was not. It felt like someone had paused time on him while you were in fast forward.

He still wasn’t really sure what that whole ordeal was about. He had a small feeling tugging in his gut, and his gut was always right.

It wasn’t today, he told himself. Eventually, he knew he was going to be wrong. He’d ignored that fact for a while and was even starting to think he was the exception until a few hours ago.  But a few hours ago he was wrong, and you were right and you both were rubbing your hands at the same time and he didn’t want to think too hard on why that was.

But he was lying in his cot, almost shivering beneath the too-thin sheets and he had nothing but time to think about it. His Grandfather’s words echoed in his head about what he called the ‘Red Thread of Fate’. He couldn’t get his Grandfather to talk about it enough. Besides wanting to follow in his mother’s footsteps, the other reason for Poe wanting to become a pilot was to travel the galaxy in search of whomever was tied to the other end. He’d been to countless planets in hopes that he would come near enough to them to be found. He couldn’t see the damn thing, and he spent every day until he was sixteen lamenting on that fact.

When he was sixteen, he joined the Spice Runners of Kijimi. Once he was finally out, finally traipsing the galaxy, the soulmate tether was exploited and ruined for him. Countless people had tried to fool him into thinking they were his soulmate, and sometimes he believed them. But slowly, he became desensitized and forced himself to stop thinking about the situation all together.

So a few weeks ago, when that cute holographer he was warming his bed with tried to tell him that they were soulmates, he shut down. It had been so long since he had acknowledged it, but the wound still felt fresh and raw.

Anyways, to Poe, it was coincidence you both were rubbing your hands at the same time.

So convinced of this, in fact, that he was already leaving his quarters and trekking quietly to the place he knew he could find you. It was dark out, and as he crossed the runway to streamline his path right to the med bay, he had to stop to look up.

D’Qar wasn’t a small planet, but it always felt as though the stars were within reach at night. They felt so close, so visible in the atmosphere that Poe could hop in his x-wing and grab one. Maybe he’d give it to you. Maker knows you wouldn’t waste any time before taking it into a lab to analyze it. He quickly shook the thought of giving you a fucking star from his head and continued his path.

He had only made it a few steps before noticing a dark figure sat above one of the massive hills the Resistance had carved into for their base. If not for the direct illumination from the stars and D’Qar’s two moons, he might’ve missed your silhouette completely. He began his slow trek up the side of the mound, approaching you cautiously.

If you knew he was there, you didn’t react. You leaned back on your hands, legs crossed at the ankles as you gazed at the constellations above. It made Poe stutter in his stride.

“Leave if you’re gonna talk, Dameron,” you said as he opened his mouth.

For once in his life, Poe Dameron stayed quiet.

He sat next to you, carefully easing himself back on his elbows. As much as he wanted to turn his head and commit how the starlight reflected on your features to memory, his head tilted up like yours.

So there the two of you sat, watching all the stars and all the nebulas and all the supernovas blink back. The galaxy was swirling tonight, and it felt like you and Poe were at the epicenter of it all. Maybe the galaxy did this when someone found their soulmate, Poe didn’t know. He scolded himself in his head for using the s-word.

“You can apologize now,” you broke the silence.

Poe kept himself from chuckling. “I don’t think there’s any apology I could use that would have you forgive me.”

He didn’t see it, but you rolled your eyes. “Ever the dramatic. You were just an ass. I’m sure it isn’t the first, nor the last time this will happen.”

He closed his eyes, biting the insides of his cheeks. He finally turned his head towards you and instant regret flushed his features.

“I’m sorry,” he said as sincerely as someone like Poe could. “It will probably happen again.”

You suppressed a small smile, meeting his gaze. “Accepted. Until next time.”

He nodded. “Fair.”

Another moment of silence passed as you held gazes until you turned your head back towards the atmosphere. Poe wanted to talk, wanted you to help him through the meteor field that was inside his brain, to sift through every thought. But nothing he could say right now would be worth breaking the peace right now.

So, once again, Poe Dameron stayed quiet.

You could basically hear him thinking, his face pinched deep in thought as he stared up with unseeing eyes. Was he thinking about that moment on the runway? The one where the both of you had acted in unison, only for Poe to realize too late? Maybe he hadn’t caught it, just thought your retreat was due to his spiteful words. You both knew that wasn’t true.

Whether or not either of you would bring it up was the true question.

“Is there a lot of talk about me around the base?” Poe asked, tone exposing his curiosity. He knew that you already had an opinion on him, felt that you had already made up your mind on what kind of man Poe was. What kinds of things you had heard, from engineers, holographers or even his own pilots was a constant..worry? Not knowing kept him up at night. You didn’t know him, not really. And for some reason, that bothered him. He wanted to change that. 

At his words, your thoughts drifted back to that day in the medbay when Ziff had told you about Poe’s sentiments on soulmates. You swallowed thickly.

“Nothing that reaches the medbay,” you lied. Poe didn’t buy it for a second.

“Sure, doc. You definitely don’t have one ear attuned to whatever whispers filter in from the hallway.”

Though you’d never admit it, you did feel isolated in your corner of the base. It often felt as though people would sooner gossip with Leia before you. You did engross yourself in your work, only leaving the medbay to sleep or to grab a meal. You didn’t make much of an effort, and you couldn’t blame anyone for not making one either.

“What have you heard about me?” Poe interrupted your thoughts, pressing. 

“Just that you don’t tend to be alone most of the time.” You desperately wanted to change the subject.

“Does that make you think less of me, Doctor?” Poe’s voice was suddenly soft and your pinky throbbed. You knew better than to draw attention to it as Poe continued, “You mentioned my character, my reputation earlier. What do you think of me?”

Poe didn’t really want to confirm what he already knew in his head. He ignored the throbbing in his left and his finger.

“We’re..uh,” you stumbled, “part of the Resistance. Both people of rank. It doesn’t matter what I think of you outside of your role as Commander.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“We don’t have to be friends, Dameron. All that matters is that we do our jobs.”

That was cold.

Poe let the words dissolve into his skin, ride through his veins and drain right into his chest, constricting it. He cleared his throat as he stood, brushing off anything that may linger from what he thought was a night, or at the very least a conversation that would end in a truce.

“Sorry for imposing on your night, Doctor,” Poe said. “I’ll see you around.”

Poe had built a mountain out of the hope he had left his quarters with. As he trudged back to his quarters for the second time that night, he felt it all crashing on top of him as if he were planted at the base. He was sixteen again, sitting in the grass next to you as he brought up running spice - cracking open the door for you in hopes that you would enter.

Maybe the trip to Kessel had skewed his brain, the jump to and from hyperspace leaving him scrambled. Maybe it actually was a coincidence that the two of you had rubbed your hands at the same time. If he couldn’t see it, that meant that you could. And if you didn’t mention it, well.

Poe Dameron was wrong. Twice.

✗ ✗ ✗

Leia had taken Poe off world to rub elbows with a couple of diplomats in Coruscant. It was much needed, seeing as there was no new First Order intel or any reason for him to fly his x-wing into oblivion.

She’d noticed he had been...off as of recent. He was highly aware of his surroundings, mostly just aware of who he was around. Poe usually cracked his knuckles on a frequent basis, but she’d noticed he’d been providing more care to the smallest finger on his left hand.

Leia couldn’t see the red, but being force sensitive allowed her to see how a fraction of the air surrounding his hand seemed to almost blur. Not unlike how heat distorted the horizon on a particularly hot day in D’Qar. She knew what it meant though, saw the very same distortion around not only her right hand, but Han’s left.

She really wasn’t expecting to see it besiege the smallest finger on your right hand when she’d woken you in your office a few days prior.

She didn’t need much more than that and the inability for the two of you to have a civil conversation to connect the dots.

He stood at the wall to wall window that opened the ship to the galaxy outside, absentmindedly worrying that same finger Leia had been looking at. It was the newest addition of his little idiosyncrasies, not unlike how he rubbed his hand over his stubble, or extended his hand beside his hip to make sure BB-8 was within reach. Maybe it was him feeling a tendon in the right spot or his mind playing tricks on him, but sometimes he swore he could feel something cut through the skin.

Leia approached him until they stood side by side, looking out.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing this,” she began. “Reminds me what we’re fighting for.”

“If I could, I’d take off in my ship and never land,” Poe said quietly, finally dropping his hands to his side.

“Does your finger hurt?” Leia asked.

“Jammed it on the cargo ship when we went to Kessel. It’s fine.”

Leia nodded. “Unfortunate, nonetheless.”

Poe cleared his throat, eyes never straying from the scene before him.

“Can you see yours?”

Leia smiled softly. “No,” she answered. “Not in the way I’d like to.”

Poe was going through the five stages. He had been firmly set in denial following the time he spent with you on the hill. He’d psyched himself out, doubted his eyesight (which was hard, because..y’know. He was a pilot.) and reprimanded his brain for even coming up with such an unbelievable explanation.

Now?  His jaw was set in anger. Angry at himself, at you, at whatever joke the galaxy thought it was making. He was bitter at the universe for constantly building him up, creating another possibility for Poe just to end up decimated. Every single time. Ultimately, Poe let it happen. Every single time.

But why was he mad at you?

That old part of himself that Poe held on to -  the starry eyed, illusory kid he used to be - wanted it to be you. Wanted you to be the one to break the cycle. But it wasn’t you. You barely considered him a friend. He should’ve asked you if you could see yours before leaving the conversation so dejected. He could’ve saved himself from spending the rest of that night sulking in his quarters, throwing himself deeper into despair when he got under those fucking sheets.

He needed more blankets. Maybe he could steal some from the medbay.

But that was almost a guarantee he’d run into you, and his pride was still recovering. He’d probably end up doing it anyway, mourning from a distance the best almost-soulmate he’d run into.

“What’s got Poe Dameron so quiet?” Leia asked, she couldn’t take his lamenting any longer. She didn’t need to be a jedi to hear Poe’s thoughts.

“I want to find them, Leia,” he began. “Whoever they are. So bad. I think the galaxy knows that I want it more than anything, and it’s purposely keeping them away.”

She watched him and from her initial lack of response, Poe backpedaled.

“Not more than defeating the First Order, of course. Finding them comes after.”

Leia rolled her eyes, knocking her shoulder against the side of his arm fondly. “You remind me of my brother.”

Poe laughed. “Good or bad?”

“It changes,” she shrugged. “But overall? Good. What makes you think you haven’t met them yet?”

Poe puckered his lips in thought. “If I had, why wouldn’t they have come forward?”

“Han didn’t tell me until we were married.”

“You married someone you knew wasn’t your soulmate?” Poe tried to hide his shock.

“I knew,” she answered. “Everything told me it was him. But he was Han, and thought it was funny to wait. Overall, Poe. I think you know.”

Poe closed his eyes, muttering to himself that “if it was that holographer from a few weeks ago, I’m fucked.”

Leia turned around, leaving Poe by himself to stand by the window.

“Don’t overthink it,” she threw over her shoulder before disappearing into another part of the ship.

Poe was self-assured in every other aspect of his life except for this sliver, which at times seemed all encompassing. At Leia’s words, that small flicker of heat that he recognized as hope burned in his chest, and as much as he tried to extinguish it, it remained. Nestled itself in the lowest chamber of his heart where it would wait until he knew, just like Leia said.

- 

a lot of you were begging for poe's pov so i really hoped this lived up to your expectations! a little shorter of an update, but there will be more plot in the next chapter. this was just some nice fluffy angsty filler. as always, feedback and love is encouraged and appreciated! xoxox

TAGLIST (message me to be added!) 

@yayrainday​ @samhollandssweaters​ @softly-sad​

[calliecat93]

When I started TNG, the biggest curiosity I had was why Dr. Pulaski was so hated. I heard plenty about why, but at the same time I wanted to see for myself and be able to draw my own conclusions. Well now that I’ve finished S2, I think that I can safely state my opinion and the reasons why she had such a bad reception.

My general opinion is… Pulaski’s fine, but she got an bad start. She’s a very competent doctor who is devoted to her duty. She’s a bit of a smartass, but otherwise a friendly enough person. She’s a VERY much based off a certain CMO form a certain other Star Trek show that came out before this one, but we’ll get to that later. Pulaski honestly had a lot working against her and she just wasn’t able to get over them despite her actress Diana Muldaur (who played Miranda Jones in TOS) doing an excelent acting job. It ultimately ended with Pulaski being dropped all together and Crusher returning in Season 3.

