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presleyhearted · 10 months ago

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Kismet, Kismet ✨🤍 | Part 2

pairing : 1970s!e x Asian!OC summary : Angel Song grew up in a strict, Korean household. Molding her into the perfect 'good girl.' Through a strange case of serendipity, she finds herself face to face with Elvis Presley, the one person who just might threaten to shatter the glass of her good girl act. chapter warnings: age gap, illness, panic.

wc: 3841

genre: 70s!e x college!student!reader. fluff, angst, smut.

taglist: @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a @obsessedwithurlove

author's note : Here we are with Part 2! Thank you for the attention on part 1. I hope you like the name change, trust me there is a reason for it. I've always made a playlist for this fic! It is in the link below, but I will be adding songs as I go along. Happy reading! <3 - Rose playlist -

“It’s fine now.” Angel breathed out, signaling to the raven-haired star that it was clear for him to turn around. The split second that Elvis was turned around provided Angel with a small inkling of time to well, breathe. To somehow force her brain to process that this is the reality, even if she does not know how or why.

Elvis, on the other hand, was ever the gentleman. But the very thought of a beautiful woman changing clothes right behind him - well, he was a man, after all. This was merely a passing thought though, as the realization that he owed her an explanation for this strange happenstance, made him truly forget what words were. She was a stranger to him, and well, judging from the wide-eyed gaze from her a few seconds ago - He was the complete opposite to her. Whether she is a fan of his, or merely one of the members of the population who know him from the enormity of his fame - there was a crossroad.

If he were to tell her the truth about why America’s favorite rock ‘n’ roll star is hiding in a cleaning supply closet - that would fracture the carefully curated image that he knew the people see him as, most certainly including her. Words spread like wildfire, and the nation is always hungry for new information about the world of the people under the spotlight. Hell, even the rumors that are not even remotely true - people inhale and whisper from ear to ear as if it were a section in an academic textbook. For a situation like this, that is true and is real, it would be on the front page news by the morning of the next day.

It’s better this way. Elvis tried to tell himself. By upholding the immaculate persona that the public has carved out for him, he would not only be saving himself but also saving her idea of him. He does not want to leave her with a memory of Elvis Presley revealing that the man underneath the glimmering spotlight, has never felt more engulfed by the waves of darkness than he does now.

So, that is it. He decides to conceal an ugly truth in exchange for keeping the beautiful idea of him that she most certainly has. And just in time, she tells him that it is fine to now turn around.

So, he does. And goddamn it, Elvis thinks to himself. The choices and thoughts that occupied his mind suddenly went to a standstill. It was as if the time that he took to think about what his explanation would be, made him briefly forget to truly have a look at her. Albeit, he did not have time to earlier due to letting her change, now - Elvis found himself finding the space of the supply closet shrink at a rapid rate. He was sat down, and she was stood up - Elvis could not help but find his gaze traveling from her long, slightly tanned legs, to the dress, and to her face that seemed to turn a charming shade of crimson under his gaze.

A pair of hazel eyes looked into his azure eyes. The very same pair of hazel eyes that when she blinked - perfectly captured the appearance of double eyelashes that accompanied her eyes. Elvis’ gaze traveled further - a small button nose, and a full, inviting burgundy-colored lips. Her skin radiated a glow - she was pale, but slightly tanned, a sure result of the Vegas heat. Like the mix of milk and honey. He noticed her black, wavy hair reaching almost her waist - Angel was certainly not tall, but also not short. She was like an oil painting personified, like an art piece that somehow felt the need to step out of the confines of the frame that she was in and step her hand out to him. A beauty that he never believed existed, never encountered before, and felt that he was the admirer intruding. He was so entranced by Angel, that he hardly realized that she had sat herself down on the floor.

Angel cleared her throat, “It was . . . um odd for me to be standing up.” She explained. Her voice was soft, but firm. There was a timidness to her tone, that she noticed very quickly, and tried to desperately fix it because well - I can’t make a fool of myself in front of Elvis Presley. She told herself, but how does one steady herself when he is looking at her with such blunt intensity? It was an intensity that rippled through every part of her being, as he did not fixate on one part of her, he was studying her - every detail of her. She wished she could take a glimpse into his mind and know what he was thinking. She prided herself in being able to read people easily, ever the analytical mind of hers - as her friend Felicity would say.

But not this time. Angel tried to shake herself out of it and thought to herself ‘It won’t matter. He’ll say what he needs to say, and we’ll part ways.’

Angel then thought to herself that it most probably be the easier and smarter choice to apologize to him, apologise for barging in and invading personal space, and then be on her way out. This would make more sense since he does not owe her an explanation. Yes, she was initially shocked to find him in such a random place, but it did not mean he had to explain anything to her. Then Angel also realizes that Elvis has not said anything since turning around, he must be thinking the same thing. Angel thought.

So, with that, she shakes her hand at him and starts to stand back up, “I’m so sorry, Mr Presley. You don’t have to explain anything to me, I’ll go.” Her words rushed out of her mouth, words that filled a sudden dread in Elvis.

“No, honey, it’s alright.” He said softly, making Angel pause her actions. She was frozen in confusion. She was in a rush a few moments before getting changed because she was afraid to miss her favorite star walking out onto the stage for the first time in front of her eyes. But that was before she discovered that he was sitting down in a supply closet and before she also became aware that the time on the ticking clock in the small confined space - showed it had been well past the time Elvis was supposed to be on stage.

“But, I don’t want to intrud-”

Elvis cuts off her sentence, “You wouldn’t be, darlin.”

Angel finds herself biting her bottom lip, in a mental battle of her thoughts. An action that does not go unnoticed by Elvis. Angel felt her cheeks blush again at the sound of the name he called her, she was aware it was probably a habit of people from the South, but it made her blush nevertheless.

“I shouldn’t have barged in like that,” She finds herself saying, still standing.

Elvis shrugged, “It’s my fault.”

Angel profusely shook her head, “No, it’s not. I-”

There she is again, biting her bottom lip - a habit that Elvis found became keenly aware of.

“If you keep doin’ that honey, you’ll cause a bleed,” Elvis said, a smirk now on his lips. Yes, Angel did make eye contact with him, but not for long. The eye contact was overwhelming, so she found herself catching her eyes on everywhere else, but him. Which has been proven unsuccessful now, since that comment of his - with that teasing smirk on his lips, was a powerful weapon in making her hold the gaze of his blue eyes again.

She stopped biting her bottom lip, and found herself mumbling under her breath, “What am I doing.”

“Sit with me. Please.” Elvis said, his tone soft.

“But-”

“Are you in a hurry, darlin?”

A question, loaded with the hopes of a specific response. Elvis was aware that they were likely searching endlessly for him, hands probably in their hair in distress, but he could not leave. Not yet. Jerry knows. Knows where he is, even if Elvis did pull out a lie about the reason why he needed to ‘step out’ for a while and not be where he needs to be.

Words were caught in Angel’s throat, “Yes. No. Yes,” Upon seeing the amused grin on Elvis’ face, she sighed and attempted to clarify herself, “I mean, I was - I’m here to see your show.”

There it was. The very reason why she could not know the truth behind why he was here, and not out there now. She is a fan, and for his fans - telling the truth would be shattering something in them. He could never do that to them.

Elvis hummed, “I know what you’re thinkin’, I’ll tell you.”

Angel somehow found herself sitting back down. Slowly. Of course, it would’ve been smarter if she just left. But there is a curious part of her, the part that wanted to know why Elvis Presley was in a supply closet when he was supposed to be on stage by now. Even more so, why his infamous entourage was not in sight.

Having her at the same eye level as him, Elvis swore he felt his breath caught in his throat and a distant knock of the heart within his body.

“You must be thinkin’ why’s that fool hiding in a supply closet?” Elvis said, chuckling a little. But also realizing that he said the word ‘hiding’ implies a surface of the truth. The truth that he told himself he would never reveal to her. But he just did, even if it was a tiny particle of the truth, and he did it subconsciously. With no control at all, as if his mind wanted her to learn it. Somehow.

And he very well knew that Angel caught wind of the word.

She did not know what to say, so Elvis continued.

Elvis ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply, “I lost one of my rings. I was gonna ask the cleaning staff who was in here, thought she was ‘cus the door was open. But nah, no one was in here. Only me,” He then let out a laugh, a laugh that somehow sounded difficult to let out.

Only me and my foolish self. Elvis thought to himself.

Angel found the sound of that laugh to be quite forceful, a habit that was similar to what she did when conversing with her relatives when asked about certain subjects at family gatherings. She knew that kind of laugh too well, heck, she was the expert in it. Knew it well enough to know that the explanation Elvis just gave her, held no truth in it at all. Except for the last part. That she was sure of.

“Did you find it?” She asked instead, despite somehow having a feeling that he was throwing out an elaborate story of this ring.

Elvis shook his head in an attempt to keep that crooked grin on his lips, somehow looking strained - Angel thought to herself.

“No, I haven’t. I-”

It was Angel’s turn to interrupt this time.

“My name is Angel.” She found herself blurting this, not out of randomness, but because she somehow could feel he was sharing something personal with her when she hadn’t even told him her name yet. It was unbalanced. She knew him, well the image of him, and then now sharing this information with her - she had to tell him her name. She owed him that.

Elvis paused. He couldn’t help but. Of course, it is. There could not be any other name for her out there in the universe, it is the only name that belongs to her. It belongs to her.

“I thought it was only fair I told you my name. It’s not simple to be sharing this information with me, a stranger, Mr Presley.”

Heck, Angel could not even comprehend why he chose to share this with her, or why he wanted her to stay and sit with him for a while.

Elvis nodded, “Angel.” He said as if testing the way her name rolled off his tongue. Something was blissfully enchanting but illicit about the way he said her name, which sent a trickle of warmth through her body and locked her breath for just a second.

“It suits you very much,” Elvis said honestly because it truly did.

“Thank you, Mr Presley.”

Elvis shook his head, “Just ‘Elvis.’ Mr Presley is my father.” A wide smile overtook his face, an actual smile that Angel knew was genuine. She just did.

Angel nodded sheepishly and somehow found herself smiling, a contagious effect from him.

A sight that Elvis couldn’t help but think that he was possibly in a deep slumber, a daydream of some kind that involved this mesmerizing being with the face of heaven sent and the name to suit it. And now that smile of hers, a smile that dares to rival the morning sun. Not that Elvis saw much of the daytime, but if he did, he was pretty certain that the young woman in front of him could easily overshadow it.

Elvis paused then from drinking in her existence when he saw the frown on her face and her hazel eyes of hers pooling with a sense of sadness.

Damn it. She must be thinking ‘bout the show. I’ve disappointed her, she’s here tonight to see me perform. Not this. Elvis thought.

“I’ll be out on stage soon, don’t worry ‘bout it, Angel.” Elvis says, as if sensing that was what Angel was thinking.

But Elvis was wrong. He’s not even remotely close to guessing what she must be thinking.

Angel does not know why she has not noticed. Surely, it must be the shock of the strange situation that must’ve made her not realize. Not realize that Elvis Presley was profusely sweating and that made his raven hair stick to his pale skin. Angel was no medical expert, but it was the kind of pale that called for rest and a good break. It wouldn’t even make sense why he was sweating when he had not stepped foot on stage yet. Even more so, the way his chest would rise and fall at an abnormal rate.

Perhaps also the reason why he has been sitting down the entire time.

Elvis Presley looked tired.

She pulled out a handkerchief from her bag, an action that caused an eyebrow to quirk from Elvis.

The realization of how. . . vulnerable he looked. It pinched her heart in a way that made her ask the next question, forgetting momentarily that they had only merely met each other a few moments ago.

“Can I. . . ?” She gestured at his face, and somehow Elvis understood.

