#smuggler bazaar

[6goat6zombie6]

Oggi giuro che smetto, sta merda la detesto!

[blighted-elf]

Okay as promised, here's Ry'on's (somewhat complicated) family tree as of BG3. A couple facts: - None of the siblings have met their fathers, nor know who they are. All three are random Drow that Elryn thought decent enough to produce offspring with. There's no love between them. - Elryn works as a botanist in Menzoberranzan, and sells her plants in the Bazaar. - The older siblings were primarily responsible for raising their younger siblings. - Their family home in Duthcloim was small, cramped but cozy with bright fauna decorating the place. Trisslyn had her own room, Vorlen and Ry'on shared one, and Za'keth and Sydryn shared another. - Trisslyn is a Paladin of Lolth and is by far the most pious of all. - Vorlen is the resident scoundrel of the family. She travels all around the Underdark, often acting as a smuggler. Her and Ry'on are the only ones who are good at Sava. - Ry'on is the only sibling to have albinism, but her father also has it. It wasn't passed on to Vorlen or Za'keth. - Za'keth is the most experienced and talented with magic. - Kyslan's death was (quietly) hard on all of them, and was a big factor in Za'keth and Ry'on finally leaving for the surface and turning their backs on Lolth.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Idyll - Mal de Mer

Silco and Mel unwinding from their duties...

Mal de Mer on AO3

Snippet:

They've passed a week in the Ionian villa, with its cliffside perch and sun-soaked beaches. Their wing is the most secluded. Its decor is the traditional Ionian style: rich earth tones of rust and umber, offset by the cool blues of the sea through the wide slatted doors, which frame the private courtyard garden, brimful with violets.

The floors, of marble and granite, are streaked with the golden veins. The walls, too, are gold-flecked: a warm, burnished amber, that in dawn's slanting rays, casts a glow like fire. The lamps and fixtures are wrought from a metal like gold, but softer, with a mellow patina of age. The furnishings themselves, of teak and wrought brass, are simple: a canopied bedstead with voile drapes, a long low table, a dresser with a tall ornate mirror, and an antique armoire for their clothes.

An archway, at the courtyard's far end, opens onto a private bathing suite: a deep blue pool, fed from an underground spring, set with stone benches carved into the contours of shells, and mosaic tiles depicting sirens from ancient lore. The ceiling, high and vaulted, is crowned by a stained-glass skylight: admitting the afternoon sun in a multicolored aurora. Beyond the garden's walls, the faint blue smear of the sea glitters, with a private berth where their yawl bobs, anchored in the shallows.

Since they've arrived, a routine of decadent idleness has crept in. Day by day, their public selves—their most polished selves—are carved off. Only the private ones remain: the quieter, subtler terrain upon which marriage truly rests.

And within it, blossoming, the fragile buds of intimacy.   

Transitioning from day to night, they wake to the golden cadence of the late-afternoon waves. A brunch of local-baked bread, smoked salmon, and ripe tropical fruits, is fetched up by the staff. They sup together beneath a trellis of flowering plumeria, to the low buzz of the cicadas and the soft lapping of the surf: Mel, in a pale handwoven tunic, Silco, in a loose linen day-suit. 

After, they stroll along the secluded shore: Mel, her bare feet dusted with sand; Silco, his jacket slung over his shoulders, a cigarette dangling between his lips.  The tides dictate their meander: one moment ambling side-by-side, their hands loosely clasped. The next, he's slipped from her grasp, to dip his toes into the water, followed by the rest of him.

Each time, she waits, perched on a half-buried boulder, until the waves bring him back.

Sometimes he returns with a gift—a prickly-spined urchin; a spiraling conch shell; a vivid cobalt crab. Other times, he'll surface empty-handed, and drag her, shrieking, into the shallows: the spray of the seasalt in her hair, the span of his hands at her waist and the taste of his mouth on hers.

She's not afraid of the tide taking her.

He's capable of holding her afloat.

Afterward, their clothes are left to the dry sand. Beneath the spreading branches of the palm trees, she'll lays out a blanket: a patchwork quilt, bought from the local bazaar. Together, they sprawl across the soft cottony swathes, and trade bites from a wicker basket stuffed with local delicacies: crisp salted flatbread, a round clay jar of spiced honey, and a selection of dried fruits and cured meats, wrapped in wax paper.

They speak less, on these lazy days. Less of politics, less of policy.  Instead, their talk is like the tide: an ebb and flow that laps at the edges of honesty, without breaking into full disclosure. She asks him, delicately, about his days as a smuggler in the Black Lanes. He asks her, wryly, about the foibles of the Noxian nobility.

Their questions are posed as harmless banter. But the answers, she knows, are a test.

What will you think, they each wonder, when you hear my truth?

Will you recoil? Will you judge?

Or will you understand?

They are still learning the shape of each other's pasts. Still trying to fit it, piece-by-piece, into the gaps of their present: the new, raw, tenuous thing that binds them. It is an imperfect fit, the shards not quite aligned. But the gaps are narrowing. Each day, something slots into place.

Something real.

Something theirs.

[noxdont]

"the art of falling"

Cynolumi Oneshot

🌠cynolumi street performer au

🌠 3.6k words, romance

🌠 strangers to friends to lovers

🌠 love confessions

---

If one listens closely to the cautious whispers and words exchanged by merchants and mercenaries, they'd hear of the latest news about how the General Mahamatra seems to be visiting Caravan Ribat more frequently than usual. Theories and assumptions were thrown into the wind as the matra himself holds a powerful reputation. Who knows what business he was handling but if there's one thing that everyone could mutually agree on, Cyno was the kind of person that would leave ashes in his wake. Leaving no stone unturned and no crime unpunished on his trail.

Smugglers held their breaths as Cyno would walk into the town without much care despite how many eyes were glued on his back. He never visits in the mornings nor early afternoons. Only when the skies are painted in gold and the stars would slowly rise, then he'd make his appearance. Although the days he'd visit were not consistent, it still happened too often for the merchants' comfort.

"He must be handling an important business for one of the sages if he would be coming here this much?

"I heard that there was a big criminal hiding in Caravan Ribat and the General Mahamatra is taking his sweet time on hunting them down?"

"Well from what I heard, he's moving under the orders of Lesser Lord Kusanali."

Unbeknownst to them, Cyno merely has one purpose for his frequent visits. When a small crowd gathers by the stalls and a hypnotizing melody starts to play, Cyno would simply move to a more discreet location. Focusing on the subject of his frequent visits.

A golden haired woman danced as though she floated on air. Ever graceful and elegant as her body swayed in harmony to the beat of the music. The occasional jingles of her golden accessories were just as enchanting as the pink and scarlet silk which covers most parts of her body.

Amber eyes met scarlet ones. The young woman flashed him a knowing smile. Cyno held his breath just as she spun into a graceful turn, the flames' light trailing against porcelain skin.

A street performer, whose name reminded him of the evening stars, captured his attention on one peaceful night. While the desert slept and the fire burned awake, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the lone figure dancing fluidly to a familiar song. He never knew what it was called although he's heard it countless of times while passing the Grand Bazaar or walking through the lively streets of Port Ormos. He did not know much about the arts but he had thought of the song to be quite captivating, although he never expected himself to suddenly stop and watch someone dance along its rhythm, capturing its essence through polished movements and grace.

Since then, the image of her has stayed. A nameless street performer haunting even the corners of his mind until he was close to breaking while a certain forest watcher bore witness to his slow descent to internal madness.

"Why exactly are you hesitating? If it bothers you that much, you can simply just go back and ask for her name."

That had been the cause of the onslaught of visits. Cyno believed that as soon as he learned of her name then he would cease thinking of such trivial matters and things would go back to the way they were. Yet what he failed to foresee was his own actions– rather, lack thereof. Though the General Mahamatra had his fair share of troubled and frustrating experiences, it was never because he didn't know how to approach a woman.

"I hope I'm not being presumptuous but I've noticed you in the audience for quite some time now, am I perhaps in trouble? Or is there something you need from me, General Mahamatra?"

Cyno had to remind himself how the process of breathing worked when he finally snapped out of his momentary daze. Drenched in shades of blues and silver, the young performer walked up to him right after her routine before cautiously asking him that question.

"No, you're not in trouble nor do I have any business matters which may involve you." Her shoulders visibly relaxed and a pinch of guilt started creeping inside him.

Did she perhaps feel uncomfortable with him watching?

"I occasionally watched your performance, I do not know a lot of people who take on such art forms so I was a bit curious."

Something sparked in her eyes and before he could deduce what it was, she was already holding up her hand with a smile so sweet he could almost taste it.

"Lumine, although my stage name is Viatrix. Feel free to call me whichever you prefer."

Lumine. It suited her.

"Cyno." He gently shook her hand and mentally celebrated over the fact that his overdue curiosity has been finally sated.

"You mentioned you've watched a few of my performances, would it be alright to ask for your thoughts?"

"Unfortunately I'm not very familiar when it comes to the arts, would you still want to hear my thoughts despite my lacking knowledge?"

"Art has always been subjective and as a member of my wonderful audience, I would like to hear your thoughts."

"And is that all?" Somehow it didn't feel that way to Cyno.

"Hmm, maybe because I'm also curious what the General Mahamatra has to say about my dancing as well?"

He had not known the comment was playful or, in Kaveh's words, flirty until he hesitantly recounted the event to the architect who happened to be fond of different art forms. Curiosity practically oozed out from the blonde man and he even offered to provide any necessary aid if Cyno required them. The matra hadn't understood what he meant at that time.

Days passed and their short yet pleasant discussions became longer– venturing on to their personal interests, hobbies and eventually their lives. When Cyno wanted to know her name, he had no intentions of them being closer other than acquaintances. Though fate seemed to have other plans and in all honesty, he was not exactly against it either. Lumine was wonderful company. It's as if time became nonexistent when he was with her.

"There's no need to hold back yourself from laughing, I myself find the joke quite hilarious as well." Cyno gave her a reassuring smile just as he finished explaining the premise of the joke he had told her.