While I understand the hate against Pulaski and can’t say that it’s unwarranted to an extent, I think that a lot of it that I saw was overblown. Now if people disliked the character, that’s fine. Everyone has different tastes and reasons for what they like and dislike and should be free to have and express those thoughts. But a lot of the issues with her that I had were taken care of very early on and she became much better by the end of her tenure. So why do I believe that Pulaski ultimately failed? Well I’ve come up with three explanations based off my own observations from watching the show and what I got from fandom consensus. Now this is all my opinion based on those observations and is not objective fact whatsoever, so take this with a grain of salt. So I believe the reasons that Pulaski failed are:

#1. She Is Essentially a Female Dr. McCoy… Sort Of: Pulaski was clearly heavily based on Dr. McCoy from TOS. She’s an middle-aged, somewhat world-weary doctor. She’s stubborn, grumpy, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s crap. She’s witty and always ready with a biting comment. She has the dedication to her job. She has the bantery relationship with the Science Officer, which we’ll go into that here soon. She is a doctor before she is an officer and that will always be her top priority, even at great risk to herself. She has a zero tolerance towards authority and isn’t afraid to talk back to anyone no matter how much they outrank her. She even outright has a hatred of teleporters that McCoy had. The parallels are all there. It may be why I’m a bit more lenient on her since McCoy is very much my favorite character in TOS and so far all of ST. But I think it is very much the root of the problem.

While Pulaski has several of McCoy’s traits, I think the writers really only understood McCoy on a surface level. They forget to include his compassion, his empathy, his humanism, his loyalty to the captain even when he opposes his actions, all of the things that make McCoy… well, McCoy. I don’t even know if the pacifism is there. Also McCoy had over 70 episodes of TOS and at that point five films (Undiscovered Country hadn’t been made yet). Pulaski had about 20 episodes and her relevance depended on the episode. McCoy had that as well, but he also had more material so we had FAR more time to get to know him. Pulaski didn’t get to have the time to gain that depth or care from the audience. Like… can I imagine Pulaski hypoing someone so that she can be tortured in their stead and it have the same impact that The Empath did? Can I see her counseling and assuring Picard if he’s having doubts like McCoy did for Kirk in The Ultimate Computer (okay tbf that would be Troi’s job but still)? Could I imagine any of the main cast being crushed about Pulaski dying of a terminal illness and choosing to stay on essentially a doomed spaceship with someone she just met and feel as gutted as I did in For the World is Hollow…? Honestly… given time maybe but in the end no. Now could I imagine McCoy risking getting an aging illness to possibly cure a child and others of it ala Unnatural Selection? Yes, albiet I think he’d be smart enough to bring protective equipment with him to be safe. Could I imagine McCoy telling someone like Data they’d be wrong to sit by a woman giving birth because he wasn’t human ala The Child? Hell no. Maybe he would if he was worried it would cause potential distress the one giving birth, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be because they’re an android. But I could imagine that someone who just saw McCoy as ‘grumpy doctor with a bad bedside manner who says witty lines and argues with the logical Vulcan character’ would get that interpretation. Thus why I think that Pulaski may have ended up how she did.

Now mind you I do think it IS a double standard to excuse McCoy’s dickish momemts and flaws, but demonize Pulaski for her’s. It’s like saying a man can be that way because it’s just expected of them and they can be forgiven, but a woman doing so or being assertice is wrong and they are horrible and unforgivable for having these traits or having flaws even if they correct them. That being said I do think that it’s more than that and it all comes down to the fact that TOS and TNG are two different shows with different character dynamics and ways of doing things. TOS mainly followed a Triumvirate (for the most part but that’s a different post entirely), TNG is much more of an ensemble. Pulaski didn’t have a Kirk nor a Spock to bounce off of or either let her traits shine or be kept in check like McCoy did nor did she really develop any unique relations for herself aside from maybe with Troi. We hear about her empathy and humanitarianism, but we don’t really see it on-screen like we did with McCoy. She has his surface level traits, not the deeper ones that the Triumvirate dynamic along his doctor position allowed him to showcase. In other words, Pulaski was put in a series that wasn’t designed for her while McCoy was exactly where he needed to be in order to thrive. It really speaks to how much the TNG writers didn’t really seem to get McCoy or why and how his character worked, which is strange since they got him right when he showed up in the series premiere. But maybe that was due to DeForest Kelley and him absolutely knowing the character he’d played for so long. But yeah they tried to replicate McCoy, and it just didn’t work with TNG’s already established character dynamics nor did they fully get the character that they were trying to recreate. If I want McCoy, I’ll go watch TOS or AOS. I didn’t need Pulaski for that.

#2. Data and Misconstrued Character Dynamics; This is in relation to the first reason and REALLY shows how much the writers didn’t think the dynamics through. We all know how much Spock and McCoy bantered. How they are opposite ends of the spectrum and how their perspective points helped Kirk in making his decisions. Well clealry they wanted to re-create that with Pulaski and Data. Makes sense, Pulaski represents the humanism and Data the logical. But there’s one big, BIG problem with that: Data is NOT Spock. A lot fo people have pointed this out, but here’s the thing about Spock. Despite whatever he may have said, Spock DID have emotions. He kept them suppressed due to the issues in his upbringing and that wasn’t necessarily healthy, but he did have them. And despite speaking in a calm manner, he was also an utter sass bucket, could be rude, and had no issue putting down humanity if he had a point to make. He and McCoy were very much equal in their bantering and yes maybe McCoy could go too far with his insults, but there was always an equal balance and Spock was also perfectly capable of starting/escalating their spats. There were also plenty of moments to show that in spite of it, they were still friends and cared a great deal about each other with probably the best examples of this being The Immunity Syndrome, Bread and Circuses, The Empath, and plenty of moments in others like Miri and For the World is Hollow… Those who have been following me know how much I love the Spock/McCoy dynamic and I could go all day, but the point is it’s a complex relationship that may seem like disdain on the outside, but is so much more when you examine it up close.

Data however? Data is intelligent and the Science Officer with a calm demeanor, but that’s about where the similarity between him and Spock ends. Data is an android. I do not believe that he is emotionless, he just has a different wiring that causes him to feel things differently. He’s never shown disdain towards humanity at least from what I’ve observed thus far. If anything, he actively seeks to understand it and emotions more. He actively has hobbies like Sherlock Holmes. He tries things like sneezing and growing a beard in an effort to understand more. Data is more or less a child with a child-like understanding of things and he doesn’t really understand social cues or things like humor, but he DOES have emotions and feelings. There’s too much on-screen evidence to say otherwise. He just has his own way of processing it. This is what makes Pulaski look so bad. When she calls Data a machine, says he can’t understand, and even purposefully mispronounces his name, she comes across as an outright bully. She is essentially bullying a neurodivergent child. Do I need to explain why that’s awful? Data, while by no means a doormat, isn’t the type to sass back or make any biting comments back like Spock would. There is no balance. There is no equal footing. There are not enough positive interactions outside the banter to show that there is something deeper there at the end of the day like Spock and McCoy did. Heck you can even compare how Pulaski and McCoy talk to Data via McCoy’s guest appearance in Encounter at Farpoint. He DOES make a quip about Vulcans when talking to Data and when Data points out he’s an android not a Vulcan, McCoy mumbles “Just as bad.” But immediately after he gives Data genuine heartfelt advice on treating the Enterprise with care. It’s clear that ultimately it’s McCoy being his usual grumpy self who’d be acting the same way towards anyone else and is otherwise perfectly civil and encouraging to Data. We’ve known him long enough to know this. Pulaski didn’t have that luxury, coming off as condescending towards Data at best and considering that she’s a doctor, it looks especially bad.

Now to be fair this only lasts for about four episodes. Pulaski does start catching herself by her second episode, and stops completely after Unnatural Selection when Data helps her and stays with her after she gets the aging virus. After that she’s MUCH moe civil to him, even defending his choice going against the Prime Directive in Pen Pals and was at his retirement party in The Measure of a Man. But clearly the damage had been done. Data is a very beloved character and by Oulaski’s intro had already been established and well-liked character. Data was treated equally and was valued as far more than just an android among the rest of the crew, Crusher included, so Pulaski coming in a season later and acting that way also didn’t help. The writers did not think through why Spock and McCoy worked and how to try figure out a unique dynamic for Pulaski and Data. Instead they just tried to copy TOS, and it utterly failed. It ruined Pulaski’s chances before she could even really start running. But I do believe that she could have rebounded and as I said, she DID get past it. She did relapse some at the end of the season in Peak Performance to the point I wanna say that maybe it chronologically happened earlier in the season, but even then she felt realized her screw up and apologized. It’s still an improvement from early on. But things just weren’t meant to be, which leads is to…

#3. She Only Lasted One Season/She Replaced Dr. Crusher: I believe that the biggest thing that worked against Pulaski is simple: she was cut after Season 2. Pulaski was created when Gates MacFadden left the show. I’ve seen conflicting reasons as to why, but regardless she left and a CMO was needed. IDK how popular Crusher was, but I had really enjoyed her. She was essentially the mom of the ship which added something different from TOS (wel McCoy was also the mom lets be real XD), had a son onboard which also added something new, was very much capable and devoted to her job, and was a badass when she got to use a phaser. Her being written out sucked, but that’s not necessarily a reason to hate Pulaski. But as I highlighted above, she just didn’t work. They tried to make McCoy, but without the dynamics and depth that let McCoy flourish. TNG is not TOS. Whenever TNG tried replicating TOS like with The Naked Now? It blew up in their faces. The key to a spinoff or reboot is to keep certain themes and tone alive, but to not just replicate what came before. TNG flourished when it began to find it’s own footing, and ultimately lasted four seasons longer than it’s predecessor due to it.

I genuinely believe that Pulaski COULD have developed into her own character and could have found her place the same way that McCoy did. But alas that didn’t happen. People wanted Crusher back, so they managed to get MacFadden to return and thus Crusher was put back in her rightful place. Because of it, Pulaski was just forgotten about. She didn’t get the chance to form her own character. She didn’t the chance to develop further and leave her early days behind. Why? Because she simply wasn’t given the opprotunity to do so. I can’t say it was the wrong choice, but it’s an utter shame because I do believe that Pulaski was on her way to improving. But it was too late. Her bad start with Data, her character not working in the TNG dynamic, and her replacing an already perfectly likeable character who did fit the dynamics all amounted to the character’s abrupt end. And because she didn’t get the chance to develop further and find her own path, her bad reputation has stuck to this very day.

In the end, the whole thing just feels like a waste. Pulaski had potential, but it just didn’t work in the end. I can’t say that I hate her. If anything, I feel bad for her. The writers failed her at the end of the day and by the time they tried correcting their errors, the audience had already made their judgement. It may have been for the best to just drop her and bring Crusher back, but I also hate seeing character potential just so utterly wasted. I hope that if any side material used Pulaski, they were able to find a much better direction for her. I can’t say that I love Pulaski. In a more TOS-like setting maybe she’d have worked better. But in the end I think that Pulaski was a decent character who just had too much working against her and they caused her to crash and burn. Just an unfortunate case all in all.

(Image Source)

[gumnut-logic]

If you should choose a plus one Tracy there are a number of things to be considered. Height, interest level, eye colour and mood are all important factors.

Height because these boys come in the ridiculous. If you want to kiss a Tracy you may need heels.

Interest level varies and as you will see further on, is rather more important than any of the other factors.

Eye colour is because they come in a variety of shades. It also helps if you colour coordinate.

Mood...well, trust me, you don’t want the wrong mood. Tracys can be volatile and dangerous if not maintained correctly. Also, if you happen upon one of the wilder ones, things can get scary.

So which Tracy is right for you?

Let’s start with the youngest.

Alan is sandy haired which is great for beach outings, though you might want to take the sunscreen or he will come back in various shades of red. Height is not an issue as he doesn’t have much. Flats are good for this situation, which is excellent since heels suck on the beach.

His interests generally involve lots of activity, so you’ll want to let him loose in wide open spaces. He will also chatter a lot, so be aware of this in public. To keep him quiet a small investment in a game console will work wonders.