Somehow in that split second of her sad, hazel eyes meeting his blue eyes - Elvis knew that Angel saw behind it all. Behind the facade. That the veil of protection he put over the truth and the crafted lie - has now dropped, revealing him. Revealing that he is everything but fine. Elvis Presley crafted his public persona in such a masterful way, to the degree that people would not even notice the energy and shine he once had, was slowly fading away.

But Angel did.

And so, with her question, Elvis nodded. Angel put herself closer to him and pulled her knees underneath her as she sat down, so she would be sat on her heels. Elvis closed his eyes, as Angel neared him with the handkerchief in her hand as she slowly, but surely was wiping the sweat from his face. The closer proximity to her made Elvis naturally inhale her scent, she smelled of vanilla and a hint of what smelled like rose oil. A combination that was sweet, but playful. A tease to his senses. Elvis dared to open his eyes again, meeting her hazel eyes. Angel felt herself tense at the intense gaze of his eyes, as she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The feeling of the cloth wiping the sweat on his face away was not much of an effect compared to the gentleness with which Angel did this. The genuine concentration, and worry in her knotted forehead made his heart sore and trip simultaneously.

She instinctively put the back of her hand on his forehead, as if realizing that she may be overstepping she withdrew her hand back like a flash of lightning. But Elvis was quick to reach for her, his hand enclosed around his wrist.

“It’s okay, honey.”

He let go and she reluctantly, but with Elvis’ nod, touched his forehead with the back of her hand once again.

“Mr. Pre- Elvis, you are burning up.” She said, her tone not even hiding the worry swimming in it.

Angel finds herself looking around and grabbing her bag, “I don’t, I thought I had a bottle of water or something. I don’t know. Sorry.” She said, oblivious to the smile on Elvis’ face as she rummaged through her bag.

Despite feeling the fatigue build up in him again, he found himself smiling at her.

“Say it again.” He said, despite breathing deeply.

Angel was puzzled, “Huh?”

“My name, say it again.” He wanted to desperately hear her say it again, a sound that was beautiful and was the opposite of the horrifying state that he felt his body being engulfed in.

A saving grace.

“Elvis, “ She sighed, “I know I’m in no position to tell you what to do, but you are not well. You need to rest.” She said honestly, gone was the timidness beforehand, and in its place was a woman running in a spiral of worry.

Worry for him, and it was a sight that Elvis had not seen in a long time.

Elvis shook his head, “I’m fine. I need to perform. ” He said, almost mumbling his words.

“You are not well for it. People will understand.” Angel found herself saying.

“Will you understand?” He asked.

“Of course. Any of your fans will.” She said with an encouraging nod.

Angel waited years to see him perform live, and if that first performance happened to be when he was feeling like this, she couldn’t watch him. Can’t let it happen. Heck, she’ll wait years even - she’ll wait till he is better enough to perform.

“Not the Colonel.” He responds, a sad smile on his lips.

Angel assumed this must be his manager, remembering his face and the name of newspaper pages. What kind of person, let alone manager - would let him perform like this?

“It’s too hot here, you need to be someplace else,” Angel said, knowing that the supply closet was not the appropriate place for him to rest properly, “Does anyone know that you are here? How do I get ahold of them?”

She was in full-on panic mode now and leaped up onto her feet. Elvis sprung his arm forward and grabbed hold of her hand, “Angel, don’t leave. Please.” The tone of his voice was void of the confidence and teasing from moments prior, in place was the pleading voice that was filled with fear. True fear. A fear that she would leave him like this.

She shook her head quickly, “No, no. I-I just was thinking how to get you help.”

Angel is smart enough to know that she could not just waltz out of here, and find a helpful passerby because it is not just anyone she is getting help for. Elvis Presley. Somehow, she just knew that he wouldn’t want his vulnerable state to be known to any other person than the ones who work for him and know him.

She was just a fan. But somehow through a happenstance of naturality or not, she saw right through him - saw right through the armor that he lets dazzle everyone else. And even if he realized that she stepped over that veil - he let her. Let Angel walk right through it.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like now, as if it is the most natural thing in the world to have her hand in his. An action that was so quick, but she swore sent a flicker of something through her bloodstream.

And just in time, there was a knock on the door - a look exchanged between both of them. But a breath of relief escaped them simultaneously as it was the familiar face of Jerry Schilling who walked through and shut the door behind him. Angel knew that he worked for Elvis, and saw him in that one article of Elvis’ entourage being labeled ‘The Memphis Mafia.’

So, she was glad that a stroke of luck hit, as her prayers were answered. Because otherwise she really did not know what to do.

Jerry Schilling’s eyes found Elvis’ and scanned the state that his friend/boss was in, before shifting his gaze to the woman who was standing up and whose hand Elvis gripped tightly. As if signaling to help him, Jerry nodded and advanced towards Elvis, at the same time Angel dropped her hand from Elvis.

“Come on, E. Let’s go.” Jerry said, but Elvis’ gaze was on the black-haired beauty who was currently getting her bag off the floor. His eyelids were half-closed.

She turned with the handkerchief in her hand and planned to hand this to him, to let him keep it. But found him tugging her hand again, closer to him.

“Stay.” He said.

“I-”

Angel turned to look at Jerry Schilling as if silently asking for his opinion on this.

“I’ll go if she goes with me,” Elvis said, almost mumbling his words.

Jerry Schilling then nods to her.

Angel sighed, not quite sure how and why this is happening all of a sudden. The probability of their meeting, and now with Elvis’ reluctancy to go with someone who could help him. Someone who he knows far more than her, her who was a mere stranger not that long ago. She tried to make sense of and understand why Elvis would want her to be there when he would have more than enough people around him soon. People who knew him personally, and who will help him.

She could not wrap her head around it at all.

But with the ticking of the clock on the wall, and Elvis seeming to not have any plans to get up from his spot yet, she realized that he was waiting for her to say something.

“Okay.” Angel said.

Kismet. Kismet. Perform. Mask. facade. My name. Your name. Angel. Pale. The truth. Elvis. Elvis. Angel. If she goes. Kismet. Kismet.

#elvis fic #elvis presley #angst #fluff #elvis x original female character #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #kismet kismet #part 2

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chevelleneech · 2 days ago

Note

"I know I spoke once or twice about how if JM and JK wanted to spend time together they would have made time, because we literally saw them make time for other friends and other members, yet they specifically mention how conflicting their schedules were and how they somehow weren’t free for each other. In hindsight, that is the biggest giveaway, is it not?"

This paragraph is literally something i have been screaming for ages like I'd have not questioned that they were busy and couldn't make time for e/o IF they weren't seen with other ppl as well but that wasn't the case. now don't get mad at me for this but i have literally said here in your acct that i refused to belive jm couldn't make time for jk JUST because he was busy because it's jimin we're talking about and it's jungkook we're talking about. IF anything jimin is known to be the kind of person who'd always make time for his friends no matter how busy he is he's literally known for being such a sweetheart. we have seen him always make time for members and be there with them for their solos in chapt2 as well as yrs ago when all members recorded/filmed their first solo MVS n all and jm despite having similar schedule as members and being busy with his own MV made time for all members and went to their sets when he also filmed serendipity and other members filmed their respective solos at that time. BUT you(and some other ppl) said in your answers that I'm blaming all those things on jm and I'm kinda making it his fault n all (maybe your intentions were different but that's how it was kinda worded so i took it as what i saw) when all i wanted to say was this exact same thing that you wrote in the para i quoted.

As i said jm is known for making time for his friends no matter how busy he was and we all saw that even in chapt2 he still was the only member who was physically present for all members' solo activities in whatever way he could be it MV set, their album live, their concerts, music shows or any other sort of shows that members did. he made sure to be present for atleast one of them for the members. I bias jimin and as i previously said i feel like i know him better than i know others and i refused to believe jm couldn't make time for jungkook, the same jungkook who he adores the most since their trainee days till now, the same Jungkook for whom he's just always ready to be there, same Jungkook who he's been attached at the hips for a decade. this is the same jimin who went to sungwoon (ha sungwoon jm's bestie) at night to celebrate his b'day with him all because sungwoon didn't pick up jm's call so jm straight up went to his home. That's what jm is known for. Even throughout the 2023 jimin actually is the member who you have seen with every single member for their solo activities as well as for private times. I'm including AYS for jikook as private times as well because there's alot happened off the cam as well, like the sleep over, them going out with yg for drinks them talking about music for hrs etc. He's been out with all members for drinks, museum dates, and other things. for vmin idk much about their private times tho because there ain't any pic and they haven't really said but if you consider tae's fanmeet n all, and the music show for tae.

There's no way I'd belive jimin couldn't make time for jk (before AYS talk of course) because he was busy when he's literally made time for others. I simply don't belive it doesn't matter if others think I'm crazy. for me it was deliberate on his side. why? i don't know and given it's jm we might never hear him say it in front of cam. he doens't really discuss these things on cam.

And for jungkook we know the guy has been hanging out with his friends be it some members or friends outside BTS and we have seen him ask jm to come over so it doens't seem that the problem was from jk's side.

I remember you, actually anon, and I definitely think your ask came at a time when I was being bombed with JM solos telling me I was making everything Jimin’s fault. So I must have read your message as yet another one, because even this one reads very similar to that rhetoric. But again, I must have just lumped you in, which if that’s the case, I do apologize.

As I’ve said, I’m not Jimin nor JK biased so I don’t feel the need to explain why one or the other wouldn’t do this or that, because I never feel defensive of them in that way. So you telling me all the reasons Jimin wouldn’t not connect with JK kind of reads like a solo (I’m not saying you are now that you’re back, but this is how it read initially) making excuses for him, when my thoughts back then and now are more so just that I don’t think how he treats other people will automatically inform us on how he’d treat a romantic partner. Particularly one who has been in his life for such a long time as both a best friend and a bandmate.

So I definitely better understand what you’re saying now, and am sorry for linking you with the other messages I was getting, who claimed I was being rude to Jimin for my conclusion that he seems to have been the one who chose to distance himself from JK for whatever reason, at that time.

#jikook

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harrystylesslutt · 2 years ago

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A serene escape

Part 1 of seaside serendipity

warnings: just fluff for now

The quaint coastal town of Seaside Haven was your personal paradise. Its narrow cobbled streets, lined with charming cottages and the alluring scent of the ocean breeze, made it the perfect summer escape. The café by the beach, "Seashells & Coffee," was your haven of tranquility. It was here that you had spent several summers working, basking in the warmth of the locals and the cool embrace of the sea.

The sun rose lazily over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold as you stepped into the café. The day held the promise of new adventures, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. The morning rush hadn't begun yet, giving you a moment to prepare the cafe for the day ahead.

As you arranged freshly baked pastries in the display case, you couldn't help but glance out the window, captivated by the waves crashing against the shore. Lost in thought, you nearly jumped when a soft voice interrupted your reverie.

"Excuse me, is this place open?"

You turned to find a tall, curly-haired stranger standing at the entrance. His emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity, and the smile on his lips was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He had an aura of mystery and charm that immediately intrigued you.

"Yes, we're open!" you replied with your normal cheerful tone, despite the unexpected flutters in your stomach. "Welcome to Seashells & Coffee."

He stepped inside, and you noticed a hint of sea salt in his dark, tousled hair. "Thank you," he said, a faint British accent adding to his allure. "This place has such a lovely vibe."

"Thank you," you repeated, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink under his warm gaze. "Would you like a seat by the window? It offers the best view."

"That sounds perfect," he said, a playful yet reserved glint in his eyes.

You led him to a cozy corner by the window, where he took a seat with a small smile. As you handed him a menu, your fingers brushed against his, causing an electrifying sensation to run through your veins. You quickly withdrew your hand, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I'm Harry, by the way," he introduced himself, his smile never fading.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm YN," you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. It wasn't like you never got any good looking customers, you did, but you've always managed to keep your cool since most of them had a cold vibe surrounding them. There was just something about this stranger that made you intrigued to know more, was it his manners? the way he held eye contact? or the way his eyes kept subtly glancing down at your lips?

