#weird that there's two pilot pairs who got this moment huh

[avianii]

spot the difference difficulty: impossible

[words-4u]

out with the old, in with the new - n.'p'.t

➩ read part 2: here

pairing: natahsa 'phoenix' trace x fem!reader (hangman x ex!reader)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS IS. I JUST SAW THIS GIF AND GOT INSPIRED SO ENJOY XX

top gun: maverick masterlist

call sign = phantom

a couple of days ago you received a phone call from warlock ordering you back to north island navy base because there was a serious mission and he was creating an elite group of fighter pilots to take part in it.

you immediately accepted (it was an order so you really didn't have much choice) and began packing your things. there was no doubt in your mind that hangman was gonna be there. he was one of the best pilots you've ever known, second to you of course and they would be dumb not to have him there.

you pulled up to your old stomping grounds aka the hard deck and the nostalgia hit you. you tried not to let it get to you because all you wanted to do was get inside and see who else was involved with this secret mission.

hangman, coyote, fanboy, payback and bob were all near the pool table chatting amongst themselves when you walked up to them.

phoenix was in conversation with bob but stopped and did a double-take as you approached. "and who is she?"

"oh god," hangman muttered.

you rolled up to the group and quickly noticed everyone else donned their beige uniforms which you have clearly forgone. you had just arrived from the airport so your clothes were more casual.

phoenix unashamedly trailed her eyes down your body taking a bit more time appreciating your exposed legs.

"ladies and gentlemen, welcome the one and only phantom," hangman said in the most sarcastic fake excited voice.

"jake..." you said matching his fake excitement. "i haven't seen you in like what? 2 years?"

"and yet it still wasn't long enough," he grinned.

"that's what she said," you and phoenix said at the same time causing you both to break out in a fit of laughter. when you caught your breath you stepped closer to the stunning brunette that was able to lighten your mood in just seconds.

"and you are..."

"phoenix," she stuck her hand out which you gladly took keeping intense eye contact with her.

"ahem," hangman cleared his throat desperately wanting to get rid of the growing sexual tension between you and the brunette.

"so you two seem well acquainted," fanboy motioned his head towards you and the cocky blond. "is there something we should know?"

you quickly looked to hangman. "well hangman... is there?"

everyone was standing around waiting to hear just how and why there was an underlying hostility between the two of you.

"y/n–erm i mean phantom was my girlfriend for almost two years," he spoke trailing off near the end.

you were taken aback at how easy it was from his to say it now when that was all you wanted 2 years ago. "so i guess it's easier to claim me now than it was back then huh"

"look, i really don't–" he started to rise from his comfortable seat on the pool table.

you held your hands up. "hey, whatever. i'm over it. what's done is done right?"

now people were really confused but you didn't care. all you wanted was to get an ice-cold whiskey in your hand.

"i'm gonna go to the bar," phoenix piped up trying to diffuse the weird energy that entered the space. "anyone want anything?"

"i'm coming with," you said already making your way there.

once you ordered your drink, phoenix took up space next to you. her forearms leaned on the bartop and as she looked at you briefly before looking away. "why do i get the feeling that there's more to it than both of you are letting on?"

"because there definitely is but i would rather not discuss it with 7 uniformed pilot fighters watching like it's some pay-per-view entertainment."

your drink was handed to you and you threw it back without hesitation.

"listen, i know we just met but if you wanna talk, i'm here... well for the next three weeks anyway,"

you sat in silence for a few moments as she nursed her beer.

"we met at top gun and we were together for a year and a half," you began. "i–i was so in love with him that besides training and exams he consumed my every thought. we were good together but he never wanted to go public and i get all the reasons why, hell, i even agreed to it at the start but a year went by and still not a soul knew about us or what we had. he continued flirting shamelessly with other women to keep up this facade and it grew exhausting. i felt like his dirty little secret and i hated it so i left."

"wow," was the first thing phoenix uttered. "i knew he was an idiot but not this much of an idiot."

scoffing, you played around with the ice in your glass. "but like i said i am over him and i am beyond ready for this mission."

phoenix was quiet before she spoke "can i say something?" to which you nodded.

"i would never hide you and excuse my boldness but i mean look at you! if you were mine, i'd show you off any chance i get."

for the second time that evening, phoenix was able to make you laugh while simultaneously making you feel the most intense set of butterflies you've felt in a long time.

"thank you," you said reaching for her arm and squeezing it lightly. you could feel her flex her bicep slightly and it was the hottest thing you've ever seen. "also the second part of what you said can easily be arranged."

"oh it can?" she smirked.

"i mean yeah if you play your cards right," you shrugged playfully.

"noted," she said pressing her thigh against yours.

hangman with his impeccable timing decided yet again to interrupt the moment.

"phantom, can we talk?"

you looked at him and noticed how serious he'd gotten from the boisterous person he was a couple hours ago. "sure..."

as you got up you turned to phoenix. "order me another one, i'll be right back."

hangman led you out the bar and onto its wide porch. he stood in front of you with his hands shoved in his front pant pockets while your back was against the railing for support. it was a safe distance but still intimate, one that slightly crossed the line of professionalism to anyone watching and someone was watching: phoenix.

"you pulled me out here to talk so talk," you spoke crossing your arms.

"i think i owe you an apology," he stated.

"you think?" you laughed dryly. "and what it took a couple years to have that thought?"

"i'm trying here, y/n and let's not forget who left whom, " he said.

"yeah well, jake i needed you try two years ago," you responded. "and of course, i left you! all i ever wanted was to be seen and i felt like i never was with you. like seriously what was it? were you ashamed of me or something? was that it?"

"no not all," he rubbed both of his hands over his face. "i swear to you i wanted to but i just didn't want us to be the talk of our class. i didn't want people to ridicule you and have our relationship overshadow your experience as one of the few female graduates of top gun in our year but trust me when i say that what we had... it meant a lot to me and i just need you to know that, okay?" he placed his hand over his heart in a bid to show you he was being his most genuine self.

you stared him down before coming to the conclusion that he was being sincere with his apology. the guilt was written all over his face. plus it was easier to forgive him than to hold animosity towards him when you both could be flying one of the most dangerous missions ever in just three weeks' time. "yeah, okay," you said kicking at invisible rocks on the deck.

hangman would never admit it but he still loved you, a part of him always will. it was the same for you as well. there's no denying that you will always care deeply for the man standing in front of you but you could never see a future with him, not with everything he put you through and especially not with phoenix who was able to make you feel alive again after spending only a few in minutes in her presence.

"so... i guess it's out with the old, in with the new?" he tilted his head towards the bar clearly talking about the gorgeous brunette waiting for you inside.

"shut up," you shoved his shoulder gently. "listen i–i actually like her so don't mess it up for me!"

"i can be your wingman if you want," hangman offered with a gentle smile.

"i think i'd rather die thank you," you joked.

he guffawed at that. "yeah i knew you'd say that now c'mon, let's get you back to your woman before she thinks we're rekindling what we had."

you faked gagged. "i possibly couldn't think of anything worse," and this time it was hangman who shoved your shoulder playfully.

you re-entered the bar a new person, a lighter version of yourself after the much-needed conversation with hangman. you didn't think you needed it until it happened but you were glad you cleared the air with him so you could put 100% of your energy into making phoenix yours.

TAGGED: @cloudbasic, @natasharomanoffisbaebby

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

that kind of morning, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re really bad at waking up. Big sleepyhead with foggy memory kind of bad. Your brain is on autopilot. Hm, kind of hard to pilot when everything seems out of place. And you’re mildly hungover. Ow. You just ran into a muscular chest. Who could that be?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; morning after a wild night; graphic descriptions of sexual acts and a tiny bit of smut–while on the phone (fem reader, nipple play, dry humping, hint of a handjob); non-idol!BTS; basically sleepy and slightly hungover reader trying to piece together life lmao

–

Most people make their worst decisions at night.

Not you. You make your worst decisions in the morning. 

Maybe it's because you don't drink coffee.

"Ow!"

Was your bed always that high? Huh. You squinted in the sunlight filtering through the window, far too bright for your sensitive eyes. Instead, you occupied yourself with sniffing the t-shirt you were wearing. It smelled clean, like fabric softener. Also, it was white. Generally, you didn't buy white shirts since they dirtied easily. A miracle that this one wasn't stained. 

You stumbled through the bedroom door – was it always that far? – and smacked your nose into a wall. 

"Ow!"

"Ah!"

A moving wall. Wait, not a wall. A shirtless guy. Oh. It had been that kind of night. 

You rubbed your nose. "Erm, hello. You're still here, huh?" you mumbled. 

The guy blinked at you. "What do you mean? This is my apartment."

Oh. That's why everything seemed unfamiliar. Now that you looked at him, he was pretty attractive. Long dark hair, large brown eyes, dark brows, shapely pink lips with a mole underneath his lower lip. He had two more on his nose and cheek. Lightly tanned skin and a cute confused face. Huh. Nice muscles too. Good for him. 

"Alright, I'll be on my way then, uh..." you trailed off awkwardly, pushing past him. The events of last night were hazy and your head hurt a little, although not so bad that you couldn't function. You were just poorly functioning because you weren't a morning person. 

"Do you want coffee or something?" the guy asked, following you. He sounded a little worried. 

"Nah, I don't drink coffee," you muttered, holding onto the wall as you walked down the unfamiliar narrow hallway. "Stains your teeth."

Speaking of teeth, your breath was probably awful. Hopefully that poor guy didn't breathe near you. Come to think of it, this wasn't what you were wearing last night. It was probably his shirt, considering the large size. Where were your clothes? Oh, look, a bathroom. 