Be very aware that combining Alan with one of his brothers, particularly Gordon, has been known to create havoc. Investing in Gordon along with Alan does have some advantages, particularly at the beach since Alan’s attempts at surfing often require a water rescue and Gordon is highly trained for such a situation.

Why Alan is incapable of surfing is a mystery as he is considered very capable at surfing in space. Like the issues his brother John must tackle, gravity may be the culprit.

As with all Tracys, his manners are excellent and he presents well in all social situations, with the exception of the Gordon factor. If Gordon is involved, all bets are off.

Also, boredom can be an issue and if left to himself, such boredom reveals that Gordon’s lifetime influence has left its imprint and the youngest Tracy will self instigate pranks if left by himself for too long. So make sure you provide adequate stimulation and attention.

Of all the Tracys, Alan’s moods are the most manageable. He does not tend to go to extremes, though there have been some instances of extensive pouting when he is not allowed to do what he wants to. It is suspected that this is due to the Scott influence. Often this can be mitigated by hugging and extensive coddling. All Tracys respond well to such actions, but as Alan is the youngest, he has been subjected to this the most. Obvious suspects include both Scott and Virgil. Rumour has it that Gordon hugs often devolve into tackles and rolling on the floor. Please be aware of this as the youngest Tracy may take advantage of the opportunity to emulate his older brother.

Ultimately, though, Alan Tracy is a good choice for the lover of the outdoors and those who don’t mind a little quiet time. Bonus factors include the option to go into space, an excellent knowledge of our Solar System, particularly good reflexes and an untapped genius level of thought underneath his obsession with video games. Generally cheerful and attentive, Alan Tracy is definitely a good investment.

Now, if you’re into more watersports you may want to consider the next oldest Tracy.

Gordon Tracy is the water specialist. Compact and slim, this Tracy fits into a variety of marine vehicles and can be deployed in freshwater as well.

More of a strawberry blonde than his younger brother, and with russet brown eyes rather than blue, he can be somewhat reminiscent of a small terrier with a comparable risk to the furniture.

Gordon is the prankster of the family. From blue dye to itching powder to the classic kick me sign on your back he has done it all. This may be useful if you possess an arch-nemesis in society, however, in the majority Gordon prefers humour rather than vengeance.

Having said that, Gordon is one of only two Tracys with military experience. He possesses a uniform that can be flaunted for the formal occasion where his International Rescue wetsuit is not applicable. Associated military skills, including excellent marksmanship, may be useful in various social situations.

His interests lie in all things marine. You may be gifted the occasional crab or shellfish. This is a sign of friendship and trust. Note that caring for these gifts is mandatory, even the sea slugs, snails and worms. You may want to make it clear that marine organisms are not welcome at the dinner table unless they are part of the menu.

One advantage of Gordon Tracy is his smiles. He is a generally happy man and loves to share that happiness. Virgil has theorised that the pranks are one of his methods to do just that. Unfortunately, his brothers rarely see the humour in the super glue in their underwear.

As noted above, combining Gordon with his younger brother will lower his intellectual age by about half. Combining him with his other brothers, however, does provide for some interesting effects. If you add Scott Tracy to Gordon, there is usually one of two results. The first can be quite explosive as rebellion against the older Tracy can be spectacular, however, if combined at just the right point, the brothers’ shared military history can create an awesome synergy. At this point, should you want to take over a small country with just the determination present, you have a good chance of success.

On the other hand, combining Gordon with Virgil Tracy prompts him to prank and his older brother to uncharacteristically mirror the tendency. Gordon will bring out the humour in the heavy lifter and hijinks often ensue. However, it should also be noted that the two brothers do possess an somewhat extraordinary bond and despite their differences, make an excellent team.

One very useful if the prank requires heavy lifting.

Yes, Gordon Tracy is an excellent choice. It should be noted however that one of high society’s prominent figures may be interested in taking this Tracy off the market. Be aware that she is not to be trifled with, so if you are determined that Gordon is the Tracy for you, you may have to defend that position.

Violently.

If the quiet lifestyle is more your thing, you may wish to upgrade to John Tracy. ‘Up’ is the keyword here as he resides twenty-two thousand miles up, in orbit, in fact. Yes, John is the original space Tracy. Fully adapted to the cold and dark beyond our atmosphere, he does indeed adore the quiet life.

However, before we tempt you any further, it should be noted that John is the only Tracy brother who is a parent. A single parent at that. Inadvertent though her existence is, Eos is recognised as John’s daughter and she presents a number of unique challenges, the least of which is what she will do to your bank accounts if you upset her. Yes, if you are looking for bankruptcy, offending Eos is a fantastic way to achieve your goal.

In summary, don’t piss off the kid.

Having said that, should she approve of your existence, Eos is quite capable of enhancing that existence should she so choose. In any case, John’s daughter is a great conversationalist, even if she has locked you in the bathroom.

John himself sports arguably the most stunning eyes of all the five brothers. Alan, please be quite and Scott, sit down.

A unique pair of turquoise irises that contrast exquisitely with his copper hair makes for a stunning date to have on your arm. The only downside is that arm may need to be handcuffed to yours if you intend on going anywhere involving more than six people at a time.

Our space Tracy is not a social being. Despite communication as a profession, John Tracy has been heard to wish to only speak to others from space. This may include you. Please keep your phone charged at all times.

It should also be noted that if your phone battery is dead and John wishes to contact you, he may hack an appliance as mundane as your toaster. Communicating via the temperature controls in the shower has been reported. Virgil was not impressed.

John is one of the taller Tracys. Unlike Scott, however, heels may not be needed as ninety-five percent of the time John is in space, so if you are planning to get to know him, you’re going to be in space too. Just float up to look him in those gorgeous eyes.

A fan of spaceball and Star Trek, John is your traditional loveable geek. Be aware that his neighbour knows this and you may want to lock all the airlocks in case she comes knocking for a cup of sugar.

John is definitely a good investment and comes with a space station to boot. You will be able to spend many hours stargazing both at the universe and those irises.

If you feel you would prefer a more earthbound personality, you may want to consider the Tracy capable of moving that earth, in more ways than one.

Virgil Tracy is the biggest brother. Not the tallest, but those shoulders can deadlift all of his brothers with ease. You like muscles, Virgil is your Tracy.

Not to say that the other Tracy brothers lack muscles, the five boys are all very well defined. Virgil was just built for heavy lifting. You want your plus one to carry you anywhere, Virgil is your man.

Crowned with the darkest hair of all the brothers, Virgil’s eyes are chocolate brown, great for subtle and moody expressions. This is an important factor when you consider that he is the artist in the family. Skilled in both the visual and musical arts, the second eldest brother has the tools to serenade until you swoon.

Which makes his muscles useful again when he has to lug you off the floor.

Virgil is a full qualified engineer and comes complete with all the virtues of a home handyman. Capable of replacing tap washers or overhauling your fusion reactor, Virgil is happy tinkering and repairing whatever is needed.

He is the calmest of the brothers. However, early mornings are not appreciated in any way. If you need Virgil for a breakfast outing you will need copious amounts of coffee to get more than a sour grunt out of the man. In fact, breakfast outings are not recommended at all and you may want to invest in his older brother Scott if you need the early morning option.

In his position as second eldest, Virgil has extensive mothering experience. This is useful if you are high maintenance. This Tracy has the medical skills to both bandage and kiss boo-boos better.

Be warned he has been known to remove food smudges from faces with his finger and his own saliva. Keeping your face clean to prevent this embarrassment is highly recommended.

Virgil Tracy is an excellent  investment if you are looking for an all round nice guy. He comes complete with a range of accessories including wrenches, paint brushes and a honkin’ great green machine with which you may have to compete with for his attention...amongst other things.

If nice isn’t enough (and green is not your colour) and you’d prefer the rakishly handsome, daredevil, Jim Kirk kind of guy, then you might as well go straight to the top and get yourself a Scott Tracy. Built for speed, flirt and for swooping you off your feet, Scott will tick all the boxes of all people at your party.

Suave with a devilish smile, this Tracy knows how to work a room. The eldest of the brothers, Scott knows how to give commands and make sure they are followed. You may even find yourself caught in his thrall as sapphire blue eyes and chestnut hair, tinged with the grey of authority, lend their persuasion well to his cause.

This Tracy is built for speed and at Mach 20 there is no faster. Combined with his strategic mind and his terrible determination, this is a man who knows how to get where he wants to go and fast.

He is one hell of a ride.

Just be aware that should you piss him off, he may run you over, then back up and toast you with his afterburners, because big brother Scott has a temper. It is especially advisable not to injure or offend one of his younger brothers or any member of his family for that.

You won’t like him when he’s angry.

Ultimately though, beneath the commander and the bravado, Scott has a soft marshmallow centre...protected viciously by his brother Virgil. Remember those muscles? You don’t want to go there, trust me.

But treat big brother right and you become part of that family and he will defend you to the death.

Military option fully included.

It should be noted that Scott Tracy does not come as a single man. Alan will be coming with him because despite being eighteen, Scott isn’t ready to let the apron strings drop just yet. Also there are three other brothers to consider, and a grandmother. Scott Tracy comes as a total family package.

Bet you didn’t see that coming behind that suave and sultry smile, did you?

No?

Too bad.

Because really you can’t have one Tracy without the others. Despite the apparent simplicity of five billionaire brothers and their heroic lifestyles, these five are one tight knit group. You will never quite have a plus one, it will be more of a plus five.

And I have yet to mention your main obstacle.

You like the youngest Tracys with their sunshine smiles, or Virgil with his soft heart, John with his tender attempts at conversation, or even Scott as he stares at you with that worried frown on his face? Never forget what is standing between them and you.

Me.

Think twice before you commit.

Because none of the havoc the boys can cause can be compared to what I can offer you.

Remember that.

Very sincerely,

Kayo Kyrano

International Rescue Security

And your worst nightmare.

-o-o-o-

[keanan1501]

Notable swaps: Dream & Tubbo, Fundy & Ranboo, DreamXD & Micheal

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentioned child death, attempted child murder, intrusive thoughts

Short synopsis: Tubbo escapes prison and heads to Logsteadshire to deal with Dream once and for all, instead he finds something intresting in Logsteadshire... or should i say someone? Tubbo swings his sword in a lazy arch, a pleased grin on his face as the sword's enchantments hum under his hand "This is perfect" he breathes, turning to face his three companions with a bright smile "You three did wonderfully! Sam, consider your debt repayed" The creeper hybrid huffs, eyeing Tubbo as if the younger male was nothing but dirt beneath his shoes "Whatever, just don't expect me to come running when that cranky hog starts chasing" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him down, allowing Tubbo to pet Sam like one would pet a dog, the ram hybrid is blissfully ignorant of the creeper hissing in protest "Awe, Sam~ It almost sounds like you care for me~" he coos, and his bright smile transforms into something more sinister "Let Techno come, i escaped his 'unescapeable' prison after all. There's nothing that stupid pig can do that i can't counter"

Sam nods, a short and tight one, before he turns around and takes a few steps away from the group "Also, Tubbo. Keep away from Fundy, or else" Tubbo blinks, tilting his head slightly as Sam walks off, he'd known Fundy had moved in with Sam and Ponk shortly after L'manburg exploded, but for someone like Sam, who had rumors surrounding him about his heartlessness, warming up to the cheeky fox hybrid? That was something he didn't expect, he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, Fundy was his little spy, and Sam and Ponk were both very powerful people, if his motto wasn't "the higher the risk the better the reward" he would have felt fear, unfortunately for Sam and Ponk, he only sees this as a challenge.

"Tubbo, everything alright?" right, he isn't alone. "I'm fine, just scheming" Tubbo shrugs Purpled's concern off, and smiles at Tommy, who is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for the blond, maybe he had, the white streak in Tommy's hair certainly proved he had. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he thought back to his now dead ally, Quackity, the duck hybrid had given him the revive book, allowing him to bring his two favorite toys back to life after their deaths, both now sporting a white streak amongst their usual brown and blond hair, proudly showing off the fact that they belong to him, that they're his toys, and noone else could ever hope to claim them.

Sure, Wilbur would have protested with every inch of his being if he could hear Tubbo now, but Tommy had accepted it, embraced it even, all he has to do is give Wilbur a nudge in the right direction, and his favorite toy will fall back into place, just like he'd done during exile. And Tubbo knows exactly how to give said first nudge, who better to target than Wilbur's best friend, his emotional support, his other half, his Dream?