Over the next few hours, few customers went in and out, all of them seeming to be in too much of a hurry to sit down on one of the pink leather couches. You could feel the eyes of the stranger on you every now and then, there was some kind of tension knowing you and him were the only two people in the shop. However he did not miss trying to make his presence noticeable, since he was making his way back and forth from where you were working, getting new pastries to try while leaving little appreciation comments every now and then.

As the afternoon sun bathed the café in golden light, Harry was on one of his missions to get a new pastry, you somehow managed to end up engrossed in a conversation with him. He was well-traveled and had an air of wisdom beyond his years. He shared stories of his adventures, and you told him about the town's history and hidden gems, since he showed you a strong interest towards the hidden tales of the town. The more you talked, the more you felt an unspoken connection between you two, as if you had known each other for much longer than just a few hours.

After paying his bill, Harry leaned closer, his eyes locked with yours. "Thank you YN, I couldn't think of a better way to start my vacation; you really do know the art of pastries well” He chuckled.

You blushed at his compliment, feeling the undeniable chemistry between you. "Thank you Harry, although I am a bit thrown off by your hatred for strawberries, I don't think it's acceptable really.”

“Ah there it is, you let me off too easily earlier, I knew you were secretly judging my impeccable taste” He replied. You found yourself cheekily laughing at his teasing words “If anything it is anything but impeccable. The fact that you won't try any strawberry pastries is cruel! You know that you’d find a newly found love for them but you’re in denial so it’s fine it'll take you a while to cave in” Your playful banter goes on for a while until Harry really has to go but not before suggesting subtly his next visit, and that alone leaves u with flutters in your stomach.

------

The next day, as the sun painted the sky in a soft pastel palette, you found yourself eagerly anticipating Harry's return to Seashells & Coffee. The memory of your long conversation from the previous day had lingered in your mind, leaving you with a sense of excitement and nervousness about seeing him again.

Just as the clock struck ten, the familiar chime of the doorbell signaled his arrival. Harry stepped in with that same charming smile that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he brought the sunshine with him, brightening the entire café with his presence.

"Good morning, YN," he greeted, his eyes locking onto yours as if you were the only one in the room.

"Morning, Harry," you replied with a warm smile, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

He took a seat by the window once more, and you couldn't help but notice the small details that made him uniquely Harry—the way his curls fell just right, the subtle crinkles near his eyes when he smiled, and the way he fidgeted with the menu, pretending to be undecided.

"You're back for another adventure at Seashells & Coffee?" you asked playfully, remembering his words from yesterday.

Harry chuckled. "Absolutely. It's the best place to be."

As the day went on, your playful banter continued. You brought back your criticism towards his peculiar dislike for strawberries, which amused you to no end. "You're missing out on the best summer treat, Harry," you teased, holding up a plump, ripe strawberry between your fingers.

"I know, I know," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I told you,It's just one of those things I can't seem to enjoy."

Determined to change his mind, you decided to take matters into your own hands. During a short break, you disappeared into the kitchen, whipping up a special strawberry dessert just for him. You carefully crafted a delicious strawberry shortcake with layers of sponge, fresh strawberries, and a dollop of whipped cream on top.

Returning to his table, you placed the dessert before him with a flourish. "Now, this is the ultimate test. Give it a try."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "You're on."

He took a hesitant bite, and you watched nervously, hoping that your creation would win him over. His eyes widened in surprise, and a smile broke out on his face.

"Wow, this is amazing," he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight. "You might have just done the impossible and changed my opinion on strawberries."

You couldn't help but beam with pride at his reaction. "I told you they're delicious! It's like a burst of summer in every bite."

As the day continued, you and Harry spent more time together, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. The bond between you grew stronger with every shared moment. You felt a sense of comfort and ease around him, as if you had found someone who truly understood you.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the coastal town, Harry hesitated before speaking. "Would you like to take a walk on the beach with me?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his invitation, and you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'd love to."

Closing the shop, you strolled along the shoreline, the waves gently caressing the sand beneath your feet. The sound of the ocean served as a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you and Harry walked along the beach, the cool ocean breeze caressed your skin, creating a sense of serenity around you. The waves lapped gently against the shore, and the distant cries of seagulls added to the tranquil atmosphere.

Harry's curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn't help but ask about the peculiar events that had occurred in the town. "You mentioned yesterday that this place has a magical charm and stories waiting to be written. Are there any particular stories or events that stand out?"

You smiled, appreciating his interest in the town's history. "Oh, definitely! Seaside Haven has a rich history filled with mysteries and legends. One of the most famous stories is about an old lighthouse that sits atop the cliffs."

Intrigued, Harry leaned in, eager to hear more. "Tell me about it."

"Legend has it that the lighthouse was built centuries ago by a lonesome sailor," you began, the tales of old coming to life in your words. "He fell deeply in love with a local woman, but their love was forbidden by her overprotective family. Heartbroken and desperate, he built the lighthouse as a beacon of hope, hoping it would guide him back to her."

Harry's eyes sparkled with fascination. "Did it work?"

"Well," you continued with a playful grin, "that's the mystery. Some say that on clear, moonlit nights, you can see a ghostly figure of a man gazing out to sea from the top of the lighthouse. Locals call him the 'Lover's Light.'"

"That's both beautiful and haunting," Harry mused, captivated by the romantic lore.

As you walked further, you shared more stories—the shipwrecks that dotted the coastline, the hidden caves said to be treasure troves, and the annual beach bonfire festival that brought the entire town together. Harry listened with genuine interest, asking questions and adding his own insights.

He paused for a moment, gazing out at the vast ocean before turning back to you. "It's incredible how stories and history shape a place. It's like every corner of this town has a tale to tell."

"It truly does," you agreed, feeling a deep connection forming between you two as you shared these tales. "And it's those stories that make this town so special, giving it a sense of magic and wonder."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the sky, you both continued your leisurely stroll along the beach. The stories of the town, the sound of the waves, and the connection between you and Harry created an enchanting moment—one that would forever be etched in the sands of your summer paradise.

-------

Harry walked back to his rented cottage, his mind swirling with thoughts of YN. The way she spoke about the town's history with such passion, the playful glint in her eyes when she teased him about strawberries, and the warmth of her smile—it all left an indelible impression on him. He couldn't deny how drawn he felt to her, but he also knew that he was just passing through this picturesque town for a different reason. .

"Keep it together, Harry," he mumbled to himself as he entered the cozy living room. He settled down on the worn-out couch, trying to focus on the laptop in front of him. But every time he tried to concentrate on his work, thoughts of YN crept back into his mind.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. "You can't get distracted now," he reminded himself sternly, his fingers tapping on the keyboard. He had come to Seaside Haven for a specific goal, he reminded himself.

As he typed, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of suspicion lingering in the back of his mind. It was as if fate had led him to YN, and he couldn't understand why he was so taken by her. He had met plenty of people during his travels, but there was something about her that felt different—like she held a key to a world of wonder he had yet to discover.

Pushing the thoughts away, Harry focused on his work once more. He typed away, the soft tapping of the keys echoing in the quiet room. But try as he might, his mind kept wandering back to YN the enchanting girl he had met at the café.

"Get a grip, Harry," he scolded himself, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get the best of him. After all, he was just a visitor with a mission in Seaside Haven, and he didn't know how long he would stay.

With a determined sigh, he finally managed to immerse himself in his writing. But even as the words flowed from his fingers, he couldn't shake off the image of YN's smile and the feeling of her hand in his. It was as if the town itself conspired to keep him captivated, weaving its magic around him and YN.

Harry found it useless to try to keep himself concentrated while she clouded his mind, so he gives up, saving the document on his laptop and closing all the tabs for his research . He closed the lid, feeling a mix of confusion and fascination. "You're being silly," he whispered to himself, trying to dispel the enchantment that surrounded him.

But as he lay in bed that night, the image of YN stayed with him, her presence lingering like a sweet summer breeze. And in that moment, he knew that Seaside Haven had more in store for him than he had ever anticipated. Perhaps it wasn't just a town for a summer escape, with a good story—it could be the place where he found something he never knew he was looking for.

To be continued...

#harrystylesslutt #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fiction #harrystyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #love on tour #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fandom

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misseffect · 1 year ago

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7 snippets, 7 mutuals

Thanks for the tag @otemporanerys!

Tagging a lot of people who have already been tagged: @diaphanouso @helila @dispatchwithlove @kalliesa @angry-jager @dwarrowdams @serendipitys-teapot

All of these are from my Mass Effect F1 AU: Flashpoints

+++

Singapore Shower

One moment Garrus is holding her by the arms, water rolling over his shoulders – there's a knotted look on his face; his mouth is moving but no sound is coming out, which is weird – and the next she's lying on her back on the shower room floor.

"Shepard? Hey – c'mon."

Garrus is kneeling beside her, pinching her arm gently, holding her legs in the air with his shoulder. She feels heavy, like her bones are full of syrup, and the thumping behind her eyes is keeping time with the fuzz crowding her vision.

"Shit."

"It's alright." He sounds further away than he should, and so does the water still beating down on his back. "You passed out for a second, that's all."

+++

Shepard Does An AMA

probinguranus6969 - Would you rather fight 20 duck-sized Jokers or 1 Joker-sized duck?

janeshepard54 - I know your reddit handle joker

probinguranus6969 - damn it

+++

FaceTime Antics

She fishes another biscuit out of the packet while Garrus props his phone up on the side and heaves his suitcase onto the bed. It’s a nice enough room from what little she can see: old-fashioned, like the rest of the place, but in a plush, cared-for sort of way.

“Oh, by the way–” Crunch. “–you don’t happen to know how the dark web works, do you?”

He unzips the case and flips the lid. “Not really. Why?”

“I got called up for drug testing at Paul Ricard and my sample went missing,” she says, chewing glumly. “Joker’s winding me up about it; thinks someone’s selling vials of my piss on the black market.”

+++

Normal Thoughts To Have About Your Bestie's Car

The second he starts to ask the car for more, everything changes.

It feels familiar – in fundamentals, sure, in throttle and steering output – but there’s something else, too. It’s more pliable than the Hierarchy car, more predictable than anything Omega or Archangel could give him; it's unlike anything he’s even driven, but somehow he knows it. Like catching a familiar smell in a place you've never visited.

And then it hits him.

It's not the car. It's her.

He knows Shepard's driving style almost as well as his own – reactive and twitchy, nose-heavy, late-braking, all faith and guts – and this thing lives and breathes it. It takes everything he's got to give, the good and the bad, and amplifies it tenfold. It grins and says c’mon, I dare you.

It’s not just a car designed with her in mind. It’s like wearing her clothes.

+++

Not To Be Dramatic But I Would Die For Mr Blobby

Shepard rounds the corner into the kitchen to find Mr Blobby loitering by the back door like a pair of cow-coloured slippers.

“He’s in a time-out," Hannah calls through the open window, paintbrush in hand.

“Aww, Blob.”

Mr Blobby makes a mournful rrrr sound. There’s a dab of brown paint on the end of his tail.

+++

Shepard Has PTSD Probably

It's not a nightmare really. Sure, it wakes her up every few hours, sweaty and unrested, and when she closes her eyes again, it drops her right back where she left off, but it's not scary. She's not being hunted or chased. She's not standing at the front of class with no clothes on. Nobody's dying.

Shepard's driving a road car on suburban streets - shifting, nebulous streets; faintly European but also faintly not - and somewhere in the distance, there's a fire.

There's a fire and she has to reach it.

She can see a column of black smoke in the distance, catch the odd lick of orange between buildings, but every turn she takes feels wrong and by the time she doubles back, the smoke isn't where she thought it was. It's in her rearview mirror, or out to her left when it was on her right. Sometimes a fire engine blasts past her in the opposite direction, the wailing siren fading before she can follow.

