#shipping politicians is also a *thing* over here

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[jetii]

On Impulse

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,703

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, kind of enemies to lovers? but in a goofy silly way, Tech's autism rizz, fluff, arguing as a form of flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, naked female clothed male

Summary: You've made it your personal mission to convince Tech that letting loose and taking risks for the sake of fun can be a good thing. During your day off on Coruscant, your efforts are unexpectedly rewarded.

A/N: There's no excuse for this I just love writing feral Tech. Also wow! 400 followers! Hello! Thanks for being here.

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Tech knows he can be a little... much.

It's not really his fault. The Kaminoans who designed him and his brothers didn't really think to account for things like social awareness, or tact, or "when not to talk." All they programmed him with was an insatiable thirst for information and a single-minded desire to be useful.

The others in the squad had been able to pick things up on the way, seeming to possess a natural sense for the sort of thing one says or does at any given time. Tech, though, just doesn't have that. He has a brain that's constantly running and processing data, and an all-consuming need to do something about it.

So he can't help it that his mouth tends to get away from him when he's excited. The information just comes pouring out.

His brothers call it a data dump.

The Kaminoans call it an unfortunate defect in his otherwise exceptional programming.

But you call it charming.

"And furthermore," Tech is ranting, following you as you walk through the halls of the Senate building, “the use of such a heavy gauge power coupling is inefficient and a waste of valuable resources which could be better spent in other areas. The new couplings are half the size, and can be manufactured on-planet instead of having to be shipped from across the galaxy."

"Not my fault if you were wrong, Tech," you toss over your shoulder at him, smirking as he splutters in offense.

"Wrong?!" he repeats, sounding aghast at the mere suggestion. "I don't think so."

You roll your eyes, but there's a fond smile on your lips. Tech is a genius, really, he is. But his ego is sometimes as big as his brain, and you love to wind him up a bit. 

He gets so flustered and huffy and cute when you do, and you can't resist. He's just too adorable not to tease a little. So you keep walking, even though you've long ago lost track of where you're actually going.

"I mean, I can admit when I'm wrong," you go on, slowing your pace just a bit. "It's a sign of a healthy psyche."

Tech scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bite back a laugh. He's wearing his full armor, minus his helmet, and it only adds to the ridiculousness of the moment. The two of you are quite the duo, sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs among the throngs of politicians and Senators going about their daily business.

You'd thought this outing would be something fun, an opportunity to get Tech out of the Marauder for a bit. You know that he gets antsy, and he loves nothing more than a good lecture or an impromptu lesson. 

Plus, it was your off day, and you wanted to spend some time with him, since you knew he was only planning to hole up in his bunk and work on fixing up some broken circuit board or another. Not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon.

And you can't even count the number of times you've come back to the Marauder, only to find him elbow-deep in some project, surrounded by scrap parts and wires and tools and completely oblivious to the world.

That's fine, though, really. It's just who he is, and you know better than to interrupt, but you can't deny you like it better when his brain is occupied with you instead.

The way he lights up when he gets the chance to talk about whatever is on his mind is endearing, and you love listening to him speak. You'll take Tech the lecturer over Tech the hermit any day.

So, you'd come to the Senate to let him geek out. One of your friends was an assistant to a Senator, and you'd asked if you could give Tech a tour. It was more of a chance for Tech to give you a tour, actually, because you were clueless, and he knew exactly where to go and what to see. But he doesn't know that.

What had started out as your attempt at tricking Tech into a date has quickly turned into another argument, but that's nothing new between the two of you.

It's become your routine, something you've done since the first time you met. You and Tech bickering about this and that, teasing and mocking each other but with a light in your eyes and a smile on your faces. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way the two of you communicate.

You can't even remember now what the first fight had been about. But you know that he had said something blunt and off-hand, and you'd gotten offended and given him a piece of your mind. He'd argued back, and the two of you had gone back and forth until you had run out of steam.

It's what always happens.

But you had seen a glimmer of something in Tech's eyes that day, and when he'd started arguing back, there had been a spark there. It wasn't boredom, or apathy. It was excitement, passion, a fire in him that you had never seen in anyone else before.

He had liked it.

You had, too.

And that's when the real games had started.

It's not the same now. You've gotten used to each other, and you can tell when he's trying to rile you up. He does the same thing every time. He'll say something rude, or condescending, and you'll shoot him a dirty look and a sharp comment. Then, he'll say something even more rude and condescending, and then, finally, you'll lose your temper, and the two of you will bicker and banter until the both of you have worked through whatever is bothering you.

It's kind of like therapy.

Or foreplay.

Maybe a little of both.

And now, here the two of you are, doing it again. You're wandering the halls, not even paying attention to where you're going anymore. You're far too distracted by the way Tech's brow is furrowing in concentration as he thinks of how to prove himself right, and the way his nose is wrinkling in irritation at your constant teasing.

You're both enjoying this a little too much.

"I assure you, my psyche is perfectly healthy," Tech is saying as he follows behind you, and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"I don't know, Tech," you taunt. "I can't help but notice how much you love being right. That sounds like a classic case of an inflated ego to me."

He scoffs.

"My ego is perfectly sized, thank you," he tells you, his tone haughty. "It's not my fault that my intelligence is far superior to the vast majority of beings in the galaxy."

"Oh, and humble, too," you add, rolling your eyes. "My mistake."

He ignores your quip, still following you down the corridor, his steps slowing just a bit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asks, peering at you curiously. "This isn't the way back to the hangar."

You smirk, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Tech nearly runs into you, stopping short at the last moment, and the two of you stand only inches apart, your face turned up to his. He's almost a full foot taller than you, and the way he's staring down at you makes your heart beat a little faster. He's not smiling, not really, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

"We're not going back to the hangar," you inform him, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Then where are we going?"

You don't answer. Instead, you grab him by the wrist, pulling him after you as you continue walking. "I have something else in mind."

He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to keep up with your sudden change of pace.

"Where are we going?" he repeats, his tone slightly higher than usual. He sounds flustered, and you can't help the little laugh that slips past your lips.

"You'll see," is all you say.

He grumbles, but follows along nonetheless, allowing you to tug him after you.

"We don't have time for detours," he tries.

"We made a detour for power couplings, didn't we?" you counter. "What's the difference?"

"A power coupling is a necessary component of the Marauder's hyperdrive," he protests. "A 'detour' is merely a waste of time."

"But the ones we had were just fine," you argue, still pulling him along.

"Just fine is not good enough," he replies. "I will prove it to you. Once I have the new couplings installed, I will run a simulation, and you will see how much more efficiently the Marauder will perform. You will admit that I was correct."

You can't help but laugh at his self-assurance.

"If you say so," you tease.

"I do say so," he counters. "I am a man of science, and I always back up my claims with evidence. If I say something is fact, it is a fact."

You snicker again, and Tech glares down at you.

"You can be rather vexing," he says with a sigh of resignation.

"I try."

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," he mutters, and you bite back a grin.

You love teasing Tech, but not just him. You like doing it to the others, too, especially when they least expect it. You have a reputation for being sweet and innocent and nice, but the truth is, you can be just as devious as the rest of them when you want to be.

You just choose your targets more carefully, and Tech is the perfect victim.

He's so serious, and so uptight, and so easy to get worked up. It's a challenge, keeping up with him and his constant rants and lectures, but you're nothing if not determined, and you have a lot of fun doing it.

But your favorite is the way Tech will get so frustrated and worked up, and then, once he's exhausted himself, and he knows that you're not going to change your mind, he'll start grumbling. And pouting.

And it's just the cutest thing in the world.

You don't mean to upset him, or anything, but the way he puffs up like an angry bird when you challenge him is just adorable, and you can't help yourself. You just can't stop.

And if the way he's looking at you is any indication, he can't stop, either.

"Oh, come on, Tech," you chuckle. "Lighten up a bit. Today is supposed to be fun. We're on Coruscant, there's nothing dangerous happening, and the weather is actually nice for a change. Just try and enjoy yourself a little."

"I am enjoying myself," he argues.

"By arguing with me?" you counter.

Tech looks down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't look as irritated anymore, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that tells you that he's having a good time. He's enjoying himself, despite his protests, and he knows that you're onto him.

"Yes. I enjoy our debates," he answers simply. He pauses, then adds, "Though I would hardly consider it a debate. It is a mere fact that the new couplings are better than the old ones."

You roll your eyes, and Tech's lips twitch at the gesture. There's a warmth that spreads through your chest when you see him like this, happy and relaxed. You like seeing him smile, and you like it even more when it's because of you.

"Sure, sure," you placate him. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"That is what I say," he confirms, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, well, whatever."

"I win, then?"

"Fine," you sigh, pretending to be put out. "You win."

He smiles, smug and self-satisfied. "Of course I do."

You snort, rolling your eyes again, and he just keeps grinning. He looks so proud of himself, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. You like this side of Tech, the one that's playful and teasing and fun. It's a side that not many people get to see, and you can't help but feel lucky that you're the one he shows it to. 

You like this, the two of you together, alone, no one around to hear your conversations or watch the way you look at each other. There's something intimate about it, something that makes your stomach flutter and your heart beat a little faster. 

It's different, when it's just the two of you. The arguments and banter are still there, but there's something else, too, something warm and gentle and special. You want to drag this moment out as long as possible, and you intend to.

"So, where are we going, then?" he asks, and you bite your lip, trying to hide your smirk.

"Nowhere," you say, and he gives you a puzzled look. "Or, well, nowhere interesting."

"Then why did we take the detour?" he asks, and you can hear the curiosity in his voice. He's not annoyed or angry or irritated. He's genuinely interested in what you're doing, and why. It makes you smile.

"Because, Tech," you explain, "sometimes, it's the journey that's important, not the destination."

He cocks his head to the side, considering your words.

"But if the destination is not important, then why bother going at all?" he asks. "What is the point of the journey, if not the destination?"

You can't help but laugh again. He's so literal sometimes. You've tried explaining the concept of "just because" to him, but it's a hard concept for him to grasp. There is no rhyme or reason to some things, no logic or scientific explanation. Some things just are. They're fun, or beautiful, or special. And sometimes, that's reason enough to do them.

You tell him as much, and Tech rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe you. He can't understand why you'd do something for no reason at all. But you know that he's listening. He's still following along with you, and there's no indication that he wants to leave.

"So you just wanted to wander around the Senate?" he asks, and you nod. "Why?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I just wanted to. And I thought it might be nice to do something together. You and me."

He looks at you for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. There's a softness to his features, and his eyes are warm behind his goggles. It's a look that you've only ever seen him give you.

Sometimes when Tech looks at you, you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he's dissecting and cataloguing your every move. It's unnerving, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. But sometimes, like right now, he looks at you like he's seeing something new and wonderful, like you're a mystery he's trying to solve.

You don't mind it so much when he looks at you like that.

"It is...nice," he admits after a moment, his voice quiet. "Being together."

He says the words carefully, almost hesitantly, and you can see a slight flush creeping up his cheeks underneath his goggles.

You smile at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

You're still holding onto his wrist, and you slide your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his own. Tech doesn't pull away, and he doesn't seem surprised, or uncomfortable. He just lets it happen, and a soft, shy smile appears on his lips, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I—"

Whatever Tech was about to say is cut off by a shout from behind him. Both of you jump, and Tech whips around to face the source of the sound. He steps in front of you, instinctively shielding you with his body, his free hand going to the blaster on his hip. You can feel his muscles tensing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

You peer over his shoulder and see a Corrie Guard, one of Fox's men, coming down the hall toward the two of you. Your blood runs cold.

"Hey!" he shouts. "This is a restricted area."

Tech glances at you over his shoulder. "It is?"

"Oops," you mutter back. "Guess we better get out of here."

The two of you turn and bolt down the hall. You can hear the guard's boots pounding behind you, and Tech's fingers are still interlaced with yours. Laughter is bubbling up inside of you, a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy. Tech lets out an amused huff, and the two of you turn the corner.

You nearly slam into another group of troopers, and Tech pulls you out of the way, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You barrel past the guards, who shout in alarm as they see the first guard chasing the two of you. 

It's chaos, and the laughter spills out of you as Tech drags you through the maze of halls and corridors. The sound of your feet and the guards' boots echoes off the walls, and Tech is pulling you along behind him, not letting go. You can see the smile on his face, even as he turns and yells at you.

"Why are they chasing us?!"

"No idea!" you shout back, laughing.

"We should not be doing this!"

"Too late!"

The two of you sprint through the building, twisting and turning down hallways, the sound of the guards' footsteps following close behind.

"Tech! Over here!"

There's a door at the end of the hall, and it's unguarded. The two of you make a beeline for it, and you're both panting by the time you reach it. Tech slams his hand against the access panel, and the door slides open. He shoves you inside, and you have to duck under his arm before he follows close behind.

"Where are we?!" he asks, looking around.

You shrug, breathless, and he looks at you incredulously.

"We're in a closet," he says, and you can't help but giggle.

The room is dark, empty, and quiet. It’s also extremely cramped, and there's barely enough space for the two of you. The closet is clearly built for a maintenance droid, and the shelves are lined with cleaning supplies.

It's a tight fit, and you're pressed close together, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Tech is forced to bend down toward you to avoid hitting his head on the shelves above you, and his nose is practically touching yours.

"This is not an ideal hiding place," he complains. “It's not defensible. If they find us here, we'll be trapped."

"I know." You sigh, looking up at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you are the one who pulled me in here," he points out.

"Well, we had to get out of sight, didn't we?" you argue. "They were right behind us."

He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, and you can hear his amused huff.

"You would," he murmurs, his tone dry.