Tubbo digs inside of his pocket, taking out a slightly dented but otherwise beautiful and functioning compass, the words "your Wilbur" carved into it with so much care, Tubbo could insult Phantommy in a lot of different ways, but he can't help but compliment the late ghost's designing skills and steady hands. Phantommy had given the compass to Dream, giving a similar one to Wilbur, except Wilbur's was labled with "your Dream" during exile, Tubbo wanted to tear Phantommy a new one right then and there, but he knew better. Phantommy wasn't Tommy, of course the silly ghost would think Wilbur belonged to Dream, he simply made a mistake, Wilbur belonged to Tubbo, not to Dream! So when Dream, Schlatt and Ranboo were attacked by a horde of creepers Tubbo swooped in and stole the compass, giving it to its rightful owner.

"I'm going to give a short visit to everyone's least favorite president" Tubbo announces, clicking the compass shut and stuffing it back into his pocket "Tommy, i trust you can distract Wilbur and Fundy long enough for me to have a pleasant chat with Dream?" the blond nods quickly, and Tubbo affectionately rolls his eyes, Tommy knows his place as Tubbo's toy, but even Tubbo is sometimes suprised by how much Tommy wants to please his "hero". The poor boy hadn't learned a thing in Pogtopia, had he? As soon as someone more powerful comes along Tubbo would drop Tommy like a stone, but until then Tubbo could enjoy soaking in the pure wonder and awe Tommy has for him.

The blond scurries off, and Tubbo turns to Purpled, smirks and winks, which causes the purple-hoodied male to grumble in either disgust or adoration, Tubbo liked to believe it is the latter "Don't forget i left Ranboo at the alter for you!" Tubbo shouts teasingly as he runs off, laughing as he could hear Purpled make fake gagging noises, definitely disgust.

The trek from the prison to Dream's new village... what was it called again? Logsteadshire or something? wasn't long, and Tubbo cringed as the buildings came into view. Sure, the odd mish-mash of dirt, stone, wood and diamond were passable as houses, but Dream never did have the best eye for design. Tubbo was glad Dream let Schlatt, Ranboo, Fundy, Ponk and Techno do most of the rebuilding for L'manburg, Blood God knows what Tubbo would have done if that stupid country was filled with Dream's odd shacks.

He wasn't here to bash on Dream, he was here to get his armor and weapons back, most notablely his sword "Wasp's Stinger" otherwise known as one of, if not the, most powerful weapon in his land. The dry sand crunches under his feet as he walks confidently across the sand, he could see Eret's kid, Junior, peeking out of one of the holes in the second biggest dirt shack, which must mean that Dream lives in the biggest shack.

Tubbo throws the door open with reckless abandon, walking in to the space like one would walk into their own house, he knows Dream isn't home yet, a good predator waits for their prey after all. He plops down on the couch, his ram ears perking up as the couch lets out a creaking noise, he can't help but wonder if the couch is older than him.

Then he freezes as hurried footsteps thunder down the stairs. Had he been wrong? Is Dream home? Is someone else here to housesit?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!" Tubbo relaxes as a young ocelot hybrid comes around the corner, the kid couldn't be older then three, which means there is no threat. The kid is beaming, eyes screwed shut and a large droopy smile on their face as the kid proudly holds up a drawing containing four stick figures.

"I'm not your dad, kid" Tubbo chuckles "Sorry to disappoint you" the kid gasps and their round big cat ears pin back, their green eyes wide with both curiosity and fear. Tubbo blinks, and suddenly the ocelot hybrid is gone, and in their place is a ziglin, looking at him like Tubbo was the savior of the world, back then it had felt nice to have someone depend on him, now? It fills his chest with a burning emotion he can't quite place, a mix between grief, anger, confusion and betrayal. Michael can't look at him anymore, so why is he still looking at Micheal?

"Come sit kid, i won't hurt you" Tubbo pats the seat next to him, kids tended to overshare, he was going to use the kid to get some info on Dream, that was all, he wasn't being nice because the kid reminds him of Micheal, he's just being tactical. The kid slowly shuffles over, clutching the drawing like a lifeline, once the kid decides they're close enough he stops, and Tubbo leans forewards to inspect the drawing.

For a three year old he had to give the kid props, the lines looked good and he could make out who was who. Dream and Fundy are standing close together, the kid inbetween them, Wilbur is off to the side, but just like the three in the foreground the kid had drawn him with the biggest smile.

"Who did you draw?" Tubbo asks, looking at the kid with a genuinely curious expression, the kid glows at the question, and points to each stick figure in turn "That's my papa Dre! That's my daddy Funwy! And un'le Wilby! And me!" Tubbo nods, a small smile on his face, so what if the kid reminds him of Michael, noone would get hurt if he entertains the kid for a bit, right?

"Owl?" the kid asks, poking Tubbo in the leg and Tubbo chuckles "I'm not a owl, i'm a ram" he helpfully informs the kid, who pouts in response "Owl?" the kid asks again "You want to go see Wilbur?" Tubbo asks back, knowing Wilbur's wings were often compared to those of a owl, but the kid shakes their head, grabs a book, and flips through the pages. The kid holds up the book and presses it against Tubbo's face "Owl?" Tubbo backs away a bit so he can read the words on the page, it's a classic toddlers book, going over different animal sounds, and a lightbulb turns on in Tubbo's head "Are you asking me who i am?"

The kid nods, gleeful that Tubbo finally understands "I'm Tubbo, can you try saying my name?" Tubbo crouches next to the kid, gently grabbing the kid's hand and writes each letter of his name on the kid's palm, as the kid reads them out loud "T-u-b-b-o" a second of silence "T'bbi!" the kid cries victoriously, and Tubbo just puts his arms up in celebration with the kid, not having the heart to correct them.

"T'bbi, out?" the kid asks, looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes Tubbo's ever seen, how does this kid know his one weakness? Tubbo signs but smiles, opening the door, the kid rushes out and throws themself into the sand, letting out a screech of excitement "Daddy and papa do not let me out!" the kid babbles, making sand hills with such vigor that Tubbo can't help but admire the kid.

Would Micheal be like that if he'd hadn't...? His hand twitches. It was Dream's fault. The handle of his sword felt cold against his hand. He could get revenge. He takes a step forewards, his sword hanging limply by his side, when did he take it out of the scabbard? He could make Dream feel the same pain, the same dark spiral that he went through. His eyes flicker across the kid's body, quickly finding every weak point that would ensure a quick and painless death. He wasn't heartless, he wouldn't let the kid suffer. He puts his hand on the kid's cheek, the kid leans in to the touch, leaving their neck vulnerable. He wasn't a monster like Dream, he wouldn't leave the kid to bleed out, scared and alone.

He snaps from his thoughts as he feels  something rumble beneath his hand, his ears face towards the kid, flicking whenever he could pick up on the faint sound of purring. Tubbo quickly sheaths his sword, noone deserves to go through the loss of a child, not even his greatest enemy. He lets out a sigh and pats the kid on the head, the kid purring even louder.

His ears flick backwards, and he realizes someone is approaching, probably either Fundy or Dream, and as much as he wanted to stick around and taunt the two, the ocelot kid was too young to get wrapped up in their silly game of chess. "Hey kid? I have to go" the kid whines as Tubbo pulls his hand back, short stubby arms reach out to his hand, trying to grab hold of it, but Tubbo is faster, he jumps up and silently runs to the other side of house that the approaching person is coming from. He could hear the kid yell "Daddy!" loudly, the kid's feet kick up sand as they run towards Fundy, the fox hybrid's orange hair standing out against the pale sand "XD?!" Fundy asks, worry coating his tone like Tubbo coats things he likes with honey "How did you get outside?! Is Dream here?!"

"T'bbi!" the kid answers simply, and Tubbo could almost see the fear rolling off of Fundy in waves "Y-you aren't try-ing to say Tubbo, are you?" the kid doesn't answer verbally, but from Fundy's sharp intake of breath he could tell the kid confirmed Fundy's words.

"Tubbo?! I know you're here! I'm calling Techno!" Fundy barks, and Tubbo peeks around the corner to see Fundy typing something on his communicator. With a ease that clearly shows he's done this many times before Tubbo pulls out a bow & arrow and shoots, the arrow goes straight through Fundy's communicator, breaking it, leaving Fundy with no way to call for help, and judging by Fundy's startled yip, the fox knows it. Tubbo steps out in the open, and the kid reaches towards him with a delighted cry "T'bbi!" Fundy grabs the kid's arm and pulls them close, baring his teeth at Tubbo. The ram hybrid just smiles and walks towards them, hand already on his most dangerous weapon of all, eyes unmoving from Fundy's stone-still form. Tubbo whips out his most dangerous weapon and fires, Fundy letting out a screech as he's assaulted by twin streams of thick honey. Tubbo knew repurposing those water guns into honey guns was  a genius idea, he can't believe Sam doubted him.

"What?! Why?!" Fundy groans, trying to brush the sticky liquid out of his coat, but only succeeding in smearing it out more "Because, you and me, we're friends Fundy, best friends even!" Tubbo replies, walking past Fundy like he didn't just doom the poor fox to being a bee attraction for the next week "We're not friends!" Fundy snaps back, and Tubbo turns to face him, blue-green eyes almost seeming to glow in the light of dusk

"If we weren't friends, why would you help me so much? Blowing up the community house, spying on important events, guarding Wilbur's music disc, setting off the TNT trapping Wilbur in prison. All of those things are things that you did, things i asked you to do"

[crobby]

i’ve got your back

for @broskepol

summary: peter and tony have a phrase they use whenever peter’s in danger and can’t outright say it. they have to use it more often than either would like.

word count: 2767

The bell signaling the end of the school day is a wonderful sound to Peter, who’s been practically dying to go out as Spider-Man since third period. He takes up a brisk walk, trying to make it outside as quickly as possible without full-on sprinting.

“Hey, Peter,” Betty calls out, jogging through the hall to catch up with him.

Peter waits for her, eyeing the clock on the wall. “What’s up?”

“There’s a party at Flash’s house this weekend and he told me I could invite whoever I want, so I’m inviting you. Do you wanna come?” 

Peter hesitates. “You know that Flash kind of hates me, right?”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Betty says, flicking her hand.

Peter narrows his eyes. “Penis Parker ring a bell?”

“Okay,” she concedes, “Maybe you’re not his favorite person. But I still think you should come. It’ll be fun! Also, I doubt you’ll even have to talk to him--a ton of people will be there, so you can totally avoid him.”

“I… guess?” Peter rubs the back of his neck. He’s not really sure why Betty’s so insistent that he be there. He thinks it might be her way of trying to become his friend, which he’s definitely okay with. Having friends is nice. 

He shrugs. “Why not? I’ll be there. Text me the deets, yeah?”

Betty grins. “For sure! I’ll see you there!” She turns to walk back down the hall, waving at him.

Peter smiles to himself. Huh, he thinks, a party. I got invited to a party. Maybe his social life isn’t so doomed, after all.

---

Nope, his social life is forever doomed. He can’t just be normal and talk to people. It’s like the universe singled him out and said “You! You’re going to be a loser!” and, frankly, he’s tired of it. He wishes Ned or MJ were here, but Ned’s babysitting his baby cousin and MJ’s out of town. If they were here, he wouldn’t be struggling so much.

There’s music blaring and lights flashing and both are too much for his enhanced senses. There’s so much kinetic energy in the room that Peter can almost feel it. It’s hot. He’s schvitzing. He doesn’t like to schvitz.

He’s just about to call it quits and head home when he hears Flash’s voice above everything else.

“Hey, Parker!” Flash comes to stand in front of him.

Peter groans. “What, Flash?”

“Have you ever played a drinking game?”

Peter furrows his brow. “No, of course not. I’m underage.”

“So? That doesn’t stop, like, every other teenager.”

“I don’t know, Flash…”

“Come on! It’ll be fun. This is an olive branch, man. You gonna take it?”

Flash must be tipsy, already, if he’s trying to play nice with Peter. He’s pretty sure Flash is joking about the ‘olive branch’ thing, but still.

“You should loosen up,” Flash says, “Learn to live a little.”

“I--” Peter starts to object. Then, “Alright. I’ll do it. What’s the game?”

“It’s called Fuzzy Duck.”

“Fuzzy Duck?” Peter laughs. “Come on.”