+++

Everybody Hates Conrad

Mathematically Shepard could win the Championship as early as Japan, five races before the end of the season, and it shows. Media seems to come naturally to her in a way it never has to him, but still; he’s never seen her so relaxed this early in the year. Al’Jilani can’t draw her in with pointed questions about Anderson giving her an easy ride and she doesn’t even bother taking a bite out of Conrad Verner.

“Any comment on rekindling your relationship with Thane Krios?” he asks, his big square face expectant.

Shepard scratches under her chin. “Why am I always the last person to find out who I’m dating?”

There’s a ripple of laughter. Emily is checking her watch and people are starting to shuffle their belongings around.

“Are you going to answer the question?” Conrad calls, but by then there’s enough ambient noise for everyone to plausibly ignore him.

#my fic #flashpoints #realised the other week that Singapore Shower can't happen in Singapore bcs it's too late in the race calendar :')#so i'll have to give somewhere else a heatwave instead #mr blobby is my favourite npc

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timelyovertime · 16 days ago

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Marvel Comics #1

Date of publication: August 31st, 1939

Back in the Golden Age of comics, "Marvel Comics" didn't exist yet. The company at the time was called Timely Comics, hence the name of this blog. But, it just so happens that the first book they put out would also be called Marvel Comics, and it would go on to be their central pillar throughout this era. Obviously, it's the future namesake of the company, but it's just serendipity that this first comic had such a good name for them to adopt later, especially because that name will change in the very next issue. I wonder what would have happened if this first issue was "Marvel Mystery Comics #1" instead.

The other thing you might notice immediately from the cover is that the headliner for this book, & a lot of Timely Comics in general, is the Human Torch. I think it's not super obscure knowledge among comics fans, but as a fan of secondary media instead, it was definitely surprising for me that Johnny Storm of the Fantastic Four actually took his name from this otherwise unrelated character.

Golden Age comics in general were mostly anthology books, collecting different shorter stories from different creators, & Marvel #1 is no different. The first page is 5 single-panel gags, which I am sure were hilarious in 1939. After that the first proper story is the origin for this Human Torch: a synthetic human, somewhere between robot & man, created by a brilliant scientist named Professor Horton. However, somehow, a flaw in the creation causes the Torch to burst into flame on contact with oxygen. Unable to control it, Horton seals the Torch in a concrete block until he can find a solution, but a leak allowed the Torch to escape. Setting everything in his path on fire, he takes refuge at the bottom of a swimming pool, that just so happens to make him easy to capture for a criminal named Sardo, who has a very poorly thought out plan to use the Torch as part of a racket, threatening companies to melt their wares if he isn't paid. But he doesn't mention having the Torch, nor does he have any plan to recapture him, so he gets nothing, commits a single case of arson, & then the Torch comes to burn his house down in revenge. In the conflict, some nitrogen gas neutralizes the Torch's flame, after which he is able to turn it off & on, & gains overall pyrokinesis. Police release him back into Horton's custody, but Horton mentions how much money they could make off his newfound powers, & the offended Torch leaps through the ceiling to freedom.

It's mostly an interesting story in comparison to how the Torch would go on to be portrayed. He's a tragic monster here, a victim of his own powers who is hated for no fault of his own. But he's also notably manic, frequently laughing, even with a firehose turned on him. Just an oddity of this being the first ever Timely strip.

The second story is The Angel, Tom Halloway (although his name won't be revealed yet). He's a crime fighter with no powers, with his trademark being a winged shadow he casts while leaving his defeated baddies for the police. In this issue, a mayor is convinced to ask for his help as a wave of violent crime rocks the city, over 200 arrests all walking free as no victim is brave enough to speak against them. Before the Angel can be contacted though, he sends a message that he's already on the trail of not just the "Six Big Men" behind the crimes, but also the "Big Boss" they all answer to. He promptly begins a violent crime spree of his own by killing 3 of the Six Big Men, before being captured by the 4th and a mysterious woman called Lil. He's driven out of town to be executed by 4 & 5, but Lil cuts his bonds, allowing him to kill both of them. He makes it back, unceremoniously kills the last of the 6, & finds a lead that brings him to Lil and the Big Boss, who turns out to have been the man who suggested to the mayor to contact the Angel in the first place, in the hopes that they could split their loot 2 ways instead of 8. It's a solid little story that sets the tone for the Angel well. My understanding is that he gets flanderized into a brutal killer in his few modern flashback appearances, but here as is often the case he's satisfied with just getting the criminals for the cops when it doesn't impede his ongoing investigation- but he definitely doesn't mind killing either when the situation calls for it. That's honestly kind of the vibe for most Golden Age comics, though.

The third story is famously the first to have been made, & the only character here to have an ongoing importance to Marvel today. It starts as a mystery, with a salvage ship sending 2 divers down to a wreck to find that someone had already been there. That someone was Namor, a capricious, water-breathing prince who cuts their airlines, this being over a decade before scuba was invented, so divers had actual tubes leading all the way from their helmets to the boat for air. He then crashes the entire ship, gathers up the divers' bodies, & carries them back to Atlantis (though it hasn't yet been identified as such), where his mother eggs him on to wage war on the surface world, telling him the story of how she came to love his father while acting as a double-agent on his ship, sending info back to her people about how to avenge the surface's accidental bombings of Atlanteans. Namor & his cousin Dorma then go on a short mission, attacking a lighthouse, & hijack a small plane so Dorma can escape before Namor plunges back into the sea.

This strip, or at least the first part of it, before they swim to the lighthouse, was originally produced for Motion Picture Funnies Weekly, a comic meant to be given away at movie theaters earlier in 1939, but it was never released. It was also not a Timely publication, so I don't really have any intention of going back to it. In every way that matters, the Sub-Mariner begins here. I have read that Bill Everett came up with the character after hearing about the plans for the Human Torch- might be just hearsay, but as the most long-standing duo in Marvel comics with only a couple of competitors on the DC side of things, it's only appropriate they both start alongside each other in the very first issue of Marvel.

One other thing worth mentioning is that the underwater scenes here are all covered extremely blue, to the point it is difficult to see details in a lot of cases. As a result, most appearances of the Atlanteans here show them as being blue, & they become established as just being blue-skinned in canon. However, the same is true for Namor, & both his mother & cousin have a caucasian skin tone when shown out of the water. Blue skin clearly wasn't intended, & is just a quirk of this heavy-handed coloring choice.

The Masked Raider is a typical western story, & unlike the previous three it won't be sticking around for very long. Jim Gardley here refused to sell his ranch to the man who "rules" the town, whose name is either Brunder or Brunter depending on the panel, even after Brunder kidnaps him and turns him into the sheriff on a made-up charge. He breaks out of jail & goes on the run for weeks, honing his skills as a gunslinger & taming a white stallion he names Lightning. After he's satisfied with his preparation, he takes on this secret identity & returns just in time before the rest of the ranchers decide to sell, teaming up with the sheriff to take the Brunder Gang down. Aside from the reaction of Brunder's right-hand man Slick to Jim's offer of surrender being very funny to me, I have little else to say about this comic, or most Masked Raider strips.

The fifth story is a one-shot called Jungle Terror, and it's at this point the negatives of media from so long ago become apparent. We made it about 2/3rds of the first issue before we hit any blatant racism. A professor has been missing in the Amazon for 3 months, so his nephew & a family friend resolve to go after him, while they are followed by a plantation-owner called Crafton, who wants to get the hypnotic diamond that the professor had gone to look for, owned by an "Indian" tribe. The protagonists' plane crashes, & they are taken captive by the "savages", who of course speak in broken English. In the hut where they are kept they conveniently find both the professor and an entrance to a cave full of the diamonds, but are forced to flee as they are first threatened by Crafton, then he is killed by the natives & they are chased from the cave. They manage to find Crafton's intact plane & get away. For exactly one panel on the last page, without explanation, the natives are also shown with demonic horns. It's a less than mediocre story & I'm glad it did not spawn an ongoing series.

The sixth story is in prose! Most of these early comics have a 2-page written short story, & the majority are self-contained. I also skipped over any that didn't involve existing characters for my first read, so in skimming back through these it will be my first time actually reading most. Burning Rubber is an... interesting story. Bill Williams (William Williams?) has a racecar that looks shabby because he & his mechanic Fred dedicated everything to its performance. The first segment of the story is dedicated to this dynamic, making it seem like it will just be about the ugly duckling winning the race. But the next segment has Fred explain to Bill's girlfriend Ann, who is worried about him crashing, that the race is actually a final test for their experimental new gas-feeder, which if anything goes wrong could explode, & that if she wants to save his life she needs to go to an acquaintance of hers with the blueprint & convince him to buy it. She succeeds, just in time as gas starts to fly out onto Bill's face & the car begins to smoke. Bill is, naturally, mad & sexist about being interrupted, thinking she was just stopping him from proving the gas-feeder made the car go faster, until he learns what happened & is is happy that they can discuss selling the gas-feeder... that is blatantly faulty. I'm just not sure what the takeaway here is, other than that Bill is terrible. Such an odd story.

Finally, we have Ka-Zar, another Golden Age character whose name will get reused for a completely unrelated Silver Age one. As the title card there says, he's a pre-existing character, from the 1936 novel King of Fang and Claw. The first five Ka-Zar stories here are adapted from that book. John Rand, owner of a South African diamond field, gets what he deserves as his plane crashes deep in the Congo with his wife Constance & their 3-year-old son, David, who quickly begins to befriend all the wildlife except for a leopard called N'Jaga, who tries to eat the boy but is wounded by John. They repeatedly try to get the attention of passing planes, but fail, & eventually Constance dies of a fever. Before they can start to try to reach civilization on foot, John is struck by a falling tree during a storm, & the injury, implied to have caused some minor brain damage, convinces him that Constance's grave is their home, & they would continue to build a life for themselves in the jungle. As he grows, David continues to grow close with the wildlife, learning the language of the beasts, & ultimately saving the lion Zar from quicksand.

A week after saving Zar, David and his father see smoke, & it leads them to the camp of a white man, Paul de Kraft, who is using native Africans for labor and is repeatedly emphasized as being both fat & greasy. de Kraft has come for emeralds, and when told to leave by John, pulls a gun out, but David hits him in the arm with an arrow so they can escape. However, de Kraft tracks down their home, mortally wounds John, & captures David, but Zar leaps into the clearing, killing the natives & driving the white man away. With John's death, Zar adopts David as his brother, & he officially becomes Ka-Zar in the final couple panels.

Ka-Zar's treatment of Africans is not exactly charitable, but at least they are the minions ordered around by an evil white guy instead of being the antagonists themselves. The comic is much meaner to overweight people than to racial minorities. Otherwise, it's a pretty typical "white baby grows up in darkest Africa" story, & while a solid example of that weird genre, it's nothing new for anybody that knows Tarzan, at least not in this first issue.

Skipping some advertisements as is typical for the back of these books, this is the end of the first issue of Timely Comics. This took longer than I expected, definitely longer than just reading the comic itself; I'd say that I'll try to keep future posts shorter, but I know myself better than that. Some issues are just gonna take 3 hours to write up. I will have to give up any delusions of being caught up with what I have read soon, though. Until next Timely.

...Yeah, I'll keep workshopping, I don't think that's gonna work as a catchphrase.

#marvel comics #timely comics #human torch #sub-mariner #namor mckenzie #the angel #thomas halloway #masked raider #ka-zar

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monkeymindscream · 23 days ago

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Anyone remember Kid vs. Kat? I recently did and I’ve decided I feel like talking about it – what was the deal with Kat and the Kommander?

Because on the surface it seems pretty standard – Kat’s the main antagonist of the show, the Kommander is his boss who acts as the Bigger Bad. We see multiple instances of Kommander giving Kat orders, and threatening him with violence if he fails. And these aren’t empty threats; not only are Kat’s reactions extremely telling, but we see Kommander follow through on these threats with any and all underlings in his immediate vicinity. People are (rightfully) terrified of this cat.