By the time he was done, Lumine's shoulders were shaking and her laughter littered the open air. Though he wasn't exactly sure if it was the joke that truly pushed her into a fit of laughter, knowing that he was able to make her smile during their time together still gave him a pleasant feeling.

~~~

Oddly enough he felt a bit nervous introducing her to Tighnari and Collei but as soon as he saw them get along so well, Cyno has never felt more relieved and ecstatic.

"When I said go ask for her name, I didn't mean that you should take her back with you." Despite Tighnari's words, Cyno could hear the smile in his voice as they prepared lunch. He liked her, Cyno could tell.

They both shared similar ideals and they were as open and unapologetic as the other. Maybe that's one of the reasons why it didn't take long for the matra to call her a worthy friend. Although the trait that stood out to him the most from their time together was the fact that Lumine was an attentive listener and freely expressed her own thoughts in a manner which everyone could understand.

"Dancing does not need to be precise and perfect all the time, it can be as simple as having fun. Although it can feel quite nerve wracking at the beginning but believe me when I say that it's normal. Here, why don't I teach you some simple steps?"

Collei looked ready to decline Lumine's offer but after a few encouraging seconds, she finally accepted. Cyno watched as Lumine patiently taught the young girl some simple steps which earned some curious looks from other forest rangers in the vicinity. One person came forward to join followed by another and another. Soon enough it seemed Lumine had gathered an interested audience as her students.

"She makes a wonderful teacher." Praises from Tighnari weren't rare but it feels more reassuring when it comes from him.

"She does." Cyno couldn't tear his gaze away. Even if she wasn't dancing, Lumine somehow manages to shine in her own way.

It didn't take too long for everyone to get up on their feet as they all swayed and danced to a familiar song in Sumeru. If Cyno wasn't mistaken, he's already seen a few people dance to this song especially on festive occasions. And surprisingly enough, even a few scholars secretly knew a few of its steps.

He watched the forest rangers dance with glee as the air filled with hearty laughter. From the corner of his eye, he noticed some rangers trying to persuade their fluffy eared watcher to join the fray. He could vividly feel Tighnari's pleading glances for help but chose to ignore it either way with a quiet chuckle. His silent amusement came to a halt when a familiar figure propped herself beside him, a knowing smile painted on her lips.

"I don't dance." Were the first words that came out of his mouth.

"We can change that." He begged to differ.

The General Mahamatra has never danced in his entire life.

"Just one dance, please?" But dear archons it was difficult to say no to her.

Lumine didn't have to ask a second time although Cyno did warn her how he knew nothing about dancing.

"Let's start with a few gentle sways then," the golden girl started, amber eyes shining in excitement as she started gently swaying them both to each sides.

Cyno tried to follow her lead and he could only assume he looked ridiculous on doing so. But soon enough, he found himself relaxing. Matching her steps while the music flowed around them until it eventually felt natural. Cyno may not know a single thing about the art of dancing but seeing Lumine's face light up in pure glee as he twirled her around and back into his arms was definitely worth all his stiffened sways and awkward stumbles.

She doesn't look down on others nor does she discriminate against those who are unfamiliar with her art form. Lumine was patient and careful when it came to explaining her love for her passion. She knew how to hold her ground and held it well. This has earned her commendable respect and admiration from multiple individuals, performers and even scholars she's come across in life. Cyno was simply one of the very few.

~~~

"You've been visiting more often, General Mahamatra, am I perhaps in trouble?" Cyno huffed at the familiar question, raising a brow towards the young dancer while she sat comfortably beside him on their usual seat by Gilded Dreams– the lone hotel in Caravan Ribat.

At this point, the question had become her usual greeting and a running inside joke to them both. The routine they've built over time was quite simple; he visits, she dances, they talk of various topics like how their day went or how their friends are doing until they need to retire for the night.

"You've done a wonderful performance today as well, a well deserved rest should be the one to greet you as soon as you're done," said Cyno while pushing the plate of Samosa towards the tired dancer by his side.

"But I love hearing your praises right after," She leans on to his shoulder before thanking him for the meal.

"If praises are what you seek then I'll simply have to compile a list and have them ready."

"I'd rather hear them directly from you." He pauses, Lumine's words echoing quietly in his mind.

Cyno never noticed when it started but conversing with her became frighteningly easy. It felt natural, listening to her voice, seeing her expressions and often getting caught off guard by her playful retorts. Lumine became a piece whom he instinctively seeks out when time permits or even when it does not. Mayhaps because she was another person he believed he could genuinely confide in without worrying about being judged. Cyno has never thought of her as anything more.

Not until he found himself wondering if her lips would be as soft as they looked when he caught himself staring at them while she rested on his shoulder. Or how he wanted to rest his arms around her when she leans in a bit closer before trailing his lips on her hair as he whispers the praises she seek.

Guilt tore through him mercilessly at such a thought and he wanted nothing more than to bury such thoughts as soon as possible. Like stone thrown into the undisturbed waters, the rippling effect caused his visits to lessen and excuses came pouring before he'd even begun to wonder how much he missed watching her dance under the starlit sky. Lumine didn't complain nor did she pry. Every time he tells her he can't go watch her for a while, he'll only see the quiet dim in her eyes before she tells him to always stay safe.

The growing distance drove him into what he could only describe as insanity. It did nothing to satiate the growing hunger to hold her closer and it stung every time she'd ask him if he'd come see her dance even just for a moment– even if he couldn't stay for the entirety of it.

Weeks passed and eventually one of them was bound to snap, Cyno genuinely thought he'd be the first to do so until Lumine finally came to approach him directly while he was dealing with a minor problem in the scorching desert of Sumeru.

"Lumine? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be traveling alone through the desert, the amount of risks and–"

"First of all, we both know full well that I am capable enough to handle a fight. Second, is that really the first thing you have to say after blatantly avoiding me for days on end?"

If looks could kill, Cyno would've already been long buried under the swirling sands. He tried finding the right words to say only to swallow them back down. Lumine had every right to be angry at him. He even went as far to ask Tighnari to lie for his sake and it earned him a very disapproving lecture from the forest watcher.

"If I did or have said anything that may have offended you then the least that you could do is tell me directly. I'm your friend aren't I?"

Her angered tone softened and her gaze eventually fell.

"Or have I made a fool of myself by thinking I was someone worthy enough to be called as one in your life?"

He didn't waste a second more as he heard those words and stepped closer, a hesitant hand reaching out to take her hand only for it to fall defeatedly on his side.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I," Cyno stumbled in his words, the same way he did when he first met her. The same way he did when she pulled him up to dance. It had been so easy to find the words when he spoke to her but now they can't even reach past his throat.

"A sudden thought came to me one day and it– I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that if I acted on it then it would break something that I have been cherishing. Because if I acted recklessly then everything would be irreparable."

"Break what? Me? If you're worried about my safety just because you're the General Mahamatra then I can reassure you that it's fine. See? I'm not hurt! In fact no one has dared to harm since you came into my life. I walked through the desert without anyone to look after me and I'm fine. Cyno, no matter how dangerous you believe it would be for me to stay by your side I'm not afraid to be with you."

"But I am."

The words came before he had the chance to think twice. Fear held his heart in a vice grip and he would rather she be angry at him for a while than for their relationship to be broken just because of his selfish desires.

How could he tell her? How could he look her in the eye and tell her how much he wants to gently trace his lips on her hands to her shoulders. To hold her close– close enough for her to finally hear the yearning in his chest. To kiss her, without guilt or shame. To just be with her without having any reason to.

How could he possibly tell her?

And yet as terrifying as it was, another part of him still wishes for her to know. Despite his fear, Cyno still wanted to take that risk and let all be damned.

"I'm not afraid of the people who'd come to know that you are dear to me. Lumine it isn't other people I'm scared of. It's myself. You have given me so much that I'm afraid that I'll start asking more from you."

"Then ask. I'm not someone who's blind enough to give anyone just about everything that's beyond my power but if it's something I am willing to offer, especially to you, then just ask. Because you are as dear to me as I am to you."

He hadn't noticed her stepping closer, her fingers smoothly slipping in between his while the other cupped his cheek. He allowed himself to succumb into her touch, taking in her warmth as she softly caressed his face. And it has never felt so divine to be held by someone like this. He caught the melting dusk in her eyes before they fell onto her lips. Since the day his thoughts wandered beyond being platonic, there have been moments where his mind remained on guessing on how her lips would feel or taste. Such wretched thoughts consumed him even on days when he kept himself away from the mere sight of her. And eventually he knew they were going to eat him alive.

"Cyno, I care for you more than you think. But I can only show you if you'd let me. So please let me."

He swallowed hard yet the lump in his throat seemed to remain despite his efforts to push it down. Cyno gathered every ounce of courage he could find inside as the stars rose above them before he was able to properly face her.

"I'm sorry. For suddenly making you feel as if you've wronged me because of my own cowardice and selfishness."

Despite his desire to keep all of those feelings buried, maybe all he needed was a reason for the dam to finally break.

"When I first saw you dancing in Caravan Ribat, I've always wondered how much a person could shine so brightly. As I got to know you, I also saw how mesmerizing you are as a person even after the music stops. I respected and admired you quietly, thinking that that was enough. But days with you have made me greedy."

A look of pure realization finally struck her and Cyno wanted to run. But he knew better than to do so and held his ground, hoping that the sand would be enough to keep him from doing anything more foolish.

"You've shown me a piece of your world and now I can't seem to escape it. No matter where I go and no matter how many days would pass, the urge to run to you never dims. I want you. I want you in my life not simply as someone I can admire but as someone I can love entirely."

Cyno could practically hear his own heartbeat drumming inside his chest while they both stood surrounded by the desert's deafening silence. Lumine has not once made the move to let go of his hand just as he didn't let go of hers. At the very least that gave him a sense of reassurance.

"I won't ask for an immediate answer, I know that it would take some time for you to weigh–"

Lumine stopped him before he could even finish with the deep press of her lips against his. It didn't feel impulsive or reckless and his chest swelled at the thought. Her hands had long found themselves caressing his cheek and neck just as he realized his own response. Kissing her back as deeply before snaking his arm on her waist and tilting her chin higher. Cyno felt like he was melting; into her touch, her lips and the entirety of her.