"I could order us some breakfast," the guy continued as you stuck your head into the bathroom and saw the sink. There was a black toothbrush and a crumpled tube of toothpaste, definitely not yours. A black cup for rinsing one's mouth, with a winking emoji printed on it. A black shirt bunched up and half-falling off the sink. Deodorant. Cologne. You picked it up and sniffed it. A clean scent. Didn't make you want to throw up. Awesome. 

You flicked on the faucet and shoved your hands under it. Cold. Fuck. Whatever. You cupped some and brought your hands to your face, dripping water everywhere, and cursing under your breath before gargling some. Best you could do. You spied something red out of the corner of your eye. What was that? You squinted at the towel rack through the mirror, water trickling down your chin. There was a thin scrap of ripped lace fabric on the hanging white towels. 

The guy was still talking. 

"I can get you a spare toothbrush? Do you want some cleanser to wash your face?"

He had a pleasant voice, a little deep. Clear, smooth. Made you think of a cool, refreshing breeze. 

Wait. 

Were those your red panties on the towel rack?

You winced at the mirror. Welp. Those were done for. Didn't look like you could salvage them. You suddenly felt a chilly draft on your bare ass. Your arms were still dripping water as you leaned down and splashed your cheeks. Guess you'll just have to figure something out. You turned off the water and wiped your face off with your palm. A white hand towel appeared. You took it, seeing the guy's tattooed hand and arm. Sexy. He had an emoji tattooed onto his knuckle of a sheepish, crooked smile. 

Kind of looked like you, at the moment. 

You dried your face and hands. 

"Thanks, but it's fine, I'll just go home so I don't bother you," you said, folding the towel and placing it on the sink before moving past him and his curious expression. 

"You're not bothering me. I want to make your morning comfortable."

You noticed your red dress from last night on the ground. The thin straps were torn off and there was a distinct, dark stain down the front. Hmm. You vaguely remembered scooping your tits out and smashing them against his hard dick and dropping a stream of spit down your chest for lubrication before furiously tit-fucking him and making him cum all over your collarbones and neck. 

Ah. 

Well. 

That dress was fucked. 

"Can I borrow this shirt? I'll give it back," you said, turning around to see the guy's face bright pink, staring at your dress on the ground. 

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want," he rambled, shifting awkwardly. He was wearing light gray sweatpants. You looked down. He shifted away quickly, but it was pretty hard to disguise that tent. 

You scratched your head. Hm. "Say, uh..." you trailed off again. 

He blinked with those big chocolatey eyes. "Oh, um, Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." 

He stuck his hand out. You shook it, fitting your hand in his, suddenly remembering when you grabbed it and put it between your legs, smearing your juices from his wrist to his forearm and grinding onto his muscle, flexing your opening on his skin as he moaned darkly into your ear.

Ah.

You let go.

You were probably past handshakes, but, oh well?

"Right, erm, Jungkook, do you know where my jacket is?" you asked sheepishly. 

Jungkook whipped his head around, sending his black hair flying everywhere. "I think... it's in the living room?" You remembered running your hands through that hair, panting in his face as he shoved you against the wall, two fingers on your clit and rubbing furiously, those big chocolate eyes watching you come undone under him. 

He moved past you and you flattened against the wall, not touching him. Hm. This increased clarity as you continued to wake up was starting to make this more and more, uh... less chill? Weird? Awkward? You followed him at a slight distance, lifting your head to see his back. Your eyes widened. Long red scratches up and down his defined back, caused by your fingernails as he fucked you violently into his bed, your thighs clasped around his waist and his name in your mouth, his thick cock making your pussy so tight and full that you felt like you were going to explode, so completely jammed with pleasure that you couldn't stop moaning. 

Erm. Hm. You kind of needed panties with the sudden leakage happening down there. 

Oh shit, did you use protection? You frowned as you screwed up your eyes to think. Yes. You did. Jungkook had grabbed them from his nightstand and spilled the whole box, thus causing you both to scramble to detach one in your and his haste.

For. 

Er. 

Fucking like animals. 

You both got one condom and ended up using both.

"Ah, here." 

You reached out and took your long-line black leather jacket from Jungkook. That's right. You'd worn that red satin dress with this jacket and black high heels. You spied them by the mat at what you assumed was the front door. Jungkook wasn't looking at you. His face was red. You slipped on the jacket. Smelled the rum still sticking to it. Right. You went to the club, got a drink, and Jungkook had knocked into you, spilling it into your jacket. It was an accident, but that was fine, because Jungkook was hot and you bribed him into talking to you by asking him to buy you another drink.

Super cute with his apologies, nervously speaking to you all night before loosening up with a few drinks and beginning to tease you, little by little, until you were in his apartment, getting your jacket slipped off your shoulders and his mouth on your newly exposed skin. 

The memory made you reach up to touch your left shoulder. You winced. Peered under the jacket and shirt to see a giant purple hickey. 

"Oh... er, sorry..." Jungkook sputtered sheepishly. "You seemed really into it at the time."

There was damn waterfall between your legs now.

"I was," you replied, a little too quickly. "Uh, I mean, I am. Was great."

You facepalmed. Jungkook jumped, startled that you slapped your own face. 

"Sorry, I'm not a morning person. What I meant to say was last night was amazing and I had a great time," you sighed. "You were wonderful. And hot. And sexy. And I'd do it again."

Jungkook blinked at you with those big chocolatey eyes. 

"O... oh." 

He seemed torn on whether to believe you or not. To be fair, your voice was hoarse and you sounded half-dead. Plus, your speech was a little cliché. Sigh. You struggled to retain brain function, shaking your head roughly. It always took you a long time to wake up and it was worse when you weren't home doing your usual routine. You furrowed your brows, raising your head to frown at Jungkook. 

Hold on. 

"Don't you work for my dad?"

Jungkook started, eyes shifting. 

"Er... yeah."

Did you just fuck one of the waiters at your dad's high-end restaurant? All night?

Huh.

What are the chances?

You were going to have to see Jungkook later that night, since you were the hostess.

"You know, Jungkook," you said, realizing why you had spoken to him last night, why it was fun and familiar banter, why he was so cute to you, and why it had been such a good chance. "Let's not tell my dad about this."

Jungkook's eyes went shifty again. "Yeeeeeeeah... let's not."

Your dad meant well. He was loud and brash by nature and scared every human being that hadn't lived under his roof for decades. Speaking of living under his roof... Maybe you shouldn't go home smelling like rum and Jungkook's cologne, wearing his t-shirt and no panties.

"You... sure you wanna go home?" Jungkook asked, chewing on his lip. You noticed he looked a bit disappointed. Sad. 

"Actually," you sheepishly began. "Maybe I shouldn't. Not until Papa leaves the house." You twisted your mouth to one side and poked your index fingers together. Awkward. "Your offer for breakfast still stands?" 

He brightened. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. What do you want?" He held up the phone form the coffee table. "We can order something."

Your eyes shifted to the phone. Ten missed calls. 

"I would call Papa first," you muttered, walking forward and taking the phone from him. You felt his body heat, the closeness of his bare torso. He smelled nice. Jungkook made a surprised noise, only now realizing he had picked up your phone by accident. You slipped your other arm around him and pulled him to you, inhaling his scent. He made another squeak of confusion as you pressed your lips to his warm chest. 

Mmm. Nice. 

You phone vibrated violently and you answered it without looking, kissing Jungkook's skin softly, hearing him gasp and stifle his moan as the sharp bark of your name blasted from the phone speaker. 

"Where are you?!" Your dad was yelling at the top of his lungs. Jungkook shivered under you. He probably thought your dad was pissed, but he was only worried. 

"I'm fine. Slept over at a friend's since I went to the bars last night."

"Oh, fuck, sheesh," your dad grumbled, swearing repeatedly. Your lips began to travel and Jungkook was smacking your arm impatiently, shaking his head, mouthing at you, are you crazy, what the fuck are you doing, before he clenched his jaw and tipped his head back as you began to lazily lick his dark nipple, feeling it harden with your touch.

"Are you eating?" your dad barked in your ear. 

"Mhm, can't start the day unless you eat," was your reply, grinning around Jungkook's nipple as his face was becoming more panicked by the second. 

"That's right," your dad huffed. "What are you eating?"

"Korean."

Jungkook gave you an exasperated, pained look that quickly turned to ecstasy, placing a hand over his mouth and muffling his moan as you sucked in his nipple, bringing your hips into his sweatpants, the tent returning.

"Hah, fine, would it kill you to fucking call so I don't think you're dead?" Now that you were an adult, your dad didn't bother filtering his cursing anymore.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," you replied, very apologetically and sweetly, grabbing a handful of Jungkook's ass and ramming his rock-hard cock into your crotch, clamping your thighs around it. Jungkook was flailing his one free hand and pressing the other over his mouth, trying not to make a fucking sound. 

"I'll remember next time. Promise, Papa."

You heard your dad let out a puff of air. "Hmph. Fine. Don't forget you have to work tonight. I'll let you have the day after off..."

You raised your eyebrows, switching sides and slowly flicking your tongue on Jungkook's nipple, thighs sliding back and forth on Jungkook's clothed length. He was losing it above you, muting his cries and rutting against your thighs to match your pace and add more simulation.

"I thought the other hostess was on vacation for a couple more days?"

"I asked your mother to cover for you," your dad grunted. "You should have some free time while you're still young. Have some fucking fun before you die. That's why I work."

"Ah... okay, thanks Papa. I love you."

"Love you too," was your dad's reply, not so gruff anymore, but warmer and kinder. 

He hung up. 

You dropped the phone from your ear. 