So okay, abusive cartoon Bad Boss is cartoonishly abusive to his henchmen – fork spotted in kitchen. 'Bout as cut-and-dry as you can get, right?

Nnnnnno, actually. Because for as awful as the Kommander is to Kat specifically, Kat – again, SPECIFICALLY – seems to have some level of a non-hostile relationship with him.

Let’s look at the timeline, at least in terms of the original air dates of the episodes: We first see him, the Kommander’s ordering Kat to send food back to homeworld, with threats to disintegrate him if he fails (and then, when Kat does fail, it’s only through luck that he doesn’t end up getting blasted). Then, in quite literally the very next episode the Kommander appears in… Kat’s calling him to chat on his way to work??

And this isn’t like “Kat happened to call to give a status report while he was in transit, but it’s still pure business,” because look at them for God’s sake:

There is nothing “professional” about this, Kat straight-up called to shoot the shit with him. And they both look very pleased/content to be able to do so.

Even further, Kat’s shown to be in Kommander’s personal contacts on his silly little 2000s cellphone (implying that the above is a mutually-instigated occurrence):

And he has an actual physical picture of Kat (yeah it's among others and he destroys it several seconds after it's shown in frustration, but my point stands):

And then, the final nail in the coffin of “what are you two to each other??” in the Christmas special, we see Kat repeatedly pining over these pictures:

He's clearly shown to be deeply upset that he’s separated from the ones in it with him. It's heavily implied being that the cats in the photos are, in fact, his family. The Kommander is featured prominently in both.

Also, because I’m on a roll and I feel it bears mention, there might be evidence that the Kommander worries for Kat when he thinks he's in legitimate danger. In Blasteroid Blues, he sends in a spybot to check in on Kat. He then misinterprets the TV show Coop's watching (featuring a space-hero human violently dispatching a cat alien, damn you serendipity) to be reality. He's terrified.

Cut to later, he's shown pacing back and forth, clearly fretting as he waits for the spybot to send him more information. This is the next image he's sent:

He promptly flips his shit. Exchanges some very panicked words with a nearby henchman, and then decides to send in a laser to vaporize the area where the debacle is taking place (in this case, a store holding an event for the same TV show he'd mistakenly caught a scene from earlier).

Now, could this be meant to be interpreted as the Kommander being worried that whatever was happening could somehow leak over to where he was situated, and his worry was entirely based in self-interest? Absolutely. Frankly, given how Y7 kids’ shows aren’t especially prone to giving their villains much nuance (and since we’ve established Kommander is a grade-A asshole), I’d argue that to be the most likely intention of this scenario, especially considering the disregard he'd been shown to give Kat.

However, “writer intent vs. what’s actually depicted” isn’t always simpatico when it comes to shows/books/what have you. Think of every character that it was obvious the writers just loved that fans had justifiable problems with. That in mind, I would like to point out that the Kommander’s fretting carries a definite air of urgency to it, whether or not that was the intent of the writers/animators. It's as if whatever danger he’s concerned about is an immediate threat. Which, considering he’s presently several galaxies away from the debacle, it very clearly isn’t. To him.

Kat, on the other hand, is presumably on the frontlines of whatever this shitshow is, and would be in immediate danger. You’ll notice that the image of him seemingly being attacked is what finally prompts the Kommander to send in the laser to try to nuke the location.

“But Kat was in the line of fire of the laser, if it had gone off properly he would’ve gotten blasted too,” I hear you say. “And when Kat saw the laser, he was terrified, which suggests he knew he was about to get blown up.”

Fair points, but Kat very easily manages to get out of the laser’s firing range. How? By just. Leaving. Millie and Burt come out, tell Coop they’re going to wait for him out in the car, and then they do. And just like that, Kat’s safe. In fact, as soon as it becomes clear he would be leaving the store, Kat’s delighted by the presence of the laser, because now it’s Coop’s problem.

It could therefore be implied that the Kommander figured Kat would vacate the area as soon as he saw the laser. The only reason Kat didn’t, and was therefore afraid of impending pain, was because Millie was still in the store, and he had no way to get her out without blowing his cover.

"And what if Kat hadn't been able to leave when he noticed the laser, wouldn't Kommander have thought of that if he was actually worried for Kat-?" Probably not, no. The planet he and the rest of his species are currently living on is the fifth one they've taken over/basically destroyed through lack of care in ten years. Forethought doesn't seem to be a strong point of these people.

Maybe I’m being a little fast and loose with my interpretations of things, but I maintain that nothing I’ve pointed out thus far is factually incorrect.

Also, food for thought, for as violent as Kommander is, nothing he does seems to be permanent. Usually, he threatens to disintegrate Kat (or anyone else who displeases him) in some way, but that… doesn’t really seem to be a fatal condition for this species. We see it happen to Kat several times over the course of the show - he gets turned into a pile of ash through wacky shenanigans, then gets right back up. He's usually groaning in pain, but that's the extent of it of the ill-effects he seems to go through.

And then look, the Kommander zap-fries this one poor bastard (for not getting him a good enough birthday gift, the brat):

and then here's the same guy a few episodes later:

Now, this is undoubtedly a result of this being a Y7 show from the 2000s, and the network was reluctant to depict one of their characters successfully (permanently) murdering another character, even if said murderer was a villain. But whatever the behind-the-scenes logic was, it nonetheless demands reasoning from the characters within the resulting narrative. Kommander’s a violent asshole, but we don’t have any actual evidence that he’s murderous.

So yeah, it’s obvious that Kommander is connected to Kat somehow, in a much deeper way than just an abusive boss and his beleaguered underling. I just don’t know how specifically. Is he supposed to be an evil uncle or something? Harsh dad? Bullying older brother? We’re not given any real clue.

Complicating this whole situation further is a couple of factors: First, Kommander canonically has a son. Who, despite not showing up anywhere prior to his introductory episode (not in the background, not in any of the “family” pictures we see, nowhere), Kat clearly knows. When the kid turns up on earth, Kat immediately knows to call his dad to let him know he’s there.

The problem is we're not given any indication as to whether it's as simple as "I recognize that's my boss's son, oh no," or if it's a case "whyy the fuck is my little cousin/brother/nephew/whatever here? Go back home kid I'm working." By all accounts, it seems to be the former, but how can that be when the show's taken pains to hint Kat's also part of the Kommander's family in some way? Shouldn't they have also taken those same pains to impress his son was Kat's family too?

Next, this would make Kat part of – essentially – his planet’s royal family. There’s some canonical proof of this, as when he successfully takes over earth in the bad future episode, he becomes “King Kat” of the entire planet. But if that’s true, why’s he constantly treated so shitty? Not just by Kommander, either - there’s this bitch

who mocks him when Kommander says Kat’s failed too often and needs to come back home to face the music. That might be your prince (orrr duke? depending on his relation to the Kommander? someone who understands royal titles better than me please weigh in), why are you being such a fucker to him??

I have headcanons for this whole situation, obviously, but as for anything concrete? Total blank.

#brain worrrrrms #I’m 100% talking to myself here #just needed to exorcise the demons this show gave me #thank you for your patience carry on carry on #kid vs kat #muttering about kats

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stargazer-liz · 7 months ago

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Serendipity (Poe Dameron x Original Female Character) Chapter II: The Resistance

Masterlist

The Planet D'Qar, Outer Rim, 34 ABY

They hadn't been long in hyperspace when the questions started. Apparently, Poe couldn't keep his mouth shut for long.

"So, you said you had lots of piloting experience. What exactly did you do?"

Sora supposed it wouldn't hurt giving him some answers. After all, they kind of were on the same side. Whilst she might not have been a Resistance member, she certainly didn't support the First Order either. Heck, if they knew she was alive, she'd probably get a bounty put on her head.

"I am...was a smuggler," she said, leaning back into her chair. Poe kept his gaze locked on her, the ship navigating on auto-pilot during their hyperspace journey to D'Qar. He had turned his seat towards her and made himself comfortable. "We were a tiny crew of two and had a nice ship. We traveled all around the galaxy to look for jobs and it kept us pretty busy."

Poe raised one brow. "A smuggler, huh? Didn't expect that. But I guess that's how you learned to fight."

"It comes with the job." She shrugged her shoulders, fingers drawing imaginary patterns on her trousers. "A smuggler who can't land a good punch or knows how to fire a blaster is as good as dead."

"Can't disagree. But how did you end up on Jakku then? What happened to your crew and ship?"

Sora didn't want to go into detail, not yet. Besides, they were on a mission and would part ways again afterwards. He didn't have to know everything about her. "Two years ago, our last job...escalated and we were forced to split up. My crewmate managed to escape but I wasn't so lucky. Honestly, I don't know how I ended up on Jakku. One second, I was unconscious and suddenly, I woke up in the desert of Jakku in an escape pod where Rey found me. That's all I know."

A look of sympathy flashed across the pilot's face. "I'm sorry. And out of all the places you could have landed, it just had to be Jakku."

She huffed. "Yeah, I guess someone out there really hates me. Do you know how hard it was to look at Unkar's ugly face everyday and not being able to punch him? Everyone on that planet depends on him and it made me sick."

"Saw him for the first time today and all I wanted to do was punch him. So I get your feelings, princess."

There it was again, that damned nickname leaving his tongue so easily. Maybe this was just the way he talked to every woman. The name should annoy her way more than it actually did. Somehow, it made it easier for her to converse with him. It was more like talking to a long lost friend than a total stranger, something she appreciated after two years of basically speaking to no other human apart from Rey.

"Why didn't you steal this ship earlier though?" Poe sounded genuinely baffled, as if he really couldn't believe why she had stayed so long when she could have left at any moment.

"And leave Rey behind, after everything she did for me?" Sora shook her head, knowing that she had never even been tempted. "No way. Never. I knew I had to wait until she was ready to leave her home."

Poe hummed, smiling at her. "A loyal friend. You know, we could use someone like you. The Resistance, I mean. You're a pilot, you can fight and you're loyal to your cause. The general would be honored to have you on her team."

"Look, all I want is to make sure Rey is safe and gets back home unharmed. That's it." Deep down, she knew it was only partly true.

"Alright, I understand," the pilot responded, though not quite believing her, and leaned forward in his seat, elbows pressing into his thighs as he rested his chin on his hands. "Just...just know the offer still stands, in case you change your mind."

Sora nodded and raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. "And what about you? Have you always been a pilot for the Resistance?"

Poe chuckled. "Believe it or not, I once was a smuggler too. A part of the Spice Runners on Kijimi, actually." He looked and feigned anger when she laughed at him. "Hey, that's not funny."

"Wait! Don't tell me you're the man Zorri hates so much."

Straightening his back again, the pilot looked at her in disbelief. "You know Zorri?"

Sora nodded, letting out another laugh. "Met her once or twice during a job. One time, we got drunk and she was raging about a man who had abandoned her and the gang. Let me give you an advise: You better not step foot on Kijimi ever again. She seemed ready to tear you to shreds."

"Thanks for the heads up. Not that I plan on ever going back there again anyways."

"How did you manage to escape the First Order? Beebee-Ate told me that you had been captured by them, so how did you make it back to Jakku?" The question had bothered Sora the whole day. Surely, they wouldn't have let a Resistance member walk out of their front door.

"Now, that's a crazy story. A stormtrooper helped me escape. We stole a TIE Fighter together and were shot down before we could land safely."

For someone who knew a former stormtrooper herself, it wasn't actually that crazy. A rare coincidence but not entirely unbelievable. But the story was piercing itself together in her mind like a solved puzzle. "So he was the Finn you were looking for when I found you?"

Poe nodded, smiling sadly. "He was a great guy."

Sora felt the need to give him some hope. The sad look just didn't fit him. "You know, there's a chance he's with Rey and BeeBee-Ate. I mean, I can't think of any man on Jakku that she would willingly leave with. Logically, it has to be an outsider. And if you survived the crash, so could he."