"You have no idea what you do to me." Lumine whispered as she drew back slightly, lips still touching while amber eyes meet scarlet ones in a tender gaze.

"I could say the same for you."

It's as if all those running doubts and fear in his mind finally came to a halt. This time, Cyno didn't feel the need to stop himself as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. In the back of his mind, he could hear the song that played on the night he saw her shine with the stars. Cyno wasn't familiar with the arts, but he could understand the emotions it could call within a person. Since then he has sought that shining light and in turn he fell for a star that burned brightly amongst the desert sky.

[the-noted-collector]

Answering a Discord question; If your OC had a signature item you could unlock in game (like the cherry man's cane or JC's debating lessons), what would it be?

Luc: Their ball mask. A mask of red and brass, one that speaks to both infernal leanings and society ties. One that covers half the face, allowing for indulgence to be undertaken behind the facade of a different visage. It's gifted, in a copy, in a letter, in a shared sadness, or a shared need to hide. Either that, or their jewelry. Brass and rubies and opals, infernal markings embedded in most of the pieces. It's stolen, in part. Not quite the mark to sell, but nice enough to keep. The mask likely gives Shadowy, but increases Scandal (it's a....very bright red), whereas the jewelry would give...maybe Persuasive? Perhaps baroque? Bizarre, most definitely.

Adam: Hm...a very specific knife. The one he first used to kill. He was scared, back then. Unsure, new to the Game, freshly out of home and without anyone with him. He kept the blade afterward; at first as a dreaded memory, then as a small token to humble beginnings. It's found, or stolen, or taken from behind a mirror. Probably gives Dangerous and PoC, maybe Dreaded?

Samantha: Her parasol. She keeps it with her doing anything. Be that sitting with a client, rich and obnoxious, trying to sell a medicore painting, a smuggling job where jail was on the line, or when she creates grand, blazing fires of the Bazaar's influences. Not a big thing, no, but enough. Orange and black and maybe a bit of Gant inbetween. The symbol of a woman who's given her life to a cause, and yet has somehow found happiness. It's gifted, like a package from a old friend, when she decides to get a new one. A strikingly similar piece, but a tad bigger now. It gives....maybe Respectable.

Endemannus: A particularly old journal. One that was with them during their most difficult time. Their most telling story. One unshared in English, written in Chakhar and blood. Waterstained pages have just barely managed to preserve the scratchy, messy writings of the dreaded captain's past, and the path that led them here. It's shared in hope. It's shared in fear. Perhaps it's shared even in a odd sort of affection. Increases Nightmares buildup, or gives nothing but a nice description.

Conley: A piece of webbing. Fought for, earned, exchanged for something else. Taken in a escape. There's nothing special to it to them. Simply another piece of another cacoon. But it's a story of one survival. Bizarre.

Edward: A radio. Not exactly his, no, never, but one similarly made and modified by him. A lovely gift, for a helper. One that isn't ridiculously overpriced by smugglers and the less savory of the unlawful. It works perfectly well, and has a special notch in it's casing near one of the knobs. His place on the radio frequency. Gives Shadowy (good communication, private), likely Bizarre to a degree, and increases Suspicion buildup (they're not exactly. Legally here).

Gale: A old candle, with a odd letter. A old one, to a lover turned sour. They're trying to get rid of it, you see, and her gifts. Your trusted not to do anything with them that might spell out badly for them. The candle is citrus, melted a bit at the sides. The letter has some....questionable details to it. Gives...I dunno. I dunno for any of these. I am guessing.

Sal: A candle. Not like the ones they give to her cast-off lovers, like a parade line, no. This one is special. One she always loves to use in their parlor, a mixture of rose and citrus and something you can't quite place. Apparently the last to have one isn't quite the same anymore. Let's hope that's not due to the candle itself. Given in a hopeful affection. Given in a very frightening amount of affection, with a growing pile of other gifts.

Mary: A old, worn pen. The ink dried up years ago, and it's a tad bent. It brings up memories of a trio gone sour, of a madness, of descent and all that came with it. Of scars, of damage that can not be undone. The pen itself is not special. The memories are. She is trying to move on. She gives it to you in the hopes that you will not follow her footsteps.

Grace: A poison. A vial of the poison you helped to create. How the two of you managed to get cosmogone in it is anyone's guess. Why it has the additional warning of sunlight is even more confusing (and worrying). It's sent in a package, a small little box. It has a note of the warnings, and to thank you for your help. She's quite excited to see what happens in further testing and application. You don't want to know what that means. You don't want to think about it anymore.

[bizarrebazaar13]

stolen kiss....?

stolen kiss: if you could add one canon spouse option to the game, who would it be?

the once-dashing smuggler would be cool, the story kind of just ends abruptly and then you can only see him in the tomb colonies on a opportunity card. let me be his legally bound pen pal or something. he was so fun to hang out with.

on the other (and much less realistic) hand, I want to marry Lilac. you have to hang out with her for multiple feasts of the rose to build up a quality called Lilac’s Affections or something, and then when it hits a certain point, you can get her as a companion and then a spouse. it would have to be called “Second in the Heart of the Lady in Lilac” or something because of her whole thing with the bazaar but I’d be down.

oh you know what would fuck severely. I understand why this isn’t a thing, I can only imagine the complaining, but! ambition exclusive spouses. bonus points if there are extra for nemesis and light fingers. we need more tie-ins.

…that’s definitely more than one lmao. if I was going to pitch one of these, it would be the smuggler, though.

[strawberrystepmom]

kendall as a former Star Wars Blogger i am begging you to cast me in this au, please utilize all of your immense and ethereal wisdom to place me where i belong uwu

you travel with a band of smugglers who don't want to put you in the middle of their dirty work but know you're very capable. you're known across the galaxy as being a part of their gang yet no one would dare toss you out of a single cantina or bazaar

[jalabharmooton]

THE GENERATIONAL EMPIRE OF HOUSE MOOTON LED AND ORGANIZED BY THE RULING MOOTON

Current Master; Lord Qorban 'Jalabha Qo' Mooton. Current Second; Wanted Connection LADY __ MOOTON, age 27, sister of Qorban Brothel Boss; NPC Chanta Xaaqu, 45, Priestess of Maidenpool runs the many brothels operated by house Mooton in the Red District with 5 women who work under her at the other locations. Smuggler; Wanted Connection MOOTON COUSIN, age 30, trades in illicit goods and smuggling

The Brothels:

The Swooning Cage - Highend Brothel, rooms, serving girls, menus. There are no signs this place is a brothel and has the look of a highend Inn. Reputation proceeds this place.

The Pink Bazaar - Knights prefer this place, warriors, and guards come here. Price range and specialized cilents allow for more information to come out in pillow talks.

Chased Bird - Inn and Brothel frequented by merchants and traders who can't afford The Swooning Cage.

Spiced Hare - Bar, standard brothel.

The Sinking Hole - The establishment matches the name.

Upon being informed of the raid on that will take place in Oldtown, Qorban sent word to his sister in Maidenpool. 'Unlock the cage and shutter the bazaar. Let them serve meals and ale, no more or less. Rooms and no curtains. Pluck the bird clean. Skin the hare. Let the hole sink.'

NOTE: If and when these warriors pour into the Red District they will find few lords of the Riverlands to embarrass in establishments owned by the Mootons. This will be a hit to their income but with smuggling and secrets Qorban believes this will give them a chance to get by until they can rework the most important members of their spy ring.

[glygriffe]

In the Family Way

For the @sicktember Challenge, prompts 16: Care package, and 21: ‘Does this look infected to you?’

(Jayne Cobb, Kaylee Frye - Firefly/Serenity)

Warning: wound and blood, fluff

A/N: I've already rewritten this merely-more-than-500-words ficlet three times, trying to find the right tone for the little story in my head. It's not quite there yet, but I think it's close enough that I will be able to work on another prompt before the end of the challenge.

*******

"We just got waived by Li Shen's Bazaar Space station: we've got mail. I'll send Jayne with one of the shuttles."

This sends Simon into a frenzy to get supplies 'from a half-civilized place, for once' and Mal pretends to be offended by the comment even if he agrees that they have been hovering near the rim planets for too long. But a smuggler with a family to feed cannot always choose his cargo or his clients, and the rim planets it is until they get a break. Or until Zoe's waters break. Potato, po-tah-to.

Life on Serenity took its own course since Wash and Sheppard Book passed away. But Kaylee is able to lift Zoe's mood when the morning sickness or the size of her belly makes her lose her legendary cool. There are thrilling times ahead with the baby on its way, and the captain and the little mechanic want Serenity to be in tip-top shape before his arrival.

"I'll go with Jayne on the supply run", says Kaylee, "to make sure Simon gets everything on his list." She leans in to kiss his cheek with a sweet smile after taking the afore mention list. They part slowly, their hands lingering. Jaynes huffs and rolls his eyes.

She doesn't mind teaming up with Jayne. He is a grumpy cat but she likes him well enough. He's family.

At the bazaar, they first explore the vending tables, each with their own interest in mind: some oil for soaking every moving part of Serenity's main engine, and guns.

Jayne is checking out an old revolver when he starts cussing a blue streak: he pinched the webbed skin near his thumb trying to cock the hammer in rapid-fire.

"Go tsao de!"

Kaylee flinches a little seeing a piece of skin flapping amongst the pooling blood. Jayne's nostrils are flaring, but he locks his jaw, shakes his injured hand, and presses the wound on his pants to stanch the blood.

"Are you OK? Maybe we should go back to Serenity right away so Simon can check that. We wouldn't want it to get infected."

But Jayne is already putting his macho mask on. "Nah. We still have the mail to collect. Besides, it's not so bad. It won't get infected. Does this look infected to you?", he says putting his hand two inches from Kaylee's nose.

She looks away, skin turning pale. "You're right. It looks shiny. Let's carry on, then."

He smirks as she squirms away toward the medical counter. While Jayne waits for her outside, he looks at his hand: the blood has almost stopped seeping. He's sure (almost certain) it won't get infected. He sucks on the wound for good measure.