Jungkook gasped a lungful of air, throwing his hand aside now that he could finally breathe, turning into a high-pitched yelp when you yanked his pants down, shoving his cock between your thighs again, but skin on skin this time, angling him down, the head smearing pre-cum in your mid-thigh. Ah, yes, what a pleasant surprise it had been when you saw this pretty cock for the first time, looking so perfect squashed between your tits. 

"B-But breakfast..." he choked out between moans.

"I'm getting it," you panted, grinning, sliding up and down his hot stiffness, feeling it twitch. "Best to have some protein in the morning."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, horny and indignant.

"Korean? Really?"

You switched to your hand, kneeling down as you stroked his stiff length hard and fast, giving him a devilish open-mouthed smirk, wet tongue sliding out.

"Hey, I didn't lie."

-

wondering how Jungkook feels about all this? that kind of evening.

--

masterpost

[fireinmoonshot]

REBEL | ARMITAGE HUX x READER | PART ONE

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

PART ONE OF ? Summary: Armitage Hux finds himself strangely fascinated by you, a Resistance fighter and pilot, even though he knows he shouldn’t. You know that there’s much more to him than you see on the surface.  Pairing: female!Reader x Armitage Hux Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 1464 Warnings: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS. A/N: I had this idea while watching The Rise of Skywalker last night, and then realised that it was definitely going to have to be something I explored more through more than one chapter, and so this has come into existence. If you read this, I hope you enjoy it. I’m going to try and keep it consistently updating as much as I can and it’ll also be posted over on my Ao3 (here) if you’d like to follow it there!

This is a bad idea.

This is a very bad idea.

Yet Armitage Hux still sneaks out of his quarters for the third time this month in the dead of night, fully dressed in his best First Order uniform, hair combed and gelled to perfection, and makes his way to the meeting place the two of you had been meeting in ever since he’d first decided to give information to the Resistance.

He knows that was a bad idea. He does it anyway.

It’s easily the most dangerous thing he’s ever done, other than that time he confronted Kylo and could have nearly been choked to death because of it. But among the First Order, traitors and spies are the worst of the worst and sometimes, late at night when Armitage is unable to sleep, he wonders how he, of all people, came to be one. His father would be particularly disappointed in him.

He can’t help but feel a little smug about the fact.

Armitage stalls as he hears the unmistakable sound of Stormtroopers around the next corner. They would not question him if they caught him, but he isn’t willing to risk it. Rumours travel fast, and he prefers not to be a part of them.

―

You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, and he finds himself a little disappointed at his tardiness. Usually he arrives first – and that gives him the time to ensure that he looks proper and regal before you show up. He always looks proper, it’s a requirement of his job and his position, but he always likes to make sure. To double check.

It isn’t like he’s trying to impress you or anything, not at all. He just… he wants to make a good impression as a General. You’re the only person aware that he’s a spy, and he trusts you enough to know you wouldn’t tell a soul. It had been accidental, anyway, how you’d discovered his failing allegiance to the First Order – Hux had been conferring with Boolio when you had arrived early to get the very same information Hux had been sharing. You’d been sworn to secrecy, and while he hadn’t trusted you at first, he’d grown to over your last few meetings.

He didn’t have many good impressions of other people he’d met from the Resistance. You were the only exception.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

Armitage raises an eyebrow at you. You’re sat on a large crate, swinging your legs. It’s your usual spot, but you look a little happier than usual today. You even look more comfortable than you usually do. He supposes, for a moment, that it’s because you’re used to meeting now, but then he notices your clothes. You’re dressed in your usual Resistance garb even though he’d sourced and given you First Order clothes at your last meeting, just on the chance that you were caught on the ship. He didn’t want to risk that. You, clearly, did.

“I thought you had agreed to wear the clothes I gave you.”

You shrug. “I forgot them.”

He narrows his eyes. You flash him a grin.

He moves to sit in his usual spot – a stack of crates beside yours. You can’t help but notice that still, he looks out of place, even though you’ve been meeting for a long while now. He’s so prim and proper compared to you, especially in his First Order uniform. It’s all clean cut lines and straight edges. Your uniform is a little more lax. It’s softer, much more comfortable, if not a little scratchy at times.

“I told you last week,” you decide to offer an explanation. “I understand why you want me to wear it when we meet, but it feels weird putting it on– and yes, I have tried it on. I just feel a little bit like a traitor. It’s bad enough that I have to fly one of your TIE fighters to and from our meetings so I’m not suspected or spotted. It’d just be like me asking you to wear something like this and to fly an X-wing. Would you do it?”

Armitage pauses, and then shakes his head. “No, that uniform looks awfully scratchy.”

His confidence to admit it makes you laugh, and rather irritatingly, his cheeks flush pink for a moment and he drops his head, eyeing the ground, a little embarrassed.

“Shall we get to it then? Give you the information you’re here for?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod and swing your legs again. “Go on. I’m listening. Spill the beans.”

“I’m not going to say it.” He shakes his head and then pulls out a small device from the pocket of his coat and hands it to you. “That’s not how these things work, remember? Take it. That’s still how I’m giving you intel. It doesn’t feel as bad if I don’t say it directly.”

Grinning at him once more, you shrug a shoulder. “Hey, one day I’ll get you to say what you have to say out loud. I hate to break it to you, you’re still committing treason whether you speak the information or not. And it’d sure be a hell of a lot easier if you said it rather than coding it and putting it onto this thing,” you say, holding up the device. “It’d save you time, too.”

Armitage throws you a look. “I let you keep that thing. That’s risky enough.”

You pocket the device. He’s right. Usually, especially when you were getting the information from Boolio, you weren’t allowed to keep the messages on the device themself. Finn would usually transfer them straight to R2 who would do all the decoding. But times were different now, and somehow you got the messages directly from the source himself.

Most of all, you’re just thankful that Leia trusts you enough to go to the meetings on your own. Poe and Finn have always been apprehensive about it. Leia’s told them to be quiet about it more than once.

And then there was the fact that you’re talking so easily to a General of the First Order. That’s something that’s never not going to be strange. Over the last few months, though, you have, at least, found some sense of normality in it. Hux is different than anyone you know, but he was fun to talk to, and you’d found yourself looking forward to your meetings lately, though you’d never admit that to him.

"Well,” you make a move to stand. Your meetings never last too long. You always leave before they get awkward. “I should probably go. I’ve already been here too long.”

He stands with you and looks at you for a moment – he’s taller than you are, and he looks down at you, but it’s not in a patronising way. You don’t feel that with him. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t care if you win, that he only wants Kylo dead. But you can’t help but feel that there’s something else deep down inside him that disagrees with that.

Armitage nods. “Probably for the best. Same time in two weeks?”

“Only if the world doesn’t end before that.”

Against his better judgment, he smiles.

―

Armitage watches as you leave.

There’s a small window in your meeting room. His lips twitch as he sees you wave at him as you move your TIE fighter away from the Steadfast. And then you’re gone as quickly as you came. Secretly and entirely unseen. He spends only a moment more in the small room before sneaking back to his quarters, thinking over your brief meeting.

For some strange reason, he’s grown to rather enjoy the meetings.

He enjoys the feeling of rebellion. He enjoys the rush of adrenaline that gives him. And even though it’s dangerous, he knows that it has to be worth it one day. If Kylo ends up dead, if you win. If you lose but Kylo ends up dead anyway. He smiles at the simple thought, but finds himself strangely uncomfortable with the idea of the Resistance losing.

He supposes you must have had some control on that change of heart.

As he sits down on the edge of his bed, he lifts up his lamp and looks at the small numbers engraved on the bottom of it – a frequency that nobody else knows but the two of you, for emergencies only. For times when he’d need to give you life-saving information, if the time ever arose. A reminder of everything he’s risking. You had your set meeting days, but this was different. He only hopes that he never has the occasion to use it.

For some strange reason, the idea of you hurt is one he finds rather unpleasant.

He’ll have to do something about that.

[dameronsgalaxygal]

I’ve Been Waiting For You - Chapter 8: The Name Of The Game

series masterlist

Pairing: modern!poe x reader

Warnings: Mentions of physical and mental abuse, mentions of sex, language, angst. 

Word Count: 4k

Song: The Name of The Game

A/N: This one hit a little close to home. Please read at your own risk as it deals with triggering subjects. My DMs are always open if you need someone to talk to, so please don’t hesitate to reach out. I will NOT be upset if you need to skip this chapter! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Taglist is open!

Summary: You open up to Poe. 

The bright morning sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, your eyes squeezing tighter at an attempt to keep it out. You rolled over and fluttered your eyes open when you realized you weren’t in your bedroom. You shot up, slight panic rushing through your body. You looked around, a light grey paint and framed photos of Miami beach covered the walls. The room had a singular bed in which you had been sleeping on, along with a nightstand and a dresser. You relaxed once you had remembered where you were.

You had decided to watch another movie after Top Gun, but ended up falling asleep on the couch with Poe. He had chosen to let you sleep over instead of driving you home so late since he had been too tired. He was woken by Finn coming home, but you remained asleep. He gently woke you up and led you to bed.

“Would you feel more comfortable in the guest room?”  Poe asked you as he stood you up from the couch.

Half asleep, you nodded. You two had slept in the same room before, but that was at your place. This was a new environment. One you weren’t so familiar with.

He nodded back. “Okay, that’s fine. You want some pajamas?” He walked you to the guest room.

You shook your head sleepily, eyes half open. You were in leggings and a T-shirt comfortable enough for sleeping, and you had been way too tired to even change.

He chuckled, opening the door and lifting the covers for you to get under. You plopped immediately into the bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin and drifting immediately.