Her words seemed to work. Poe's sad smile vanished slowly, turning into a hopeful expression. "You're right. It makes sense. We'll meet him again soon then," he said before he changed the topic when he caught her yawning again. "Am I that boring, princess?" The grin on his lips told her he was only joking.

"Sorry," she chuckled weakly, rubbing her eyes. "Ever since I've landed on Jakku, I'm basically always tired. Guess all of that sun and sand really gets to me."

"We won't reach D'Qar in hours." He nodded towards the tiny sleeping quarter behind them. "I could really use some sleep as well. Let's lay down for a bit."

He did indeed look exhausted. Dark rings were prominent underneath his eyes and his skin had grown paler since she had found him. The brown in his eyes was less vibrant and she wondered when he had last slept peacefully. There was no doubt he had endured some kind of torture on the First Order's fleet but since there were no major wounds, she assumed it had been Kylo Ren who had led the interrogation. Invisible to the outside, the wounds in his mind were likely agonizing.

"Sounds fine to me." Pushing herself to her feet and watching him do the same, Sora dragged her body to the sleeping quarters and pressed the button to open the door. Although she really didn't have the energy to climb up the short ladder to lay down, she figured Poe's body deserved some rest. She just hoped the ship would keep flying smoothly because the upper bed had no safety railing and she really didn't want to tumble to the hard ground.

The smuggler left her shoes next to the door and slid out of her jacket, letting it slide to the floor carelessly. Poe slipped off his shoes as well and instantly laid his battered body on the mattress. Sora almost slipped on the ladder when he let out a loud moan. "Oh, this feels amazing. So soft."

Shaking her head to erase the memory of the sound, she had to agree with him. The mattress was much more comfortable than it looked. There were no blankets, not that they needed them anyways. "This is definitely better than my bed on Jakku," she mumbled, her eyes already closing as her heartbeat slowed down to a calm, steady rhythm. "Good night, Poe." Her voice was barely audible and she doubted he had even heard it.

"Good night, princess." Poe's whisper was met with no response for Sora was already fast asleep.

It was the best rest she had had in two years.

*****

Poe had woken up first, rattled awake as the ship left hyperspace. They had slept for a whole night and day, the longest sleep he had had in years. Maker, their bodies and minds had to have been extremely tired, he assumed.

Running a hand through his hair to tame the locks, he quickly walked towards the cockpit to shut off the alarm before it could even ring. Through the front window, he could see the green round mass of D'Qar in front of them, its planetary ring casting shadows on the surface.

Poe couldn't really believe how lucky he had gotten to be able to see it again. If he hadn't met Finn, he'd be dead by now. And if Sora hadn't found him, who knew how long it would have taken him to find a way to reach the Resistance's base. Thanks to Sora and her friend, BeeBee-Ate was safe and sound as well. Not currently within his reach, but still safe which was all that mattered. Well, hopefully. If what she had said was right, they were on their way to D'Qar as well.

Thinking of her, Poe went back to the sleeping quarters where Sora was still resting. The pilot took a moment to admire her. Asleep and relaxed, she looked at peace, a foreign look on her. It suited her, he noted. There was a gentle rose-coloured shine on her cheeks, as if her body regained all of the energy life on Jakku had stolen from her in the last two years at once. Her braid had become partly undone, long strands of black hair framing her face.

She was beautiful, he had already noticed that the moment his eyes had opened back on Jakku. Her delicate face had been the first thing he had looked at, framed by the glazing sun behind her. It had made her look almost otherworldly, the smooth, blemish free skin and the rosy lips a stark contrast against the ruth planet.

Poe wasn't lying when he had told her the Resistance needed people like her. In fact, she would be a perfect addition, with her past and her abilities. However, a tiny (okay, a big), selfish part of his brain wanted her to stay just so he could get to know her better. He liked talking to her, liked their small banter. She was easy to be around and it felt as if he had known her far longer than just a day.

Before he could feel like a creep, Poe stepped closer to the bed to put his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. "Sora, wake up. We've made it."

She stirred awake slowly, her eyes taking a moment to get used to the light again. Even though her appearance was clearly screaming 'I just woke up, give me a moment', she seemed wide awake. "I feel like a whole new being," she said, hopping out of bed to stretch her arms and legs. Her bones protested with a couple of popping noises. "You know what would be perfect now? A shower and fresh clothes."

Poe watched her with a smile, the skin under his eyes creasing slightly. Truthfully, he couldn't wait to do the same. "Your wish is my command, princess. I'll make sure that's the first thing you get as soon as we're at the base."

"Please tell me you have running water down there."

The pilot looked almost offended. "Of course. And guess what, it's hot water."

At the thought of the first hot shower she would have in two years, Sora grinned widely. "I could kiss you right now, Poe."

For a second, his eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, lips pulling into a grin. Then he saw the look on her face and his shoulders sacked instantly, the corners of his mouth lowering again. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"Obviously."

*****

D'Qar was a beautiful planet. Instead of beige and grey, everywhere she looked she saw nothing but green as the jungle drew closer, spreading all around them. They flew over waterfalls and lush fields of flowers. Sora struggled to take it all in. The sun was slowly setting, turning the sky into a beautiful canvas of various colors. Compared to the lackluster scenery of Jakku, this was sensory overload. The only planet she had visited that was even more beautiful was Naboo.

"It's stunning, isn't it?" Poe's attention was focused on safely landing the ship, yet he couldn't resist letting his eyes wander over to her every now and then. She looked so excited and for a brief moment, he thought that maybe his not so successful mission had gone way better than he had thought. Would she have ever left Jakku if it hadn't been for BeeBee-Ate and him? He didn't know her well-enough to guess the answer.

"They're probably on high alert. The ship's communication system is broken, so I can't inform them it's me. It's better to let them see me first, then they'll know you're not a threat."

Sora agreed without a complaint. "Sure."

She wondered whether Rey had already arrived before them. What if she was already on her way back to Jakku? What if something had happened to her?

The Starfighter began its descend onto one of the landing platforms. Sora could see different X-Wings and hangers lined up along a long runway, tucked away underneath the greenery. Grass and bushes covered everything, effectively hiding them from curious eyes on the horizon. Smaller and bigger Satellites were scattered on the grass, crates of various sizes were tugged into every corner.

Quite a few people were running around, some wearing bright orange pilot suits. And every single one of them was gazing at their spacecraft, weapons ready to be fired, making Sora feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Feels good to be back," Poe admitted happily, his smile so bright it almost blinded her.

Their landing was incredibly soft, further proof of his outstanding flying abilities. The impact was nothing but a gentle tap against her feet. Poe was out of his chair before she could even blink, the ramp of the ship already lowering as she joined his side.

Sora knew she looked like a mess. Her braid wasn't really a braid anymore with multiple strands of hair now framing her face. The clothes she wore were dirty and wrinkled and probably reeked of sweat. Well, at least it would show these people that she had gone through some trouble to bring their beloved pilot back to them. But she really wanted that shower as soon as possible.

"Guys, don't shot! It's me," Poe announced, jogging down the ramp and jumping down the last bit. The Resistance members lowered their guns, immediately breaking into a cheer as they swarmed around the pilot. Hugs and friendly pats on the back were exchanged.

It was obvious the pilot was very well liked and respected. No one had even noticed her leaving the ship. Everyone was too preoccupied with Poe, wanting to hear his story. She used the time to let her gaze wander over the base. She ship's hanger seemed to be the only part above ground. Everything else was located underground where it was less likely to be detected, she supposed.

"And who might you be, my dear?"

The question brought her out of her daze and her eyes snapped to where it had come from. An elderly woman was smiling at her, grey hair braided and tied in a circle on top of her head. She wore a loose beige bodysuit, fastened with a golden belt underneath her chest and a burgundy colored vest on top.

"You must be general Leia Organa," Sora thought out loud, realizing it too late.

But Leia only laughed softly. "Leia is just fine." She took one look towards Poe who was still busy catching up with his friends and colleagues, then she pointed her hand towards the path leading away from the hangar. "Would you mind taking a walk with me?"

Sora knew if there was one person she could trust here, apart from Poe, it was Leia. "Of course not." Side by side, they walked away from the mass of people, leaving the loud chatter behind. "I'm Sora Park, by the way."

"Thank you for bringing our best pilot back, Sora. We really appreciate it." Leia replied and led her through one of the hangers. A few people stared at the smuggler in curiosity, some even nodded at her in greetings. No one seemed to view her as a threat, causing her body and mind to relax. "May I ask, how did you meet him?"

"I found him in the desert on Jakku. Well, actually I found his droid first"

"And yet Beebee-Ate is not with you?" Leia send her a questioning look but if there was any judgement or disappointment towards her, it was well hidden.

Sora shook her head, her eyes taking in as much as they could. "No, but he is with a friend who I'm sure will bring him back safely as well."

"Very well. If Poe trusts you, then I trust you as well," the general responded, leading her down a staircase. "You should be aware now that you know the location of our base, I expect you to keep it a secret. It is our top priority that the First Order stays in the dark, for the safety of our people and the whole operation."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of telling the First Order anything. In fact, I plan on staying out of their radar for as long as I can." Sora huffed, remembering the incident on Atrisia two years ago.

Leia could see right through her, a necessary ability required by her position as the leader of the Resistance. Even if she did trust the young woman, she still had to make sure the wasn't a danger to the Resistance in any way. "I suppose you have history with them?"

The smuggler winced, grimacing when the past events played out inside her head like a movie. "You could say that. I was a smuggler. Freed one of their prisoners during a job, a former stormtrooper who was about to be executed. Guess they didn't like that. Oh, and stabbing general Hux probably didn't help either."

Leia's loud laughter startled both her and the workers they walked past. Sora didn't know where exactly they were going but they were somewhere underground. According to the signs on the wall, they had already passed a cafeteria, a kitchen, a conference and a security room. "Oh Maker, how did you manage to get out of that alive?"

"Well, I almost didn't. And they actually think I'm dead. But a stormtrooper saved me and brought me to Jakku. I have no idea who it was but I own them my life. It was Rey who then found me. She's the one who's with BeeBee-Ate."

Leia hummed, processing the information. "It's only further proof that so much more people are willing to stand up against the First Order than they think, even their supposed own members. Most people only need a small push in the right direction to stand up for what they truly think is right."

They stopped in front of one of the doors in the sleeping quarters. Leia entered a code and the door slid open, revealing a small room with a queen sized bed, a tiny desk and a wardrobe. There was another door inside which likely led to the refresher.

"This is yours for however long you like, Sora. You are welcome to stay here. The Resistance could use your help."

"You know, Poe said the same."

A strange glint flashed through Leia's eyes, the corners of her mouth turning up into a knowing smile. "Did he now? Interesting. You can freshen up a bit in here. You look like you need it, dear. In the meantime, I will look for some suitable clothes for you and have them brought to you whilst I speak with Poe."

Sora was thankful for the kindness Leia was showing her. After all, she was just a stranger and had come barging into the Resistance, yet she was welcomed with open arms. And seeing as Rey wasn't here yet, she would gladly take the offer. "Thank you for everything, General."

"No, I am the one who has to thank you, Sora," Leia smiled kindly and walked towards the door. "I'll see you later." The door shut behind her with a soft hiss.

Taking a deep breath, Sora closed her eyes for a whole minute. So much had changed over the course of the last two days. It was almost like her life was once again totally turned around. And this time, she couldn't help but admit that she liked it. It was a good change.

When she stripped herself off her clothes, a tiny pile of sand gathered on the ground. That was definitely something she wouldn't miss as long as she stayed here. After only having seen sand for two years, she was sick of it.

Sora sighed happily as the first drops of warm water hit her head. She took her time in the shower, making sure her hair and skin felt and smelt as good as new. Her muscles were soothed entirely, any small aches she previously had were gone.