"What are they gonna do?" you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. "Arrest us? For taking a shortcut?"

"I don't know why you're being so difficult about this," he grumbles. “We—mmph!”

Your free hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him. Tech's eyes widen behind his goggles, and he blinks at you in surprise. His other hand is still holding yours, and the two of you are standing so close together that you can feel the warmth of his body through his armor.

"Quiet," you hiss, and he gives you a look that is part exasperation, part amusement.

You keep your hand over his mouth, and the two of you stand there in the dark, the only sounds the hum of the ventilation system and the muffled footsteps of the guards outside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you stay as still as you can, and the feeling of Tech's lips beneath your palm is sending tingles down your spine.

You can feel his breath, warm and uneven, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of him that's touching you. Your fingers drag along the curve of his jaw, catching on the stubble there, and he shivers. It's barely noticeable, but you feel it, and you can't help the flush that creeps up your neck as you pull your hand away.

Tech's eyes are still wide, and his lips are parted, but he stays silent. He straightens, shifting a bit in the tight space, and you can feel his chest brush against yours. You can smell the leather of his armor, and the faint scent of grease and soap that lingers on his skin.

He's so close.

His leg is wedged between yours, and his body is radiating warmth. You're practically plastered to him, and every part of him that's touching you feels like it's burning. The hand that's holding yours is trembling, just a bit, and the closeness of the space, the heat, and the adrenaline from the chase are making your head spin. And you can't seem to stop staring at his mouth.

The voices in the hallway grow louder, and the two of you tense as you listen. They're right outside the door, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Maybe they went the other way," someone is saying.

"They couldn't have gone far," another voice replies.

Tech's free hand comes up to rest on the shelf next to your head, bracing himself as he looms over you. His eyes are fixed on the door, and his brow is furrowed, a small frown on his face. You know he's probably running through a million different scenarios in his head, calculating the odds of each one, weighing the options and possible outcomes.

You know he's trying to figure out a way to get the two of you out of this, a plan, an escape route, something. Meanwhile, all you can seem to think about is how soft his lips look, and the way they had felt, warm and gentle against your hand.

"Let's just radio Fox and let him deal with it," a guard says. "I don't get paid enough to run around the Senate."

"We don't get paid at all," the other retorts.

"Exactly."

Tech adjusts his stance again, trying to get a better angle on the door. The motion presses his thigh harder between your legs, directly against your center. The touch sends a shock of arousal through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from gasping aloud, praying he doesn't notice.

Of course, he does.

Tech snaps his head to look down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and you can see the surprise written all over his face. His lips part slightly, and his gaze flickers down to where your bodies are connected, then back up to your face.

You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and the way his pupils dilate behind his goggles is unmistakable.

"We'll search this side," someone is saying.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere."

You can barely hear them over the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallow thickly, and Tech's eyes dart to your throat, his lips parting a bit more. He looks a bit dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. Or maybe he can't believe the effect it's had on him.

You're having a hard time believing it yourself.

Tech is never one to be lost for words, or speechless, but now, he doesn't say a thing. His eyes are fixed on yours, and he's so close to you that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it, his lips pressing together.

"Do you think they went upstairs?"

"Nah, it's too risky. They're probably still on this level."

Tech lets out a shaky sigh, his hand flexing against the shelf. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, and then his leg is moving up against you again, and this time, it's deliberate.

A small, choked gasp slips past your lips, your hand squeezing his, and Tech's eyes fly open. 

You know you should say something, or do something, but you can't seem to form words, or even a coherent thought, really. All you can focus on is the way his leg is rubbing against you, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body with every minuscule twitch.

Tech's breath hitches, and his grip on the shelf tightens. He's watching your reaction closely, his eyes roaming over your face. He's testing you, you realize, seeing what you'll do, how you'll react.

You don't move, and the pressure against your core increases, just a little, but it's enough. A whimper escapes you, and Tech's nostrils flare. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you're pretty sure you're the color of a sun-ripe pomfruit.

"Tech," you whisper, your voice coming out husky and breathless.

He doesn't say a word, his eyes boring into yours, his leg still moving, ever so slightly, against you. The guards are arguing now, but neither of you are paying attention. There's nothing but the two of you and this tiny, dark closet, and the friction that's building between you.

"Tech," you breathe again, a little louder this time.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky breath. He's enjoying this, you realize. He's getting off on it. And the thought makes a fresh wave of arousal rush through you.

Tech is not usually an impulsive person. He's meticulous and precise and methodical. Everything he does is calculated, planned. He's not spontaneous, and he doesn't do things without thinking them through first. But right now, he's acting on instinct, and he doesn't seem to care about the consequences.

And the thought is making you feel things that are definitely not appropriate for this particular situation.

Another insistent brush against your core, and you're done for.

"Fuck," you whimper, your hips rolling forward into the contact. Your free hand shoots out and grabs his shoulder, giving you leverage as you press yourself harder against his thigh.

Tech makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and his fingers curl harder around the edge of the shelf above you. The metal groans and bends under his grip.

The two of you are lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, your bodies moving together, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, more contact. Tech is panting now, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and the sound is like music to your ears. He's always so in control, so put-together, but now, he's completely undone.

You can't stop staring at him, drinking in the sight of him, and his eyes are locked on yours, too. You're close, so close, and Tech must be able to tell because he's grinding his leg against you faster. The hand that was holding yours has moved to your hip, and he's pulling you closer, tighter, helping you grind against him.

His goggles are fogging up, and he's got that look on his face, the one he always gets when he's working on something. But this time, it's not the Marauder's circuitry or a busted datapad, it's you, and the realization makes your blood burn hot.

The voices outside the door are still going, but they're faint and distant, moving farther away, the words nothing but a meaningless buzz in the back of your mind. All that matters right now is the way Tech's thigh is rubbing against you, and the heat pooling in your core.

"Tech—"

Your words are cut off by a whimper, his name coming out like a plea, and you can't help the way your hips are jerking, seeking more contact. Your fingers are digging into his shoulder, and he's practically shaking, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"I can't—" he gasps. "I can't think like this."

"Don't," you choke out, your voice trembling. "Don't think. Just...just..."

You're not even sure what you're asking him for, but you don't need to say anything else. He knows.

The pressure against your center increases, his leg rubbing harder, faster, and you can't hold back anymore. Your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, and your knees nearly give out, only Tech's firm grip on your hip holding you upright.

You barely make a sound before he's crushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers, his own muffled grunts echoing in your ears.

You cling to him, riding out the aftershocks of your release, and his mouth is hot and insistent against yours, his tongue stroking against yours. He's warm and soft and sweet, and he tastes like caf and something else that is distinctly Tech. His kisses are hungry, and his hands are roaming, and you're not sure if you're dreaming or if this is actually happening.

Tech kissing you. Tech, who has barely even touched you before today, who has avoided any and all physical contact with you since the moment you met, who has never, ever, shown any kind of interest in you, is kissing you, his hands and mouth and tongue setting your nerves on fire.

And all because of an impulsive idea, an accident.

You should stop. You know you should stop, but you can't bring yourself to.

"Tech—" you breathe, and his mouth moves to your jaw, kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You're practically melting under his touch, your fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently. "Tech, the guards—"

"I know.”

He sounds just as wrecked as you do, his voice raw and husky, and you can't believe this is happening.

"We—"

Your words are cut off by his mouth again, and you're panting and writhing against him. His hands are on your ass, and he lifts you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The shelves shake and rattle as he presses you against the wall, and the new position allows him to grind his codpiece against your heat, the feeling making you both groan into each other's mouths.

You've never wanted anything more than you want him right now, and the desperation in his kisses is telling you that he feels the same way.

"Tech," you whimper.

"I know," he breathes, his lips moving against yours.

The guards' voices are fading, growing quieter and more distant, but neither of you notice. You're both too lost in each other, in the feeling of finally, finally, giving in to the tension that's been building between you for weeks, months even.

"Tech—"

"I know," he says again, kissing you harder, deeper.

The guards' voices are gone, now, and the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system, the creak of the shelves, and the wet, desperate noises of the two of you devouring each other.

"We have to—we can't—" you manage, and he pulls back, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin.

"I know," Tech breathes, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "We can't. This is—"

His hips buck, and he presses himself harder against you, making you both moan.

"This is dangerous," he finishes, his mouth moving lower, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"It's wrong," you gasp, but your fingers are tangling in his hair, and you're tilting your head to give him better access. "We can't let anyone find out about this."

"No," he says, his teeth nipping at your throat. "No one can know. If the others found out, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

You shudder, and his hands are everywhere, roaming, grabbing, groping, and his lips are tracing patterns across your skin. You're not sure if he's trying to prove a point or not, but you can't stop the little gasps and moans that are falling from your mouth.

"What—what are we gonna tell them?" you ask, your voice breathless and shaky.

"I don't know," he groans, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing hard. "I can't think."

You laugh, the sound coming out as a desperate, breathless thing. "Me either."

His mouth is on yours again, and he kisses you fiercely, hungrily, like he can't get enough. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling and holding him to you, and his hips are bucking against yours, grinding his codpiece against you. It's not enough, and you need more, but you can't take it. You're too wound up, and the friction is delicious torture.

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, and he looks like he's going to come apart at the seams.

"Tech," you gasp. "Tech, please."

"Yes?" he asks, his voice rough and strained.

"I want you," you admit. "I want this. I want you, right now."

He groans, his fingers digging into your hips, and his forehead drops to yours.

"I want this, too," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You're clinging to him, and his mouth is on yours, and it's all a blur, a mess of tongues and teeth and moans. You're clawing at his armor, and he's tugging at your clothes, and there's barely any space left between the two of you. It's a frenzy, a frenetic energy, and you're both chasing the same thing, the same end goal.

Tech's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hand is fumbling, clumsy, and you know he's not used to this. He's not used to the intimacy, or the desperation, or the lack of control. He's not used to being this wound up, and it's showing.

It's cute.

He's cute.

He's so fucking cute, and you have no idea what you're going to do with him.

You don't know where it comes from, or who started it, but suddenly, you're both laughing, a mixture of nerves and excitement and relief. You're smiling, and he's smiling, and you're just so happy, and so overwhelmed, and you're not sure if you've ever been this happy before.

Tech gives up on the clasp, and instead, he tugs off his glove with his teeth and shoves his hand down the front of your pants, his bare skin hot against your flesh. His fingers slide between your folds, and the moment they meet the wetness there, you're both moaning.

You can feel his fingers stroking you, rubbing at your clit, and your hips jerk, bucking against him.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, all breathless and awestruck, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You—ah, fuck," you gasp, unable to continue as his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He smirks, and he looks so goddamn smug, so satisfied, and you're pretty sure you've never been more turned on in your life.

"Tech," you whine, and he chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a tremor through your body.

"Is this good?" he asks, his voice teasing, and you can't help but giggle.

"You know it is," you manage, and he grins.

"I do," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

He's still smirking, and you roll your eyes, even as he slips a finger inside of you. You're panting, and your hands are scrabbling at his chest plate, trying to find purchase. He's got you pinned, and you're practically hanging from him, your thighs locked around his waist.

"Tech," you gasp, and his hand is working, pumping in and out of you.

"I can't believe how wet you are," he mutters. "I've barely even touched you."

"I'm not usually like this," you argue. "It's—mm, fuck—it's just you."

He moans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You have no idea what that does to me."

"Show me," you reply, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"I will," he promises. "I will."

You can feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his mouth is so close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Just—fuck, Tech, just fuck me," you plead. "Please."

He lets out a ragged groan as he pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. You can feel him fumbling with his belt, his other hand holding you up, and he's cursing, his fingers shaking.

"Why—why are these damn things so—ugh!"

He finally manages to undo his belt, and it hits the floor with a thud, the ridiculous amount of pouches and gadgets clattering to the ground. The sound makes you laugh, and he shoots you a glare.

"Stop that," he chides. "This is a serious matter."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, barely able to contain your mirth. "It's just—the sound!"

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching, and his fingers are back on his codpiece, fumbling with the clasps.

"I will never understand why you need so much equipment," you tease, and he scoffs.

"The amount of equipment I carry has nothing to do with my ability to—"

"Just take it off, Tech," you groan. "I'm dying here."

He glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the flush that's creeping up his neck. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"I'm trying," he huffs, "but I can't do anything when you're distracting me."

"Sorry," you apologize, biting your lip.

Tech gives you a look, but his attention is already back on his codpiece, and his fingers are flying over the clasps. He's got a look of intense concentration on his face, and he's practically vibrating with impatience. You undo the buttons on your shirt, tugging it down and exposing your chest, and Tech's gaze flickers over to you, his lips parting as his eyes travel down your body.

"That is not helping," he mutters, and you laugh, leaning back and bracing yourself against the shelves.

"Maybe if you had less equipment, it would be easier to get out of it," you tease, and he lets out an irritated huff.

"If I had less equipment, I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"True," you concede, a grin on your face. "And then I wouldn't be nearly as interested in you."

He looks up at you, his eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Maybe," you say, biting your lip.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and his expression is so earnest and sincere that it makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"You are," he says, his voice quiet. "You're telling me that you're interested in me."

"Well, duh," you laugh. "Why else would I have dragged you along today?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can see the flush on his cheeks darken.

"You're such a dork," you tease.

"And you are the most infuriating, confusing, aggravating, and fascinating person I've ever met," he replies as his eyes open again, his gaze locking with yours.

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact."

You're not sure what to make of the sincerity in his tone. You're not sure what to make of any of this. It's not exactly what you'd planned, but you can't help the thrill that's running through you.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," Tech says, and the fondness in his voice makes your heart swell. 