He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek softly.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

The smell of warm maple syrup drew your attention away from the room and you rubbed your eyes, sliding out of the covers and down the hall.

A shirtless Poe stood in the kitchen humming to himself as he poured himself a cup of coffee. His perfectly toned back faced you and you smiled at the sight. His red and black checkered pajama pants sat low on his waist, giving you a view of his overexposed lower back.

‘The Way You Look Tonight’ by Frank Sinatra played while Poe danced around the kitchen, the spatula he was holding being used as a microphone. You smiled to yourself, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed.

Yes you're lovely, with your smile so warm.

And your cheeks so soft, there is nothing for me

But to love you, and the way you look tonight.

“Poe?” You giggled causing Poe to snap around and face you, his face immediately beaming with joy as he leaned against the counter, putting his spatula down and grabbing his cup of coffee.

“Morning sunshine.” He smirked, taking a sip.

You blushed as you pushed yourself off the wall, walking towards him. “What are you doing?”

“Just singing about you,” He winked, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to press a kiss to your forehead.

Poe really had a way of making you feel beautiful, something you had never felt before. Three years of being with Kyle, not once did he make you feel the way Poe did.

You pressed your cheek head against his bare chest as he pulled you into a hug before looking up at him with a soft smile. You sometimes didn’t know how to respond to him. He said things and did things that you hadn’t ever experienced being in an abusive relationship. Poe had a sense of this, even if he didn’t know details, and he never expected you to respond. All he wanted to do was make sure you knew how much he loved and cared about you, no matter what.

You pulled out of his embrace, looking behind him to see what he had been cooking. He followed your eyes and turned back around.

“Finn went to get ready for work and asked me to take over making pancakes.” He grabbed the spatula, flipping the pancake and whispering ‘shit’ when it fell apart slightly.

You laughed, “Do you always walk around shirtless when you and Finn make breakfast?”

He smirked, “Well, you see, I hardly ever make breakfast because I’m normally up early flying. When I do, though, yes. Yes, I walk around half naked.” He said sarcastically, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You knew he took his shirt off for you. It didn’t bother you. You had seen him shirtless several times before. Besides, he had a chest worth showing. You loved to look at the tattoo in honor of his mother. You wish you had a bond so special with someone.

You had a feeling you were starting to develop one, though.

Finn came out of his room, buttoning up his shirt and throwing on his jacket. He stopped when he saw Poe was shirtless.

“Really, dude?” Finn shot Poe a look.

Poe turned his head to look at him, “What?”

“You were not shirtless ten minutes ago.”

You chuckled and shook your head, walking to the dining table and plopping down in the chair.

Poe shrugged, flipping the pancake again, “It got too hot in here.”

“The AC is on full blast,” Finn walked up to Poe and took the spatula from his hand, immediately taking the pancake off of the pan and placing it on the plate with the others.

Poe looked at you and smirked, making your cheeks flush again.

“Put your damn shirt back on, Dameron” Finn didn’t even look back at Poe as he poured the rest of the batter in the pan.

“Fineeee” Poe dragged out, grabbing his T-shirt off the couch and sliding it back on. You bit your lip.

“Sorry,” Finn laughed, looking over at you, “Morning, Y/N. Want some pancakes?”

You let out a laugh, “Morning, Finn. I’d love some.”

“I got it!” Poe pushed past Finn, reaching into the cupboard and grabbing a plate.

“How many would you like?” He asked.

“Two?”

Poe nodded, “Syrup and butter?”

“Please.”

 “You got it.”

You grinned as you watched Poe spread butter across your small stack of pancakes. He grabbed the small cup of maple syrup that Finn had warmed up, pouring it atop your pancakes.

Poe sat the plate down in front of you, kissing your head.

“Thank you.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” He rubbed your back.

“Could I have some coffee?” You looked up at him.

“Absolutely!” He went to grab a coffee mug and pour you a cup.

Finn finished up making the remainder of the pancake batter and grabbed himself a plate, leaving Poe to fend for himself. He sat across from you as you took a bite.

“Well?” He asked.

“They’re delicious,” You said, mouth half full of food, “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Finn shrugged as Poe handed you the mug and you nodded at him in appreciation.

“I cook normally. Man is hardly home and when he is, he’s lazy.” He glanced at Poe who was serving himself.

“Not true!” He shot Finn a look. He didn’t want Finn to give you that impression.

Finn chuckled and looked at you, cutting his pancakes.

“Nah, I’m joking. I just enjoy it. I cook when I can. We’re both so busy, we hardly ever eat together.”

Poe sat down at the head of the table, “We do too eat together!”

“Ordering chinese food and watching the bachelor is not ‘eating together’” Finn snickered.

You smirked at Poe, “You watch the bachelor?”

He shook his head in defense, “Only because the bachelor this season is a pilot!”

“Uh huh. And you made fun of me for watching Dance Moms.” You took another bite of pancake and Poe just chuckled at you.

“So,” You changed the subject, “How did you two meet?” You pointed between the two of them with your fork.

“We both-”

“We went to school together,” Poe interrupted Finn.

Finn cocked his eyebrow as you tilted your head in confusion.

“I thought you went to flight school.” You asked, picking up a piece of pancake and putting it in your mouth.

“I did,” Poe looked at Finn pleadingly and then back at you, “Uh, we went to..high school... together. We became best friends and have been ever since. When my mom passed, my dad moved away and I stayed here for flight school so I asked Finn if he wanted to room together.”

You looked at Finn who gave you an awkward smile, “Gotcha.”

“Well,” Finn stood up, “I gotta get to work. I’ll catch you two after a while.” He put his plate in the dishwasher and went to grab his coat and keys, heading towards the door with a wave.

You smiled at him as he left, then glanced at Poe.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Poe took a sip of his coffee.

You shrugged, standing up to go rinse off your plate.

“You just seemed kind of nervous.” You chuckled.

He stood up, following you.

“Nah, I just like talking about my bond with Finn.”

It was weird, his whole delivery about how him and Finn met. You thought maybe there was something he wasn’t telling you, but you knew Poe pretty well. You also trusted him. Maybe a little too much.

You nodded, finishing your cup of coffee before turning to face him. You took a breath and looked at your feet. You stood silent for a moment.

“Thank you,” You said, finally looking up at him.

“For?” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms .

“Everything.”

He reached out his arms for you to come to him, but you just shook your head.

“I know I was nervous about coming over,” You sighed, “But you made me feel really safe. I mean, you could have easily just carried me to your bed...but you didn’t. You asked where I would be more comfortable. You don’t understand how much that means to me,” Your voice was a bit shaky.

He walked to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a hug.

You took another shaky breath, closing your eyes as you buried your head in his chest.

“I know it’s only a small gesture, but..” You took another breath and he just shushed you, stroking your hair.

“You don’t need to talk about it. I understand,” Poe interrupted

That’s the thing, You thought to yourself, I want to talk about it.

Three years of trauma, trauma you hadn’t really spoken to anyone about. Not even Rey. You had told her briefly about how you were unhappy and how you felt trapped. She knew he had hit you once. She didn’t know that he hit you once a week. For three years.

No one knew.

But you wanted someone to know. It was going to be a year in Florida soon and you were still holding on to your past. You were worried your relationship with Poe wasn’t going to lead to anything more, that you would be stuck in the same routine for far too long; He would go to your place, you would go out on occasional dates, you’d make out, you’d go to his place, you’d make out, you would go to work, he would go to work, etc.

You were tired of holding on. You had gotten so used to a relationship with Kyle that kindness and love and trust seemed impossible.

You had considered yourself an impossible case, no one could ever reach you or get you to talk. That was, until you met Poe. You could see in his face that there was a life he could teach you.

He allowed you to see light at the end of the tunnel. He didn’t even know what you had gone through yet he made you feel safe and worth being loved. He loved you so much and he hadn’t even fully known you. He was going to continue to do everything he could to prove that no matter what, he was going to be there.

Why did you want to tell him, someone you hadn’t even known for a year, so bad? You couldn’t even tell someone you had known your whole life. Over the span of nearly a year, he had proven to you how much he cared about you and wanted you to be secure. Even the smallest gesture of him offering you the guest room instead of his played a huge role on you deciding to finally tell him.

“Poe,” You pulled out of his embrace, “I was abused.”

You hadn’t meant for it to come out so bluntly.

His entire body tensed as his face shifted into a mix between anger and sadness and he stepped back .

You stood silent, looking down at your feet as you felt tears in your eyes.

He didn’t say anything. Instead he took your hand, leading you from the kitchen and into the living room. You sat on the couch and he sat next to you, unsure where to put his hands in fear that he may make you nervous.

You sniffled, looking at your hands and then up at him.

“I was physically and emotionally abused for three years,” You said, holding back your tears from falling. This was the first time you said it out loud.

“My ex boyfriend,” You began, “He would use me for sex.”

Poe clenched his jaw.

“If he was having a bad day at work, or if he was just horny or bored, he would fuck me until he was pleased. I’d let him.”

Poe knew when you first told him you wouldn’t have sex with him that he would never ask you. But now Poe knew why, and he knew right then and there that he wouldn’t even hint at it or try to convince you, no matter how much you trusted him. He would wait for you

“He, um,” You began, looking away from Poe to give yourself a moment, a few tears left your eyes. “Sorry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t apologize. If you don’t want to ta-”

“I need to, Poe,” Your voice was harsher than you had intended.

He swallowed hard before nodding slowly.

You took a shaky breath before continuing, “If I ever were to tell him no, or I said something he didn’t like, if the food wasn’t on the table...or if I left my clothes in the bathroom after a shower, he would hit me. Told me I was disrespecting him.”