Stepping out of a shower, she wrapped one of the surprisingly fluffy towels around her body and used another one to pat her long hair so it wouldn't drip any water. Once she was done, she ran a hand over the mirror above the sink to get rid of the condensed water.

The unusual natural blush on her cheeks surprised her greatly. Fingers gently brushing against them, she took a deep breath. Sora felt good. She felt strangely calm and...hopeful. And she couldn't explain why. It was probably best to simply enjoy it. Who knew how long this feeling would last.

A knock on the door caused her to flinch out of her trance. "Coming," she said, voice loud enough to be heard through the walls. Barefoot, she tip toed to the entrance and opened it. In front of her stood a golden protocol droid who was taller than her. In his hands, he was holding a stack of clothes.

"Hello Miss Park, my name is See-Threepio. General Organa send me to-" The droid cut himself off and promptly turned around. "Oh my, she didn't mention you would be naked. I'm terribly sorry for intruding. I can assure you, I was programmed for etiquette and won't look at you until you're decent."

Sora laughed at the droid's antics. "It's okay, I'm not naked." The towel was indeed a little short but it covered all of the essentials, reaching to the middle of her thighs. "I'm guessing those clothes are for me?"

The droid nodded but refused to look at her. "You're right. General Organa selected them herself. She also told me to wait for you to get dressed and escort you to the cafeteria. I will shut myself down so you can take these clothes from me. I ask you to power me up again once you are ready to go."

Before she could speak up, See-Threepio had already put himself in energy saving mode. Sora stared at the droid, blinking rapidly. Then, she shook her head and quickly grabbed the stacked clothes, laughing quietly.

The protocol droid was not left alone for long. Only seconds after the door had closed behind Sora, Poe walked around the corner. At the sight of a shut-down See-Threepio, his brows creased in confusion. "What the heck," he mumbled to himself, gazing at the silent droid. Whilst it was a nice change to not hear him talk, the pilot was curious, so he powered him back on.

The yellow glow returned to the droid's eyes as he came back to life. And instantly started talking. "Miss Park, I must apologize again. I-...Oh, it's you Master Dameron. I'm terribly sorry but I'm waiting for Miss Park. I was told to escort her to the cafeteria and then-"

"No need, I'll do it," Poe waved him off impatiently. "But why were you shut down?"

See-Threepio was just about to reply when Sora stepped out of her room, eying both the droid and the pilot with a big question mark on her face. "Oh Miss Park, thankfully you're dressed this time. Don't worry, I'll make sure to erase the picture from my memory. Commander Dameron will take over my assignment. I must leave. Should we meet each other again, please make sure to not open the door naked."

"I was not naked," Sora emphasized but the droid was already gone. Embarrassed, she felt warmth spreading across her cheeks. See-Threepio definitely talked too much. And he needed a filter.

Poe crossed his arms on his chest, grinning teasingly at her, one eyebrow raised. "Naked, huh?"

The pilot couldn't resist letting his gaze travel across her body. Freshly showered, her damp hair flowed down to just over her chest in gentle waves. Leia had given her a pair of tight, black trousers, a white top and a dark blue-grayish leather jacket. The outfit suited her incredibly well, hugging her body in just the right places. Poe tried to ignore the hint of jealousy he felt towards the protocol droid who had apparently seen her in much less.

A sigh of annoyance left Sora's mouth. "I was wearing a towel. Not my fault he's so uptight."

Poe laughed. "I think you traumatized him a bit."

"Agreed. He'll probably never talk to me again."

"Hah, trust me, that's impossible. That droid never misses an opportunity to talk."

"Guess I just have to show him more skin then."

Once again, laughter escaped Poe's mouth, trembling through his whole body. "Go ahead, princess. I like seeing him so flustered. And quiet."

He had showered as well, his curls still dripping water. His beige trousers and white button up shirt were clean, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. There were no traces of blood left on him but he had put a small plaster over the cut on his temple.

Suddenly, the pilot closed the distance between them and threw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. "Come on, I'm starving. Bet you haven't eaten anything good in years. The Resistance has some awesome chefs. You need to try those jogan-fruit cookies. Trust me, you'll get addicted."

At first, Sora's body stiffened at the sudden contact. But Poe's body felt warm and inviting. Besides, it was a friendly gesture and she found herself wanting to enjoy it. So she relaxed against him and let the pilot lead her through the underground base. The smuggler made sure to remember the turns they had made in order to find her way back on her own.

Upon entering the cafeteria through a grand archway, the lack of people sitting at the various tables didn't surprise her. After all, it was already late in the evening and most people were likely about to retire for the night. Quiet chatter could be heard from the tables they walked past, but no one paid them any attention.

"Thank the Maker, there are still leftovers," Poe mumbled, pulling her towards the small buffet. A few friendly faces greeted them before vanishing into the kitchen behind it again, cleaning up for the day. Releasing the hold he had on her, the pilot grabbed them both a plate. "Take whatever you want. And don't forget those cookies."

She didn't. When the two of them sat down facing each other at one of the corner tables, each plate was overflowing with all kinds of delicious fruits, vegetables, meat and pastries. Sora ate slowly, making sure to savor her first taste of real meal in years.

They ate in comfortable silence until she finally bit into the jogan-fruit cookie and moaned softly. "Kriff, you weren't lying. This is the best desert I've ever had."

Munching on his own cookie, Poe winked at her. "Don't tell anyone but there's a secret stash of 'em in the kitchen. It's in the cabinet under the sink. In case you ever need a midnight snack."

"Sharing highly confidential secrets with me already?" She teasingly raised a brow, swallowing the last crumbs of cookie. "I'm flattered and will take it with me to the grave."

"You better." Poe put his forearms on the table and leaned closer to her, clasping his hands together. "You don't want to deal with Kalara's wrath. That kitchen is her kingdom and those cookies she makes are her most prized possession."

"Sounds like you've experienced her anger before," Sora replied, chuckling softly.

The pilot winced. "Let's just say getting spanked with a wooden spoon hurts a lot more than you'd expect."

Sora burst into laughter, imaging the scene inside her head. "I'd pay thousands to see that."

"By the way, that better stay between us as well. I'd never hear the end of it if my squadron members found out." It was an empty threat and Poe was smiling at her, seemingly content with being the reason behind her laugh.

"Can't promise anything," she said, letting her gaze wander around the cafeteria. Everyone had left the room, the clattering of plates and pots from the kitchen the only remaining hint at another presence.

Noticing how late it was as well, Poe pushed his chair back, looking down at her as he took both empty plates in his hands. "Think it's time to go. Do you know the way back to your room? I need to fill out some reports."

Sora nodded. "Sure. See you tomorrow?" The question filled with undeniable hope was out before she could stop it. She could only hope Poe interpreted it as a casual way to say good night.

"As if you'd get rid of me now, princess," the pilot scoffed and winked at her one last time, disposing of the dirty plates before he left the cafeteria.

After having slept throughout their whole hyperspace journey, the smuggler wasn't ready to lay in bed again just yet. She knew her sleep rhythm would be all over the place but there was so much to see on D'Qar. So much that wasn't sand. A little exploring wouldn't hurt.

Which is why instead of retracing their steps, Sora found her way upstairs again. Except for a few select workers, likely acting as guards to ensure no enemies were near, the hangars and landing platforms were empty. The air had become rather chilly and she was thankful for the jacket Leia had provided her with.

Just like on Jakku, the nights on D'Qar were mostly silent. But where the desert planet lacked wildlife, D'Qar had plenty to offer. Insects she had never seen before were chirping somewhere in the jungle around her, plants she couldn't name were gently rustling in the wind. The lush greenery felt soft against her skin as she let her hands brush against it. Up high above her, one of the two moons shone fully, reflecting enough light to show her a path through the vegetation.

Sora made sure not to wander off too far. She had no idea whether there were any dangerous predators on this planet. Moreover, she would have to navigate her way back later.

After what she guessed must have been around half an hour, a beautiful sight welcomed her. Crystal clear water rushed down from a cliff to her right, forming a small lake at the bottom and spreading out into a narrow river that disappeared somewhere in the thick greenery. Tiny glowing orbs were slowly floating through the air, a species of animals she couldn't name.

Sora gasped softly at the sheer beauty of nature presented to her. Yet, as her body sunk onto the soft ground and her fingers touched the wet surface in front of her, she suddenly found herself overwhelmed with all of the feelings she had pushed back for so long.

Everything felt so unreal, like a fever dream. That fateful day on Atrisia, her life had ended. The life she had known for 24 years had been erased and the only person left alive she had loved like a brother had to watch her die. For two years, she had managed to survive on Jakku. But surviving wasn't living.

And now. Now she felt like she could truly begin to hope again. Hope to find a way back to her old life. Hope to experience life again.

Rey would understand. Sora was sure of it. Heck, she'd probably encourage the smuggler to stay here or take the spaceship Poe and her had stolen to find Elijah. Even though the latter seemed entirely impossible, considering she had no idea where to even start. Elijah and her had lived an almost anonymous life. Sure, she could ask some of their old contacts whether they had seen him again, but the crew of the Phoenix had never told anyone of their whereabouts or plans. Not that they ever had any. Back then, their decision on which planet to look for a job next had been totally random.

Maybe there was a chance the Resistance could help her. Surely, they had contacts all across the galaxy. Perhaps someone had come across her partner in crime. She supposed she shouldn't even try looking for Revan and Nyra. With the former being a wanted ex-stormtrooper, they had to have gone into total hiding.

For Elijah's sake, shouldn't she at least try to find him? She was sure that if he knew she was alive, he would do the same for her. However, accompanying Rey back to Jakku would mean she'd loose her chance at seeing him again. She didn't want to leave her friend alone on that sad planet but she couldn't force her to leave her home behind either.

Deep in thoughts, Sora raised her arm, slowly holding out her hand and watching as one of the glowing orbs landed on her palm. Tiny pairs of wings tickled against her pale skin but the animal was shy and flew off again before she could even blink.

Rey would understand.

And the decision had been made.

Sora spent the walk back to the base feeling lighter than before. The heavy weight on her shoulders she had been unaware of until today had been lifted, leaving her with a clear consciousness.

When the smuggler stepped out of the jungle and onto the concrete of the landing platforms, she noticed a silhouette next to a black X-Wing.

Poe was leaning against one of its wings, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows drawn together in thought.

He couldn't shake off his concern for BeeBee-Ate and the vital information he was currently carrying around somewhere in the galaxy. What if the First Order had already caught his droid?

All the pilot really wanted to do was jump into his X-Wings and search for the droid himself. The knowledge that he had no idea where to start looking was what kept him on the ground. Besides, Poe knew BeeBee-Ate was smart enough to make it back to the base on his own. Or with the help of Sora's friend Rey. He just had to have hope. Wasn't that was Leia always told them?

The sounds of nearby footsteps caused him to abandon his train of thoughts. When the person stepped closer and he was able to recognize her, he pushed his body back to its full height, moving to step in front of her. "Not that I am not happy to see you again, but aren't you supposed to be in your room?"

He watched as she rolled her eyes, the tiny smile on her face betraying her. "And aren't you supposed to write reports?" Her hair had dried fully and the black waves cascading down her back looked so soft he barely managed to restrain himself from reaching out to touch them.

Instead, Poe simply stepped even closer, content when she didn't move back. "Took me ten minutes to finish them. So where have you been this whole time? It's already way past midnight." He hoped he didn't sound too worried.

Sora hadn't realized she'd spent that much time by the waterfall. "I just needed to clear my head. Can't do that trapped under ground. And it's beautiful out there."

That, the pilot could understand very well. Except when he needed to clear his mind, he usually jumped into his X-Wing and fly around. He'd always felt more confident up in the stars. "At least take a weapon with you next time. D'Qar has some wildlife you don't want to meet alone, especially at night." He had noticed the lack of blaster on her belt. Whilst there were no other intelligent lifeforms on this planet, the jungle was a refugee for some pretty big and venomous predators. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Will do. Is that your X-Wing?"