He finally gets his codpiece undone, and it falls to the floor with a clang. You can't help but glance down at his groin, and you see his erection straining against his blacks.

"I have a few ideas," you murmur, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

"So do I."

Tech sets you down on the floor, and your legs are shaky, but he keeps you steady, his hands on your hips. His hands hook into the waistband of your pants, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down. It’s an agonizingly slow process, and the anticipation is making your blood pound in your veins.

"Force," he hisses as your underwear sticks to your skin, the fabric clinging to your slick folds.

"You did this to me," you say, your voice trembling. "It's your fault."

"I'm willing to take the blame," he replies, his eyes locked on your cunt.

He pulls your pants down, and you step out of them, your shirt still hanging open. You're bare before him, and he's still fully dressed, the plastoid armor covering almost every inch of his skin. You're about to ask him to take something else off when his hands are on you again, gripping your ass and lifting you up.

You let out a startled yelp as he pins you against the wall, his hands spreading your thighs and holding them apart. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against you, separated only by the thin fabric of his blacks, and you can't stop the moan that spills from your lips.

"I want you so much," he breathes, his hips thrusting, the friction making you cry out. "I want this, so much, and it's—"

"Tech," you gasp. "Don't stop."

"I want to take my time," he says. "I want to do this properly. I want to do this right, but I can't, not right now."

"Tech," you plead. "It's okay."

He lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—"

"Tech," you gasp. "It's okay."

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, and his eyes are wild, frantic.

"We can take our time later," you whisper. "We can take all the time in the world, but right now, I need you, okay? I need you, and we don't have time."

He shudders, and his cock twitches against your heat, making you moan.

"We can take this slow, later," you promise, and his eyes search yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He must not find any, because he nods, and the tension drains from his body.

"Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay."

His hips rock, and you whimper as his clothed erection slides between your folds, the friction making you tremble. You're practically drenched, and you can feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his blacks. He's not doing any better, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Yes, that," you groan.

“You’re impossible," he growls, his hand moving to pull down his blacks. His cock springs free, and the sight of it, thick and heavy and dripping, makes your mouth water.

"And you're taking too long," you shoot back, your fingers curling around his length.

He's hard and silky soft, and his skin is feverishly hot, and the feeling of him, so hard and desperate, makes you moan. You drag your fingers along his shaft, tracing the vein, and his hips buck. He's panting, his eyes fixed on your hand as you pump his cock, and you can feel his muscles twitching and trembling.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps.

"Good," you reply, guiding his cock toward your entrance. "I don't want you to."

You can feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit, and you both moan. He's leaking, and his pre-cum is mixing with your arousal, slicking him up and easing the way. You can feel him sliding through your folds, teasing you, and it's driving you wild.

He pushes forward, his hips jerking, and you both moan as the head of his cock slips inside. You’re about to tell him to keep going when he slams into you, his entire length sheathing itself in your cunt in one swift thrust. 

The cry that falls from your lips is muffled by Tech’s mouth as he captures yours, swallowing the sound. He's so big, and the sudden intrusion is almost painful, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you cling to him, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

His hands are bruising your thighs, and his hips are stuttering, the rhythm uneven and sloppy. There’s not much room to move, but he manages, thrusting shallowly, grinding his hips against yours.

"I'm sorry," he pants, his words slurring. "I'm not—fuck, I can't—"

"It's fine," you gasp. "It's fine, just—ah, Tech!"

Your back arches as he hits that spot inside of you, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. His goggles are pressing against your face, and you can feel the cold metal against your heated skin.

"You feel amazing," he pants, his hips rolling.

"You—you're not bad yourself," you gasp, and he laughs, a low, husky sound.

"Not bad? That's the best you can do?"

"You're ruining the moment," you groan, and he scoffs.

"Apologies," he says, his tone mocking. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You roll your hips, and Tech grunts, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"You can start by fucking me properly," you breathe.

"As you wish."

His thrusts pick up speed, his hands moving to grip your ass, lifting you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock. The shelf behind you rattles, the items stacked on it shifting and wobbling, and Tech lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

"You're—Force, you're a hazard," he gasps, and you laugh, the sound morphing into a moan as he grinds against you.

"I've always wanted to say this," you pant, your nails scraping across his scalp, "shut the hell up and fuck me, Tech."

He growls, his pace picking up, and the angle of his thrusts changes, and suddenly, he's hitting that spot inside you again. Your orgasm is building, and you're teetering on the edge, your body thrumming with pleasure.

Tech is panting, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, and his forehead is resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough and hoarse. "I want to feel you come."

You comply, your hand slipping between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as the first jolt of pleasure hits you, and Tech lets out a choked groan.

"Look at me," he pleads, and you open your eyes, gazing up at him.

He looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hanging open, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's gorgeous, and you can't believe this is actually happening.

Tech is fucking you, in a closet, while a bunch of Corries are patrolling the halls outside. It's the craziest, most insane, and most arousing thing that has ever happened to you. There's no doubt in your mind that you're going to be sore for a week, but it's totally worth it.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, his words slurring together. "You're so perfect, so tight, and Force, the sounds you're making—"

He cuts himself off with a groan as he drives into you, and you cry out, the pleasure building. He's babbling now, and it's not even coherent, just a stream of nonsense and curse words and half-formed sentences. He's saying something about how good you feel, and how much he's wanted this, and how he never thought he'd have this chance, and it's all a jumbled mess, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

His rhythm is erratic, his hips jerking, and his face is twisted with desperation and need. He's getting close, you can tell, and you're right there with him, teetering on the edge.

"Tech," you hiss, your hand speeding up, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. "Oh, fuck, Tech—"

He slams into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside, and you shatter. You come hard, clenching around his cock, and you barely have time to clap a hand over your mouth before your orgasm crashes over you. You're biting down on your palm, your teeth leaving deep indents, and the sound that escapes your lips is muffled and raw.

"Oh," Tech gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're going to make me—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The tension inside of him snaps, and he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you, forcing you to take every last inch of him. His cock twitches, and his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him.

He doesn't make a sound as he comes, his lips parting and his mouth opening in a silent cry. His hips jerk, his movements stuttering and uneven, and you feel the bloom of warmth as he fills you, his release spilling out of you, dripping down his cock.

Finally, he slumps forward, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

You can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across your face.

Tech is nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel him smiling, too, his lips pressed against your skin.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing hard and basking in the afterglow. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes.

Tech pulls back, and you look up at him. He's gazing down at you, his expression soft and content. His goggles are crooked, and his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and red. You reach up, smoothing his hair down and straightening his goggles.

"Well," he starts, his tone dry despite his ragged breathing, "this has been a most enlightening day."

You burst out laughing, and he smirks, his nose bumping against yours.

"Nothing like a bit of field research to broaden the horizons," you tease.

"Indeed," he chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and the moment is so tender, so sweet, and you can't help but kiss him again. It's slow and lazy, and he sighs against your lips, his mouth warm and inviting. You could kiss him forever, and never get tired of it.

Finally, he pulls away, and you reluctantly let him go.

"I must admit," he says, his tone light, "that was far more satisfying than I'd imagined."

"Oh, you imagined it, did you?" you ask, and he smirks, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Perhaps once or twice," he confesses.

"Just once or twice?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps more," he amends, and the admission sends a thrill through you. “Though I had not anticipated anything quite so vigorous."

"I didn't know you had it in you," you tease. "I never would have guessed that you were such a deviant."

"Evidently you bring out a certain side of me," he replies. "One that I had not been aware of until today."

"Well, I'm happy to explore more sides of you, if you'd like," you murmur, and Tech hums.

"I would enjoy that.”

His lips brush against yours, and the kiss is soft and sweet, and your heart swells.

"But," he says, breaking the kiss and looking down at the floor.

You follow his gaze, and you both wince. Your pants are lying in a pile on the floor, along with your shirt, and Tech's codpiece and gloves. There are a few pieces of cleaning supplies strewn about, and your boots are on opposite ends of the closet. Tech's belt is laying on the ground, his pouches spilling out and his blasters resting haphazardly on the floor.

"We need to clean this up," he mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

Neither of you move. You stay where you are, clinging to each other, and savoring the moment. It's not going to last forever, and you both know it. 

Once the two of you step out of this closet, things will change. Everything will change. But you can't find it in yourself to regret anything. Not the teasing, or the flirting, or the banter, or the argument, or the frantic, desperate sex. None of it.

And from the way Tech is looking at you, with a mixture of tenderness and awe and fondness, you know that he doesn't, either.

Eventually, though, Tech is the one to pull away. You both groan as he slides out of you, and the sound echoes through the tiny room. He sets you down gently, and your legs shake as you try to find your footing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes roaming over you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…" you trail off as you glance down at yourself, taking in the sight of your bare thighs and the streaks of white that are slowly dribbling down them. "Uh, sticky."

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs. You watch his tongue flick out to lick his lips, and the hunger in his gaze is enough to make you blush.

"What?" you ask, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.

He flushes and looks away. "Nothing," he mutters, pulling his blacks up over his cock.

"Tech, come on," you say, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I must admit the sight of you like this is rather... enticing," he says, his tone nonchalant. He's not looking at you, and he's pretending to straighten his armor, but you can see the pink flush on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Yeah?" you question, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

"Yes," he murmurs, and the look he gives you makes your knees weak.

"Good to know,” you breathe. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Tech shakes his head and picks up his belt, fastening it around his waist. He begins stuffing his pockets, and you watch him, amused. He's always so proper, so put together, and to see him like this, all riled up and horny, is an incredible sight.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asks, eyeing you, and you grin.

"Maybe," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"I will leave you here."

"Sure, you will."

"I will," he insists, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle. You grab a cloth and wipe off the worst of the mess, and Tech hands you your pants and underwear. You pull them on, wincing at the damp fabric, and Tech holds out your shirt.

"Thank you," you say, and he nods.

"Of course."

You take the shirt from him, and your fingers brush against his. His touch sends a shiver through you, and you can't resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

Tech stiffens, surprised by the gesture, but you see the corners of his lips quirk up in a smile.

"Now what was that for?" he asks, and you shrug.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not," he admits, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, and neither can he. You finish getting dressed, and the two of you straighten up as best you can. Tech smooths down his hair and adjusts his armor, and you wipe the smudges off his goggles with the cloth in his belt. He helps you button your shirt and tuck your hair back into place, and he looks like he's enjoying himself. 

You have a sneaking suspicion that he likes undressing you, and putting you back together again.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you.”

"For what?" you ask, confused.

"For helping me see the value of a little spontaneity.” Tech gives you a small smile, and his eyes are warm. "I may have been...wrong, about today. It's been an illuminating experience, and I'm grateful for it."

The rush of affection you feel for him catches you off guard. He's such a dork, and he's so sincere, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. He lets out a startled sound, but he kisses you back, his lips gentle and warm.

"Who would've thought," you murmur as you pull away. "You have a healthy psyche after all."

Tech scoffs. "I told you—"

A shout echoes down the corridor, and the two of you freeze.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere," a voice calls.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Time to go," Tech replies, and the two of you burst into motion. You both dart to the door, and Tech cracks it open, peeking out.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod, your cheeks still pink.

He pushes the door open, and you dash out. Tech's fingers curl around yours, and you follow him as he leads the way. Your feet slap against the floor, and your breath is coming in short, harsh gasps. Tech's hand is hot in yours, his grip firm, and his thumb rubs comforting circles into your palm.

You don't even bother trying to remember where you're going. You just follow him, trusting him to lead you to safety. You can hear the voices of the troopers echoing behind you, and their footsteps are growing louder.

"There!" a voice shouts, and Tech curses under his breath.

He tugs on your hand, pulling you around a corner. The two of you are sprinting now, and you're panting, and your heart is pounding. A bubble of laughter escapes your lips, and Tech shoots you a look, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile.

"This is insane," he mutters, and you grin.

"It's fun," you correct.

"This is the last time I ever listen to one of your ideas.”

"We both know that's not true."

"Unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm just saying," you argue, "we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. He suddenly pulls you to the left, ducking down a side corridor. "But next time, I choose the location."

"Next time, huh?"

"Yes, next time," he huffs.

Tech pulls you through another doorway, and the two of you race down a flight of stairs, then another, until you reach the ground floor. You can see the entrance up ahead, and you muster the last of your strength, putting everything you have into one final burst of speed.

The doors slide open, and the evening light streams in, bathing you both in its warm glow. Tech's fingers are still laced with yours, and he doesn't let go, not even as the two of you burst out of the building and onto the streets.

Tech tugs you to the right, and you follow, his hand warm and firm in yours. You can still hear the shouts of the Corries behind you, but they're getting fainter. You're both out of breath, and your hearts are racing, but the excitement is intoxicating.

Tech finally slows to a walk, and he glances over his shoulder, checking for any pursuers. He doesn't let go of your hand.

"That was certainly a memorable excursion," he remarks.

"Told you it would be fun," you grin.

"Yes, yes, you were right, and I was wrong," he concedes with a long-suffering sigh.

"Never gets old, hearing you say that."

"I can tell," he grumbles, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue on, your steps slow and leisurely, and the streets are quiet around you. It's later than you thought it would be, and there's no doubt the others are wondering where the two of you are. But you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when Tech is looking at you like that.

"So," you start, and Tech raises an eyebrow. "What do we do now?"

"Well," he replies, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose we should head back to the ship."

"Right. Of course." You try your best to keep the disappointment from your voice, but the way you deflate must give it away. Tech glances at you, his expression inscrutable, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"And then," he continues, his hand tightening around yours, "I'm going to need some help with the power couplings."