It was such a fucked up thing to talk about, but damn was it a relief to get out.

“Any time I tried to leave him, he would hit me again. He’d say something along the lines of ‘you know better’ or ‘I need you’. So I stayed because I felt guilty. He’d try to make it up to me. He would bring me flowers and kiss me. But it never meant anything, because it would all start over the next day.”

You took another breath and Poe reached his hand out, which you gladly took.

“When he would fuck me, he would always kiss the corner of my lips,” You squeezed his hand and Poe sighed sadly when he remembered the night at the bar.

“So, that night, when I ran out on you, it was because you had kissed me like that and it just…” You closed your eyes, “It brought me back. I was scared.”

Poe frowned, guilt completely flushing over him, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, “You didn’t know. It’s so small but it..”

“I know.”

Then you broke down.

All of your emotions that you had built up for three years escaped you like water breaking through a dam. You let out a sob, throwing your head into your hands as Poe sighed sadly, pulling you into his lap. You buried your head in his chest, clinging onto his shirt as you gasped for a breath. You were so proud of yourself for being able to finally open up, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” He whispered soothingly, stroking your hair.

You hiccuped, lip quivering as you released your grip on his shirt and he held onto you tighter. You stayed there for a moment until you had calmed down. He kept his hand on the back of your head, his thumb stroking it gently.

After a couple minutes, you pulled away from him, your wrist coming up to wipe your eyes that were now bloodshot and puffy. Poe frowned.

“So, one day, I’d had enough. I built up the strength to tell him off. He threw some glasses and went to hit me but...I think he was in disbelief that I had yelled at him, so he left the apartment. I called Rey, packed my bags, and here I am,” You looked at Poe who now had tears in his eyes.

He was so unbelievably sad. How could any human be so evil? If he could, he would hunt down Kyle and kill him. But he loved you and he wouldn’t do anything to upset you, though he wasn’t sure why beating up the man who hurt you would make you upset.

“I haven’t told anyone, besides you. Not even Rey.”

Poe’s heart began to beat faster. He didn’t know that you had kept in for so long, and knowing that you told him before your own cousin who you grew up with and told everything to made him feel honored, but nervous.

He was nervous that he would do something wrong again. That he would say something or make a move that hurt you and brought back the memories. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt again. In any way.

You could tell he was on edge, so you reached up to put your hand on his cheek and wiped the tear that he had let fall away. He reached up to put his hand on top of yours, leaning into it.

“Poe,” You searched for his eyes, “You make me want to talk. You make me feel things I was scared of feeling because I was worried I would get hurt again. You make me show what I’m trying to conceal, Poe. I didn’t think I would be able to open up or even be able to get into another relationship for years. But as I got to know you, I became more open hearted. I trust you, and I know you won’t let me down. I care about you so much, and as my boyfriend, I think you deserved to know.”

He sat for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You leaned up to press your lips to his in a gentle kiss. His lips were soft and careful as they moved with yours. The kiss lingered for a moment before you pulled away and pressed your forehead to his.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” He finally said, pulling your hand away from his cheek and to his lips. He pressed them to your knuckles and you let out a sigh.

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not, Y/N.” Poe nearly cried.

“Poe, it happened...and I am still healing, but I am getting stronger. But believe it or not, you’ve helped me a lot with that.” You reassured him, “You make me feel safe.”

He felt special, being that person for you, but he couldn’t help feeling like he wouldn’t be good enough. You suffered from an abusive relationship, and while Poe would never do anything even close to what Kyle did, he was going to make sure he was even more careful with his words and actions.

He let go of your hand that was still pressed to his lips and you sat it in your lap. He cupped your cheeks with his, stroking underneath your eyes delicately.

“I am so glad I can be that person for you, and I am so proud of you. Thank you for trusting me,” He said gently.

You took a shaky breath, giving him a nod.

“I am here for you. I will never hurt you, and even though I know now, I want you to keep telling me if I do something wrong. I know I make mistakes, and I’m not perfect….but I will continue to do whatever it takes for you to feel okay around me,” He searched for your eyes.

You looked up at him, “I’m sorry I carry so much baggage.”

He shook his head, putting his forehead on yours again. You let a couple tears out again as he continued to speak.

“Don’t you dare apologize. You are perfect--”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You sighed, finally meeting his eyes.

“You’re perfect to me. And that asshole ex boyfriend of yours doesn’t deserve you. You are beautiful,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “You’re talented,” He pressed a kiss to your eyelids, “You’re caring,” A kiss to your cheek, “You’re so strong,” A kiss to your lips, “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it. I’m so, so, sorry.”

Poe loved you so much. He had ways of showing you without saying it. This was one of those times.

“Thank you,” You whispered, giving him a sad smile.

He shot you one back before pulling you into a hug. His hand held the back of your head as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh as you let out one more cry.

“What do you need from me right now?” He asked.

“Just hold me, please.”

So he did. He held you for the rest of the day. He held you on the couch all day, not moving unless you wanted some food or needed to use the bathroom.  He held you while you broke down again. He held you while you watched cheesy sitcoms. He held you while he kissed you. He held you until you decided you wanted to go back home and tell Rey.

He went with you for support, holding your hand the entire time. You didn’t cry this time, but you would look at Poe and he would nod to assure you that it was okay, that Rey was your best friend and cousin and that you could trust her too.

Rey felt miserable. She wanted to scold you for not telling her the details earlier, but instead she hugged you and told you that you were safe now. That you were getting stronger by the second. That speaking about it was making you better already. That you could finally let go. That Poe wasn’t Kyle.

Poe spent the night that night.

You laid in bed, your head on his chest while you played with his hand. He kissed your head, his free hand rubbing your back softly.

You replayed the day in your head. The fact that you wanted to tell him so bad. The way you felt so safe with him. The way he listened to you. How he got emotion. The things he said. The way he held you and kissed you. There was no denying the feeling you had in your stomach. Your heart began to beat fast as you took a shaky breath.

“Poe?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He stopped rubbing your back, sitting up slightly and looking down at you, “Baby.. you don’t have to say it if you don’t feel that way yet.”

You sat up, looking at him. “I do.”

He gave you a small smile, pulling you closer to him. You kissed him lovingly, your hand resting on his cheek before you pulled away to nuzzle your face in his neck.

“I love you too.”

For the first time in a really long time, you fell asleep with a smile on your face and love in your heart.

taglist<open> @twomoonstwosuns @darksideofclarke @damnyoudameron @rewritingstarrs @aidela @softly-sad @fanfiction-trashpile @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @lanatheawesome @fantasticcopeaglepasta @the-cry-of-youth @yeeintensifies @itsamedeemoney @yougottakeeponkeepinon @cloud-leader @multifandomlife22 @aroseamongthestars @liadamerondjarin

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Ner naak (My peace)

Pairing : Din Djarin x earthling!reader

Warning : none.

Summarize : Din Djarin meets you, an earthling, who has no idea of the existence of an outer space. 

Words : 2633

A/n : This is probably the longest story I had to translate but I hope it really worths it! You can find the previous chapters in the Ner naak Masterlist link just below. Enjoy your reading!! 

Masterlist. // Ner naak Masterlist.

Life, could manifest itself in some particularly strange ways. And there were many things you had not expected to experience, the first of which was to host two beings from the space under your roof. The second was probably having to justify the presence of a man in full armor sitting in the passenger seat of your car. 

You had managed to convince Mando to leave the child at home, under the watchful eye of your dog. In fact, you had even hoped that he too would remain out of sight, but trying to convince a Mandalorian was a long shot. 

Mando insisted on coming with you. You were going to look for the mechanical parts needed to get the ship back up and running, and he wanted to make sure you had the right materials. Even though you had explained to him that in any case, the parts you collected would be transformed to fit the ship, he didn't want to hear anything. 

Din was actually curious. He had heard so much about the Earth and its people. And to him, you were like an alien, it was a whole world to discover, and he didn't want to miss it for anything in the world. It might even have been the first time he could take the time to discover a planet without getting shot. 

But it didn't make it any easier for you. 

You looked at your neighbor, leaning against your car door, with the most natural smile you could offer. Your hands were clenched on your steering wheel and your neurons were already wriggling to find a logical explanation for Mando's armor.

"Anton! To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Oh, I saw you get in the car with... huh, your friend, I thought I'd say hi."  He said, staring at Mando indiscreetly. "Is there a carnival in town or something?" He asked for you.

Anton wouldn't take his eyes off Mando and it was getting embarrassing. You couldn't tell how Mando felt, but if you were in his shoes, you probably would have hated that look. You could see from the corner of your eye that Mando was holding his gaze. So you came up with the best excuse you could think of.

"Actually, it's a birthday party for a friend's daughter. She's turning six, and you know how little girls that age are, they dream of having their knight in shining armor." You say. "So, huh, my friend here has kindly offered to play along."

You clear your throat. You prayed silently for this lie to work, and when your neighbor suddenly appeared to understand a math class, you refrained from crying out for relief. 

"Ah! Like the knights of the Round Table! What an impressive armor, don't change a thing buddy!" Anton enthused over. 

Mando stared at him silently. Poor Mando, he probably didn't understand anything about this knight story, but at least it was a decent explanation for the moment.

You didn't want to linger there any longer, you thanked Anton and ended up on the road to your mechanic.

"A knight in shining armor?" Mando asked you. 

" Well, it's a long story. But to make it short, the novels are full of romantic stories involving medieval knights. I could lend you a book on the legends of King Arthur, if you like to read, of course." You said. 

"I don't know if I like reading." 