Poe nodded proudly. "Black One is a beauty, isn't she?"

"The name's a bit uncreative but yeah, she looks awesome."

"I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that." Poe gave his spacecraft one last longing stare, looking at BeeBee-Ate's empty spot behind the cockpit. Then, he turned his gaze towards the woman who had caught his interest. "Let me walk you back to your room."

"Why not," was Sora's only response as they walked side by side.

Although she didn't look tired, Poe was sure she could use some more hours of sleep. He knew that there was more to her story than she had told him. Whatever had happened prior to her miraculously stranding on Jakku had obviously had a big impact on her life.

But he could also see that the last couple of hours had awakened something inside her that had previously been dormant. He recognized that look of determination in her eyes.

When they stopped in front of her door, Poe watched her putting in the numbers to open it. She had already stepped into her room when he turned back towards him, sending him a gentle smile he happily returned. "Good night, Poe."

"Good night, Sora."

*****

At sunrise, she found herself strolling through the hangars. Her belly was still filled with everything she had eaten the evening before, so she decided to skip breakfast. The members of the Resistance were starting their work day one after another, slowly filling up the base. She saw mechanics inspecting and repairing the X-Wings, their pilots not far away from the action either. Some people were jogging rummaging through crates, sorting supplies into storage rooms. Everyone had a role here and each of them mattered, that much was obvious. In a rebellion, working together was essential to the cause.

"No, no. I told you I'm not setting a single foot on Tatooine again. Ever. You'd have to sedate me and drag my body there yourself."

"Oh, that can be arranged."

"And who would fly the ship? Newsflash, you're the worst pilot in the galaxy and you know it. You'd crash before you can even leave the planet."

"At least I'd no longer have to listen to you then."

"Just a little reminder: You literally paid to get me back."

"And I've regretted it every single day so far!"

Sora's heartbeat stopped before it continued to race inside her chest, catapulting her pulse into unhealthy dimensions. She couldn't believe her eyes. Couldn't believe that what she was seeing, that what she was hearing was real.

Because there, in the middle of the hangar, were the last people she had expected to meet on this planet. Maybe she was still dreaming? Surely, such a crazy coincidence couldn't exist.

"Revan? Nyra?" Her voice was weak. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. For the first time in her life, Sora was starstruck.

The man she had first met in a prison cell on Atrisia two years ago turned his head instantly, a pair of blue eyes meeting her wide, brown ones. The beautiful woman next to him did the same, her brown locks whipping around her head at her fast motion.

Similar to her reaction, Revan looked like he had seen a ghost. Lips parted in disbelief, he blinked nonstop as if making sure she wouldn't disappear at some point and prove his theory. "Nyra, please tell me you see her as well."

Much more composed than both of them, Nyra grinned widely, jabbing her elbow into his side. "I told you she wasn't dead. You owe me five thousand credits."

That managed to pull both Revan and Sora out of their trance. In an instant, she was pulled into a brief hug. Strong, muscled arms wrapped around her middle, squeezing her against his chest. He kept her at arms length when he let her go again, letting his eyes roam over her body. "I don't understand...how? How are you here?"

"Long story. One I'd rather not tell right now and not here." Too many curious eyes were watching the trio's exchange. The people around them made sure to act nonchalant but Sora knew they were all listening, even if it was just out of instinct.

"You're right. C'mon, let's find a quiet place. There's so much we need to catch up on."

*****

"So, let me get this right. You're here because a stormtrooper saved your life and dumped you on Jakku, only to be picked up by the best pilot of the Resistance two years later."

"Well, it was me who picked him up actually."

"Kriff Sora, if we had known you had survived, we would have searched for you," Revan said, leaning back in his chair. "After what you've done for me, I owe you one."

They had retreated into what Nyra had called the smuggler's den which usually functioned as their personal meeting room. Supply boxes were piled up by the walls, a round table with four chairs occupying the rest of the tiny room. Thankfully, being one of the very few rooms above ground, the air was fresh and clean inside.

"It's okay," Sora waved him off. "Even I was convinced I was dead. I don't blame you and you owe me nothing. I willingly took the risk when I decided to get you out of there despite the problematic situation."

Nyra shook her head and leaned forward to lay her hand atop of Sora's, the surface of the table cold against their skin. "I should have told you about who Revan was. Should have made you aware of the First Orders role in it. If anything, it was my fault."

The smuggler didn't like that they were obviously riddled with guilt. Truly, if there was one party to blame, it was definitely the First Order. Especially general Hux. Maker, she despised that guy. "No, it wasn't," Sora emphasized. Sighing, she freed her hand and folded her arms across her chest. "Let's just keep it in the past. I'm here now, mostly fine, and that's enough."

"If that's what you want, okay." Shrugging his shoulders, Revan stretched out his arm behind Nyra, putting it atop the back of her chair. The beautiful woman barely acknowledged it with a role of her eyes.

Nodding in confirmation, the young woman opted to change the topic. "So, you two are smugglers for the Resistance now?"

"Yeah. The Resistance was pretty much the only place we could go to and they were looking for people to smuggle resources, spare parts for the fleet and other stuff. Leia trusted me, despite my past."

It was time for the question she dreaded to ask. Swallowing, Sora gathered all of her courage and tried to suppress her fear of the possible answer. "So...what happened to Elijah?"

Revan grimaced, a distant look of sorrow etched onto his face. "After he dropped me off on Bardotta, he gave me your ship and disappeared. Didn't tell me where he wanted to go and didn't even take the reward for saving me. I haven't heard from him ever since. I'm sorry, Sora."

Not the answer she wanted to hear and certainly not the one she was expecting. "He gave you the Phoenix? Just like that?" Kriff, if he didn't have a spacecraft, where did he go and how did he manage to leave the planet with no credits?

It was Nyra who answered. "He said there were too many memories attached to it. He practically threw the remote controls at us."

That actually sounded quite like Elijah. He'd always had a hard time acknowledging the past, opting to run away from it rather than embrace it. All of this information had only pushed her further away from finding him. Where could she ever start looking for him?

Stopping herself from letting her thoughts go further down this sad, dark path, she decided to focus on the positive. "So the Phoenix is on D'Qar?"

Lips pulled into a grin, Revan slapped his thigh and stood up. "You wanna see her? She's still yours, captain."

Sora's mood brightened considerably the moment her gaze laid upon her beloved spaceship, tucked away into a hangar she hadn't visited yet. The familiar silver and red modified Ghtroc 720 freighter with its turtle like shape beckoned her to come closer. Revan had given her the remote control wristband and with a press of a tiny button, the ramp lowered itself slowly.

Nyra and Revan kept quiet as she investigated the interior. Everything had been left untouched, the only indication anyone other than her and Elijah had ever been on the ship was the fact that the third bedroom had been used, clothes that weren't hers chaotically thrown on the bed.

Sora instantly felt at home again.

When she sunk into the pilot's seat and ran her finger over the controls, Nyra made herself comfortable in the only other seat next to her which was meant for the co-pilot. She pointedly ignored the offended look Revan send her when she stole his spot. "What do you say, you wanna be our captain? Because we need a leader and that guy here is basically useless in that department."

How could she decline now that the Phoenix was back in her possession? In addition, it would offer her a good opportunity to search for Elijah during their missions. Smiling to herself, she took one last deep breath before she announced her decision. "I guess we will make a good crew, won't we?"

"Thank the Maker, I missed a smart, female companion." Nyra clapped her hands in anticipation, sending Revan a halfhearted glare.

"Keep denying that you love my presence, sweetheart," Revan replied, the corners of his mouth pulled into a smug grin.

"Whatever." Was that a blush on her tan skin?

Eyes traveling between the bickering duo, Sora raised her brows. She smiled teasingly and tilted her head to lock eyes with Revan, remembering their talk in the forest of Atrisia. "It's complicated, right?

"See, now you get what I meant."

*****

"I told you we would go to Tatooine, whether you like it or not," Nyra cheered triumphly as soon they had left the conference room.

Leia had been delighted when Sora had told her she accepted her offer to stay under the condition that she would form a team with Nyra and Revan. The general had agreed without hesitation, hugging the younger woman whilst whispering something in her ear. "I know I won't be the only one happy about your decision."

Albeit confused, Sora wrote it off as a hint towards the Resistance gaining a new member which would surely make everyone on D'Qar happy. After all, they needed as many people as they could find.

The general had also given them the green light for their new mission on Tatooine, much to Revan's disdain. They were to leave today.

"Why does everyone want to go to that dumpster of a planet?" He groaned, one hand running over his face in pure annoyance. "Sora, help me out here. There's nothing there but heat, crime, sand, even more sand and Jawas. Maker, I hate Jawas." He was full out whining like a toddler now, so unlike his age and former profession.

Sora had to agree with him. Tatooine was definitely at the bottom of planets she had liked during their travels. Nothing good ever happened there and the heat was almost unbearable, thanks to the two suns the planet orbited around. "Hate to discourage you even more but for what we're looking for, we will need to trade with the Jawas."

"This mission is going to be a pain in my ass, I just know it."

"Quit acting like a child," Nyra scolded him, hitting his arm. "Let's get ready for take-off. The faster we leave, the earlier we can get back."

"You're right, let's get this over and done with asap." Squeezing his body between the two women, he wrapped one arm around Nyra's shoulders and his other around Sora's, pulling them both against him. Although the former tried to protest at first, he wouldn't let her go, ignoring her ramming her elbow against his ribs. Sora only smiled, content with what this morning had revealed and caused.

They received quite some stares from their peers. The sight must have been unusual, especially because no one knew about the past the trio shared, apart from Leia of course. And here they were, acting as if they were best friends when to anyone else, the duo had just met the newest member of the Resistance an hour ago.

Handing her a blaster and a new comlink which Sora quickly fastened around her wrist, Nyra looked her up and down. "Looking good, hotshot. Might want to leave that jacket here though. Leather will make you sweat to death on Tatooine."

"I know." Slipping out of the clothing item, she carefully draped it over some of the crates and devices belonging to the team. Nyra followed her suit. No one would steal the clothes anyways.

"C'mon ladies, we don't have all day." Sticking his head out of the ship, Revan beckoned them inside. The ramp closed behind the trio as they made their way to the cockpit. "I call shotgun." He was in the copilot's seat before Nyra could protest.

Instead, she only rolled her eyes, wordlessly choosing the seat behind the two of them. Fingers fumbling with the controls, Sora switched on the engine and activated all necessary systems. No words could describe how good it felt to be in control of the Phoenix again. She found herself slipping into the role she grew up with easily.

"Phoenix to control centre, ready for take-off. Waiting for permission." Revan's voice was serious now, all switched into professional mode.

"Control Centre to Phoenix. Permission granted. Communications will be disabled until you re-enter D'Qar's atmosphere."

"Copy that. Oh, and safe some supper for us for when we get back." The communication line went dead.

The Phoenix hovered above ground, the Resistance's workers pausing their duty to clear the hangar. Sora carefully maneuvered the ship onto the landing platforms before pulling it up into the air. Clouds drawing closer around them, Sora switched on the thrusters and gradually increased the speed of the spacecraft.

"Preparing to jump into hyperspace. If all goes well, we'll be back somewhen after midnight," Revan announced. Tatooine was relatively close to D'Qar, so it would only take them a couple of hours to reach it. "That is if the Jawas will cooperate. If they don't, I'm just saying I wouldn't mind stealing from them."

Sora tilted her head, giving him a look that clearly stated you're stupid. "Stealing from Jawas is basically impossible. They're guarding their goods like hawks and unless we kill all of them we'd never make it. Which we won't because they aren't our enemies by the way."

"Alright, alright." Raising his hands in surrender, the defector actually pouted. "We could still knock them out though, right?"

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