Kaylee bought everything that was on Simon's list and then some. Naturally, she insists on bandaging his hand. He relents to please her. And because he secretly likes when someone fusses over him.

When they finally arrive at the post office, there is only one package and it is addressed to Jayne Cobb.

"Do you want me to open it for you?", she says looking at his hand that looks like a hoof under three yards of white gauze. Jayne nods his approval.

Inside the package that comes from Ma Cobb, there is a knitted yellow sweater for Jayne, some food treats, a letter, and a tiny orange hat. Kaylee unfolds the letter for him and he starts to read it aloud.

"Thank you for the extra credits. Matty will use them to buy a new electric mule for the ranch. I made you the enclosed sweater so you keep warm, always. And since you liked your hat so much, I made one for the little one that you told me is coming. You'll make a good substitute big brother for that baby, I'm sure."

Jayne stops reading, a little embarrassed Kaylee heard that and a little choked up by the love and pride his mum always has for him, no matter what.

Kaylee reaches into the open box to touch the small hat with its earflaps and its tiny pom pom. She looks up at Jayne, an infectious grin on her face.

"Well, now you'll have to write to your Ma about me, too. Maybe there will be a scarf for me in your next care package."

[xasha777]

In the neon-drenched streets of Neo-Istanbul, beneath the glowing signs of cybernetic enhancement parlors and exotic spice markets, Cassandra found herself at a crossroads, not just in the labyrinthine alleys of the city, but in her life. Dressed in a leather outfit adorned with gears and arcane symbols, she was more than just a passerby. She was a renegade clockwork sorceress, wielding ancient magics meshed with futuristic technologies, on a mission that could alter the fabric of reality.

Her destination was Tavşan Islet, a mysterious artificial island floating in the middle of the Bosphorus, shrouded in rumors and digital fog. It was said that the islet housed the Quantum Keystone, a device capable of bending time and space, which had recently caught the attention of the city's shadowy factions.

As Cassandra ventured deeper into the city's underbelly, she was followed by drones, their cameras flickering in the humid night air. Evading them through crowded bazaars and over rooftops, she finally reached the water’s edge where her contact, a cyborg smuggler named Eren, awaited with a stealth boat.

“The Keystone must not fall into the wrong hands," Eren warned as they skimmed across the dark waters towards Tavşan Islet. The city’s skyline receded behind them, leaving only the sound of waves against the hull and the faint hum of the boat's electric motor.

Arriving at the islet, they found it abandoned, or so it seemed. Cassandra’s senses tingled with magical energy pulsating through the air. They navigated through a network of derelict buildings and high-tech security systems, remnants of a bygone era when Tavşan Islet was a hub for experimental tech.

Deep inside a forgotten laboratory, they discovered the Quantum Keystone, not much larger than an ancient tome, its surfaces etched with glowing runes and circuitry. As Cassandra reached out to it, the air crackled with electricity.

Suddenly, they were ambushed by agents of the ChronoSyndicate, a powerful cartel that had been manipulating events across timelines. A fierce battle ensued, blending spellcraft and technology, Cassandra’s sorcery against the agents’ time-distorting weapons.

With quick thinking and Eren's aid, Cassandra activated the Keystone. A wave of energy erupted, enveloping them in a temporal shield. The agents’ weapons backfired, caught in their own time loops.

As dawn broke over Neo-Istanbul, Cassandra and Eren escaped with the Keystone, the city unaware of how close it had come to chaos. They knew the battle was just beginning, for with the power to change the past, every choice could reshape the future. And Cassandra, with one foot in ancient myths and the other in a world of tomorrow, would be at the heart of that storm.

[onlygamemedia]

Hearthstone Battlegrounds Patch Notes 28.2.3 Exciting Updates and Adjustments

Hearthstone Battlegrounds Patch Notes 28.2.3 Hearthstone Battlegrounds welcomes a new wave of updates with Patch Notes, introducing exciting changes to spells, heroes, armor, minions, and more. The meta remains healthy, but adjustments aim to balance overperformers and provide extra support to Quilboars, Murlocs, and Undead. As we move into the new year, continuous monitoring and adjustments will ensure a dynamic and engaging experience for players. Click the link for the different game’s patch notes!

Hearthstone Battlegrounds Patch Notes

Hero Updates: - Tae’thelan Bloodwatcher: - Old: Passive. Every third Tavern spell you buy costs (0). - New: Passive. Every third Tavern spell you buy costs (1) less. - Lich Baz’hial: - Old: - New: - Fish of N’Zoth (from N’Zoth’s Hero Power): - Old: After a friendly Deathrattle minion dies, gain its Deathrattle. - New: After a friendly Deathrattle minion dies in combat, gain its Deathrattle. Armor Updates: - Heroes like Murloc Holmes, Heistbaron Togwaggle, and Xyrella now have less Armor. - Others, including Tae’thelan Bloodwatcher, Lich Baz’hial, and Professor Putricide, now have more Armor. Minion and Spell Updates: - Whelp Smuggler: - Old: 2/5 - New: 2/3 - Bronze Sandspewer: - Old: 2/2 - New: 1/1 - Nether Drake: - Old: 2/5. At the end of your turn, give your Dragons +1 Attack. - New: 2/4. At the end of your turn, give your other Dragons +1 Attack. - Ignition Specialist: - Old: 2/2 - New: 8/8 - Mystic Sporebat: - Old: 4/1 - New: 5/1 - Sprightly Scarab: - Old: 5/2. Choose One – Give a Beast +1/+1 and Reborn; or +4/+4 and Taunt. - New: 2/1. Choose One – Give a Beast +1/+1 and Reborn; or +3/+3 and Taunt. - Spellbound Seafarer: - Old: 4/5. After you buy 3 cards, get a random Tavern spell. - New: 4/6. After you buy 4 cards, get a random Tavern spell. - Trembling Trolley: - Old: 0/9. Avenge (3): Get a random Tavern spell. - New: 0/10. Avenge (4): Get a random Tavern spell. - Lighter Fighter: - Old: 5/1. Deathrattle: Deal 5 damage to the lowest Health enemy minion twice. - New: 4/1. Deathrattle: Deal 4 damage to the lowest Health enemy minion twice. - Humming Bird: - Old: 0/5 - New: 2/4 - Niuzao: - Old: 6/5 - New: 7/6 - Bazaar Dealer: - Old: 3/6 - New: 2/4 - Imposing Percussionist: - Old: 4/4 - New: 6/6 - Utility Drone: - Old: 6/7. At the end of your turn, give your minions +1/+1 for each Magnetization they have. - New: 4/5. At the end of your turn, give your minions +2/+1 for each Magnetization they have. - Swampstriker: - Old: 1/4 - New: 1/5 - Heedless Hoarder: - Old: 5/6 - New: 4/5 - King Bagurgle: - Old: 6/4. Battlecry: Give your other Murlocs +2/+3. - New: 6/3. Battlecry: Give your other Murlocs +3/+3. - Moon-Bacon Jazzer: - Old: 2/5 - New: 1/3 - Paint Smudger: - Old: 5/3 - New: 3/2 - Geomagus Roogug: - Old: - New: - Snarling Conductor: - Old: 5/5. At the start of your turn, discard a spell to gain 3 Gold. - New: 4/5. At the start of your turn, discard a spell to gain 4 Gold. - Bristlebach: - Old: 2/10. Avenge (1): Play a Blood Gem on all your Quilboar. - New: 3/10. Avenge (2): Play 2 Blood Gems on all your Quilboar. - Reef Riffer: - Old: 1/2 - New: 1/1 - Nerubian Deathswarmer: - Old: 1/3 - New: 1/4 - Mummifier: - Old: 3/2 - New: 5/2 - Moroes, Steward of Death: - Old: 6/2. Reborn. Deathrattle: Give your Undead +6 Health. - New: 6/1. Reborn. Deathrattle: Give your Undead +2/+6. - Grave Gobbler: - Old: 3/4. At the start of your turn, destroy the Undead to the left of this to gain +4/+4. - New: 4/3. At the start of your turn, destroy the Undead to the left of this to gain +5/+5. - Archlich Kel’Thuzad: - Old: 7/4 - New: 10/8 - Motley Phalanx: - Old: 5/5. Taunt. Deathrattle: Give a friendly minion of each type +5/+5. - New: 4/4. Taunt. Deathrattle: Give a friendly minion of each type +4/+4. - Lantern Light: - Old: - New: - Staff of Enrichment: - Old: Minions in the Tavern have +2/+2 this game. - New: Minions in the Tavern have +1/+2 this game. - Fleeting Vigor: - Old: Give a minion +5/+5 until next turn. - New: Give a minion +6/+6 until next turn. - Echoing Roar: - Old: - New: - Armor Stash: - Old: - New: - Buddy Up: - Old: - New: - Developer Comment: Additionally, Piloted Whirl-o-Tron has been removed from this pool. - Sacred Gift: - Old: - New: Minion Pool Updates: - Felfin Navigator has been removed from the minion pool. - Coldlight Seer, Sore Loser, and General Drakkisath have returned to the minion pool, with Coldlight Seer now in Tier 2 instead of Tier 3. Bug Fixes and Game Improvements: - Boomboss Tho’grun has undergone a text-only update for clarity. - Various bugs in Titus’ Tribute and Upper Hand have been fixed, returning both to the Tavern Spell pool. - Silas Darkmoon’s hero power bug triggered by Ritual of Growth has been resolved. - Minions no longer lose buffs when locked in hand by Maiev Shadowsong's hero power. - Strike Oil now works correctly with Ambassador Faelin. - Annoy-o-Module no longer gives an additional buff when Magnetized. - Tavern Spell visual sigil effects now work correctly from the opponent’s perspective, regardless of how they were obtained. With these comprehensive changes, Hearthstone Battlegrounds promises an enriched and more balanced gaming experience. Embrace the meta shift, experiment with new strategies, and may your battles in the Tavern be filled with excitement and triumphs! You can check the Hearthstone Patch Notes official web site! Read the full article

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Story Idea: The Great Silk Road Heist

An Arabian trader tries to smuggle silk worms westward from China, and becomes the known world’s most wanted man.  May or may not include a scene where he’s being chased through a bazaar and knocks over a tray of spices.  Bonus points if he pawns off the worms onto an unsuspecting merchant who gets dragged into the international intrigue against his will.  They’re on the run from imperial soldiers, and just need to make it over the mountains to freedom

[arden-in-the-garden]

If you're out there Failbetter Games, I can't believe your list of marriage candidates don't include some of the most marry-able characters??