You took your eyes off the road to look at Mando. How could someone not know whether or not they liked to read? And you suddenly wondered what that man had done in his life to not be able to know. 

"I never had a chance to read." 

Din felt he had to justify himself. You had been so surprised by his answer that he wondered if reading was not an integral part of being an earthling. And then you nodded, giving him a warm smile. How could so much kindness slumber in a single being?

"Well, since you're going to be stuck here for a little while, maybe this is your chance to find out?" 

Mando didn't answer anything. Only a hesitant nod indicated that he agreed, and your smile only got bigger. 

Din watched you focus on the road again. He took the opportunity to take a look at the machine that was driving you both to your chosen destination. It was a strange passenger compartment. He had quickly figured out that it was thanks to the pedals that you were sending the necessary impulse to the machine to move forward, but he was still amazed by the lack of controls and instruments for piloting. He put his arm on the armrest of the car door, but because of his gauntlet, the button to open the window went off. 

The third thing that was particularly unexpected for you was to see a Mandalorian getting startled by a window opening itself. You had to admit it, Mando was a strange bird, but watching him discover the little earthly things was surprisingly entertaining. You closed the window on your side calmly as Mando settled back onto his seat, almost embarrassed to have been surprised. 

"At least I know I'm not the only one who's taken aback by new things." You said. "Wait, you're gonna love this!" You excitedly said as you pressed the button to turn on the radio. 

The music spread around the car and Mando suddenly stared at the radio. There were probably more controls to monitor this little box than there were to drive the vehicle. The music playing was rather rhythmic, Din noticed that you were tapping your steering wheel with your fingers in sync with the song and you seemed to particularly enjoy the song. It was weird by the way. It didn't sound like anything he'd ever heard before, but as strange as it sounded, it wasn't unpleasant at all. 

"You can change if you don't like it, just press this button. " you told him.

Din was curious, he pressed it and suddenly several voices rose up to narrate he didn't know what about he didn't know who. He pressed again and this time a much softer song was played. He liked it. He let it end and changed the radio station again until you recognized the first notes of a band that you had fully intended to introduce to the Mandalorian. 

"This one! That's them!" you  exclaimed. 

"Them?"

"Daft Punk, that's them!" 

You couldn't see it, but Din frowned as he listened to Get Lucky playing on the radio. He was focused on whether or not he liked those "Daft Punk" with whom you had compared him. His finger barely touched the button, ready to change the station and after a few seconds of listening, he didn't feel particularly flattered by the music. He changed it without any further ado. 

"You don't like it?"

"Not really." he replied. 

"It would have been funny, you guys look alike, you'd have made a great trio. " You teased. 

"Why?"

You didn't say anything. You checked to see if there were any police officers around before you took out your phone, looking on the internet for a picture of the Daft Punk. Then you handed your phone to Mando, who silently observed the picture of the two men in helmets. 

"It's not beskar, it won't even stop a blaster shot, these helmets are useless." He stated suddenly, putting the phone back where you took it. 

You couldn't help but giggle. You shook your head in disbelief, looking at him. 

"Beskar doesn't exist here and these helmets aren't made for..." And then you realized what he just said. "Wait, a shot of... of what?"

"Blaster. " he said. 

"What the... no. Actually, I'd rather not know." You changed your mind. "These helmets are like, let's say, a symbol. It's just, for appearance's sake." 

Din didn't really understand the point behind it, so he didn't answer. Maybe there was some logic in it, but in this case, it was beyond his knowledge. 

Then you park the car at a small parking lot. There was a building in corrugated iron across the street, and several dented cars were stored under a shed. 

" Here we are. This is where I hope to find most of the pieces for your ship. This auto shop belongs to my father's old friend. He shouldn't ask too many questions. " You said, more to reassure yourself than to reassure Mando. 

"If he does, I'm still a knight in shining armor. "He said, and you could hear the grin that Din had on his face. 

He didn't get out of the car until you stepped outside. You had made a list so that you wouldn't waste too much time here. 

" The only thing you're missing is your trusty steed. " you joked. 

As soon as you'd finished your sentence, your father's friend was already coming to meet the two of you.

"Y/n! It's good to see you!" 

"Hello Henry, it's been a long time. "You said. 

"I know you've been working a lot, but you should tell your students to leave you alone for an hour or two and come see me! "He called out. 

"You're right, they'll probably be happy about that actually. "You said. 

"And who are you bringing me?" 

Henry turned to Mando, offering his hand to shake it. Mando seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when you nodded gently, he shook Henry's hand. 

"Henry, this is Mando."

"Nice to meet you, Mando, so tell me, what can I do for you?" Henry just went on. 

You handed him your list, mentally thanking him for not dwelling on Mando's appearance. Henry stared at it, rubbing his beard. 

"Well, it's a big restoration you got there. "He noticed. 

"Ah, that's a hell of a slog, you could say. "You said. 

"What type?"

"Never been seen before. " You answered and you couldn't be more exact. " It belongs to Mando. It's a real gem. You wouldn't believe it."

You would've given yourself an Award for acting. Henry glanced enviously at Mando, probably imagining a real gem in the automobile world. 

"Any self-respecting man gives his marvel a name, so what's the name of this beauty?" 

You rolled your eyes. Only a man like Henry could have said such a thing. But, to your surprise, Mando replied. 

"The Razor Crest." 

"You'll have to show me that car!"

"Once we get it up and running. " Mando said. 

You were stunned to see Mando getting into your game, but you were happy about it. Henry nodded and sneaked into his workshop with your list. 

"The Razor Crest?" You repeated. "So you really give names to ships?" 

"It's more like..." Mando looked around before he showed you the license plate of a car in the parking lot. "something like that." 

"License plate? Ships are identified in space?"

He nodded when Henry appeared again, making a sign to follow him. After joining him to the workshop, Henry pushed a wagon towards you and Mando. 

"I don't have everything, but take what you can. " he said. 

"Thank you, Henry. Let me know the bill. "You said. 

He nodded and left the two of you to gather the pieces.

You'd already stuck your nose in the high shelves, scrutinizing every piece of metal you encountered. 

"It's nice of you to offer, but unfortunately, whatever money you have is probably worthless here. That's one of the consequences of not knowing the true extent of the universe. " You said, grabbing an alternator in your hand. 

You looked at it from every angle and decided it would do the trick. You put several in the cart. You took a step back, trying to find out where Henry stored his spark plugs.

"So how can I thank you? " Mando asked. 

"Well... if you've got a way to get to the top of that shelf, I'm in."

You showed him the position of the spark plugs and sighed looking for a stepladder, but Mando had another idea in mind. 

"I've got one. " he simply said. 

You frowned, not understanding what he wanted to do when he pushed his cloak to one side, revealing a dorsal reactor. You would have been speechless if he hadn't suddenly left the ground and risen three feet in the air, grabbing a few spark plugs before reaching the ground again.

You lost your words as Mando handed you the pieces. You didn't want to stare at him, but it wasn't very common to see a human being flying with a jet pack either. 

"People don't do that around here?" Mando said.

It was more of a statement than a question, but you shook your head, telling him that they didn't. But you couldn't stop smiling either. 

"It's just, amazing. "You said as you picked up the spark plugs. " But, uh... " You moved closer to Mando to put his cloak back over the jet pack. "As much as I'd love to try that someday, you' d better hide this. »

You felt sad about having to tuck away Mando's appearance like that. Though, you smiled at him kindly as you kept selecting useful mechanical components for the ship. 

"Earthlings really don't like anything that doesn't look like them. " Mando said suddenly.

It couldn't be more true. You were watching Mando. His helmet, his armor, the equipment that girdled him, and now his jetpack. You weren't really concerned about the "normal" people, you were concerned about the authorities. You were worried about the government, the scientists, NASA, all those people who would make sure that no one would find out about a faraway place. You were worried about these people and their scientific experiments. You were gradually realizing that you were probably the only person on Earth who had living proof that the universe was much wider than people were willing to admit. And somehow that was frightening and it put you in a dangerous position. Because people don't like those who know too much. 

"I wish I could tell you that it's not true, that everyone can proudly show their culture and their differences, but in fact it is not the case. If you're not within the framework, you become a target. And there are so many crazy people in this world that some would be able to kill you for being different. I really wish I could proudly announce that you're living proof that we're not alone in the universe, but that would be like sentencing us to death... both of us. " You concluded. 

Din had paid attention to your words. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe he wasn't as safe on this planet as he thought he was. He was becoming more and more aware that leaving the Earthlings behind in the universe had done more harm than good. And then, your last sentence caught his attention. Sentencing you both to death. Why would she be? He understood why he would, but y/n? He didn't realize he could endanger you just by knowing he existed.

Din stopped you suddenly, putting his hand on your shoulder for the first time. It may even have been the very first time he had ever initiated physical contact with an almost stranger. And it felt like a pact he was signing with you. 

"I can promise you this will never happen. " Mando said. 

"You don't know about the doggedness of our leaders. " You said.

"And they don't know about the Mandalorians."

His statement sounded like a promise, and the anxiety that Din had noticed in your eyes had evaporated. Yes, if necessary, he would protect you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[kaweeella]

Hi, if you still want writing requests, a Danganronpa idea would be Himiko's magic going awry and making Maki swap bodies with Miu for a day.

Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it!

~~~

It started as a good day, it really did.

Maki sat at a bench, Himiko was showing off her magic to Tenko and Angie across the path, and Miu was talking to Kaede by the stairs. It was one of the only times she let herself lower her guard.

Never again.

“And for my next trick,” Himiko said. “I will make Miu and Maki switch places!”

Maki stirred only a little at the mention of her name, but she kept watching the clouds. It was likely going to be a warm training session that night.

Himiko spun her stave, a dark red glow appeared on one side and a pink one on the other. She twirled it faster as the two lights snaked down to the other ends.

She excitedly looked over to them, only to be met with disappointment. Maki was still on the bench and Miu was still by the stairs, though she stumbled some, holding onto Kaede so she wouldn’t fall over.

“Nyeh…”

“It’s alright, Himiko! It still looked cool!” Tenko tried to reassure her.

“I’m sure you’ll get it next time!”

“Hey, what just happened?” Maki walked over to them.

“I tried to make you and Miu switch places, but-” She tried to explain but quickly got cut off.

“What are you, a dumbass?”

“Maki!” Tenko stood up. “That’s really rude!”

“Are you blind? I’m not Maki.” Not Maki said.

“What’s going on?” Miu said coldly as she and Kaede approached them.

“What the fuck?!” Not Maki exclaimed.

“Himiko, I think your spell did really work!”

“Nyahahaha!” Angie laughed. “Good job, Himiko! God smiles upon you!”

“What the fuck did you do?” Not Maki asked.

“Well I tried to cast a spell to switch Miu’s and Maki’s places, but if Tenko’s right, then I guess it didn’t switch you physically.”

“If you’re going to use me in one of your shows, at least ask first.” Maki- real Maki- said, venom in her voice.

“So you can fix this, right?” Kaede asked.

Himiko nodded and spun the stave. It started glowing again, though the lights didn't move.

“Enough with your shitty glowstick, I don’t want to be stuck as this flat fuck.”

“Do you want to die?” Maki looked at her. Even if she wasn’t in her body she’s scary as hell.

Himiko tried to block out the talking. If she strained her eyes she could see the lights moving towards the other ends at a snail’s pace. She stopped spinning it and examined them. Even though she stopped she could still see the light moving down at an agonizingly slow speed.

“What’s wrong, Himiko?” Tenko asked.

“Nyeh…” She shuddered and looked at Maki to read her expression. There were none. “I have good news and bad news.” She shrank in on herself a little. “I can’t undo it right now, b-but it’s temporary.”

“Fucking dumbass! Try harder!” Miu reached out to grab the stave.

“Nyeh! Stop! You might make it worse!”

“Nothing could be w-aaa!” Maki grabbed her by the pigtails and yanked her back.

“When are we going to be back to normal?”

“When the two lights reach the other side.” She pointed at the stave.

Maki hummed. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

Himiko looked at it in thought. “At the rate it’s going, maybe about a day?”

“Maki-Roll!” Kaito ran up with Shuichi not far behind him.

“Great…” Maki muttered.

He wrapped Miu in a bear hug. She panicked and…

“Ow!” … she kneed him. “Maki-Roll why’d you do that?”

“Because that’s Miu. I’m Maki.”

The two look confused. Like they were doing a hundred calculations at once in their heads.

“Himiko fucked up her spell.” Miu said.

“It’s temporary!”

It was quiet for a minute before Kaito spoke up again. “So are you still on for training tonight?”

“Training, huh? What kind of training do you do together late at night, huh?”

“Me and Shuichi exercise. Kaito mostly just sits there.”

“Hey!”

“Riiiiight. Well whatever it is, leave me and my body out of it.”

“It’s probably for the best. It’s going to be warm tonight and I’m not in the mood to listen to Kaito whining. And…” She looked down at ‘herself’. “I’m not quite used to training in these conditions.”

Miu snickered some before coming to a realization.

“Miu what are you thinking?” Shuichi asked, though he had a pretty good idea of the answer.

“Why don’t you try some training with me? I’ve always wanted to know if I’m good in bed.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Oh come on, it felt so nice when you pulled my hair.”

Maki stared daggers into her.

“What, you got nothing?”

“I’d strangle you but you’d like it too much.”

“Now, now, we should not resort to violence. As long as we have God on our side all will be well!”

“Right! Besides, it could be worse. You might’ve switched with a degenerate man.”

Maki sighed. She was right, there were worse people but Miu wasn’t a great option to be the one piloting her body.

“Don’t think I’m happy to be in this situation either. I want to be back in my own gorgeous body.”

“This is so weird.” Kaito whispered to Shuichi.

“Nehehe~! What do we have here?” Kokichi strolled over.

“Not now, Kokichi.” They told him.

“Just go away, we’re busy right now and the last thing we need is a little shit fucking around.” Miu said.

“No I…” He paused. “Maki, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

“Do you want to tell him?” Kaito whispered.

“Tell me whaaaat?”

“No, he can figure it out on his own.” Maki said.

“Come on, Miu. A dumb slut shouldn’t be-” Before he can finish Maki grabs him by the neck. “Hey,” He stammered, “I’m not into that. Or you.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, dumb or slut?”

“Both.”

“Why~? They fit you so-” She tightened her grip.

“Maki-Roll, calm down you might actually kill him!”

“Maki?” Kokichi asked with strained breaths.

She dropped him. “Yeah. Maki, and never call me a dumb slut again.” She leaned down to his eye level.

“It’s kinda hard to take you seriously when you look like this.”

“Maybe you’ll take this seriously.” She grabbed his scarf and headbutted him, the goggles left marks on his forehead.

“Damn, don’t break my shit!” She looked at the goggles. When she saw that they’re unbroken she nodded before breaking out into laughter. “You got him pretty good. Serves you right you little bitch.”

“So,” Kokichi sat up. “Maki is Miu and Miu is Maki. What. The fuck.”

“It’s magic!” Himiko said.

Maki sighed. “I’m going to go lay down.” She grabbed her key off of Miu and headed off to the dorm.

“See you, Maki-Roll!”

“Hey Miu,” Shuichi said. “Did Maki give you your key?”

She thought for a moment. “She has my fucking key!” Miu ran after Maki.

“No matter what she looks like, she’s a dumb bitch.”

“Hey!” Miu yelled as she reached Maki. “Give me my key.”

“Right.” She paused. “Where do you keep it?” She dreaded the answer.

Miu reached down into her shirt and took out her key. Maki looked at the shirt.

“How do you keep it in there? I could hardly feel it.”

“An inner shirt pocket. With it you can sexily and comfortably store things in your cleavage.”

Maki thought for a moment. “That’s pretty clever.”

“Huh?! I mean… of course it is! I thought of it.”

“You can’t even see the stitches. This could’ve been pretty useful in my missions.”

“I’m gonna take that as a good thing!”

“Yeah. Honestly your inventions don’t really make sense to me but they do tend to be pretty good, when it isn’t used for sexual purposes.”

“My inventions are always incredible!”

“I feel like the underwear remover is a bit unnecessary.”

“Everything I make is entirely necessary!”

“Ah! Maki!” They saw Tsumugi running toward them. “Maki, I have a photoshoot, do you have a weapon I could use?”

“Are you planning to use a real weapon for a photoshoot?”

“No! No! Of course not. I just wanna be as authentic as possible so I’m gonna use it as a reference point. So can I?”

“No.”

“Huh? But I’m asking Maki-”

“Alright, here's what’s happening, Four Eyes. Himihoe fucked up her spell and now I’m Maki and she’s me.”

She stood for a moment then gasped. “This is like something straight out of an anime! How do you reverse it? A special item? Words of true caring? A kiss?”

“Himiko said it would likely take roughly a day.”

“Of course! A timer. In most anime the pair have to pretend to be each other, leading to weird situations that some find hard to watch, but instead of that you two hardly have any hesitance telling me. Though even if you did try to act as each other it’d still be plainly obvious, no offense.”

“Right.” Maki said. “I’m going to bed.” With that she continued to the dorms.

Kirumi was cleaning in there and looked over when she entered.

“Ah, Miu, you look tired. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No.” She went over to her dorm and Kirumi gave her a strange look.

“You do know that is Maki’s room, right?”

“I know who’s room it is.” She didn’t look back at Kirumi before she went in and closed the door. She fumbled taking off the boots and laid down. She wasn’t even going to bother with anything else.

“Strange.” Kirumi muttered to herself.

It felt like an eternity. She stared at the ceiling, just thinking, until there was a knock at the door. It was Miu. She looked behind her, noticing that Kirumi was no longer there and it was dark out.

“What is it.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d let me stay in here… with you?”

“Why?”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters a lot if you want to sleep in my room.”

“Well if you really care that much… being in my room when I look like this upsets me.”

“It upsets you to be in your room when you look like me.”

“Well…” She fidgeted. “I base a lot of myself and my life on how I look, and my room is a reminder that I’m no longer that.”

Maki wasn’t expecting that. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Fine. I’m going to need help taking these belts off anyway.”

“Oh you wanna undress me~?”

“I can’t sleep with them on.”

“Really? You slept just fine when Kaito came by to get you. Had to be physically restrained to stop pushing the fucking button.”

“I didn’t realize I went to sleep.”

“Well you did. Wow, your room is pretty empty.”

“I don’t keep many things. Not where I live.”

“Right, your assassin thing. Have you ever seduced your mark?”

“No.”

“Well of course, no one could have my sex appeal.”

“Miu. Miu we are teenagers.”

“What of it?”

Maki threw a pillow at her. “Just go to sleep.”

The night was uneventful. Miu had some trouble adjusting to the pigtails but when she did she fell asleep quickly.

When Maki woke up, she found she was on the other side of the bed when she tried to get up. She looked over and saw Miu. Miu as Miu.

“Hey, get up.”

“Huh? What the fuck do you want?”

“For you to go back to your own room. We’re back to normal.”

She grumbled some. “Fine.” She dramatically got up, grabbed her key and boots and headed out the door, though she paused in the doorway. “Hey Maki? Thank you for letting me stay over.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean it.” Maki smiled, though she had her back to Miu so she couldn’t see. “You can be the first to test my next invention!”

“That’s unnecessary.”

[abusybuzzingbee]

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 4 Rewrite | Dean x Fem!Reader

A/N::: I’m so sorry I was away for so long, I have been very involved in the black lives matter movement on my other social media, and have been taking the time to participate in protests around my city. If you would like to get involved in the movement but don’t know how, I would be happy to point you in the direction of helpful websites for petitions you can sign and places you can donate to. Please take this time to do your part and stick up for our black brothers and sisters.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon level violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other

Word Count: 7,927

Summary: The boys and the reader get a call from a man Dean and John worked a job for in the past. We learn a little bit about the reader’s past hunting experience, and possibly a newfound fear for her. 

Series Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

Click here for the series playlist!

You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber. 

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam. 

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to that asshole.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand. 

“Dean found a case,” the younger Winchester informed you.

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?”

Sam sat on the chair across from your bed near the table. “We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.”

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah--” you nodded, “--gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded. 

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts as well as people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?”

“Yeah, I was. I'm—taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied. 

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and-- what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?”

“Oh, uh--”

‘Time to improvise. Probably not the best time to get into the daddy dearest situation.’

“--I met them on a hunt in California, I had just lost my hunting partner and was in need of some new ones.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry described. 

“Why?” you asked.

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485--” the recording cut out with a static sound, “--immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message--” and cut out again, “--May be experiencing some mechanical failure--” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh...well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“All right,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage...guys--and gal--the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. 

They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“All right, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head. 

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shhh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“’ No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?” 

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation.

“Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied. 

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden. 

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything...unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered. 

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I--I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was...delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up. 

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was...this—man. And, uh, he had these...eyes—these, uh...black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's...that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused. 

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit. 