You blink and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, and the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, do you?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corner of your own mouth.

"Yes," he replies. He lets go of your hand and places his palm against your back, his thumb stroking your spine. "I'm afraid I need someone to help test them. Someone with a very discerning eye."

"I see," you murmur, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "I guess I could help."

He slows to a stop, and turns to face you. The evening sun is setting, and the light is catching in his dark brown eyes, making them glow golden. His hand is still on your back, and he pulls you closer, until the two of you are nearly touching.

His free hand tilts your chin up. "I'd appreciate it."

"And maybe after," you continue, a mischievous glint in your eye, "we could test the other parts of the ship."

"That's an excellent idea," Tech replies, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt. "We will need to make sure we are thorough. It wouldn't do to leave any part of the ship untested."

"No," you agree, a grin spreading across your face. "It would be irresponsible."

"Precisely."

Tech meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hands find his neck, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You can't stop the sigh that escapes you, and he swallows it, his mouth slanting over yours.

He breaks the kiss, and he's smiling, his cheeks flushed. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, his head tilting into your touch.

"So," you start, your thumb stroking his skin, "shall we head back to the ship?"

"After you, darling," he replies, his voice low. He presses one more kiss to your lips, and then he's stepping back, offering his arm.

You reach out to take it, and then you pause, considering. Your fingers drift over his bicep, and you look up at him, your eyes sparkling.

"Race you," you say, and then you take off, your footsteps echoing down the street.

Tech stares after you for a moment, before he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Infuriating," he mutters, and he sets off after you. 

The two of you run, chasing each other through the streets of Coruscant, and the air is filled with your laughter. It's a beautiful night, and the city is alight with the glow of the sunset. There's a breeze blowing, and it rustles your hair, and the scent of flowers is in the air.

And there's a warm feeling in your chest, something bright and light and free, and you can't stop laughing.

It's impulsive, and foolish, and everything Tech would normally hate. But it's perfect, and as he chases after you, the smile on his face only widens.

Maybe there's something to be said for spontaneity, after all.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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[fatehbaz]

When you tag things “#abolition”, what are you referring to? Abolishing what?

Prisons, generally. Though not just physical walls of formal prisons, but also captivity, carcerality, and carceral thinking. Including migration prevention; detention; fences and hard national borders; indentured servitude; inability to move due to, and labor coerced through, debt; de facto imprisonment and isolation of the disabled and medically pathologized; privatization and enclosure of land; sacrifice zones at the periphery; the urge to punish; categories of “criminality"; etc.

In favor of other, better lives and futures.

Specifically, I am grateful to have learned from the work of these people:

Ruth Wilson Gilmore on “abolition geography”.

Katherine McKittrick on "imaginative geographies"; emotional engagement with place; legacy of imperialism/slavery in conceptions of physical space and in devaluation of other-than-human lifeforms; escaping enclosure; plantation ��afterlives” and how plantation logics continue to thrive in contemporary structures/institutions like debt colonies, workplace environments, prisons, etc.; a range of rebellions through collaborative acts, refusal of the dominant order, and subversion through joy and autonomy.

Macarena Gomez-Barris on landscapes as “sacrifice zones”; people condemned to live in resource extraction colonies deemed as acceptable losses; place-making and ecological consciousness; and how “the enclosure, the plantation, the ship, and the prison” are analogous spaces of captivity.

Liat Ben-Moshe on disability; informal institutionalization and incarceration of disabled people through physical limitation, social ostracization, denial of aid, and institutional disavowal; and "letting go of hegemonic knowledge of crime”.

Achille Mbembe on co-existence and care; "necropolitics" and bare life/death; historical evolution of chattel slavery into contemporary institutions through control over food, space, and definitions of life/land; the “explicit kinship between plantation slavery, colonial predation, and contemporary resource extraction” and modern institutions.

Robin Maynard on "generative refusal"; solidarity; shared experiences among homeless, incarcerated, disabled, Indigenous, Black communities; to "build community with" those who you are told to disregard in order "to re-imagine" worlds; envisioning, imagining, and then manifesting those alternative futures which are "already" here and alive.

Leniqueca Welcome on Caribbean world-making; "the apocalyptic temporality" of environmental disasters and the colonial denial of possible "revolutionary futures"; limits of reformism; "infrastructures of liberation at the end of the world."; "abolition is a practice oriented toward the full realization of decolonization, postnationalism, decarceration, and environmental sustainability."

Stefano Harney and Fred Moten on “the undercommons”; fugitivity; dis-order in academia and institutions; and sharing of knowledge.

AM Kanngieser on "deep listening"; “refusal as pedagogy”; and “attunement and attentiveness” in the face of “incomprehensible” and immense “loss of people and ecologies to capitalist brutalities”.

Lisa Lowe on "the intimacies of four continents" and how British politicians and planters feared that official legal abolition of chattel slavery would endanger Caribbean plantation profits, so they devised ways to import South Asian and East Asian laborers.

Ariella Aisha Azoulay on “rehearsals with others’.

Phil Neel on p0lice departments purposely targeting the poor as a way to raise municipal funds; the "suburbanization of poverty" especially in the Great Lakes region; the rise of lucrative "logistics empires" (warehousing, online order delivery, tech industries) at the edges of major urban agglomerations in "progressive" cities like Seattle dependent on "archipelagos" of poverty; and the relationship between job loss, homelessness, gentrification, and these logistics cities.

Alison Mountz on migrant detention; "carceral archipelagoes"; and the “death of asylum”.

Pedro Neves Marques on “one planet with many worlds inside it”; “parallel futures” of Indigenous, Black, disenfranchised communities/cosmologies; and how imperial/nationalist institutions try to foreclose or prevent other possible futures by purposely obscuring or destroying histories, cosmologies, etc.

Peter Redfield on how metropolitan residents try to hide slavery and torture/punishment on the periphery of Empire; early twentieth-century French penal colony in tropical Guiana/Guyana; the torture of the prison relies on the metropolitan imagination's invocation of exotic hinterlands and racist civilization/savagery mythologies.

Iain Chambers on racism of borders; obscured and/or forgotten lives of migrants; and disrupting modernity.

Elizabeth Povinelli on "geontopower"; imperial control over "life and death"; how imperial/nationalist formalization of private landownership and commodities relies on rigid definitions of dynamic ecosystems.

Kodwo Eshun on African cosmologies and futures; “the colonial present”; and imperialist/nationalist use of “preemptive” and “predictive” power to control the official storytelling/narrative of history and to destroy alternatives.

Tim Edensor on urban "ghosts" and “industrial ruins”; searching for the “gaps” and “silences” in the official narratives of nations/institutions, to pay attention to the histories, voices, lives obscured in formal accounts.

Megan Ybarra on place-making; "site fights"; solidarity and defiance of migrant detention; and geography of abolition/incarceration.

Sophie Sapp Moore on resistance, marronage, and "forms of counterplantation life"; "plantation worlds" which continue to live in contemporary industrial resource extraction and dispossession.

Deborah Cowen on “infrastructures of empire and resistance”; imperial/nationalist control of place/space; spaces of criminality and "making a life at the edge" of the law; “fugitive infrastructures”.

Elizabeth DeLoughrey on indentured labor; the role of plants, food, and botany in enslaved and fugitive communities; the nineteenth-century British Empire's labor in the South Pacific and Caribbean; the twentieth-century United States mistreatment of the South Pacific; and the role of tropical islands as "laboratories" and isolated open-air prisons for Britain and the US.

Dixa Ramirez D’Oleo on “remaining open to the gifts of the nonhuman��� ecosystems; hinterlands and peripheries of empires; attentiveness to hidden landscapes/histories; defying surveillance; and building a world of mutually-flourishing companions.

Leanne Betasamosake Simpson on reciprocity; Indigenous pedagogy; abolitionism in Canada; camaraderie; solidarity; and “life-affirming” environmental relationships.

Anand Yang on "forgotten histories of Indian convicts in colonial Southeast Asia" and how the British Empire deported South Asian political prisoners to the region to simultaneously separate activists from their communities while forcing them into labor.

Sylvia Wynter on the “plot”; resisting the plantation; "plantation archipelagos"; and the “revolutionary demand for happiness”.

Avery Gordon on haunting; spectrality; the “death sentence” of being deemed “social waste” and being considered someone “without future”; "refusing" to participate; "escaping hell" and “living apart” by striking, squatting, resisting; cultivating "the many-headed hydra of the revolutionary Black Atlantic"; alternative, utopian, subjugated worldviews; despite attempts to destroy these futures, manifesting these better worlds, imagining them as "already here, alive, present."

Jasbir Puar on disability; debilitation; how the control of fences, borders, movement, and time management constitute conditions of de facto imprisonment; institutional control of illness/health as a weapon to "debilitate" people; how debt and chronic illness doom us to a “slow death”.

Kanwal Hameed and Katie Natanel on "liberation pedagogy"; sharing of knowledge and subversion of colonial legacy in universities; "anticolonial feminisms"; and “spaces of solidarity, revolt, retreat, and release”.

[zvaigzdelasas]

[Calcalist is Private Israeli Media]

"We have a huge deficit of ammunition not just in Ukraine but all over the world. We understand we should produce this here in Ukraine because all around the world it’s finished, it’s depleted. All the warehouses are empty," said Ukrainian Prime Minister Denys Shmyhal to the "Financial Times" in October of last year, addressing the ammunition situation of the Ukrainian army, which is interconnected with the challenges faced by the IDF.

The increased ammunition usage in the wars in Gaza and Ukraine has led to an unprecedented global shortage of ammunition of all types. While the IDF tries not to address the issue publicly, Major General Eliezer Toledano admitted last month that the IDF is reducing air attacks, emphasizing the necessity to "manage the economy of armaments" because the war will last a long time. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu also commented on the matter, stating that "we need three things from the U.S.: armaments, armaments, armaments." At a press conference two weeks ago, Netanyahu announced that Israel is preparing the Israeli defense industries to "cut off dependence on the world," a goal that is not realistic in any way.[...]

[L]ast week the Director General of the Ministry of Defense Eyal Zamir concluded a huge deal with the American government for the supply of aerial ammunition in the hundreds of millions of dollars, and so far over 25,000 tons of weapons have been sent to Israel since the beginning of the war in about 280 aircraft and about 40 ships. The Israeli defense industry is also tasked with filling the IDF's stocks. About two weeks ago it was published in Calcalist that the Israeli companies postponed the supply of weapons worth more than $1.5 billion to their customers across the world to divert resources for the IDF's combat needs and that in the last three months, the Ministry of Defense ordered more than NIS 10 billion ($2.7 million) worth of weapons from them. It should be noted that the shortage does not stem from a lack of budget but from a lack of supply, and the Treasury does not restrict the IDF from purchasing ammunition of any kind.

The tremendous need for armaments stems from the unusual amount of bombings that the IDF has carried out in Gaza since the outbreak of the war. Two weeks ago, the army announced that 30,000 targets had been attacked in Gaza. A security source told Calcalist that the rate of fire the IDF is using in the current war is similar to that of a "superpower," is comparable only to the capabilities demonstrated by the U.S., and probably also exceeds the number of armaments of the Russians in the campaign against Ukraine.[...]

Another reason [for the increase in targets bombed] is that in the current war, the IDF adopted a policy of a lighter finger on the trigger [sic] regarding damage to infrastructure and Hamas operatives who are in a civilian environment, thus increasing the ability to hit targets that were not previously attacked. In addition to these reasons, there is also the added pressure from the political level, as well as from the [Israeli] public, who demand an increase in air force bombing to prevent as much as possible a risk to the forces on the ground.[...]

[O]ne should ask whether, considering the existing ammunition stockpile, this policy may not harm the IDF's readiness to carry out future missions, especially given the existing security challenges and the probable scenario in which the IDF will be forced to [sic] carry out an attack in southern Lebanon as well. The IDF may be forced to better clarify its limitations to the politicians to avoid reaching an extreme scenario of an ammunition shortage, or in the words of General Toledano: "There is no infinite army."

28 Jan 24

[bridenore]

HD longer fics recs : 90k to 100k words

Here are a few recs for fics ranging between 90k and 100k words.

You can see my recs for fics that have more than 200k here, between 150k and 200k here, between 125k and 150k here and between 100k and 125k here.

Allegiance and Sedition by SilentAuror [98k]

The war is in its fifth year, and Harry finds himself caught up in the confusion of friend versus enemy, spy versus traitor.

At Your Service by @faith2wood [95k]

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There’s only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 [91k]

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

A Case of You by @epitomereally [97k]

Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down. Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

Chasing Dragons by @the-sinking-ship [98k]

Draco can think of only one way to outclass his pleat-front-khaki-wearing politician ex, and that’s by making headlines with an obvious upgrade. And who better to upstage the cheating bastard than the Saviour of the World, Harry Potter himself? Sure, Potter is a little rough around the edges in ripped jeans, a rumpled tartan shirt, and a permanent scowl. Draco reckons a haircut and a shave wouldn’t hurt, either. But Potter is also in need of a Healer willing to keep his secrets, and Draco is just the man for the job. It’s a perfectly reasonable exchange. They need only attend a couple parties arm-in-arm, smile nicely for the paparazzi, and tolerate each other long enough to convince everyone they’re smitten. In return, Draco will keep Potter alive and in one piece. But it isn’t long before Draco realises he might be in over his head, because Potter is ten tonnes of trouble packed into a leather jacket, and seems keen on hurtling himself towards death on the back of a flying motorbike. And that says nothing of Potter’s penchant for fire-breathing beasts and things that bite. Ah well, at least they’ll have some fun while it lasts. After all, Draco always did like a bit of danger.