The Jovial Contrarian? Feducci? Any of the Masters?? Any Devil or Deviless?? THE ONCE-DASHING SMUGGLER????? WE HAD AN ENTIRE STORYLINE OF DATES WITH HIM I CAN'T BELIEVE HE WASN'T INCLUDED

Anyway @ FBG hire me as a writer for some new PoSI marriage candidates

[moonfishcake]

yandere! Zhongli headcanons

A/N: A little character analysis piece with my thoughts on how Zhongli might behave if he was a yandere. I didn’t manage to fit everything in so might make a part 2!

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships

Luckily for you, Zhongli is not the type to jump into any kind of relationship head first, so his obsession isn’t going to come as a startling surprise. No, Zhongli is meticulous, rational and composed, maintaining an emotional distance even with those he considers to be his closest associates. It’s a defence mechanism he’d developed over the years, after watching how tragically humans succumb to the passage of time.

He is especially reluctant to indulge in a relationship of a romantic nature - I personally headcanon that he and Guizhong did have a deeper relationship, and her passing had left him particularly distraught. How could he possibly live through another heartbreak? How could he possibly open his heart up for a mortal, far, far more fragile and temporary than Guizhong had ever been?

...And yet Zhongli desperately strives for connection, a way to quench his loneliness. While he might blend in effortlessly now that he has a body made of flesh and bone, his ancient mind is restless. There is no escaping what he truly is at the core - a great, but lonely God. After all, what mortal could ever sympathize with the pain of a God? And how can a God relate to the struggles of common folk? In the land of his own subjects, he is but a stranger, a welcome, but a temporary guest.

Your relationship would start off on a basis of a contract, inevitably. It would probably be innocent at first, with barely any red flags (other than the fact he’s broke). He’d tempt you in with his outlandish stories of wars, adventure and the affairs of Gods, which would provide you with the much needed respite from the monotony of your life. In exchange, you’d tell him of your trivial woes, daily trips to the bazaar, bothersome smugglers lounging at the harbour.

He is generous - giving you his full presence at all times, lending a listening ear, offering advice (in form of largely convoluted idioms that you struggle to decipher) and showing you around the city. You offer to guide him and help him learn more about Liyue, and indirectly more about himself.

"Ah, has today been exhausting, my dear? Please, tell me more... Even if a little, I would be ecstatic to help relieve some of your troubles. Hm? ‘Only trivial matters’? Surely you must know by now that nothing’s trivial in my eyes when it comes to you.”

Your bond is built on friendship, which makes it so easy for you to ignore the warning signs. How entranced he grows with you, eyes glossing over every time you speak, how he starts offering you advice on matters you never brought up with him, how his presence grows more commanding, imposing. To him, you offer a sanctuary - he had stumbled across Liyue like an infant, every day more exhausting than last, and he was beginning to think he’d never grow to call this place home, but here you stood before him, with your trivial struggles, your small, cramped world that never saw evil, that lit up whenever you saw fresh fish at bazaar stalls or ritual decorations plastered across the streets.

He may have sworn off his status as a God, but old habits perish hard.

He worms his way into your life gradually; even he does not realize, or recognize the sinister desire to dominate your life, and have you devote yourself to him. He’s a humble God, but a God nonetheless - he feels entitled to your time and presence; but at the same time he is far above everything else, so he makes sure to reciprocate.

He is a friend, a wise ancient God, a kind, well-mannered gentleman, and the poor little naive you cannot even fathom he might have any ulterior motives when his visits grow more frequent, when your conversations become more personal. You both soothe and ignite his loneliness, and Zhongli wants to possess all of you - starting with your mind. And in order to do that, he needs to learn everything about you, from your little dark secrets to your intimate desires. He knows better than anyone how powerful knowledge can be.

Zhongli is patient, so I don’t see him as someone who would kidnap you. He’s willing to wait until he has stripped all of your lines of defence, until he has settled deep into your mind, to the point you do not feel confident enough making decisions by yourself. While it might have not been his intent, you do feel small whenever you’re around him. He’s a God after all, with an overwhelming amount of experience and knowledge. He knows better. It feels suffocating having him around, but it would surely be even worse without him, right? Even when you’re frantic, he’s always calm and collected, and he always has a solution. He always knows a way, the best way. After all, he is the one who’s got more experience, the one who lived through more pain, and loss, and suffering. Can’t you see he’s just trying to spare you the pain? How did you even live your life before him?

“I gave you my word before, dearest, to always be there for you if anything were to happen. After all, I have been on this land for a time, and have come to know a thing or two. It would be my greatest honour to use this knowledge to save you this grief.... Ahh, my darling, please, do not cry. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

While he may be patient, he is the God of Contracts, after all, so he ropes you into a contract in regards to your relationship sooner or later. It doesn’t necessarily have to be marriage - though he would prefer - he just wants something as proof that you are bound to him, and the expectations from both sides of the party. And as soon as you’re in, a more sinister side of his personality rears its ugly head.

He takes rules, agreements and contracts very seriously, and expects that same kind of attitude from you too. I don’t see him ever being violent with you or anyone else really, but he makes it very clear that breaking any of the clauses of your agreement will have consequences. I think he would rely mostly on mentally taxing punishments, like isolation. In particular, he’d want to isolate you from the rest of the world, your friends and family. It would not only make you two grow closer, in his sick and twisted mind, but would also afford you more sympathy for him - after all, this is how he has been feeling before he met you. Maybe now you will understand his suffering, his impossible yearning for you? Maybe now you will remember your duties as his spouse, and act accordingly... Unless you’d prefer to spend another couple of months alone in the cellar? He’s not sadistic, so it does greatly sadden him to separate from you. If you continue to cry and scream, he’d probably not be able to carry on, grief eating away at him day after day... And yet he is stubborn. He knows he is helping you learn, so he cannot give in.

“My love, I’m only asking you to abide by the contract, the guideliness we both agreed on. It is not a large request. If you continue to disregard our agreement, how can there be any trust between us? I am your husband, dearest, and I know in my heart you did not intend to deceive me. You only need time to think about this, to understand... It saddens me to part from you but this has to be done for your own good.”

On a separate note, if you push Zhongli’s buttons a little too much, you might be met with something far more terrifying than you could have anticipated - the Wrath of a God. I do believe that Zhongli has a deeper layer to his personality, one that we don’t really see in game. It is heavily implied that during his days as Morax, he had a very different disposition to present day Zhongli. Venti describes him as “brutish blundering buffoon”; and some of his gentlemanly, knowledgable mannerism was due to Guizhong’s influence. It’s probably not something that Zhongli would want to revert back to, but if you push him past his limit, you may come face to face with a brute of a God that had no qualms for destruction... (i might expand on his more in another post cus its actually interesting)

His treatment of you really depends on how you treat him as well. He is a firm believer that fairness is the foundation of all contracts, as well as relationships - so it’s only natural that if he gives you something, you give it back in return, right? If you refuse to reciprocate and continue to throw tantrums like a child, he will treat you like one, and keep you under house arrest. If you are kind and soft towards him, he will act the same way towards you. Zhongli is surprisingly easy to manipulate despite his years of experience.

Making memories with you is very important to him, so whenever he plans something for the two of you, he expects you to be on your best behavior. He actually plans quite nice dates all around - to operas, plays, restaurants, trips around nature - yet he regrettably rarely asks for your opinion. Partially because he knows best, and partially because he knows what you like. He’d been poking around your brain ever since the two of you met, and you’re convinced he knows you better than anyone else in your life. It still feels dehumanizing, but even if you bring it up, he’d fail to understand your emotions. He loves you - he wants to spare you the headache of making these choices!

“You are so sensitive, so fragile, my blossom. Why would I ever trouble you over such menial matters? After all, I am your husband, and I am more than happy to spoil my dearest spouse. Have I done something to upset you on this occassion? If you prefer, we can stay in... No? Well, then you best start getting ready for our outing - I cannot wait to see how splendid you’ll look in your new attire...”

As the two of you spend more time together, he does open up to you, at least to some degree. He grows sentimental on autumn evenings when Liyue’s trees bloom in gold - he tells you about all of the recipes, fashion fads, books and paintings that have been lost in time... And how much he wishes he could go back sometimes. The two of you still share conversations - after all, he loves your mind, and he soaks up every word you utter.

As a God, he definitely has his power freak tendencies. He wants to be in control of every aspect of your life, and he wants you to depend on him entirely. Having that kind of power over you is exciting and addicting. You will probably thrash and struggle at first, hating how he imposes his own choices and wishes upon you. But he is persistent and patient, and his efforts will ultimately dull away both your agency and your will. Was Almond Tofu always your favorite thing to eat, or has Zhongli forced you to start liking through his silent determination? Did you always like wearing golden jewellery, or did Zhongli force you to wear it for so long you forgot? Ultimately, it becomes difficult to separate what you were to begin with, and what Zhongli wanted you to become.

He justifies his tendencies by his desire to ensure you stay so lovable and innocent - but in truth, he wants to make sure your world stays simple and completely under his thumb. He wants to become your pilar, even for the most menial and mundane tasks. His controlling tendencies ultimately spill over to intimate facets of your life such as the type of literature you read, the food you eat, the clothing, perfume and jewellery you wear, the daily routine you follow. It’s humiliating, not being able to make any choices of your own. It’s humiliating to feel as though you are his pet, with no agency of your own.