“No, really! I’ll explain it when everyone’s listening.”

Flash leads him back to a corner full of couches. A bunch of people are already there, some Peter recognizes and others he doesn’t.

Flash takes a seat in the middle of the biggest couch, while Peter perches on the arm of another couch next to some people he’s pretty sure are in his trig class.

“Okay, so we’ve got to get in a circle--which, we already are--and I’ll start by saying ‘fuzzy duck’ to the person to my left. It’ll keep going like that, saying ‘fuzzy duck’ to the person to your left, until someone says ‘does he’. Then, the person to the right of that person has to say ‘ducky fuzz’ and then it’ll keep going in that direction--to the right--with people saying ‘ducky fuzz’ until someone says ‘does he’ again. At that point, the direction switches again and people go back to saying ‘fuzzy duck’ until the next time someone says ‘does he’ again. It’ll just go back and forth like that. Anytime anyone messes up whatever they’re supposed to say, they have to drink.”

There are a few vaguely confused nods.

“It’ll make sense when we get into it,” Flash assures them.

He turns to the girl to his left, “Fuzzy duck,” he says, entirely seriously.

She turns to the girl next to her. “Fuzzy duck.”

Eventually--and after many mess-ups and subsequent drinks--they reach Peter, who, in true idiot fashion, blurts: “Duzzy fuck.”

Everyone’s laughter ringing in his ears, he downs a gulp of whatever Flash handed him. He smacks his lips, unused to the bitter taste of alcohol. As the game continues--and Peter drinks more--he feels his throat get warm and his brain go fuzzy. Fuzzy, like the ducks, he thinks. 

At least he isn’t such a nervous wreck anymore--he hasn’t felt so relaxed in a long time. He doesn’t even think before saying things, which is wild. 

He jumps when Iron Man by Black Sabbath starts blasting out of his back pocket. He scrambles to grab his phone, recognizing the ringtone. More specifically, who it belongs to. Mr. Stark shines up at him, along with a photo he and Tony had taken the day they made his internship official. 

Peter brings the phone up to his ear, the noise of the party loud in the background. “Uhh, hey, Mr. St’rk.” Woah, since when are his words so slurred?

Tony doesn’t seem to notice. “Hey kid, I was just calling to see if you wanted to bring the suit by tomorrow. I’ve got something I wanna try out. Happy can pick you up from May’s.” 

“That--that’d be great, Mr. St’rk.”

People are starting to look at him, wondering who on Earth he’s calling ‘Mr. Stark’. Peter would very much like to go home now, thanks. Drinking’s not so fun when you have to make normal conversation with your mentor/father figure/it’s complicated guy in front of a crowd. 

“Are you good, Pete? It sounds like there’s a lot going on over there. Are you at a party?”

“Pshhhh, no. Are you at a party?”

“Why would I be at a--”

Peter cuts him off. “Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

“You know I have. What’s going on with you, Peter? Is everything alright?”

“D’you remember when the Starfleet came to help the rebels in episode 5?”

“Okay, you’d never mix up Star Wars and Star Trek. That’s it, I’m coming to get you. FRIDAY, what’s his location?” 

Peter hears FRIDAY give Tony Flash’s address in the background, extremely grateful that Tony realized something was up. He didn’t want to outright say anything--he’s trying to get these people to like him, not think he’s some kind of weirdo who needs to be picked up early from a high school party.

A few minutes later, Peter receives a text from Tony.

I’m here.

Peter quickly stands up and immediately regrets it when his vision swims. He takes a second to get his head on straight before stepping back from the circle. “Thanks for the party, Flash. I’ve gotta jet,” He gestures towards the door with his thumb before taking off. Well, he staggers towards the door more than anything, still figuring out how to actually do things while under the influence.

Tony’s standing next to one of his Audis when Peter finally makes his way outside, leaning against it with a concerned frown on his face. He stands up straight when he sees Peter, making a beeline towards him and checking him for injuries. Peter lets him, knowing that Tony will calm down if he sees for himself that Peter’s unharmed. Tony nods to himself, seemingly satisfied with Peter’s lack of injuries, before pulling him into a tight hug. Smushed against Tony’s chest, Peter smiles. Peter knows that Tony cares about him, but it’s still nice to get a physical reminder of that fact. Tony pulls back, keeping his hands on Peter’s shoulders. 

“What happened?”

“Well, I--”

“You smell like alcohol,” Tony interrupts, “Why do you smell like alcohol?”

Peter shoots him a pair of finger-guns. “That might be all the alcohol I drank.”

Tony sighs. “Let’s get you home, yeah? We can talk about this when you’re sober.”

Peter looks down. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. Believe me,” Tony offers him a half-smile, “I get it. But it’s still something we need to talk about. You, me, and May.”

“‘Kay,”

Tony leads him to the car, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Throughout the whole drive back to the apartment, he keeps checking up on Peter through the rear-view mirror. He tries to start some idle conversation but drops it when he realizes that Peter’s too worn out to be all that interested in responding.

They pull up to the curb outside of the apartment building and Tony helps Peter up to his apartment, one arm around his shoulders. He uses his free arm to knock on the door. 

May answers. “Tony? What’re you doing here? It’s really late.” In her tired state, she fails to notice Peter until Tony gestures to him. “Aw, hon, what’s wrong?”

Peter slides out from under Tony’s grip to fall into her arms. She immediately grasps him in a hug, mouthing Is he okay? to Tony, who mimes drinking. May nods in understanding, mouthing Thank you.

Tony smiles. “I’m gonna get out of your hair. The kiddo needs a good night’s sleep.”

“G’night, Mr. St’rk,” Peter says, his voice muffled.

Tony looks at him fondly, his eyes soft. “Goodnight, Pete. You, too, May.”

Peter hums before falling asleep on May’s shoulder.

---

Months later, Peter’s briskly walking out of school again. This time, his interruption is a chloroform towel pressed against his mouth, rather than a (un?)friendly invite to a party. He drops like a sack of bricks into the arms of a man, out cold.

---

Peter wakes up in an abandoned warehouse, his arms tied up above his head and his limbs aching. He presses his wrists against their bindings, sure that he could easily break through them if he tried. He can’t, though, because that would reveal his identity--or, at least, the fact that he has super-strength. He’ll do it if he has to--but not until he knows there’s no other option. 

He hears two sets of footfalls coming from behind the door across the room.

A man and a woman enter through the door, both wearing a bandana over their nose and mouth. They stop in front of Peter. 

The woman crosses her arms. “We want information. You’re going to give it to us.”

Peter stares, eyebrows raised. 

“We’re replicating the arc rector,” she says, “We’ve almost got it, but there’s something missing. You intern for Stark. We know you’ll know.” She dives into an explanation of their design and what went wrong. At the end of her speech, she looks at Peter expectantly.

Peter frowns. “I don’t know, actually.”

The woman slaps him across the face. His head jerks at the motion, his cheek stinging.

“This isn’t how I wanted this evening to go,” she says, “You were supposed to tell us everything. You will tell us everything.” She exits the room, returning with a large case.

She places it on a table and opens it to reveal a collection of knives and such. 

Peter doesn’t like the way this is going.

She runs her hand over the many knives. “Will you tell us what we want to know, now?”

Peter tries to think of a way for him to get out of here without revealing his identity, but he falls up short. It looks like he might have to kiss his anonymity goodbye. 

He’s mentally preparing himself to break his restraints and fight his way out of the warehouse when a phone rings loudly.

The sound is coming from the man’s pocket. He pulls the phone out. Peter recognizes his case. Since when do they have his phone? He guesses they took it when they grabbed him.

“It’s for you,” the man grunts. Peter can’t help but think that he sounds like he gargled cement. “No caller ID.”

The woman tilts her head. “Let him answer.”

The man lodges the phone in between Peter’s raised shoulder and his head before stepping back.

“Hey, Pete, you’re in a weird location. Just calling to check up on you--made sure there was no caller ID, just in case you’re with someone. Is everything alright?”

Peter glances up at his kidnappers, who are glaring at him. He can’t say anything that implies that he’s not alright unless he wants them to hurt him.

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine. I was actually just thinking about.... uh,” he thinks back to the party when he was in a similar situation where he couldn’t say anything outright, “Star Wars. D’you remember when the Starfleet came to help the rebels in, uh, episode 5?”

Tony pauses. “Wait, so you are in trouble?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Tony’s voice sounds strained. “I’ve got your location. Sit tight, I’m coming to get you.”

Peter tries not to slump over in relief, because that would definitely alert his kidnappers. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.” Peter hears the Iron Man suit power-up in the background.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the woman snatches the phone out of Peter’s hand and ends the call. She drops it just out of Peter’s reach.

Peter purses his lips. As Spider-Man, he’d make a quip and get out of here without Tony’s help. As Peter Parker, though? He can’t bring himself to say or do much of anything. It’s different, being in this situation without the mask. Normally, he’d have it handled in no time. Now, though, everything just feels… different. Off. He feels stuck.

The woman takes a step towards him. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time: what’s the secret? We’ve got it all figured out, except for one part. You know what’s missing--I know you do--so you better tell us before I bring out the big guns.” She gestures to the case.

Those aren’t guns, Peter thinks, those are knives. “I don’t know. I don’t work on arc reactors. I’m an intern, I bring people coffee.”

The woman scoffs. “Stark wouldn’t hire a high school intern unless you were something special. Tell us, or so help me God I will make you.” She picks up a thick knife and brandishes it threateningly. 

Peter’s heart rate skyrockets. Then, he hears the sound of repulsors.

Tony smashes through a wall, terrifying Peter’s kidnappers. Peter grins in relief.

“Really guys?” Tony says, his voice robotic through the suit, “You thought you could steal my kid and get away with it?” He flies over to grab Peter, who snaps the restraints like they're rubber bands. Tony picks him up around the armpits. “Have a terrible night,” he says before shooting into the night.

Peter looks up at him. “Mr. Stark, won’t they get away?”

“The police are almost there. They won’t make it out in time. How are you? Any injuries?”

“I’m all good--nothing worse than I get on patrol, anyway. I’m really glad you called, ‘cause I thought I was gonna have to reveal my identity for a second there.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. Where am I bringing you? Home?”

“Yeah, home sounds nice.”

Tony flies him to his apartment building, letting him down gently before retracting the suit. He gestures for Peter to start heading inside. 

They make their way up the stairs and knock on the door. May opens it, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

She looks up at them and balks. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Minor kidnapping, nothing too serious,” Tony jokes.

May smacks him on the arm, “That’s not something to laugh about.” She pulls them both into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you for saving him.”

She pulls back to smack Peter’s arm. “And you! Why didn’t you save yourself? What’s the point of those spider powers if you don’t use them?”

Peter shrugs. “Secret identity.”

May considers it. “Okay, that’s a valid reason.”

She pulls them both into another hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Peter lets himself melt into the embrace, always happy to be with both of his adults. “Can we watch Star Wars?”

May and Tony share a fond look.

“Of course,” she says.

And if the three of them stay up all night binge-watching every Star Wars movie, no one has to know.

[aros001]

Going in blind: Watching season 3 for the first time. Random thoughts.

Episode 1: I know in the original series She-Ra was the sister of He-Man so I'm curious how much of that will be carried over to this series. Not saying He-Man has to make an appearance, same as how Batman didn't need to show up in Teen Titans. That was Robin's story, not his, and similarly this is Adora's story, not Adam's. Regardless, it makes sense why Hordak was so annoyed with the baby Adora in Shadow Weaver's flashbacks. To SW, there was something different and special about the baby, but to Hordak, whom seems familiar with the world before Mara separated Etheria from the rest of the universe, including Eternia potentially, Adora is just another "First One" child like he's seen many times before. Special in comparison to those who only know Etheria.

Great clap-back from Catra to Hordak, and not entirely unfounded. It's debatable how much he actually cares about conquering Etheria. He has others leading his forces in his war yet all his focus is on his portal creation.

According to Entrapta, productivity of the Horde is up 400% ever since Catra became Hordak's 2nd in command. I wondering how much of that is Catra's direct doing? Is she genuinely just that good of a commander? Is it because she's properly delegating and Scorpia has been handling most of the load? Or is this just because it's in comparison to Shadow Weaver? Entrapta said Catra's focus on First Ones' tech has been greatly aiding them and SW definitely focused more on magic, which was an aid mostly to herself since everyone else in the Horde seems to fight only with weapons and technology. And most of what she saw of SW while she was Hordak's 2nd was her being obsessed with bringing back Adora rather than fighting the war.