Firebond by Oakstone730 / @i-didnt-wanna-do-it​ [94k]

Draco is forced to tutor Harry in potions. A slight problem occurs.

Helix by Saras_Girl [92k]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

Hermione Granger’s Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi [93k]

‘You’re a wizard, Harry’ is easier to hear from a half-giant when you’re eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you’re seventeen and late for work.

How I Met Your Father by @dracogotgame [95k]

Harry sits his kids down and tells them a story. A very long story. 

How To Train Your Malfoy by @fencer-x [93k]

Good manners dictate that, when one’s best friend Apparates onto one’s doorstep holding the unconscious, haggard body of the schoolyard bully and begging for sanctuary, one ought to invite the two of them in for a cup of tea. Harry Potter sometimes wishes he weren’t so polite.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di [93k]

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he’s a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography. An invitation to the Hogwarts class of 1998’s 15th reunion isn’t welcomed by either of them, but neither could predict how the night, and their reunion, will upend their lives.

Light up the Night by Saras_Girl [98k]

This year, despite his better judgement, Harry’s love life is going off with a bang. Advent fic 2019.

Season of the Spirit by Saras_Girl [95k]

It starts with a swan. What happens after that is a bit of a mystery. 2018 advent story.

The Silent World Within You by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [95k]

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

Tempus Fugit by Poison Pen [90k+]

A monumental cock-up in Potions means that Harry and Draco have more to contend with than mutual enmity. A journey of discovery, self-reflection and love.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid [99k]

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry’s justice is his ticket back to everything he’s lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy’s world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[januaryembrs]

WORTH THE WAIT | Poe Dameron x Reader

Request: my sweet @happyhauntt says: and to counteract the fact that my last request was sad as fuck, here's a happy one!!! a wee fic based on the song 'i guess i'm in love' by clinton kane, and this one feels like it should be for poe or steven!! enjoy!!

Description: Poe tries to help reader overcome her fear of flying by giving her something good to remember

length: 2.1k

warnings: mention of puke (none just feeling of nausea) mention of fear of heights?

authors note: yes I did listen to Romantic Flight from HTTYD when I wrote this and yes this did heal the part of me that always wanted to be flown through the clouds like this. also sorry this is so late things have been HECTIC

Poe really hoped she liked his surprise. 

There were very few things that he knew he was good at besides flying; knowing exactly how to tell her just how deeply he felt for her even after all this time being one of them. He knew he stumbled over flirtatious lines, not at all like the bachelor he once was, that his chest still pounded at the thought of her just the same as it did when he was soaring through the stratosphere, his stomach flipping when they kissed as if he’d done four barrel rolls on an X-Wing. 

He knew he was in uncharted waters being so far in a committed relationship, that his usual rendezvous' had lasted little more than a few weeks at most, but that was entirely in the past. No one had even come close since the day he met her. 

She had been his mission once. Captured on a First Order ship, Leia had ordered him and his squadron to go rescue her, had said she was some lord’s daughter of a dying planet wanted by Ren for information about her father. He had heard the stories of how his resistance leader had come to be kidnapped from Alderaan when she was young, and figuring she was just screamingly empathetic for the girl, he had done exactly as he had been told. 

He’d had no clue that his mission would become his entire life within a few short months. 

“I feel like this is a little unfair,” She teased, his hands over her eyes as he led her out to the hangar, the lone sun on their planet lowering behind the horizon, “You make me wait all day for my present, and I can’t even see it,” 

“Have a little patience, Princess,” Poe said, his lips drawing into a small smile as he felt her huff beneath his palms, “I know you’re used to getting what you want in your palace, but you’re in my town now, baby,”

She chuckled, shaking her head as he directed her down the stairs. He wasn’t entirely lying. After she’d been rescued from Ren’s grasp, her planet had quickly declared its allegiance to the resistance and she had been appointed as one of Leia’s advisors. Whether it was her quick wit, or the love she seemed to drench every single person with, no matter who they were or where they had come from, Poe wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made her such a good leader, other than the fact she was so entirely herself it was hard not to favour her; a rare quality of politicians he'd often teased her. 

She gave a sniff through her nose, trying to give herself some kind of hint as to what her gift was. “Smells like… oil? Did BB-8 leak again?” 

“Just wait, one more step in front of you,” Poe replied, his eyes trained carefully on her high heeled steps over the concrete. His stomach somersaulted as he wondered for the last time if this was a good idea, but he couldn't very well lead her all the way back out of there empty handed. Reminding himself it was her, and she would never spit anything kind back in his face, he released her face gently, “tada!”

He watched her shoulders tense under the jacket he’d given her because he worried she’d be cold in the night air, and he could tell her mind was racing a million miles a second trying to make sense of what it was he was showing her. 

His T-70 starfighter. The only thing, he often joked, that could ever rival her for the title of his beloved.

“Poe…” Her voice trailed off, unsure but not wanting to seem rude, “Poe, I can’t-”

“Baby, hear me out,” He cut in, knowing she was never going to be jumping for joy before he could explain, “I promise you, nothing bad will happen while I’m there,”

“Poe,” She said hesitantly, as he came around the front of her to see her worried expression that made him cradle her face with his warm hands almost immediately.

“They don’t call me the best pilot in the galaxy for nothing,” He smiled at her cheekily, and he was relieved to see her crack a grin then, though the fright lingered in her eyes that rolled at him.

He’d known since the day he’d rescued her that she had a fear of flying; when he’d had to sit her on his lap in that very same cockpit so they could escape the base together, when she’d screamed bloody murder and held his hands so tight he worried he might lose circulation. 

Not the best of first introductions, and not quite how he’d imagined his two greatest loves meeting. Which was why he wanted to change her experience of the whole thing. 

She gave him a tentative glance, and he fretted for a moment that it had all been a mistake; that his kind act coming from a good place had been one giant heap of selfish bantha fodder that he felt stupid for even suggesting it. But then she took a deep breath, her hands coming up over his own on her cheeks and squeezing them gently. 

“Certainly don’t call you the most humble pilot in the galaxy, Dameron,” She said with a tease, moving past him to head for the jet, “Alright, help me up. My carriage awaits,”

He beamed so hard he thought his cheeks might explode, rushing past her to lift himself up onto the right arm the way he had done so many, many times before. 

“My lady,” He stretched out his hand, all but yanking her up most of the way to where he kneeled, and he was glad he’d told her to wear her cargos and not the pretty dress she’d showed him.

Pulling herself up to a sit, she looked unsurely at the metalwork beneath them, “You’re sure it can hold two?”

“It did before, didn't it?” He countered back, hoisting himself into the cockpit that felt like a second home to him, his body sliding into his seat like a hand into a glove. He parted his thighs, granting her a space of her own, and patted the leather chair, “Actually, don't think about that. Hop in,”

She paused, uncertainty written across her face that cracked when she saw the hopeful gleam in his eyes, brown hues that had always seemed to watch her with pure adoration. She had always struggled to say no to him, especially when he looked like that. 

Slipping between his legs, she hated to admit that she found herself rather comfy enveloped between his body and the dash. 

“You sure we’re safe?” She asked once more, and his arms slid around her to grab the wheel in his right hand, the left pulling her back against his warm body that made her relax just that little bit. He kissed the side of her head, resting his temple against hers for a second. 

“You know I would never put you in harms way, sweetheart,” He said, all trace of jovial teasing gone as he kissed next to her ear and pushed the button to lock the glass canopy over their heads. It slowly lowered down, hissing into a click as it shut, and he felt her shuffle in closer to his chest, “There’s something up there I really, really want to show you. Okay?” 

She looked up at him over her shoulder, his eyes twinkling with excitement at seeing her in his seat, his co-pilot for the evening. 

How could she ever resist?

“Okay,” She nodded, tugging his arms over her shoulders like a seat belt as if strapping herself in for the ride, “Okay, I’m ready,”  

He chuckled, praying to the maker one last time that this would work, and switching the ignition up to a low rumble. 

The jet rolled forward slowly, and he wheeled it around to a clearing in runway that made her think he’d told everyone to take the evening off just so they could have their solo flight.

“Okay, baby, I’m going to have to go fast at this bit, so you might want to hold on tight,” He warned her, and he felt her grab onto his thighs with tight fists, “That’s it, I got you, you’re safe,”

Not giving her much time to overthink what was coming, he floored the gas, flicking a few of the levers above their heads. She sucked in a breath, her knuckles almost turning white with grip, “Poe,” 

“I promise you’re safe, baby,” He reassured, forcing the throttle down and they jumped forward as the engines kicked in. He would have been in the air by now if it had just been him, would probably already be doing a loop-de-loop, but he didn’t want to terrify her before they had even really started. 

She squealed, a muffled version of what he knew she was probably holding back as they started lifting off the ground, and he sped up even more, the g-force throwing her back against him, and he flicked pressed the switch on the dash to start retracting the wheels into the underbelly. 

“Poe, I’m scared,”

“You got it, I got you,” He removed one of his hands off the wheel and looped it around her waist to keep her secure, “You’re doing so well, baby,” 

It was then she made the mistake of taking a peak outside, seeing their base quickly becoming little more than a speck beneath them as they sped off upwards into the atmosphere, “Oh my stars, we’re so high,” 

He chuckled, kissing her hairline tenderly, “That’s a good thing, means we’re not in danger of crashing into trees or mountains or-”

“Poe!” She slapped his thigh, scrunching her eyes shut, “I can’t look, I’m going to puke,”

His resolve wavered for a minute, and he made the impromptu decision to yank the steering wheel down, forcing them to take a quick turn up even higher into the air, to which she tucked her head towards his jaw so she didn’t have to watch. 

He wondered if he was going to regret such a bold move, he felt her whimper against his skin and Poe cursed the whole concept of ‘Go big or go home’ that he had been going for. 

Until-

They burst through the clouds, the dusk air that had been growing dark under the smog disappearing as they cut in a straight line up, further and further until the cottony slew of powder white clouds blanketed beneath them, the way they had for him so many times before. The sun was still out this far up in the aerospace, syrupy orange, and almost pink as it met the pillowed floor, like they had flown right into a meadow of blankets and warmth. 

“Poe, I tried to be brave, really I did, for you, but my nerves are shot-” 

“Baby, look,” He cut her off, engaging the auto-pilot and moving his warm hands down her arms softly to hold her fingers in his own. The X-Wing evened out, the force barely feeling like a pull at their bodies anymore and more like a lingering jitter in their skin that could so easily be passed off as the engine. 

“I can’t, I feel sick-” She protested, pushing her nose into his neck, and he felt her hands shaking with nerves that he gently stroked away. He chuckled, the sound reverberating over the apples of her cheeks.

“Just trust me, look,” Poe said, and she took a deep breath, as if holding back another complaint, peeling herself away from him just the smallest amount to glimpse outside the star-fighter. 

Her eyes widened, sitting upright almost immediately as she saw the technicolor that had been a dull beige before, the world she’d known for over two years entirely gone, buried beneath the silkened clouds. Her mouth hung open, eyes darting over the teracotta hues, down to the valley of puffy clouds beneath that didn’t seem nearly as threatening as she’d imagined. 

She was silent for a moment, and Poe had feeling that was atleast a good thing, but he was known to second guess himself when it came down to her. 

Watching her expression with a besotted gaze, the sun’s heat glowing her cheeks with a honey kiss, he ran his fingertips over her palms, “Do you like it?”

“Poe, it’s-” She swallowed, not once ripping her eyes away from the oil painting infront of her, “You get to see this every day?”

He laughed, dipping his nose in her neck and leaving a loving kiss there, “Pretty much, yeah. I told you, it’s a whole other world up here,”

“How do you ever come down, I mean it’s, it’s,” She stammered, shuffling on the edge of the seat to take it all in even more, “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” 

“I have my reasons that are pretty compelling actually,” He smiled, eyes washing over her face, trying to commit that expression to memory because there were very few times they were allowed to have something good in the middle of a war. But this was it. She was it. His little bit of goodness that had been so worth the wait, “Happy Anniversary, honey,” 

[toaarcan]

Rishi Sunak and the D-Day Disaster

Babes wake up, Rishi Sunak did a fuckup again!

Hokay, so, at time of writing, yesterday was the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings during World War II. This is a big deal for a lot of reasons, D-Day is one of the most significant events in the largest and most destructive war humanity ever fought, and this is likely to be the last major anniversary that the surviving veterans will be alive and well enough to attend.

Political leaders from the world over made their way to the Normandy beaches for a commemoration. Biden, Trudeau, Macron, Scholz, and Zelenskyy were present. Keir Starmer was there, as were King Prince Charles and Prince William, but the UK government proper was represented by Rishi Sunak and David Hameron.

Until suddenly it wasn't!

Let's run down everything (that I'm aware of) that went wrong!

As part of the British event, army paratroopers landed on the beach... and then had to reconvene in a tent to get their credentials checked by the French authorities. Because Brexit happened and we don't have free movement any more! Pro-Brexit nimrods have, predictably, complained about getting exactly what they voted for.

Once each nation's part of the proceedings were done, they were to reconvene at Omaha Beach for an International commemoration. Speeches, medals being awarded, that sort of thing. Except... Rishi Sunak was not present.

No, see, Rishi "The Least Elected PM Ever" Sunak had stayed until the end of the British event and then promptly fucked off back to England, snubbing the leaders of America, France, Canada, Germany, and Ukraine and leaving everything in the hands of the Hameron, his also-unelected foreign secretary that last rubbed shoulders with any International politicians when he was fucking everything up in 2016. Also, in the hands of his main rival, Starmer (Okay calling Starmer and Sunak rivals is a bit unfair, it implies Sunak has a snowball's chance in hell, which he does not).