Your mortality is one thing that absolutely terrifies him. When he’s not busy over-controlling every aspect of your life, he’s trying to find a way to ensure you can stay by his side for as long as he lives. At least partially his obsession with your diet is to ensure you do not succumb to any illness - after all, mortals are so fragile. He is not ready to part with you, ever, so he visits all of Teyvat’s wisest men, alchemists, apothecaries, libraries. Your own desires do not really factor into this decision, unsurprisingly. I’m 100 percent certain he would find a way to keep you around with him, and that it would likely be something less than ethical. One particularly sinister idea would involve him trying to recreate something akin to Qiqi with his darling. You’d forever stay young, with a poor memory (becoming a bit more lenient to his ‘mistakes’), require constant care to ensure your body does not get stiff, and abide all orders from Zhongli. You would essentially become a completely dependent living doll for him, and believe me when I say that he’d thrive in his role as your protector.

“You look so beautiful, my love. Now please, smile for me - there, just like that. You truly are perfect, so safe in my arms like this. What’s the matter? You can’t... ‘remember’? Hush now, my darling, there is no reason to be upset. I’ll tell you all you need to know. You trust me, correct? So just relax, and follow my lead...”

And even though he may initially force you to depend on him, he’ll sustain you a comfortable living, perhaps even more comfortable than you could have achieved on your own. That’s why escaping him will probably only ever be a thought in your head, a distant fantasy - because in reality, you know you cannot survive without him. He had corrupted your mind to the point you’re not sure you’d even be able to eat without him by your side.

It’s a debilitating realisation - you can no longer function as a human being.

But it’s alright, Zhongli reassures you.

Because he will always be by your side ♥

[swan2swan]

Another Star Wars planet concept:

A world of 30 billion people, largely urbanized, with a moon of 2 billion. 

There’s a primarily-agrarian planet closer to the sun, populated by about one billion people. About every six standard months, the inner planet swings out close to the primary planet. During that time, a mass exodus from the farming world takes place--thousands of space farmers with non-hyperspace-capable freighters making an enormous trip at sublight, taking several days to a week to reach the primary planet with their wares. 

All along space between the planets are bazaars, fairs, hotels, diners, colony stations, and a massive security satellite that keeps traffic flowing and enforces a no-hyperspace rule to keep smugglers, pirates, and other ne’er-do-wells from interfering with this interplanetary farmer’s market.

The whole premise of this being that we still haven’t explored sublight culture and space stations enough in Star Wars. 

[jpoakbrook]

BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 4: JARESH PT 1

summary: You accept to go on a simple mission to Jaresh with Obi-wan and co. But there's a mishap during training that puts you out a little bit.

You were mumbling something to yourself as you stepped through one of the many secret side doors that led into the Jedi Archives. The library entrances were usually at the ends of one of the 4 main halls, but there were secret passages and pathways that staff used to move around quickly. You had taken one now to get from a distant hall in Hall 1 to get to a more familiar branch in Hall 3. As you stepped through the door that slid closed and left no trace of its existence, you heard something that made you stop mumbling altogether.

It was a hum. A low voice was humming softly, and you felt your heartbeat quicken. You recognised the song just like you recognised the hum. He often hummed the song to himself while in the library, not even realising he was doing it. Taking in a deep breath, you strode down the hall and made sure to make just enough noise for him to know you were approaching.

His hum cut away when you entered the more open area of the hall, and you stopped to look at him. He was sitting at a table, strolling through a holocron, and he had a notebook with some very messy notes in front of him. He looked up at you when you entered, and he offered you a tired smile.

“Good morning, Miss Pyke.”

“Good morning, Master Kenobi. Do you need help finding something?” you offered as you walked up to his table. You gently set the books you were carrying down and peered at what he was looking at. Your eyebrows furrowed a little bit. “The mating habits of a moonfish?”

Obi-wan flushed and quickly changed the page.

“I got a little lost while trying to do my own research. I’ve just mindlessly been clicking on links and hoping to end up in the correct place,” he admitted. You laughed and pulled a chair over to sit beside him.

“Well, let me help. What are you looking for?” you asked as he scooted over to let you take control of the screen.

“I’m trying to learn about the Kyuzo people. We may have a contact to meet about some important information regarding a group of smugglers bringing goods to Naboo. Unfortunately, I can only mostly understand Kyuzo when the person is speaking it to me. I’m useless with written or pre-recorded videos,” he explained. Your fingers were already moving swiftly over the screen as you opened up windows of information.

“Are you going to Phatrong?” you asked as you started to pull up the planet and it’s core information.

“No, the contact would like to meet on Jaresh,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Jaresh? I know that it is a popular bazaar planet with a high population of Kyuzo immigrants, but Jaresh is as diverse as a 4000 level of Coruscant. Are you sure your contact is Kyuzo?” you asked him as you started to pull up information about Jaresh. Obi-wan nodded and set a holovid on the table.

An undeniable Kyuzo person popped up from the little disc, and he was speaking rapidly, even for a Kyuzo.

“Oh. He says he’s in danger. He needs to meet before it’s too late. He says that the smugglers are onto him, and he needs an extraction in return for information,” you translated, having to play the video twice. The Kyuzo language was a fast-paced shorthand that sounded more like incomplete words strung together in a sentence than an actual language. It was one of your favourites simply because of how fun it was to speak. Nowadays, you didn’t run into many who knew it, though, so it was hard to keep up with the practice.

“Hmm… I thought my Kyuzo was polished enough to understand, but I see now I’ll be needing your services on this mission. Tell me, are you free to join us on a trip?” he asked.

“Of course! My next venture out was going to be with Master Plo Koon in a few weeks time,” you beamed at him. Your promotion came with a wave of excitement, and it suddenly seemed like every jedi general out there suddenly needed your help. You figured it was because they were more prone to just bringing a translator with them than actually sitting down in the library and studying on their own. Plus, most of them preferred the company of a humanoid over a droid.

From the time of your first mission to Kashyyyk, you had gone on 4 more. It had only been a few short weeks, but most of them were only a few days long. Only 4 trips, but they were all to places you could’ve only dreamed about before.

One was with Master Windu himself, along with Master Stass Allie, and you got to ride on the back of a speeder bike for the first time. Ponds laughed when you got off of the bike with shaky legs. Neyo had to steady you, apologising for the rough ride. But you enjoyed the massive flora of Felucia on the ride, so you weren’t complaining too much. The journey found you taking samples and notes on exotic wildlife, but you were there for some sort of capturing of a spotted criminal. You were safe with the 91st, and Neyo didn’t leave your side for a single moment.

Another journey was on the arm of Kit Fisto. Your friend asked you to escort him into the Coruscant underworld, where you translated a connection for him. Turns out, you knew a lot more useful contacts than you had realised, and you were able to help Master Fisto track down the shipment of death sticks before it was smuggled off-world. He was an intimidating being to work alongside, even with your friendship to him, but he never stopped offering you that perfect smile of his as reassurance that you were doing great. Even with Monnk hovering over you to ensure your safety, you didn’t feel useless.

Obi-wan and the 212th took you on a trip to a moon, where you weren’t sure your translating abilities would come in handy, but your research capabilities certainly did. There were ancient texts scrawled on cave walls, and after a couple sleepless nights of research (during which Obi-wan monitored you carefully to ensure your health and well-being), you were able to help find a secret entrance to an underground lab. There were rare crystals and artifacts down there, but you were most excited about the ancient scrolls and tomes you got to bring back to the Archive for repairs and restoration.

You had returned from a mission with Master Shaak Ti and her 41st. Gree had been an a-Gree-able companion (Obi-wan did not pity you with a laugh at that comment, to which you only pouted a little), and you found it an easy diplomacy meeting in which Master Shaak Ti brought you along to ensure as few misunderstandings as possible. The meeting took place in a busy marketplace moon, and you were excited to check out all of the stalls and goods for sale afterward.

That had been almost a week ago now, and you had been preparing for your mission with Master Plo Koon ahead of time. But you always had time for Obi-wan Kenobi.

“Excellent! The meeting is supposed to be in 5 days time, which gives us just enough time to travel there and find the place if we leave today. Do you have your belongings ready to go?” he asked. You nodded and motioned down one of the hallways.

“I have a bag ready in my room here. I can be at the dropship in 20,” you said as you checked one of the clocks on the wall. You missed the smirk on Obi-wan’s lips at your excitement and preparedness. Hardly the same as the first time he invited you off planet.

“Perfect. I’ll be waiting. Call Anakin if you need any help. He’s skulking around these halls since Ahsoka teased him for pronouncing a word wrong. He could do with being a hero today,” Obi-wan said with a small laugh before heading off to get everything ready. You watched him leave before quickly adding material to your data-pad, anything and everything you might need for a trip to Jaresh, including information on the most common people who frequented the bazaar.

~ * ~

“Welcome back, Pyke!” Waxer and Boil greeted you with massive grins as they came to the bay to greet the dropship. They were always together, you noticed, and it warmed your heart just seeing them. They were very friendly and treated you like an old friend.

“Good to be back! Though, from what I hear, we’re going to be travelling for quite some time this time,” you said. The trip to Kashyyyk had been 3.5 days, but this was going to be just over 4. You didn’t think half a day could make quite that big a difference, but being cooped up on a ship even of the Negotiator’s size proved you wrong.

“Perfect time to get some practice in then,” Waxer grinned mischievously. You grimaced at that but understood that you had to. Part of your new role was the fact you had to learn combat training from the 212th, specifically from Commander Cody. The commander did help teach you, but he left that mostly to the 212th and some of the brothers from the 501st whenever applicable. The issue was that the 501st were all known to be loose cannons, and the 212th had Waxer and Boil leading their little group of wild cards.

An hour later, you were in a training room with a bunch of clones. You were dressed like most of them: a tank top and standard pants while barefoot. Some wore more, some less, but none had the same tattoos you did. They lined your limbs, your back, your chest, and there were plenty more beneath the clothing as well. The first time they had seen your ink, they were surprised, and you remembered the way Obi-wan’s eyebrows raised. But then they saw what the ink was trying to distract from. Scars, thick and thin, of various shapes and sizes, littered your body. They were old scars, but they were the kind that would never fade. Nobody ever asked you about them, and that was okay with you. You didn’t want to talk about them.