Episode 2: Let's see... Hordak's easily an adult and Entrapta is...[checks google] late twenties, early thirties. Oh good, then let's sail this ship!

But yeah, that was a heck of a backstory for Hordak. This reminds me of a video by a Youtuber named Savage Books comparing the villain Steppenwolf in the theatrical and Snyder Cut versions of Justice League and how, while he still wasn't a great villain, just a small addition made him a much better villain, that being a failure in his past and the desire just to go home. And in this case, Hordak is the much better, or at least way more developed, version of that. One of many clones of Hordak Prime but having a defect that labelled him a failure and had him cast out to Etheria, a "backwards world" as he's called it before. If he can conquer Etheria, perhaps by building a portal that'll bring forward Prime's army, he believes that'll prove to Prime that he is not a failure and that he can return home to rejoin his forces. Just this bit of backstory adds SO MUCH to Hordak, including new insights on his past interactions, and keeps him from being a flat character like theatrical version Steppenwolf. His lack of tolerance for failure makes sense when he himself is trying to prove that he's not. It gives him compelling motivation to want to conquer Etheria beyond just power and greed. Not motivation you're meant to agree with but one you can still understand.

I like the story with Huntara too. It's a nice little tie-in to something Adora was talking about with Glimmer and Bow last episode. Adora defected from the horde, not because she was different but rather very much in spite being very much like every other soldier there. She wanted to believe Shadow Weaver may have at least some goodness in her too and now we have Huntara as a fellow defector who realized the evils of the Horde, even if she chose to stay out of the war entirely after.

Episode 3: I legit thought Catra stabbed the goat lady for a second.

After Scorpia asking her why don't they just stay in the wastes I'm seeing a bit of a parallel between Catra and Hordak. They've both found a place where they can be the top dog, where they can do and have basically anything they want; her with the wastes and him with the Horde. They can be happy. ...But there's still this pull they're feeling to somewhere else. Catra back to the Horde and Hordak back to Prime. Because they feel they have to prove something; prove that they're not failures. They could be happy but they can't let go.

And that scene between Adora and Catra at the end. That was such a great line read from Catra's actor. "She left me for you. Everything that's happened is because of you." I got chills.

Minor note: While I'm only judging off the Mara hologram, which didn't have color, I do think the She-Ra outfit looks better with pants than shorts like Adora's She-Ra form. I think it makes it look sleeker, if that makes any sense.

Episode 4: Catra's spiral has turned into a drill and its taking her down as far as she can go. Though something I had to a laugh a little at myself over was that my biggest "Catra, no!" reaction wasn't to her wanting to open the portal but rather when she lied to Hordak and said Entrapta let the princesses in. She was actually a positive influence on Hordak's life and Catra with one move just destroyed that relationship and all progress Hordak had been making.

I'm guessing there's going to be some kind of long-term effect from Shadow Weaver continuously siphoning off Glimmer's magic. The woman is basically a parasite and the magic she uses is very different from the kind Glimmer does. I can't believe it never occurred to me that since Shadow Weaver trained Glimmer's father there might be a connection there between the two of them later in the story. While we don't know about anything that might've happened after she left, SW clearly had enough affection for Micah still to not kill him. I could see her trying to take Glimmer on as a student later like she did him.

Episode 5: There is something kind of hilarious about it being Scorpia's jealousy of Catra and Adora's closeness that causes her to be the first one after Adora to pick up that something is off.

11 is my favorite of the Doctor Who Doctors so naturally I'm comparing all this to the crack in Amy Pond's bedroom wall. Whatever goes in gets forgotten about and basically never existed. Though does that mean Bright Moon isn't going to remember the Horde? Basically that entire place got sucked up in the collapsing reality. There shouldn't be at war anymore because their enemy literally no longer exists.

Adora and Catra had their own little Star Trek 3 moment there.

Adora: "If we don't help each other, we'll die here!"

Catra: "Perfect! Then that's the way it shall be!"

Catra's just so far down her spiral she doesn't even care about getting her own win, just so long as Adora doesn't get one, despite just minutes ago clearly loving having Adora back in her life and on her side, to the point was trying to resist remembering the old reality. Her "perfect" world was them together again but when given the chance (another of many. I love those cuts to their past woven in there) she slapped the hand away.

I'm sure I'm wrong but I'm starting to theorize Madam Razz is actually Mara and just at some point went kind of crazy and started thinking as and Mara were two different people.

Episode 6:

"You are everything I ever wanted in a son. This... This is everything I ever wanted in a life. ...But I've got responsibilities, Van. And...I have to...go now."

-Superman, Justice League Unlimited: For the Man Who Has Everything

That was my favorite episode of JLU, where Superman is trapped in this world that isn't real but still perfect in every way, and the only way out was to give up everything he'd ever wanted, including a son he remembers watching grow up, even if it never really happened. With a similar premise, this definitely helped elevate Angela up a bit for me, whom I was kind just meh with before. I didn't dislike her but I didn't really care much for her either. This episode gave her a lot to work with though, with the heavy sacrifice she made. Not just saying behind to pull out the sword but just simply forcing herself to accept her husband is gone and not coming back. I was right that they wouldn't remember the Horde, but I definitely didn't think of the full effects of them never existing. They never exist, Bow never becomes a rebel instead of a scholar like his dads wanted. They don't exist, Micah never dies in battle against them. Glimmer gets to grow up with her father in her life. Everyone, most especially Angela, has to reject everything they would love to be real in favor of what actually is.

I'm guessing we're going to have Shadow Weaver taking advantage of this situation, trying to act like a teacher and mother-figure to Glimmer now that she's basically a orphan.

I talked before about how Catra and Hordak seem to have a parallel between them, especially regarding failure. Catra seems like she has a very hard time accepting her own failures and mistakes and thus why she more or less uses Adora as a mental scapegoat for all of it. Nothing is ever really her fault, it's Adora's, or Shadow Weaver's, or Hordak's. It makes for a great moment when Adora finally punches back, both literally and figuratively. She's not going to accept responsibility for Catra's actions anymore. She gave Catra every chance to make the right choice and she didn't, so now she has to finally live with the consequences. Heck of a glare She-Ra gave Catra at the end. Very much a "If I ever see you again..." and it certainly scared Catra, at least for a moment.

Now, someone go save Entrapta from Beast Island!

Season 3 verdict: Easily the best season thus far. I know this was technically the second half of season 2 but even in comparison to the full season 1 there was just so much that happened in this, so much that got revealed, and so, so many moments of emotion or tension. Weirdly I feel kind of disappointed that Hordak Prime is probably going to come in now and be the new big villain. I really like our Hordak's motivation and Prime seems like he might just be the generic conqueror for power that Hordak seemed like he was going to be at first. Not saying those types can't work. I love All For One from My Hero Academia and Frieza from Dragon Ball. Those guys are pure evil and selfishness, but they also have a captivating presence/charisma to them.

Naturally, since I bring her up the most out of all the characters, I'm very curious to see what happens with Catra now. She's basically nuked every positive relationship she had with anyone. Entrapta's gone, she threatened Scorpia, Hordak's not going to trust anyone including her anymore now that he thinks Entrapta's betrayed him, and Adora firmly sees her as an enemy. She has no one (those under her direct command don't count) and it's entirely her own fault.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/o0trfz/going_in_blind_watching_season_3_for_the_first/

[anonymouswriter2311]

The Pastor’s Daughter, Chapter 1

Link

Shelby had always loved to explore, for a young age she had fond memories of long treks through the woods, and cave explorations with her brothers. Joining a new Church was no different. Every religious building held its own mysteries, its own beauty. That’s what led the blonde on her adventure that morning. The congregation were just starting to gather in the main worship room, the whole place buzzing with excitement for the new Pastor – Shelby’s dad – but Shelby had been through this song and dance so many times before, that she’d much rather explore what most people don’t see. Past the stained-glass windows and holy statues. It wasn’t the biggest Church they’d been to, but it was definitely the most beautiful. Gorgeous oil paintings lined the walls that lead to her Father’s office, the dust thick on the frame as she gently ran her finger across the wooden patterns. Nothing a little polish can’t fix. Stopping just short of the office, she looked up at a painting of 'The Last Supper' studying this artist's interpretation and mentally comparing it to the dozens of others she’d seen over her life, that’s when she heard it. She wasn’t entirely sure what ‘it’ was exactly. At first, she was convinced that it was all in her head, or that it had possibly been the overflow from the ever-growing crowd in the nave. But then she heard it again and again, each time growing louder and louder. The sound was foreign to the young girl, each yelp almost like a cry of pain. So she followed. It wasn’t your typical cry. Definitely not one that Shelby had heard before. And then she saw it – the door to the storage closet slightly ajar – moving carefully, Shelby opened the door ever so slightly and frowned as she tried to decipher what she had seen.

At first, she thought that the two girls were fighting and that the brunette tomboy looking one had gotten the upper hand...boy was she wrong. She was about to intervene when she watched the brunette lean in close to the redheaded girl and press their lips together, hard. Shelby’s eyes widen in shock, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away or to try and stop them. Silently she watched as she kissed her way down the redhead's jawline to her neck, causing the same cry to escape from the other girl's lips. The redhead was whispering something to the shorter girl, something Shelby couldn’t quite make out from her distance. But whatever she said caused a devious smirk to appear on the blonde’s lips, and Shelby had to force back a gulp as she watched her slowly raise the hem of the redhead's dress and allowed her hand to disappear under the floral fabric. Shelby wasn’t naïve, she knew what she was witnessing and as she stood there, her father’s words plagued her mind. ‘This isn’t right’...Shelby thought to herself and finally broke away, but not before she caught the eye of the tom-boy, who could only wink as Shelby scurried away.

***

Shelby watched as the tomboy snuck into the service just as it was beginning. She could see the disapproving glare from who Shelby assumed was her mother as she took her seat, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder at the redheaded girl who had arrived a few moments before her.

Try as she might – and she really did try – Shelby found herself thinking back to what she had just witnessed and annoyingly found her gaze drifting away from her father’s sermon to the brunette a few rows over. Cautiously, she studied the brunette, her eyes tracing over her slim yet strong build, noting how well the tight-fitting white button-down shirt she wore highlighted her athletic body. Her eyes rested on her face; her olive kissed skin looked flawless, relaxed as she listened to the sermon. Shelby bit her lip nervously as she watched her pick at the remains of black nail polish, the black shavings sitting like dalmatian spots on her shirt. She didn't know why her mind was so hyper-focused on the brunette, she wasn't the only one she'd caught in the closet, but something about her stuck with Shelby. Maybe it was the assertiveness, the way she had taken control – even when she was the shorter one by a long shot – or maybe it was the wink sent Shelby's way, her way of taunting her, challenging her to say something. Shelby didn't know what to think anymore. Her mind still dancing with the image of the brief yet oddly exciting moment, so much so, that before she knew it the sermon was over, and she had no idea what had been said.

***

“Her boyfriend isn’t into all this...and he’s a dick,” A raspy voice caught Shelby off guard as she poured herself a glass of orange juice, spilling some slightly as she turned to face the mysterious voice. As she met her chocolate brown eyes, Shelby could feel the color slowly drain from her usually perky cheeks, as the girl that plagued her mind for the last two hours stood before. “Sorry.” She quickly apologized as she reached for the paper towels and started to clean up the spilled juice.

“Why are you telling me this?” Shelby snapped ever so slightly, her voice a hushed whisper as she surveyed her surroundings.

“Dunno, just thought I should maybe explain what you may have thought you saw.” The olive-skinned girl shrugged before she bundled up the wet paper towels and bank shot them into the trash can at the other end of the table, making sure to send a cheeky smirk Shelby's way as she made the shot.

“I didn’t see anything.” The blonde hissed as she grabbed her cup, ready to run away from the woman in front of her and the sizzling feeling in her stomach.

“Of course...” Toni mumbled to herself, before following the blonde. “I’m Toni, by the way.” She jumped in front of her, stopping the taller girl in her tracks. With a goofy smile plastered on her face, she stretched her hand out to the blonde.