Naturally, people were pretty fuckin' steamed about this, and put Rishi on blast for showing enormous disrespect to... literally everyone involved. Especially since this is right on the heels of Sunak proposing that they bring back National Service to "fill young British people with loyalty and honour."

Don't worry it gets worse.

Naturally, there are a lot of journalists with cameras present, and this means that we get to see images like these:

Image Description: Left to right, David Cameron, Emmanuel Macron, Olaf Scholz, and Joe Biden, standing in front of a partially cloud blue sky. Macron, Scholz, and Biden are lit by the sun, while Cameron appears to be in the shade.

Image Description: Keir Starmer sits, centrally-framed, among D-Day veterans in ceremonial dress uniforms. To the right of the frame sits Emmanuel Macron.

Image Description: Volodymyr Zelenskyy and Keir Starmer talking, with a photojournalist in the background aiming his camera at them. Both are smiling.

Quote Pippa Crerar, writing for the Guardian (You may remember her from that time she blew the lid off of Partygate!), Starmer is "already looking like a Prime Minister."

So this is really, really bad for Rishi. Britain has been keen to support Ukraine lately, and we've actually shipped a supply of our Challenger 2 tanks over to them for their use. The impact from this hasn't been as massive as you'd hope, largely because the British military has been absolutely gutted under the Tories, for reasons that I'm sure had absolutely nothing to do with all the financial support David Cameron got from Russians, but Britain has been trying to help.

Boris Johnson in particular liked to really stress the Ukraine point whenever he was losing control of the narrative, essentially making Ukraine's plight and his support for them a shield from criticism. And now, here's the leader of the opposition being photographed in a positive light with Zelenskyy. The optics are incredibly bad for Rishi.

But surely, Rishi had a reason why he had to zip back to British soil post haste? Maybe an emergency that he had to resolve?

No, he needed to record an interview with ITV, for his election campaign. That was it.

Well, interviews in election cycles become outdated pretty quickly. Normally a few days is enough to render them outdated. It must've been pretty urgent.

No, the interview is scheduled for release in six days' time.

That's an eternity in election season. There's a high chance that more than half of its content will be void by the time it airs.

As a reminder, we are four weeks from the big day. In fact, yesterday was exactly four weeks before election night. Time is very short.

Well, maybe this was the only time they could fit him in?

Nope, Paul Brand of ITV has confirmed that this was the date and time Rishi wanted, and they could've moved it to prevent scheduling conflicts!

So, how did a fuckup on such a grand magnitude happen? How did Rishi manage to create a clash between the 80th anniversary commemoration of an event with a specific date (6th June, 1944 is not hard to remember, my guy!) and the election that he called? Well that's very simple! He didn't want to be there at all.

Yes, it seems that Rishi had already told the French government a week ago that he wouldn't be attending at all. Someone seems to have convinced him that skipping the event entirely was a bad idea, but not enough for him to actually commit to it.

Image Description: A block of text reading "The French government was told a week ago that Rishi Sunak would not attend the D-Day 80th commemoration, Tory sources have confirmed. The message to Paris from his team was that he would be too busy campaigning in the general election to make the trip. The decision was reversed, and a short visit was the compromise, but it is extraordinary that an attendance by a Conservative PM, or any PM, was ever in doubt."

Rishi has denied this, however, so the whether it's true or Sunak has elected to not lie for once, well, that remains to be seen.

Quote John Healey, Labour's defence spokesperson, “Given that the prime minister has been campaigning on the idea young people should complete a year’s national service, what does it say that he appears to have been unable to complete a single afternoon of it?”

Conservative commentator Tim Montgomery called it "political malpractice."

And so, after thumbing his nose at half the world in order to pursue an already-foundering election campaign, Rishi Sunak decided that he needed to apologise. Via tweet.

It's been a very bad day for Rishi Sunak.

[vodika-vibes]

CONGRATS ON 500!!

Long time lurker, I am here every morning around work, and have reread most of your fics at least 3 times. Your writing is amazing!

Okay I'll stop gushing 🙈

For the follower event, I was thinking Kix, Emerald, and late night.

Thank you, and congrats again!! 😊

I'll Wait Forever

Summary: When an emergency makes Kix late to pick you up for your date he’s incredibly apologetic. What he doesn’t know, and what you need him to understand, is that you’d wait forever for him.

Pairing: Post-Stasis Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 830

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your nice comment! I'm so glad that you like my stories enough to come back to them! I hope this is close to what you wanted, you didn't specify, so I chose to go with Post-Stasis Kix rather than TCW era Kix. Both are swoon-worthy. My goal is to keep all of these under 1000 words. I wonder how I'll do, lol.

The fall of the Empire, and the rise of the New Republic, has made you a very wealthy person. Wealthy enough that you, and a group of your friends, were able to repurpose a Lucrehulk Class droid control ship into something a little more useful. 

As of now, and with the permission of the New Republic, the ship is home to over two million displaced individuals (many of Alderaanian descent), it’s also home to a massive shopping center, and is the home point for this sector's Bounty Hunters Guild.

It is a point of some pride, yes.

And, at this point, it basically runs itself. Which means that you only have to do a little bit of work to make sure it stays running smoothly. Which, for you, means that you have to play nice with the politicians in the New Republic.

But that only happens every so often.

Which means you’re able to focus on more important things.

Like writing your novel…and spending time with your boyfriend.

Both are very important to you, though you’re not ashamed to admit that Kix, your boyfriend, is far more important to you than anything else that you own. Including the ship that you currently call home.

He travels a lot, and you don’t mind, because in the end he always comes back to you. 

Speaking of said boyfriend, he said that he was going to take you on a date tonight.

You tilt your head back to catch a glimpse of the chrono on the wall, and you release a sigh, though there’s a smile on your face. It is well past closing time for all but the seediest of restaurants, which means no going out tonight.

Ah well. Such is life.

You flick your gaze back to the first draft of your novel, and you make sure to save your work before you set it to the side.

Time to make dinner, and if you’re lucky, Kix will join you for dinner. 

You meander into your kitchen and you put some water on the stove for the pasta, before you dig around your pantry. Might as well make a proper meal.

You’re about to put the pasta in the boiling water when the door to your suite slides open. Absently you pour the whole box into the water, before leaning back to look into the main part of your suite, and a bright smile crosses your face.

Kix is gorgeous. 

Tall and broad, with thick curly hair and an equally thick beard. The tattoo under his hair just barely peeks out at his temple.

You’d quite happily follow him into hell, if he asked.

Not that he ever would.

“Welcome home,” You chirp from the kitchen, “I started pasta for dinner, do you want cheesy bread or garlic. I have both because I have no self control when it comes to bread. It’s a problem.” You check the water and then leave your posting in the kitchen to walk over to him. 

He sets his helmet on the table next to the door, and then casts his gaze to you, something akin to guilt crosses his face when he takes you in, “I’m late.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You got all dressed up for me.” Kix says, his lips turning down.

“I got dressed up for myself. The fact that you also appreciate it is just a bonus.” You grin at him, and slide into his arms, your arms twining around his neck, “Now. Garlic bread or cheesy bread. This is a super important decision, Kix.”

His arms tightens around your hips, “I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s just bread, Kix. It’s not really that important. I can make both.”

He laughs softly, but there’s something almost broken in his voice, “I’m sorry for missing our date. Again.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s really, really not. You deserve better than…this.” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“I don’t want better. I want you.”

“Even though I neglect you?”

You slide your hands to his face, and you lightly brush your fingers under his eyes, “Hold on there, mister. You don’t neglect me. I have never once felt neglected.”

He tilts your head back, “How can you say that?”

“Kix,” You grin at him, “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

You stand on your toes to brush your lips against his, “I’d wait forever for you. You’re worth it. I’d follow you into hell if you asked.”

He exhales sharply, his breath washing across your face, “I love you.”

You beam at him, “I know, I’m very lovable.”

Kix arches a single brow, and he moves his fingers to your sides, lightly tickling you, pulling a startled giggle from your lips, “Is that all you have to say?” He asks, a smile playing on his lips now.

You hop into his arms, his arms sliding securely around your waist to support you, as you kiss him deeply, “I love you too. Always. Forever.”

[saltywinteradult]

What I hate most about the last Rhaenicent scene is how holier than thou Rhaenyra is shown to be, the writers aren't even trying to hide their bias.

In the first season they told us Alicent's evil for putting a child abusing rapist on the throne rather than their Mary Sue who's so perfect she won't even order Vaemond Velaryon's execution.

Then in the second season they have Alicent become a pathetic cockroach who will hand her son over on a silver platter to save her own skin. It doesn't matter if you see it differently, this was their intention: to show how much better a mother/woman/Queen/ruler/politician Rhaenyra is because she would scream bloody murder if anyone even suggested disowning Jace whilst Alicent doesn't even protest when she demands Aegon's head.

This show is not for Alicent Hightower fans, Rhaenicent as a ship is not for Alicent Hightower fans. I think the sooner we accept this the easier it will be to abandon HotD once and for all.

(I'm going to assume you're the same anon​ who sent me this.)

*Sigh* Okay. I've already said that I think Rhaenicent can't be canon without butchering the characters, like they have now done with Alicent, and therefore it shouldn't happen. Alicent has been made into Rhaenyra's bootlicker and I hate it. I have already said, very clearly, that I agree with all of that.

However, I have also said, very clearly, that I still enjoy Rhaenicent in some ways despite this. So why are you sending me this, anon​? Are you trying to convince me to stop liking the things I still like about Rhaenicent? Are you trying to convince me, an Alicent fan and a Rhaenicent enjoyer, that it's not possible to be both? Because I'm not the only person in this fandom who is both. We're in the minority, but we exist. You are entitled to your opinion that Rhaenicent and HotD are not for Alicent fans, but this Alicent fan has to disagree. It's not for you to decide what is or isn't "for" anyone other than yourself.

I agree that the writers' intention with that awful last scene was to show Rhaenyra in a better light - because that seems to be their intention with just about everything. This is an issue with the entire show, not just Rhaenicent. The whole story has been twisted to fit into a cookie-cutter pseudo-feminist narrative with Rhaenyra as the hero she was never meant to be, and every character, not just Alicent, has suffered for it. (I would argue that Rhaenyra's character has been butchered too. Making her a feminist hero is so much less interesting than she was in the book.) So as it happens, I don't see that differently than you.

But so what if I did? I'm sorry, but what the hell are you trying to say with a statement like "it doesn't matter if you see it differently"? I am allowed to see it however I want. People can and do have different opinions on art than its​ creator, or different opinions than you for that matter. That's literally just how art works.

And not to be blunt, but if you hate the show this much, why are you even here, anon? Are you trying to convince me to stop watching? Because if so, that's really not for you to decide. Why not just stop watching the show yourself and let other people do what they want? Personally, I'm still watching the show because while the writing is shit, I still think the cinematography is gorgeous, the special effects are great, the music is beautiful, the acting is amazing, and the schadenfreude of watching the Targaryens self-destruct spectacularly is as satisfying as ever. I enjoy some aspects of HotD and not others, just as I enjoy some aspects of Rhaenicent and not others.

[one-idea]

Part 2 of my reverse/alternate universe strawhat pirates

Master post

Part 1 can be read here

Part 1/2

Part 3

Part 4

So we have Captain Ace

Swordswoman Kuina

Navigator Nojiko

TBD Kaya

Cook Reiju

Doctor Hirikul

(And Koza the politician)

And now we have the addition of Nico Olivia. Much like Robin in the true cannon she joins the ew after they defeat Crocodile, and Ace saves her life.

She starts journeying with the crew. And I know we always kinda poke fun at Robin and her gaggle of teenagers but Olivia is really signed up for mom duty. In the beginning she’s holding back waiting for the day she will have to leave but part of her loves it. Loves seeing her young crewmates run around the boat and think what she could have had with her daughter.

Olivia went out on her journey to study the lost century. And just like in cannon she was caught. Saul frees her and they rush back to Ohara but it’s to late. The Buster call is already over. The islands is destroyed and daughter is dead. Since she escaped from prison she is still wanted by the government and spend the next 20 years running with three goals.

To complete Ohara’s goal of discovering the true history

To take out as many marines along the way as she can

To find her daughters devil fruit. The only thing that still exists that could connect her to her daughter.

Over the years it got harder for her to keep going. She is making very little progress on the first goal. But she has found Robin’s devil fruit and with it has been doing a good job and accomplishing goal 2. But it’s lonely and she misses her home and her daughter more than anything. She ready to give up when Crocodile stabs her. Only for Ace to save her.

Ace who knows exactly what it’s like to want to die. Ace who’s reason to live is a sunny boy in a straw hat still in the East blue.

Ace saves her and tells her to find someone ti live for. Neither of them knew that that someone would be himself and the rest of his crew. Olivia’s new family. Her new stupid son. (Ace gets to hang with a mom guys!)

They still do the Skyla trip but they don’t meet Blackbeard. No he’s coming later.

Instead they make their way to water 7. Their ship needs to be replaced, it’s taken a beating and Kaya doesn’t take it well. Not to the point of challenging Ace for the ship but it hurts. This was her gift to the crew. She’s not a good fighter (yet) she’s stronger then she was but that’s pitiful to rest of the crew. She’s the youngest and weakest member, the momey she brought with her has all been used. The only claim she has to being helpful is that she gave them the ship. The ship they are getting rid of.