“Alright. Let’s see what you remember from our last lesson,” Gregor said. He was standing on the mat in front of you. You nodded and assumed your hand-to-hand stance. Feet spread, knees slightly bent, and fists raised in front of your face, elbows in. He smiled and nodded before looking at the group.

“Volunteers?” he asked. They were all eager to spar with you, finding it fun and fresh.

“Waxer. It’s your lucky day,” Gregor called on the clone who stood up with a grin. He was in a t-shirt, and he didn’t take his eyes off of you as he took Gregor’s spot in the ring.

“Pyke, remember what I taught you,” Boil called out. You nodded without looking away, and Waxer’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. That worried him, but not nearly as much as it should’ve.

“Waxer will start. Nice and easy now,” Gregor said with a nod, stepping back and joining the wall of clones. Waxer stepped forward and threw a gentle jab at your head, which you were able to dodge with ease. He smiled and started boxing toward you, jabs mixing with punches and hooks and uppercuts alike. You dodged what you could, swatting away ones that you couldn’t in the minimal blocking technique that Crys had taught you.

Waxer was having fun, and he was increasing his speed and power as you warmed up to the exercise. You were concentrating on the fight, but you were energised by the cheers of the clones watching. They were proud of their little bookworm, watching how you grew with pride in their chests. They had repainted the sigil on the back of your armour, now having a book impaled on a pyke. They kept their claim of you as theirs, and they all made sure their names were permanently etched into the wood so you were able to paint over them whenever you could. It made you proud to see it.

“Pyke, now!” Boil called out. Waxer had overextended on a rear cross, and you moved quickly. You grabbed his arm, spinning to firmly plant your hip against his. You yanked hard on his arm, thrusting your hip up with a sweep of your leg. You got to watch the surprise grow on the clone’s face as you threw him over your hip, and he went crashing into the mat as you pinned his chest with a knee.

There was an explosion of laughter and cheers, and Waxer had a booming chortle.

“That was amazing, Pyke! Perfectly executed!” Boil shouted, running forward to scoop you up by the arms like you weighed nothing, swinging you around in happiness. He set you down, and you were surrounded by compliments and pats.

“When did you teach her that?!” Waxer demanded, stepping up to plop a hand on your shoulder as he regarded you with an impressed glance.

“Last week. Been training her in secret for this moment alone. How’d the video turn out, vod?” Boil asked Fives, who just gave him a grin and a thumb’s up. “Can’t wait for the others to see this.” Waxer descended on his brothers with shouts, and a small portion of them rolled into a tumble of fists and shouts.

“C’mon, Pyke. Let’s work on some more stuff,” Gregor muttered and pulled you away from the squabble. You watched Waxer bite down on Hardcase’s hand, and for some reason, Fives had Tup in a headlock while Boil smacked his ass. Jesse stood off to the side and recorded it while Echo threw in a couple insults here and there.

“Wooley,” Gregor called the clone over. He ran a hand through his mohawk as he approached, a sly grin on his face.

“Don’t throw me, too, Pyke. Got a bum hip from weights last week,” he said. You laughed and nodded, raising your fists. Gregor ran you through drills, calling the shots and fixing your mistakes as you went. Eventually, after the group calmed down, you were able to train alongside them on their drills. You were slow, fumbling, but you were catching on quickly (thanks to that part of your brain that made studying just that much easier).

“Excellent! I think you’re ready for some grappling,” Gregor said as you paused for a water break. Wooley “clinked” his water bottle against yours before you drank, and you looked at Gregor in exhaustion. This workout had already been more intense than the ones on Coruscant, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially in front of the 212th.

“Hardcase,” Gregor said and the clone stepped up. “Let’s start with a hip throw,” he said. Before he could give anymore instruction, the clone stepped forward and swept you off your feet. You flew through the air, an arc over his head, and you landed hard on the ground. Your hand got caught beneath you, and you heard the snap first.

The pain wasn’t immediate. You thought it would be. It was a fire that burst into life, though, and it burned hotter than anything you had ever felt. You quickly sat up, clutching your left arm to your chest, and Hardcase’s eyes went wide. You looked up at him, shock setting in, and you could barely hear the clones’ shouts.

“Pyke?! Are you okay?!” Gregor was yelling, but his voice was a million miles away and underwater. Hardcase swooped you into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quickly ran to the med bay, the others close behind.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I’m so sorry,” he was muttering to you, but you didn’t hear him. The fire in your arm was starting to become sharp. It was no longer just heat and pressure. It was starting to hurt.

“Hardcase, my arm hurts,” you said to him, and your voice seemed so far away.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he repeated as he kicked open the doors to the med bay. Kix looked up with a start, jumping up from his computer. He noticed you and the way you held your arm.

“Here,” he ordered and threw a sheet down on a table. Hardcase set you down, and Wooley pushed past him to grab your left hand.

“Hey, cyar’ika,” he spoke softly, kneeling to look at you. “What are you feeling?”

“My arm hurts,” you repeated, barely speaking above a whisper. There was pain in Hardcase’s face, but his brothers shoved him to the back of the pack. Kix gingerly lifted your left arm by the wrist, and tears sprung to your eyes as pain shot up through your elbow. You cried out, and half of the clones visibly winced.

“She’s going to need surgery. Inform the commanders. General Kenobi will want to know. Everyone clear out,” Kix ordered. You hadn’t heard him so commanding before, but then again, you had never seen him in a professional place like this. Usually, he was cackling along with his brothers as you sat around a table playing sabacc.

The clones backed out of the room, their words of encouragement overlapping, and Wooley looked up at Kix. “Can I stay?” he asked, concern etching between his eyebrows.

“Sorry, Wooley. But I need the room clear,” Kix said. Wooley sighed and lay a hand on your head.

“It’s going to be okay, vod’ika,” he said with a smile. You tried to smile back, but your face wasn’t working. The fire was getting worse. Still, the pet name was nice. You were older than the clones, in every sense of the word, but they all treated you like protective older brothers. He took his leave as Kix started pushing your bed into a surgical lab, assistants and med droids joining him so he could change into sterile clothes.

“Just take a deep breath, Pyke. We’ll get you fixed up in no time,” Kix said softly, soothingly, as they fixed a breathing tube over your mouth. You took a deep breath, and you could feel your mind slipping away already. You watched Kix put on scrubs and an apron. The last thing you saw was his comforting smile before he put on a surgical mask.

~ * ~

“She’ll be okay, general. Just needed some surgery is all,” Kix explained to Obi-wan as the latter paced back and forth outside of the operating room. He looked at the medical clone.

“How bad was it?” he asked. Kix grimaced.

“It was a comminuted fracture. She must’ve landed directly down the bone. We had to extract pieces of bone and replace it with metal rods. However, we don’t know how she’ll react to the metal, so there’s a very real possibility that she can reject the graft,” he said.

“What? Isn’t this a medical grade metal rod? Meant for standard procedures?” Obi-wan demanded, his temper flaring just a little. Kix didn’t flinch, but he definitely grimaced.

“Well, sir… Her bones have shown signs of previous breaking and healing. They were set just fine, but there were definitely areas of thick bone regrowth. Looks like from when she was young. The impact snapped a part of her arm that was weak in comparison to the bone density surrounding it. The amount of regrowth on that bone alone would be enough for her body to reject this new invasion,” he explained.

*(I’m not a doctor, and I refuse to do any real research on bodies rejecting metal rods. This is just an excuse for a little background teasing and for June to get a metal hand. I don’t make the rules.)*

Obi-wan mulled over his words long after the clone went back into the recovery room to check on her. The clones who had been training with her were all perched around the waiting room, and Hardcase was one of the few pacing around. He was muttering something to himself, and Obi-wan pursed his lips.

“Hardcase,” he called the man over. He could feel the anxiety and guilt dripping from the clone, and he didn’t need Force senses to do so.

“I didn’t mean to, general. It was an accident,” he said in an almost pleading tone.

“I know. We all know that. Nobody thinks you hurt her on purpose,” Obi-wan assured him. He still felt bad, and he could see it on his face. Wooley stood away from his brother, his glare having softened now to a look of disgruntlement. He had a soft spot for the archivist since Kashyyyk when he and Gearshift hung out with her while she studied. He, like the others, loved the way her face lit up when she read something interesting and the way she bubbled as she shared the information with them. He had rested his chin on the table and watched as her eyebrows furrowed while she read, concentration focused solely on her book for well over half an hour before she realised he had been watching her. Then she broke into the brightest smile he had ever seen on someone and showed him what she had been reading.

It was an infectious presence that all of the clones had grown to love in the short time they’d known her. Wooley just happened to be a lot more upfront about his protection of her. He was often caught quoting that line from that show she loved to watch. “I’ve only had the ROA for a month and a half, but if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone on this planet and then myself.” The nickname was pronounced “row” and it was thrown around as often as “Pyke” was. It was a sentiment most of them agreed with.

Still, he knew that Juniper would hold no hard feelings against Hardcase, so he shouldn’t either… but that wasn’t going to stop him from pouting for a little bit in his little corner of anger. Obi-wan allowed it simply because it was going to pass.

“Any word?” Anakin’s voice crackled out from his comms. He and Ahsoka were under strict instruction to stay on the bridge with Cody and Rex, since he didn’t need their emotions flying with an already tense batch.

“General,” Kix called out from the other room.

“Hold on, Anakin,” Obi-wan said and went into the room where Juniper was still hooked up to liquids and gas. She was sweating, wincing, and he could see that her heart was racing on the monitor.

“She’s not taking the intrusion well. If we replace her arm and hand with mechanical replacements, then we’ll only have to worry about grafting to a single connection rather than introducing a middle-man like we have now,” Kix said. He went on about something that Obi-wan didn’t understand, and he tried to follow along.

“So, she’s more likely to accept a complete replacement?” Obi-wan surmised.

“Yes, sir,” Kix confirmed.

“Do it.”

“Yes, sir.”

~ * ~

“Are you kidding me? Why are you upset?! I’ve got a cool new hand!” you gasped as you looked at the metal hand. You flexed your fingers and saw the inner mechanics pumping and clicking. You looked at Hardcase with a laugh. “This is so cool! Plus, it’s my fault. I should’ve landed better.”