Shelby looked down at the brunette’s hand, before meeting her gaze with a raised eyebrow and a look that read ‘I know where that hand has been.’ With a faint blush peaking onto her cheeks, Toni swapped her hands, mumbling a shy ‘sorry bout that,’ as she did do.

“Shelby, I would say it’s a pleasure, but...”

“Thought you didn’t see anything,” Toni chuckled as she wiggled her eyebrows, noting how flushed the blonde suddenly became when she noticed that she was yet to let go of Toni's hand. Flustered, Shelby snatched her hand away from Toni's and placed her plastic cup of orange juice in its place.

“Enjoy your drink, Toni.” She mumbled as she scurried away, an action that Toni found quite amusing.

***

Toni hated this part. The waiting. The small talk. For her, showing up and listening to the same mindless preaching was already pushing it. But she liked her life here, and she wasn’t going to mess things up with her foster parents for the sake of a few hours in her own personal hell. And it did come with a few perks, the horny cheerleaders being one of them. At some point they had decided that having sex with a girl, 1) didn’t count as cheating and 2) didn’t count as breaking their purity packs, and Toni wasn’t about to correct them. But getting caught, that had been a first – an exciting first – but a first she didn’t want a repeat of. If word got out to her foster parents, she’d be kicked to the curb for sure. Luckily for Toni, little miss perfect didn’t seem like she was going to blab. More like she was trying to block the event from her mind entirely, which suited the basketball player.

She had been leaning against the rear wall of the refreshments room, Shelby's cup of orange juice still resting untouched in her hand, when she heard her name being called, followed by the frantic wave of her couch's hand, beckoning her away from her resting spot.

“Shalifoe, come here a sec!” He called excitedly, as she plastered on her usual smirk.

“Everything alright coach?”

"Just want to show off my star player, tis' all." He draped an unwanted arm over her shoulders, forcing Toni to squirm slightly as they walked towards the new Pastor. “Toni this is Dave Goodkind, he’s taking over for old man Stanley,”

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Goodkind.” Toni smiled tightly as she shook his outstretched hand.

“Likewise, Miss Shalifoe. Your couch has been chatting up a storm about you. Youngest female captain, two-time nation winner. I’m impressed.” He smiled a toothy grin, his teeth too white to be untreated.

“Thank you, Sir.” She absentmindedly scratched the back of her neck, a nervous tic she had picked up whenever she felt uncomfortable, which is how compliments from strangers usually made her feel.

"I was wondering if you could be of service to me."

“I can try my best, Sir.”

“I’d like you to meet my daughter,” Dave started to scan the crowd, and waved when he’d finally located his target, “She’s starting Hopewell Lake High tomorrow and I was hoping maybe you could be a friendly face in the crowd.”

“I’d be happy too,” Toni fake beamed, as her couch stared intensely with a warning glare.

“Ahh, finally.” Mr. Goodkind clapped his hands as Toni felt an oddly familiar presence behind her. “Shelby, honey. Meet Miss Toni Shalifoe.” Toni’s mouth went dry as she turned to find the blonde peeping-tom behind her with a smile so sweet it could turn a person diabetic with one look plastered on her face.

“A pleasure.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Shelby.” Toni played along, smirking as Shelby looked down at their joined hands with a hint of disgust.

“Toni has kindly volunteered to give you the lay of the land tomorrow.” The Pastor spoke, causing Shelby’s eyes to quickly dart from their joined hands to her father’s smiling face.

“That’s really not necessary.”

“I insist.” Her dad counterattacked, his tone warning Shelby to bite her tongue.

“Pastor, can I steal you away for a quick minute.” An elder woman spoke softly as she approached the small group.

"Excuse me, ladies."

And with that, the two girls found themselves alone once again. As the forced smiles began to ease, Toni found herself being pulled to the outskirts of the room. “What are you doing?” Shelby whisper shouted as she avoided eye contact with the brunette.

"Trying to get in good with the big man," Toni smirked, trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably.

“Having sex in his place of worship isn’t going to earn you points in that respect.” The taller girl hissed, finally bringing up the elephant in the room. As the words sunk in, she could feel her cheeks burning as the few heated moments once again invaded her mind. Closing her eyes tightly, she pushed the images of Toni against the redhead far from her mind.

"Touché," Toni whispered softly, prompting Shelby to open her eyes and meet her gaze. "Main entrance at eight-thirty. I'll be there, hopefully, you will be too." The tomboy bit her lip nervously, before mumbling an awkward goodbye.

[murfeelee]

Ranking ALL the Sims 3 Expansion Packs - tonitalks

WOW, Tonitalks and I have a lot of similar ideas about the TS3 EPs! ❤️

It’s like, on one hand, every TS3 EP is amazing (especially when compared to the pittance being sold in TS4′s EPs). But on the other hand, EA really dropped the ball in areas where it should have really gone further to expand core gameplay. Even the best EPs had glaring flaws, and tend to fall short of things TS1/TS2 did better. But on the whole, what we got was just enough to keep the TS3 fandom alive even 11 years later. Bless.

MY THOUGHTS (under the cut):

(Unless Tumblr’s flagged it, I could’ve sworn I made an updated Best/Worst post ranking all the TS3 EPs. But the only one still on my blog is my old one I made before I bought all the EPs, though it mostly still aligns with how I feel.)

Toni S A B C D F ranking system is mostly based on which packs have the most content and varied things things to do. Toni’s S A B ranks are her must-owns, while the C D F ranks are her most disappointing games.

S: Generations, Supernatural

Toni’s only complaint about GEN is the Imaginary Friends lifestate, which: same. Frikkin creepy. But the rest of GEN is a MUST-OWN for kids & elders.

And finally! A reviewer giving Supernatural the respect it DESERVES! ^0^ SN was stuffed to the brim; SO much content! Granted, it’s no Makin Magic, and I personally was underwhelmed by Moonlit Falls, as I like Midnight Hollow and Dragon Valley WAY more, but SN is still my favorite TS3 EP, regardless. Anyone who loves the “weird, wonderful and magic“ side of The Sims NEEDS SN. 💯💯💯 (Just make sure to mod the Zombies out or adjust your lifestate settings; whatever works to get rid of them.)

A: Seasons, University

Seasons is an excellent pack--Toni wanted a new world, which: same, but there’s just an ungodly amount of new content in SSNS, it’s the best and most well-made TS3 EP, period. 

To this day I’ve NEVER sent my sims to UNI. I hate school IRL, so unless my sims are going to effing Hogwarts I have no desire to ever bother with the school crap. Toni doesn’t like the 3 social groups, but I actually LOVE them. Almost all of my sims are either Rebels or Nerds. Crazy enough, I love the amount of new content UNI added, I just never use it for my sims’ schooling. I love the radio station, weather machine, whiteboard, skeleton set, etc etc.

B: World Adventures, Pets

For Toni, the main complaint for WA is basically the repetitiveness of the tombs, and their lack of replayability. Yes, technically this is true, as WA veers dangerously close to where TS4 went wrong with all the storyline GPs, as if they’re Castaways or The Sims Medieval. The main difference though is that we can create/download as many new tombs as we want, which 100% keeps WA fresh and interesting for me. But yes, It’s an excellent pack, which is crazy considering it’s the first one for TS3.

Toni's biggest criticism for Pets is how high maintenance horses are, which YES. Unless your sims are rich and own a lot of property, horses are almost impossible to own...but that’s how horses are IRL anyway, so IMO I don’t see that as a negative. The only problem is when you want horses in CC worlds that are too small, where you can't fit in enough 64x64 lots. (So it’s no surprise TS4 didn’t even bother. 🙄 )

C: Ambitions

Toni felt that more could’ve been done with the professions & careers, which, YES! Too many rabbithole careers, and not enough interactions. I freaking love that they added professions with playable firehouses and private investigators, but I too wish that every career could just be opened up; I hate rabbitholes. And she thought Twinbrook was meh, but I think Twinbrook’s one of the better EP worlds. (The Store worlds are where it’s at, though -- eff most of the EP worlds, tbh.) Overall I really really like AMB; it was headed in the right direction, though I can see where it could’ve easily let people down who were expecting a lot more from the professions/careers. (EA obviously learned NOTHING from AMB’s feedback, considering what Get to Work did....)

D: Showtime, Island Paradise, Into the Future

Showtime: Toni said “what was this game?“ 😂The Genies were a poor fit, the professions should’ve given us WAY more, there’s no acting career in “Hollywood,“ etc. Exactly. Not to mention the dumpster fire that was Simport. But I have a love/hate relationship with SHT. I actually treat SHT the way I do UNI & IP -- I really like the side content it added; I just never bother with the core game mechanic: superstardom, schools, and underwater. That makes 50% of the game useless for me, which is why I always get EPs on sale. ^_^

I agree with Toni that Island Paradise should’ve been like World Adventures, with different vacation locations. It could’ve been more like Castaways, with Tiki/Polynesian/Melanesian islands, Asian islands, Caribbean islands, Mediterranean Islands, etc. Plus, both of us didn’t like the mermaid system. Making them requires too much effort for them to not do all that much underwater. But to be fair, IP added A LOT Of new content. For what it did add, there is an impressive amount. Island Living sure can't say the same! 🤣

Into the Future however.... I understand why Toni was so hard with this pack. Trust: I ran the main thread at the officials that asked for a Time Travel expansion, so ITF holds a very special place in my heart, cuz EA for the most part kinda listened? ITF is awesome. It added some super cool content that I use religiously; ITF’s one of my top 3 EPs. But yeah, choices were made that had me like WTF?? Toni wanted ITF to be more hi-tech, which SAME! I wanted more of a Star Wars Blade Runner cyberpunk neon metropolis, and a steampunk/dieselpunk industrial dystopia. I have no idea where TF that “utopian” Willy Wonka zany Hunger Games nonsense came from. It was kinda retro-futuristic Jetsons Star Trek TOS in a way, which I like, but...? Choices. EA definitely could’ve done more with ITF, for sure. IMO itr needed to be more like WA, too. U_U

F: Late Night - I hollered! 😭

Y’all know I effing hate Late Night. Only reason I keep it installed is for the musical instruments & highrises. It’s certainly no Apartment Life, and it’s definitely no Night Life, but it’ll do in a pinch. The obnoxious Celebrities/Paparazzi, Twilight vampires, cramped Bridgeport...no thanks. Especially with Boroughsburg out here just SHAMING EA. SHAME! I wish someone would remake Bridgeport as a cyberpunk world, that would be awesome. Otherwise most of LN is useless to me. :\

_________________________________________________________

TL;DR

So basically, if I were to follow Toni’s S A B C D F ranking system, and classify TS3′s EPs based on its content quantity, and EA’s dedication to thematic cohesion, my list would be as follows:

S: Generations, Seasons, Supernatural

All radically overhaul the core mechanics of the game/world itself: age states, weather, and lifestates/occults.

A: World Adventures, Pets

World Adventures added 3 new worlds and cultures; and Pets added animals. It’s just arguable whether EA should’ve done more with them all or not.

B: University, Island Paradise, Into the Future

Chock-full of new activities & skills, but your mileage may vary.

C: Ambitions (AMB didn’t really come with as much as it should have)

D: Showtime (SHT included a lot, but not much of it made thematic sense)

F: Late Night (LN needed to commit to what makes a celebrity--music/movie/fashion/etc CAREERS--rather than the hollow lifestyle of a celeb)

[keyofjetwolf]

Bonus Question Answers! (anime heat 3)

I asked a silly question! You gave me incredible answers. SO VERY MANY INCREDIBLE ANSWERS. If yours is listed below, you’ve earned an entry in a random draw to win a GIFTENING liveblog OF YOUR CHOICE

SURPRISE EVERYONE WHO ANSWERED THIS ONE GETS AN ENTRY (with extra entry if you pulled a specific line). This has been such a struggle for me for the past ... you know, million years or something, and each of you made me feel so good, thank you. ♥

—

Q: This is reaching back into the memory a bit, I know, but what's your favourite of my fanfic? (BONUS BONUS ENTRY if you pull a specific line!)