Like I said I don’t think it gets to Luffy and Usopp’s fight but there’s a lot of hurt. It helps that Hirikul is there and as an older and more experienced member he’s able to help keep tension down. (I also think he and Kaya would be close with her training under him as a doctor)

I would love to expand on this if anyone wants it

But of course they need a new ship. And Olivia is missing and everything’s a mess. And to add insult to injury the whole town thinks they’re trying to assassinate mayor Tom.

And his son/apprentice Iceburg won’t let that kind of threat go unpunished.

In the past when Franky’s ships attacked Water 7 and Tom, Iceburg, and Franky got arrested for it. Franky thought about all the harm he had caused and how Iceburg always told him to take responsibility for his actions. When Tom tried to take the blame for the ship attack Franky cut him off. Telling the judge he planned the whole thing. That it was his fault. He didn’t think the Judge would pardon Tom so he thought if he got ride of the Judge Tom would be free.

No one believes him. Tom and Iceburg are kicking up a storm to deny Franky’s involvement and Spandam is fuming because this was his plan to get Tom not this kid. But the Judge doesn’t want to take Tom. This whole thing is fishy and the boy just gave him an out. A stupid self sacrificing out. But an out. Shame what will happen to the boy though. So the Judge passes Judgement on Franky and he is taken away to be executed.

Tom and Iceburg lose it but Franky just tells them not to blow it for him. It’s his decision. After all he’s finally take ownership for his creations, even if it means his death he will never deny they were his ships. (Tom would be so proud if he wasn’t losing his son)

Ever since Spandam has had it out for Tom and Iceburg. Tom because the leader of water 7 with Iceburg as his right hand man. Running both the ship yards and then demo (this would version of the Franky family) businesses

When Ace’s crew gets blamed for trying to kill Tom Iceburg goes after them with his loyal employees. If only all of them were loyal.

Long story short it’s Iceburg who joins the crew as a shipwright.

Again I’ll totally expand on this if you ask.

I’m getting to thriller bark soon so you’ll have to wait for Brooks story.

But after the pick up one bone man they run into an old friend of Ace’s.

Whitebeard.

Whitebeard who wants all of them to join his crew.

Ace is tempted so tempted. But then he looks at his friends.

Kuina can’t chase her dream if their crew is not actively striving for the top. Whitebeard is already at the top of the game. The only step up is pirate king and Kuina wouldn’t be on the mainship pushing forward she would be shuffled into whatever commander need her.

Nojiko hates most pirates. She was okay sailing with them because they were a different kind of pirate. But would she be comfortable with whatever crew she ended up with?

Kaya is still learning. Being with the Whitebeard crew might be safer for her as it gave more protection. But she didn’t come out her to be safe she came out to start a new life and have adventures with her new friends

Reiju doesn’t want the crew to split up. She seems to have a hard time with being left alone. Something Ace can understand.

Hiriluk will do what Ace needs them to do (they all will) but he would far prefer staying together. He needs to train Kaya. He needs to keep his new children safe. (He already failed Tony Tony Chopper he won’t fail again)

Olivia just started feeling safe with them. How do they know no one on the Whitebeard crew will betray her?

Iceburg is here for HIS ship to sail around the world and he trusted THIS crew not a bunch on strangers.

(I find the fact that Ace’s crew got spread out among the Whitebeard pirate quite sad. I wish they could have gone with him on his failed mission)

In the end Ace turns him down (he’s got a mom and a dad on his crew) after all how can Ace surpass him and take his place if he’s working for him. Beside how can Ace support any other king of the pirate besides his little brother.

But they do form an alliance. And that’s how they roll for three years. Exploring the grandline, getting stronger, dipping their toes into the new world but not fully committing yet.

Until someone is ready to set sail.

Until someone betrays Whitebeard and almost injures Ace’s crew in the process

Until someone finds out that new pirate is related to the head of the revolutionary army.

Please ask about this I have so many ideas.

I can’t wait to talk about Kuina and this world Tashigi

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - John 1:20

i honestly hadn’t considered that John would have access to a bunch of other info, like the FTL planning to leave everyone behind, via the politician he’s puppeting around. he’s practically running the government of this unspecified country at this point. i mean i guess it was good practice for everything he’d later end up doing as Emperor 

‘I’ve got plans for that arm’ um. what. y'know what i really really don’t want to even know

for a guy who keeps saying he didn’t want to nuke anything he’s reallyyy leaning into the nukes every chance he gets

something i find very interesting is that John possibly also has powers besides necromancy that he’s seemingly glossed over a lot? even though they’re very toothy, he can apparently grow roses, and earlier C— talks about him potentially stabilising the North Glacier like that’s something he could definitely do. i wonder if it is actually possible to use thalergy, the life energy stuff, which really never gets mentioned that much tbh, in a similar way to thanergy?

ok how on earth is ‘Cows exhibit mourning behaviour for other cows’ such a goddamn impactful line. like its a really chilling moment of John confirming that he’s willing to start a nuclear war rather than let the ships leave. and it’s also objectively fucking ridiculous

John’s reflection here on his friends doubting him, and how ‘People don’t forgive, not really’ is very interesting considering his actions at the end of HtN, where he asks Augustine if they can have a ‘fresh slate’ in the wake of him killing Mercy. idk really what i’m trying to say here, but i do wonder how much John really meant what he was offering there 

well what with Ianthe, Harrow, and Kiriona, John certainly took M—’s remark about recruiting teenage girls in the next cult to heart

what i’m personally choosing to take away from this chapter is that multitasking is the true villain of the Locked Tomb universe. get some sleep and stop trying to do six things at once kids, or you might just end up nuking the entire earth

‘I can’t Sister. It’s too big’ i’m quite frankly a little disappointed that John didn’t take the opportunity to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke here

holy crap, the nun shooting herself is certainly a moment. this is really leaning into the eldritch horror of what it would be like to be a human and aware of the Earth literally screaming at you

there’s such a tragic contrast between M— literally begging in her last moments for them not to shoot John vs Mercy being the one to kill him & John killing her so horrifically in return

John’s been essentially levelling up in necromancy as all of these chapters have progressed, but it’s a truly horrifying level of power he displays here. it’s not even the nukes that end up killing a lot of people, because John points out that he was able to just straight up snap the necks of about half of the entire world population

so much about this chapter is just walking the line between absurdist comedy and abject horror, but there is something just so … viscerally disturbing about the mental image of John literally just eating dirt as he consumes the soul of the Earth 

THIS is where the Barbie comparison comes in??? this?! John modelled a body for the remains of the soul of the partially-absorbed soul of the earth after BARBIE?!! talk about taking Barbieheimer to a whole new level

‘I drank them in, and it wasn’t enough’ someone better at comedy than me has probably made a very Hungry Caterpillar joke about this chapter 

‘You and I went full fucking Hungry Caterpillar’ DUDE. ok i stg i made the Hungry Caterpillar annotation immediately before i read like the next page and saw this 

‘I picked you to change [...] I still love you’ well, there’s some form of answer about how John actually got his necromancy in the first place. there’s something so awful about being a human being given powers you just straight up can’t really comprehend by a being so much bigger than you out of love 

the message reads ‘THE/TOWER/HAS/REACTIVAT’. at this point i can’t really think of anything else it could say other than ‘reactivated’. and given this is the chapter where John describes himself as becoming God, there’s something very poetic about the chapter heading being John 1:20, in which John the Baptist confesses that he isn’t the Messiah

[miz-chase]

Cam, for the character asks 😁

YES

GIVE ME A CHARACTER;

and I’ll break their ass down:

How I feel about this character

CAM is wonderful. I miss Goodman (he should have come back just for fun anyway), but I think Cam gave the lab a healthy balance by having a Grown Ass Adult who wouldn't be drawn into Nerd Bullshit over Hittites and Assyrians. Goodman, while a good politician with the FBI, was too much like the other squints for his own managerial good. She's so deadpan funny and her efforts to herd the kindergarteners that fill her lab with bullshit is deeply amusing. I also want to know EVERYTHING about her time in New York. Cam the beat cop?? Tell me MORE.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Have you heard the Good News about the gospel of ABC? Coined by @neurodiversebones, Angela/Brennan/Cam is a delightful trio, whether sexual or platonic. I drew some pictures and wrote a fic

Also Aristoo is a dreamboat (POETRY are you KIDDING me? His patience and understanding for Cam's needs and fears?) and I'm side-eyeing the fuck out of anyone who is good with Booth/Brennan but claims workplace harassment with Cam/Aristoo.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

I'm putting Cam/Booth here. Booth has very few friends and Cam is the one person who can reliably say "Seeley, you're being a fucking idiot." to him. I love that so much, he needs the reality check and having a person in the lab who is always in his corner, even though she tries to be a neutral party.

I will say, Booth is overdue to pay Camille back for all the good she's done reality-checking him. He is not there for her in the same way and that sucks. Where's the subplot where she has to crash at his place? Where's Booth taking Michelle on for Paternal Counselling? Where's the B&B and Cam/Aristoo double date? Why doesn't Booth pull Aristoo aside for the 'Prove to me you're good enough for my daughter' bullshit and end up becoming sports buds with him to support Cam?

Also putting the other Booth here. Why is everything with Jared a dead end? I would love to know more about her and Jared's relationship and seen more of them together.

My unpopular opinion about this character

She would have been in the right to fire Brennan in season 2. Cam doesn't know Brennan is the title character of the show, she's just trying to do her job and make the lab as functional and prosecutorially successful as possible. Booth talks a big game about quitting if Brennan left, but he wouldn't actually. He needs the job too much and working with the Jeffersonian is the only thing that makes him special as an agent. I bet he wouldn't even stop his sexual relationship with Cam over it, really. Angela and possibly Hodgins (TBH I doubt he actually would, he is a playboy comfortable in a "job" where he does what he wants, where he wants) might have left, which would have been annoying but not impossible to replace. Brennan is special to our hearts, but she isn't actually the only person capable of doing her work. Finding someone who could do the work, would be a better team player, and a better court presence would be SO worth it. I would love to see how this canon-divergent AU would shake out.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Girl deserves career advancement. I would have loved (for her professionally, idk how well this would play out on-screen) for her to end up in a more formal role connecting the FBI and the Jeffersonian. She should not be stuck dealing with the daily ins-and-outs of herding neurodivergent cats. She's an experienced and competent cop, scientist, and manager, and all three of those skills combined would make her a good Director. IMO in the long run, the FBI is going to want their own lab instead of contracting out to the Jeffersonian forever. She should get to head that project as The Big Boss, not the nitty-gritty details manager.

[bringthekaos]

I don't know if you wanna answer this but I wanna hear your thoughts on this.

We can all agree that Mel Medarda is an amazing character on her own and people shit on her for petty reasons like her getting in the way of a ship and making things up about her. What I wanna know is your thoughts on her.

What I see, I think the relationship between her and Jayce could be tragic on its own cause, to me, it's like Meg and Hercules from Disney. Meg went after Hercules under orders of Hades in exchange for her freedom, only to fall in love with Hercules for real and feels regret for betraying him like so.

While Meg and Mel are different in circumstances, I get the tragedy between them in a way.

Mel probably brought Jayce to a seat at the council and her bed to benefit her in the long run only to slowly care about him over the course of the season.

And that could be what could hurt them. Mel realizes too late she cares about him but can't fully give her love cause of politics (and if s2 goes, war and/or her death) and if Jayce found out that her being intimate with him was just to get him to be her yes man it would shatter Jayce terribly.

From the posts I've seen here, Jayce goes from being a bright and optimistic inventor to a selfish and cold man.

His decaying friendship is already what'd pushing him towards that path. But if he knew Mel's original intentions from say... Swain or herself then it would destroy him.

Sorry for rambling

You can always ramble in my inbox 🥰

I try to be diplomatic in my discussions of Mel, cuz I don’t want anyone to think I don’t like her or that I’m trying to write her off, as a JayVik shipper. I’m critical of Mel, but I’m also critical of Jayce and Viktor. They’re all flawed people, and that’s what makes them great characters. So with that little disclaimer in mind, my thoughts.

The Meg/Hercules comparison is actually so fitting. I think it was all politics for her in the beginning—“we need something to put Piltover on the map. What of today’s trial?”—she was thinking purely as a politician and a businesswoman, and she saw Jayce and his ideas as a good investment. And to cultivate that investment for maximum profit, she also had to play him a little. I don’t think she would see it as manipulation, like the audience tends to, she just read him like an open book; he craved validation and praise, and what’s the harm in stroking his ego?

(And other things)

But just like Meg, I think she started falling for him. His naïveté and softness that started out as a tool for controlling him began to needle at her. She started easing off the gas and trying to protect him as time went on, started taking what was best for him into consideration, for example:

Elora: “I’ve had word from our friends overseas.”

Mel: “It’s too soon. Jayce isn’t ready.”

And I think by the time they slept together, she was falling pretty good. She could see how malleable he was, and how it was turning out to not be such a great thing. Cuz that’s a Pandora’s box—if you can control him, so can others. And then you could lose him, and to someone with far more nefarious motives.

And if Jayce finds out that she was “manipulating” him (or believes that she was) to get him to build weapons that would eventually be shipped out to Noxus so that they might steamroll their enemies? Yeah, I think it would taint their entire relationship. Even if she tried to explain, tried to make him see that maybe it started out that way, but you changed me, you changed my mind. You made me see that the path I was treading was one that lead straight to becoming my mother… I’m not sure he would believe her. It’s the same thing that happened with Daenerys and Jorah Mormont in Game of Thrones—he started out spying on her in a selfish attempt to gain favor in King’s Landing. But he fell for her in the process, ceased his spying, and joined her for good. But when she found out, it soured all the good he did, painted all of it in blood. Cuz you can’t take any of that stuff back, even when you change your ways. You can’t un-betray someone, you can’t un-manipulate them.