The clone sighed in relief that you weren’t furious with him, and he looked exhausted. You, on the other hand (another joke that Obi-wan didn’t appreciate from you), were well-rested. Probably the first good sleep you’d had in weeks. Jesse looked around for a moment before stepping forward. Gregor was busy talking to Rex, Obi-wan and Cody were off talking to the other two jedi, and the other clones around you were your friends.

“As payback, we’re gonna let you shoot him later, vod’ika,” he said in a low voice. You giggled at that, and Hardcase hung his head.

“Just make sure to aim for the outside of my thigh. It’ll heal fast, and you won’t kill me,” he added. That made you laugh.

“I’m not going to shoot you, Hardcase.” He looked relieved at that until you leaned forward, a wolfish grin parting your lips. “I’m going to punch you in the face as hard as I can.” This brought smiles and whispers to the boys, and Hardcase gulped before nodding.

“Yeah. That’s fair. When do you get out? We can spring ya,” he offered.

“No, you absolutely cannot. ROA is staying here until bacta finishes healing the skin at the graft sight. Are you sure you don’t want skin on top of the mechanics?” Kix asked you.

“Are you kidding me? This looks so much cooler! It’s so scary!” you said with a laugh. There was a wrap of bacta around the spot where your biological arm connected to your mechanical arm. It was definitely weird having a mechanical arm, but you figured you could get used to the movement. Kix lowered your hand and strapped it against your body in a sling that they had all signed.

“She needs rest. Out,” he commanded the others. They all grumbled their goodbyes and trudged out slowly. “Try not to move it around too much, vod’ika. You don’t want it to misalign or anything,” he said to you after they were gone, leaving behind the commanders.

“How long do I have to wear the sling?” you asked curiously.

“At least 5 days,” he said.

“5 days?! What’s the point of having a metal arm if I can’t use it?” you sighed dramatically. He just chuckled at that and patted your head before muttering something and walking away. He was probably going to check on the others in the bay. Anakin and Ahsoka replaced the empty space the clones had left.

“Hey, we’re matching now!” you beamed at Anakin and pointed to your hand. He smiled and wiggled the fingers of his right hand, which were always hidden beneath a glove.

“We can buy a pair of gloves and share them,” he said, making you giggle.

“You didn’t want to get the skin on it?” Ahsoka asked you with a raised eyebrow ridge.

“No, I think it looks cool like this. Plus, like, think of what kind of badass librarian has a robot hand. I must be the coolest one in the archives now,” you said.

“You have finger tattoos. You’ve been the coolest one,” Ahsoka said with a little laugh. You looked down at your hand in shock.

“Oh, yeah! My tattoos are gone now. Do you think I could etch them into the metal? Probably, right?” You were discussing the practicality of it when the other 4 walked up to join you.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-wan asked. His words and tone were professional, but you could see the worry in his gaze. You smiled to quell it and nodded.

“I’m doing fine! Kix is amazing at his job. Though, I hear I’ve been out for a while,” you said and looked at them for confirmation.

“Yes. The first surgery took a while, but the 2nd was longer. Then your recovery. We’re 30 hours away from Jaresh,” Obi-wan stated. The trip itself was supposed to be about 100 hours, and you couldn’t believe you lost almost 70 of them to this damn arm that you couldn’t even use right away.

“Damn. I was hoping to get some research done. Is there any way you could bring me my data pad?” you asked Obi-wan directly, not looking away from him. You were sure he would veto it is you asked anyone else, but how could he look you in the eye and say no?

“You need rest, Pyke,” Kix called out from across the room.

“Kay!” you called back to him before lowering your voice. “Seriously, sneak it in. I’ll hide it under my pillow. He’ll never know.” Cody chuckled and lay a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder.

“You’re the only one who can get away with it. And I’m walking away so I’m not an accomplice to this,” he said and briskly left with a wave to you. The others took his cue, and Obi-wan sighed when he was left alone with you.

“You really should be resting,” he confirmed.

“I should be getting ready for this mission. I need to brush up on things, and I have more to read about Jaresh,” you responded, crossing your right arm as best as you could without using your left. He smirked as he watched you fumble to find a petulant stance with just the one arm.

“Fine. But if you get caught, it’s you that Kix yells at. I’ve got nothing to do with this,” he warned you, to which you smiled and thanked him warmly. He inhaled slowly at the sight of your smile. He had been so worried the last few days, and to see you back to your normal self was refreshing.

You were scrolling through your datapad before 30 minutes were up. Kix knew you had it. You had done a pretty good job at hiding it from him the first couple hours, but then you got caught up in your studies and forgot to stow it away as he walked by. But he didn’t stop you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he just left you be. You kept reaching, learning as much as you could before you were to touch down.

~ * ~

“How’s she doing? Obi-wan asked Kix when he came by the next day. He came to tell her that they were going to be landing soon. He had been in and out of seeing her, but he hadn’t been back since the night before. He figured she would be reading well into the night.

“She read for about half an hour after midnight. She’s been asleep ever since,” Kix said with a little laugh. He had watched her try so hard to be so sneaky about reading, but the exhaustion got the best of her. She had been out like a light all night. He was grateful for it, since she needed to rest in order to heal.

“Good. I’ll wake her up. I want you to pack some stuff up. We’re taking you with us just in case,” Obi-wan said. Kix nodded and strode from the room to his office. Obi-wan went through the door and exhaled a little laugh to himself. She was curled up on her right side, left arm hugged tightly to her body. Her face partially rested on her datapad beneath her cheek.

He moved to her right side, crouching down to look at her. She looked so peaceful like this, so at least. Her face was almost always pulled into either concentration or happiness. Like this, he could trace his blue gaze over her features without any obstruction. He followed the curve of her cheeks to the way her lips were slightly parted. He took in every bit of the light freckles that dotted across her nose and cheeks, fading as they spread out from the band and toward her hairline or jawline. She was slightly tanned, and her freckles were a light brown. They were accented every time she blushed, which seemed to be a lot around him.

Obi-wan felt a tightening in his chest as he reached forward and brushed a bit of her long black hair away from her face. His fingers barely brushed against her skin, and he could barely breathe. He saw her eyes twitch to life beneath his fingers, and he retracted his hand.

“Miss Pyke,” he whispered softly. When she didn’t respond, he said it a little louder, scared to touch her again. Not because he worried what she would do but because he was worried about the fluttering in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to stop the fluttering after all these years, but he could do his best to stop it from growing into something more. “Miss Pyke, it’s time to wake up,” he said with a smile.

Her eyes opened, and Obi-wan was frozen in time. They were half-open, and she was trying to come to terms with being awake. Her irises were a golden colour that he had never seen on a human before. They were that rich yellow that was obviously not another colour but held a warmth that only liquid gold could achieve. Her pupils were small as light hit them, but when they settled on him, he watched them grow like the smile on her lips.

“Master Kenobi,” she greeted him as she sat up. Time caught up to him, and he smiled at her.

“We’ve arrived, Miss Pyke. It’s time to get to work,” he said. She nodded and stretched her right arm above her head. She went to run her left hand through her hair, only for it to be stopped by the sling that locked her arm into place. She pouted at it slightly and rolled her eyes.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” she admitted and used her right hand for the action, though it was much more clumsy than normal. She may have been right handed, but she had no idea how to do most things with it after years of using her left. Obi-wan just smiled and nodded.

“Will you need help changing? I can have Ahsoka come assist you,” he said.

“It’s okay. If I can get this sling off, I can take off this medical top. I have a tank top underneath, so it should be easy to just throw on a shirt,” she explained, sliding out of the bed. She turned her back to him and waited. One moment. Two. “Master Kenobi?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Wait, m-me? You want me to do that?” he asked, fumbling over his words as shock hit him.

“Well, yes. It’s a lock on the back. Kix put it there so I don’t mess with it,” she said. Obi-wan could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped forward, seeing the lock. He carefully unlatched it, and she sighed in relief as she slid her arm out of the sling. “Don’t tell Kix,” she said quickly as she turned to face him. She looked down at the red shirt and back up at Obi-wan. There was a blush on her cheeks. “Um… I’ll need your help with this, too, Master Kenobi,” she spoke softly.

Obi-wan thought he was going to die.

He gingerly pulled the top over her head, helping her take her right arm through before gently pulling it off of the left arm without moving it too much. His knuckles brushed against her skin–warmer than he thought was normal–and he tried his best to contain his blush. She stood before him in her tank top now. He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over her tattoos. He had seen them before, he had even seen her in a tank top before… but this was so intimate that he couldn’t help but get a little overwhelmed, a little embarrassed.

“Almost there, master,” she said and grabbed a black t-shirt. He helped slide her left arm through it, then her right, and he pulled it over her head slowly. He was standing in front of her, hands on the hem of her shirt, and she was looking up at him. She had hair in her face from the action, and he gently brushed them away from her face. They didn’t speak, didn’t look away, didn’t dare to breathe.

He heard her heartbeat pounding, and he was sure she could hear his own.

“What did I say about that sling?!” Kix demanded as he charged into the room. Obi-wan jumped away from her, and she quickly fumbled to grab the sling.

“I just had to change, Kix,” she argued back as he strode up, apparently unaware of the tension between the jedi and the librarian. He helped slide her arm back into it and secured it behind her again.

“Then you should’ve asked me. General Kenobi is not a medical professional, and he could’ve hurt you if he wasn’t careful. You’re lucky I know that he happens to be a very careful jedi. I should order you bed rest and be done with it,” Kix reprimanded her. Obi-wan was going to defend her, but his throat was dry at the moment.

“Sorry, Kix,” she muttered.

“Are you running a fever?” Kix asked as he looked at her red face, feeling her forehead. “Take this before we leave,” he said and went to grab some pills. Obi-wan cleared his throat and headed for the door.

“I’ll meet you at the dropship the moment you can,” he said to them without looking. She refused to look at him as well, and Kix was going on some other rant about fevers and maintaining good posture the whole time. Obi-wan left and took a deep breath in the hallway.

“Kriff,” he whispered to himself.