*  i cannot remember a specific line off the top of my head but i remember the post-S series dealing with usagi's trauma from pharaoh 90 (sound of silence?) was a gut punch and a half --  anewconstellation

~~

* "Blue shirt. Pearl buttons." I think this was the first time I read you writing the Outers, particularly Neptune and Uranus, and, uh, holy shit. Absolutely note-perfect dialogue and dynamic, particularly for that period of Sailor Moon S when Michiru and Haruka used intimacy of speech and gesture as an instrument of distancing and obfuscation (of their goals to the Inners, of their hearts to themselves and to each other, of the heli-pad to the staff at Mugen Academy, etc). It was so clear, and so clearly *them* that I could actually hear the intonations of their respective seiyuu. And then to deploy such spot-on character elements in combination with the stakes and the maturity the anime never reached for, my WORD, are you trying to kill me??? The pacing, the restraint! What an absolute gift. You're a wonder. (also your drabbles are fuckin peerless, and the BTL concept is such a clever series framework)  -- @rasiqra-revulva​

~~

*  This was so hard to pick from, but I finally settled on "Cause and Affect" - it's such a heartbreaking story, but the juxtaposition between the clinical lines of information from the computer to the memories Ami is dealing with to the horror of the visuals around her... it's so bright and sharp and PRESENT.  It keeps me in the story, that mix of tones and feelings.  And the final line?  Perfection.  "Number of regrets: none"  What an amazing take on Ami and how she processes information and how she deals with the situation she is in.  I still get chills up my back when I read the story.  -- @amberlilly​

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*  I love your Between the Lines series, it's how I found your Tumblr and liveblogs back in the day -- @amboato​

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*  Author Alert.  “So never, ever, going to live this down.” -- @crunchbuttsteak​

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*  "Of her word" quote "But for all that, it remained sand. Rei erased it with one swipe."  -- Dei

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*  Between The Lines. Adding further character/emotional depth to canon is YES PLZ. I really liked the whole idea of Usagi having trauma post-Pharaoh 90 and all the chapters that hit on that. On a less serious note Chibs' circus-related PTSD and freaking out when Hotaru wants to go to the circus kills me every time. ("But your precious dreams Hotaru-chan!")  -- forgottenfae

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*  This is probably the obvious choice, but "The Sounds of The Silence" has haunted me in all the best ways since I first read it. The way you write Rei, Usagi, and Rei and Usagi hits me right in the heart every time. This particular fic, with Usagi so traumatized, and Rei being as soft and gentle as Usagi needs, will always stick with me. I pulled up the fic to try and narrow down a single line, and ultimately there's no real debate. "She would never stop trying to do more, but for now, she simply did this." That line is, at its core, the essence of Rei Hino. And it is perfection.  -- gatorsandglitter

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*  I don't expect this to win at all, just sharing,, but I just super fondly remembered the goggles and all the amazing content, meta, and fic those inspired, both from you and others  -- @goosebytrade

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*  "You Win or You Die"  my favorite line is "She and Rei WOULD have The Moment, they WOULD get their thousand years of bliss, and they WOULD be making out after all this was over. Like, SO HARD."  -- @i-needa-nap-please

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*  I'm always really bad at answering questions like this because my mind has pretty much become a goldfish in my old age and I have a hard time remembering specific fics; it all sort of starts to jumble up in my brain and things get lost. But I have always loved reading your writing, it's what got me onto this godforsaken website in the first place -- it was just before Crystal dropped, and we were all foolishly full of hope and excitement, and you were going through the Moon Pride video and waxing poetic about the FRIENDSHIPS and I was like, "YES! Finally! Someone who understands why I love this stupid kids' show!" I think I sent you an ask saying this before, (but who knows if you ever got it, Tumblrs being what they are - indifferent) but I tried reading fanfic and even published novels based on properties, like the Buffy novels and Star Trek and Star Wars novels, for a long time, and mostly found it frustrating and annoying and just... wrong. It always had this awkwardness and clunkiness to it that didn't do anything for me and just constantly screamed "THIS IS A FANFIC IT IS NOT REAL WRITING" at me. Didn't like it. But, I liked yours. Yours didn't feel awkward or clunky. You have never written any sentences like, "Rei watched the blonde stand up" where "the blonde" is Minako, and I don't know why fanfic writers think that calling characters "the blonde" or "the redhead" or whatever is sexy or cute but it ain't (sorry, pet peeve tangent). So, when you were writing stuff more, I would read it like it was going out of style, and you led me to Doc's writing, which had the same natural, "this is real writing" quality, and I loved hers, too. Anyway, my favorites of yours have always been the Between the Lines stuff. I just love the "hidden" moments that we didn't get to see. The Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead bits of Sailor Moon (speaking of fanfic that actually works) that bring so much depth to characters we know and love already or to characters we see only briefly. Also, the Shadow Senshi, because FUCK. Just... Kill Me. In any event, I know that writing has been difficult for you of late, and I know how that feels, so I hope that people who are actually able to answer this question have given you some places to go and draw strength from so that it can become part of your life again. TBH, I've been using the bonus questions on your Giftening surveys and Doc's 8 Days surveys as an excuse to try doing some small bits of quick, no pressure, nobody's gonna see it unless you or Doc actually LIKE it, don't think about it writing, and it has been helpful. I hope you can find something that gives you the same opportunity. Now that I've written you a novel that doesn't even answer the question you asked (goldfish, remember? *sigh*), have a gorgeous Tuesday!  -- @incorrecttact

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*  The one with Pluto and Queen Serenity, where Serenity is selfish in a very Usagi way, but her arrogance combined with that selfishness makes it a fatal flaw? I liked that one a lot. -- Jules

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*  the bit you wrote to 'fill in' a gap for why during r did mamoru act like a distant jerk. My favourite parts were Rei coming to see the same dream, and despite being the one to have the biggest reason to believe in these kinds of prophetic visions, Rei still doesn't believe fate is set in stone. -- just... a fan. a well-baked one

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*  Make It To New Year's -- @kaleidodreams

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*  ahhh, where is a link to all of your fanfic? It's the series you started after S, with Rei comforting Usagi, because like you I was let down by the fact that they never followed up on what Usagi saw, or even how she dealt, with the end of S. runner up: the one where Usagi is about to give birth because everything you write with Rei and Usagi is amazing. -- kari

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*  There was a drabble/draft/something that you used one of my prompts for, and I prompted you with Usagi and Rei, but you did it from Luna's perspective and THAT WAS SO UNEXPECTED and it turned out SO GOOD cause like!!!!!! You made Sailor Moon both someone Luna cares for, because still the legacy of the moon, and someone utterly discouraging for her because *this should not be*, and wow what a way to make it both about Usagi herself and about her powers.  -- katrani

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*  I love the btl fics, they fill in the missing gaps, add depth to the story, and sometimes smooth over things (SuperS) when canon is just...blah. One line I really liked was: “I was listening, at first, but then I started thinking about how hungry I was, and how a pork bun would be really good right now, and then I wondered what makes a thing a bun, and like, if you put ANYTHING in a bun, does it become a Thing-Bun, so could you make a bun out of another bun and would it be a Bun Bun, and wouldn’t that be the greatest thing to– Rei?” It's a great run-on, stream of thought sentence that just really catches Usagi's voice, is hilarious, and such a natural progression. -- @kumeko

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*  “HUG,” Usagi demanded again, because dammit, she’d been promised a hug and SOMEONE was going to deliver. (The one where Michiru has the hiccups. Because it's fun HaruMichi stuff, because it weaponises Usagi in a useful way, because it manages to (gently) make fun of both perfect!Michiru and saint!Usagi without being mean to either character, and also because I get hiccups a lot and I haaaaate them.) -- nerdy-flutterings

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*  I can't remember a specific fic, but I LOVE your Shadow Senshi headcanons and they're the main reason I started writing my own Shadow Senshi stories. -- @notesfromtheidiotbox

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*  The Figuarts saga is the Sailor Moon fic I never knew I needed -- Raye

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*  Special Delivery is a delight. So much Rei Certainty (that ends up being misplaced). So much Usagi being The Most Usagi About Pregnancy. So much Comedic Hijinks, because why the hell WOULDN’T ‘the Senshi get blindsided when Usagi goes into labor’ end up going full screwball? There’s a lot of great lines there (Rei’s theory about Chibs taking control of the Gate of Time and manipulating things is fantastic, as is the ending,) but my favorite is definitely “Rei Hino if I give birth to my daughter on the side of the road I swear I will go back in time and tear all the pages out of your favorite coloring book! [...] I’ll break the crayons too, Rei-chan!” Delightfully specific and childish, especially since Usagi sticks with it, and that particular brand of comic specificity is definitely a highlight of yours. -- Regalli

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*  Fire on Mountain!!! When I got to “Her voice was deeper than most expected when facing the certainty of her. It was rough, sandpaper running over cherry. She’d been a singer, once. Nobody would have believed her.” I was like oh. OH! -- Sasha

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*  My favorite of your fanfic, one one of the first I read is 'Hard to Break'. And my absolute favorite line is Usagi's panic when Minako tries to smoke: "Minako who was almost certainly dying, the cigarette had spread its evil and killed her instantly oh god."  -- @shavedjudomonkey

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*  Tonight Ami would grieve, and wish she understood why.'  This Between the Lines about Ami getting her mini computer both haunts me and brings tears to my eyes.  -- @shonasof

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*  I can't remember the title, but it's the one where Minako realizes that Rei's been writing Sailor V fanfic under the name Red Bow -- Somariel

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*  You would think Mako-chan's Happy Ending, but nope, this one goes to Hard to Break (although I had to look up the exact name.) This thing is filled with such great lines. How am I supposed to pick out one? "[Watch out, boys,]" Minako said in smooth and entirely unnecessary English. "[Lady Super Cool is on the prowl.]" -- Ultrace

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*  I forget the title, but it's the 'last senshi standing' fic where Ami is reflecting on the battle that took the others from her. Detatched and cold as she analyzes Rei Minako and Mako and finally Usagi's death with a medical efficiency, going through her Visors readout and then reflecting that the clinical words were nothing compared to what she'd actually seen. following up the method of death of the senshi with a statistic in relation to her friendship with the girl. Number of milkshakes shared, number of conversations lasting well into the night, number of hugs, number of smiles that brightened the darkest of moods. Describing how Rei's heart was pulped in a monster's grip, Minako's once beautiful face smashed against the rocks, Mako's lightning that outlived its mistress as she and Usagi ran off, and then finally that one last attempt to protect Usagi failing as 'Cervical Fracture' flashes on her visor. And From there she just... accepts death. sitting beside where Usagi had fallen and waiting for the end. it's dark af but it's the first one that always comes to mind when i think about ur fics :>  -- Vega

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*  I am extremely predictable here with two of my choices, as you know that I am obsessed with Fire on the Mountain and Blue Shirt, two things you wrote when you "definitely couldn't write" (Sidenote: My new year's resolution is to be harder on your about writing) We all know why I love blue shirt, it's basically an underhand pitch to the face for me, but Fire on the Mountain has a quality of regret and longing that I really connected with, something that really struck me in a way that was powerful. It's different from a lot of your inners work, and I think about Mina posing as Rei, in her disguise magic in the woods, and all the reasons why, fairly often. Something that MAY come as a surprise to you, is I really wish we got more ofyour overwatch stuff, and maybe I'll just keep asking for this for my birthday for the rest of our natural lives, but I think of like, the one you wrote on 7/14/20, with Pharah longing to have a man to shoot in the face because that would be easier than the emotions around whatever's going on with her, and I'm utterly tantalized. And I loved that hurt/comfort you wrote for me, where Pharah had this single minded drive to find out what had happened to Angela, and Tracer's trying to, well, comfort her, on some level, and the way you described Pharah's "animal cry" was FANTASTIC, and as always I am deeply jealous of your Tracer voice and IF YOU WOULD WRITE IT MORE IT WOULD HELP ME. -- WRITE, BITCH.

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*  The one were Hotaru confronted Michiru and Haruka about how they had tried to kill her in order to stop the Silence. Such a good little moment =w= -- zorrito

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AND THEN THESE WERE UNSIGNED SAD FACE

*  Chosen. I like your Overwatch stuff but Chosen was a goddamn masterpiece.

*  Operation: Heart Angels. Senshi going after Mamoru for his bullshit was something I didn't know I needed.

*  The entirety of Beggars Would Ride, including every single line of Anya's dialogue.

—

I’ll be drawing for the bonus liveblog around the start of THE GIFTENING 2020 (currently looking to be Monday, 11 January 2021). Each bonus question is another chance to earn an entry! I CAN ABSOLUTELY AND SHAMELESSLY BE BOUGHT.