And yeah, him losing Viktor and Mel at the same time? It could definitely send him spiraling, send him down a rabbit hole of “I’m the only person I can trust, apparently. Why bother with other people, all they do is betray and leave me.” And while I honestly have a hard time seeing how this sweet cinnamon roll of a Jayce that Arcane has given us could ever go that route… I think we saw it a little bit, in that final scene—the eye roll and “I don’t give a shit what any of you think of me anymore.”

Really I just think Mel is a complex, flawed person who has one of the more weighty instances of character growth in the show. She starts out cold and detached—just playing the game, like she’s been doing for years—and for several reasons, not just her relationship with Jayce, she starts to really think about her actions and their consequences. And I sincerely hope she’s not killed in the explosion, cuz I’d really like to see the conclusion of that arc.

[fatedsith]

“Regardless of how we feel about each other.”

Her words haunt him even as he returns to his bedroom, the one across from Padmé’s on the topmost floor of the Varykino Villa. It was chosen so he could watch over her more easily; sense any disturbances. Not that there would be, at this estate– Anakin is confident in her safety, as long as they stay here at the Lake Country. After all, Governor Sio Bibble had agreed with Padmé that the Lake Country was the most remote part in all of Naboo. Despite what Padmé seemed to think, Anakin did value her input, knowing confidently that she’s the smartest woman he’s ever met. She joined the Apprentice Legislators when she was only eight and attended Theed Royal Academy, being trained to be a public servant.

He’s always thought it was a good thing that Padmé chose to serve; she was kind-hearted without sacrificing her intelligence. She was wise, strict and soft all at once. Anakin didn’t like politicians or their often indolent and selfish whims. If it weren’t for the Senate’s refusal to act swiftly, Naboo’s blockade wouldn’t have ruined so many lives. The unlawful Trade Federation had claimed taxation disagreements upon Naboo, using their membership in the Galactic Senate to further delay action. If it weren’t for Anakin’s own actions destroying the Trade Federation’s control ship, Naboo’s forces might not have overcome the blockade.

As much as he loved being of use to Padmé, he hated watching the Republic cause her such hardship, forcing her to go to even more extraneous lengths than she already would have. She was a good queen and now senator; wise and caring. Someone Anakin would trust with the universe itself, if the responsibility of it were placed on her shoulders. It was a shame all politicians couldn’t be more like her, and it was one of the many things about her that inspired him enough to keep her in his thoughts and dreams.

One of many things. There was also her beauty, and the connection they shared… the fact he can’t shake her from his visions. He would dream of her and in them they would talk and play, just like they had in the meadow. He felt as if he knew her more than he did; as if everything about her was also a part of him in some way. Lingering, even when she left him for ten years.

It’s why it leaves him in agony when she rejects him, telling him to come back to the real world as if his love was nothing but child’s play. He knows it’s not and it never was, even when they were children. He felt it— felt that they were meant for each other. Even the Force seemed intent on telling him so.

He returns to his bedroom with frustration and an aching sadness, discouraged. Why couldn’t she see they were meant to be? She wouldn’t even accept him when he tried to offer to keep it a secret. Didn’t she want him? She spoke delicately as if she did, dancing around the words. “Regardless of how we feel about each other,” she’d said, as if she felt it too.

That magnetic pull between them, like they needed each other. Or maybe only Anakin needed Padmé… Maybe he was a fool for coming here, thinking the senator still cared for him. Maybe Obi-Wan was right, as much as he hated even thinking the thought. But it had felt real to him, at the time– the way they kissed. She kissed him back; he’d felt it. The press of her soft mouth to his and the look in her eyes at the way his fingers trailed against her naked back.

He needs more– felt more. He swears he did, especially in the way she wiggled beside him, as if she was trying to put a lid on something she felt. Force it down, choke it out.

Or that’s what he tells himself as he starts to take off his robes, first the belt and then the leather overcoat. Pulling off the brown tunic with long sleeves, he rests the clothing on the end of the bed, leaving him shirtless.

The room Padmé gave him is adorned with the same golden curtains as in the sitting room, along with matching red velvet seats near the window. Everything is ornate; golden and beautiful, just like her and the rest of her world. Everything reminds him of her; the curtains, the intricate baroque furniture and expensive rugs. She’s like a princess, even though she isn’t a queen anymore. Maybe he thinks of her as one because she rules over his very heart and soul.

So he’s pulling his pants apart, sliding the loose dark fabric down. Jedi robes were so airy, which was good most of the time but not so much when he was trying to hide his arousal. How could he not be? Sitting beside her in a dimly lit room when she looked so beautiful, admitting she might feel something for him, just like in his dreams.

He had removed his shoes already because it was improper to wear them inside of the villa, especially up in this section of the castle. So he sits down on the bed, leaning against the headboard as his hand slips beneath the fabric of his underwear, his pants still half on his legs.

There’s a low fire crackling in the fireplace that they’d lit earlier; the one in the corner of his room. It illuminates his golden skin, making it easier to see his erection as he pulls it out. A soft frustrated sigh leaves him as his fingers close around his throbbing length, stroking gently and finding himself surprised at the force of pleasure that rolls through his body in response. It feels too good, thinking about her soft pink lips and the way they felt when they kissed on the veranda. It turns him on even more than her beauty does, knowing that she wanted him too, even if it was fleeting. Even if it didn’t mean to her what it meant to him.

How could she? “I will not give in to this,” she said, as if she wanted to give in. It’s all he can think about, almost obsessively, as he strokes himself a little harder. It feels like a betrayal of some kind, the way she rejected him after leaving him with the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced in his lifetime. All he can think about is the way her sweet mouth tasted, slotted against his. Frustration laces into the way Anakin touches himself, jerking off a little faster as his face contorts from the pleasure of it. He thinks about what would have happened if she did give in; if she would have had him on the couch. It’s enough to make him leak, getting his fingers wet as he touches himself, panting softly.

What he doesn’t expect is for the door to push open, hearing his name in her sweet voice. His head snaps up, looking for her in the dim light, hand still around himself. / @fatalqueen

[bridenore]

Author rec : The_Sinking_Ship

The_Sinking_Ship is one of my favorite authors. Here are a few recs, listed in alphabetical order.

Chasing Dragons by @the-sinking-ship [98k]

Draco can think of only one way to outclass his pleat-front-khaki-wearing politician ex, and that’s by making headlines with an obvious upgrade. And who better to upstage the cheating bastard than the Saviour of the World, Harry Potter himself? Sure, Potter is a little rough around the edges in ripped jeans, a rumpled tartan shirt, and a permanent scowl. Draco reckons a haircut and a shave wouldn’t hurt, either. But Potter is also in need of a Healer willing to keep his secrets, and Draco is just the man for the job. It’s a perfectly reasonable exchange. They need only attend a couple parties arm-in-arm, smile nicely for the paparazzi, and tolerate each other long enough to convince everyone they’re smitten. In return, Draco will keep Potter alive and in one piece. But it isn’t long before Draco realises he might be in over his head, because Potter is ten tonnes of trouble packed into a leather jacket, and seems keen on hurtling himself towards death on the back of a flying motorbike. And that says nothing of Potter’s penchant for fire-breathing beasts and things that bite. Ah well, at least they’ll have some fun while it lasts. After all, Draco always did like a bit of danger.

Criminal by @the-sinking-ship [83k]

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less. Now, Draco is stuck in England under Auror Potter’s guard with no friends, no distractions, and no escape. How the hell will he pass the time? And since when did Potter get so bloody fit?

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship [135k]

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals. Except Head Auror Potter is everywhere — in Draco's chair, at his door, in his dreams. All six feet of motorbike-riding, combat-boot-wearing, sex-hair-sporting Saviour of the World packed into one unfairly fetching uniform. Potter won’t leave Draco the bloody hell alone, won’t let him breathe, let him forget, let him sleep. Because no matter how fast Draco Malfoy runs, Harry Potter is always hot on his heels.

Finely Drawn Lines by @the-sinking-ship [61k]

Draco doesn’t consider himself an artist (though the dozens of sketchbooks lining his shelves might suggest differently). Yet ever since Potter returned to Hogwarts, accepting a teaching position alongside Draco, his drawings have taken on a rather singular focus. From the curl of his lips to the exact number of lines that form at the corners of his eyes when he laughs, Draco has catalogued every shade of one Harry James Potter between the pages of his sketchbook. So long as Potter remains none the wiser, Draco will have no trouble controlling his crush. But when Potter comes to him with a dangerous proposition, Draco fears things are about to get so much more complicated.

Never Mind the Bollocks  by @the-sinking-ship [118k]

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship [58k]

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

On Target by @the-sinking-ship [13k]

A charity dunk tank, some sorry excuses for friends, a Slytherin with freakishly good aim, a (mostly) empty locker room, and one very small towel. Because, apparently, everyone is dying to get Harry Potter wet.

Sugar Sweet by @the-sinking-ship [5k]

Draco thinks everyone forgot his birthday. (They didn’t.)

Things We Do by @the-sinking-ship [16k]

Drinking, dancing, and the sorts of decisions made after one too many shots of vodka.

'Tis a Far Better Thing by @the-sinking-ship [37k]

'Tis a far, far better thing doing stuff for other people — or however the Muggle saying goes — because Potter is in need of professional help, and Draco is just the man to give it to him. A Drarry Clueless AU.

The Unspeakable by @the-sinking-ship [24k]

Healer Draco Malfoy took the job at the International Department of Mysteries for the paycheck and the prestige. But what he got was Unspeakable Harry Potter and the most fascinating curse he’d ever seen.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[allgremlinart]

haiiiiii friend can you explain jianzhu to me I keep seeing you post about them and I’m nosy and wanna know (<- stopped watching atla bc I realized zutara was never gonna be canon)

also jetko. can you explain jetko too (I’m thinking they’re more on the ghostbat spectrum where it’s like. intense friendship that left both emotionally scarred for the rest of their lives)

TEEHEE HEEHE HEE <- me when I get the opportunity to explain/infodump cross-fandom stuff to mutuals

ok so Jianzhu... ahhh Jianzhu... ((SPOILERS for anyone reading the Kyoshi novels))

This is Jianzhu and also like... probably one of maybe 4 canon images/art there is of him... he's not from the original cartoon he's from the Avatar Kyoshi spin-off novels that take place abt 400 yrs before the events of the show (idk how much you know abt atla lore from osmosis so this might get a little tedious? I'm just gonna explain as succinctly as possible.)

To be brief, he's a cunty old man. But unlike when I call, say, Minhkhoa a cunty old man it's not really loving ... its more like... I love to hate him. He's a REALLY good villain.

He's a politician. He made 500 people dig their own graves and then buried them alive. He beheaded his friend of like 20+ years. He drugs and kidnaps teenagers. etc. It's great.

His whole character arc is like... He's in control. You start off the book and he is very clearly in control, and he knows what he's doing, and he even sounds halfway reasonable sometimes but over the course of the novel he gets more and more desperate to grab hold of a situation that spirals wildly away from him and you get to watch it happen. His justifications for his actions get crazier, he gets sloppier and sloppier with his murders....

OH also you know how sometimes people think Bruce is some callous asshole who was only using his adoptive son who worshipped him as a weapon, and when he died he quickly sought to replace him without remorse ? Yeah he's like that but. Like actually this time. His dead adoptive son also then comes back after eating an eyeball in the spirit world (idk) and kills him by pressing a pebble through his sternum so. More successful than Jason at patricide I'd say. Look there's a lot I didn't cover, here's his wiki.

ok Jetko... ah... the ancient yaoi..

Important required reading before I explain this ship is this post. What you have to understand about Zuko is that for basically like... 40 episodes the only person he shares significant screen time with is his uncle so when him and Jet met in s2 and had a decent 3 episodes worth of interactions ... it was enough, lets just say that.

The basic Jetko timeline is they meet on a ferry while Zuko and his Uncle are disguised as refugees and they steal food together -> Jet tries to get Zuko (who he only ever knows as "Li") to join his emo band gang which Zuko refuses -> Jet sees Uncle Warcrimes heating his tea and correctly deduces that they are firebenders (ie not who they say they are; the enemy) -> Zuko and his Uncle work in a tea shop while Jet stalks them and steals things from their house and watches them from behind clotheslines (yeah) -> Jet confronts them in the teashop, sword fight, Jet gets arrested and brainwashed by the secret police (yeah) -> Jet dies under a lake which Zuko only finds out about a season later.

So they never had the 4 years of intense homoerotic cohabitation that ghostbat had,.. their chemistry and potential are pretty much instigated by a few of Jet's weird intense lines, such as "As soon as I saw your scar I knew exactly who you were - you're an outcast, like me." And the crux of the ship is like.. Jet both does and doesn't know who Zuko is.

He knows he is also angry and restless, like himself - he knows he is running from his past, like himself - and he knows he is going to Ba Sing Se to create a new identity. These things are all true, for both of them; what Jet doesn't know is that Zuko is from the imperialist nation that brutally murdered his parents and invaded his home and he incorrectly assumes that the anger he recognizes in Zuko stems from the same need to enact violence on those who have taken everything from him.

So I guess the "thought you were exactly like me but then I found out you're not which enrages and humiliates me so know I'm going to beat the shit out of you" thing from BTK no. 6 is something they share with ghostbat but.. Jet's anger is probably a little more justified than Minhkhoa's lol...

In conclusion it's your basic "doomed relationship/they work great together but that doesn't fix anything" ship premise. It used to be more popular back in the day... pretty sure I owe my life to maybe 3 different Taiwanese/Chinese doujin artists from 2009... yeah that's the gist of it.