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. Black eyes give me big demon vibes.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house. 

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair. 

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a...dentist?” Dean questioned. 

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

“In all that time, did you ever notice anything...strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well...uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house. 

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re a know-it-all,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic asshole that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded. 

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you. 

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him. 

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys--” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you. 

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away. 

“Just drive, asshole” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat.

The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident.

Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean. 

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the navy color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good. 

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you. 

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” 

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. 

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a...seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

***

You steeled your nerves as your white, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is, I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped. 

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam. 

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag when you smelled the familiar scents of coconut and tobacco fill the air around you.

“We need to go,” you told the boys.

“What, why?” Sam asked.

“No time to explain, let’s just go, please.”

You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse. 

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building. 

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit. 

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace. 

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

Without hesitation, you lied, “I heard footsteps down the hallway. Sounded like they were running. Didn’t want to chance being what they were running towards.”

“Well then how come we couldn’t hear 'em?” Dean asked, his eyes flickering toward you in the rearview mirror. 

“Maybe you’re just deaf, Dean-o,” you quipped.

“Don’t give me your smart-ass bull crap,” he warned. “I was closer to where we came in than you were. I would’ve heard them coming first. Tell me what really happened.”

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. I heard them coming, you didn’t. Simple as that,” you shrugged.

He studied you for a brief moment in his mirror, and you could tell he knew something wasn’t right. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned. 

“‘Cause I know you’re lying.”

You scoffed. “Can you just get off my back? I’m not lying.”

“(Y/N)--” 

“No, just stop. Get off my dick and leave me alone.”

Dean shook his head, his frustration with you clear.

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean, your frustration with the fact that he had caught onto you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place. 

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed. 

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sat in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur with finger guns, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?” 

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you began.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was one of the toughest cases I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

***

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease--”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him.

“Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done,” you continued.

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry...Wha—Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?....I'll try to ignore the irony in that...Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone. 

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.”

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of the plane was, in fact, sulfur. 

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there hav====e been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“‘No survivors,’“ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

***

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway. 

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother. 

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean monotoned, his sarcasm strong.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas. 

***

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven. 

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?” 

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment.  “We need to find a phone.” 

He found a courtesy on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen...I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um...flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here...Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—...” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well...there must be some mistake--”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen. 

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged...He's really sorry...Yes, but...he really needs to see you tonight, so--... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic...Oh, yeah...No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!”

Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.”

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

“No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” you huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, (Y/N)?” he spat.

“Oh, man up,” you gibed.

“Hey, hey--” Sam tried to calm you both down before a fight broke out. “(Y/N) and I’ll go.”

Dean turned to his brother. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

“Come on! Really? Man...”

***

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, asshole?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.”

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.” 

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat closest to the window of the plane, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind as he sat in the aisle seat.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered, who sat between you. 

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded, leaning forward in your seat to look at Dean.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later. 

You and Sam snickered to yourselves as you leaned back in your seats.

A few minutes later when the plane had gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from two seats over from yours. 

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied shortly. 

“‘Some Kind of Monster?’ Really?“ you questioned.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.” 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?” 

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water--” you leaned forward, snatching the bottle, “--And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied. You could tell he had not. 

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?”

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane. 

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before Dean returned.

“All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.”

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence,” Sam coaxed.

“Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four.

“Okay,” you started, your tone harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry I can't,” Dean sassed, his grip still tight on the arms of his chair.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

“Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?”

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“Oh, look at that, Dean-o’s finally taking charge,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.” 

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked. 

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam.

“We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually--” Dean began, “--that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean.

“Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry--” she started, attempting to move past you, “--I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

"Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On...on 2485, there was this man. He...had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—”

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Honey, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

Dean, however, shoved his way to that spot just before you could. 

You stumbled back, regaining your footing while fussing at Dean. “Um, Earth to asshole--” you moved to stand next to him against the wall, “--I was kind of standing there.”

He turned his face back to you over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he smirked. “I know.” Dean winked at you before turning back to face the curtain.

“Dick.”

“Bitch.”

“Guys!” Sam objected. “Focus, please.”

You heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth. 

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

“Well, I don't underst—I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam.

“I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal. 

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area. 

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane. 

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual. When you let him go, there was a slight tremble that rolled through the aircraft carrier. You took in a sharp breath, gripping onto the seats on either side of you as you faltered.

You looked up at Sam, eyes wide. “I think this whole demon dealio might’ve awakened my new biggest fear.”

***

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between each one.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah,” Sam conceded.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report.

Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse. 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. 

“Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man. 

“You know, Jerry,” he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys-- and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. 

“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him.

You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother.

You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head. 

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Tags are open and feedback is always appreciated!!

Series Rewrite Tags:

@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​

[localkatshelter]

Okame’s Underbelly: Intoxication |2nd|

(ShinsoxOC)

Katsumi's POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso's POV (hecker#8339)

Warning: Contains toxic relationships, heartbreak, quirk misuse, and alcohol consumption

Preview:

| Fuck, it’s actually over. The grave reality hit me in the face like a brick. I felt an unfamiliar emotion painfully swell in my chest. It terrified me. So, I did what I knew how to do best: avoid, avoid, avoid. I reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of soju. I twisted off the cap and began downing it; I didn’t even notice the bitter taste. It didn’t take me long before I was ready for the second bottle. My head was    empty. |

1st Chapter - Anticipation

(Katsumi’s POV)

Performances had been going on for a little while. I had shifted my position in my chair a couple of times to get comfortable and finally settled on sitting cross legged with my knees resting on the plush arms. Holding my, now lukewarm, tea in both hands, I inhaled as I took a sip. The minty aroma cleared the fog in my head a bit from the heavy summer air that was being moved around by the slow ceiling fans scattered across the room. I did my best to politely listen to the people on stage as they went through their pieces, but really only one in every five people were any good. I looked at my phone to check the time. There was about 20 more minutes until Okame’s usual time slot. As a particularly boring piece was being performed, I heard some shuffling to my right. Curious and in need of something a bit more stimulating, my eyes wandered towards the sound. Not wanting them to notice my staring, I kept my eyes low towards the ground. I saw a pair of large black chelsea boots stop two chairs away from me. Their owner sat down rather slowly and as my eyes moved up the distressed denim pant leg I caught a glimpse of their hands tensely gripping the arms of the chair as they lowered themselves down. I couldn’t help but stare at those hands as they fidgeted with the loose strands of the cloth chair. The chipped nail polish certainly wasn’t intentional, but the aesthetic fit oddly well with the haphazard chunky rings that adorned their long, rough looking fingers. Am I weird for thinking hands are attractive...?

 Afraid that I would make accidental eye contact but now fully invested in analyzing this random stranger, I adjusted my angle in my chair, so I could easily peek to the side and see the stranger fully. Now that I could get a full look, I could tell for sure that the person sitting nearby was a guy around my age. I watched as he shifted in his seat to take off the black jacket he wore. He set it in his lap and tugged at the seams. I continued my observation. Oh he has an eyebrow piercing too? That’s kind of cute. His whole vibe is a bit Edgelord for me but he pulls it off. My eyes trailed back to his hands, which hadn’t stopped fidgeting. I followed them as he raised them to run his fingers through his hair. The color of it is what struck me first, it was so unique. The shade of purple really suited his pallet. But what the fuck is with that style? Is that on purpose? Is bed head a new trend? Well, I guess it doesn’t look terrible on him... Satisfied with my full analysis and slowly losing interest, I turned my attention to the next performer, who was at least a bit better than the few prior, but still not great. I checked the time again and got a bit excited since it was almost time for Okame to perform. In the meantime, I decided to entertain myself by making up little stories about Mr. Edgelord to pass the time.

I checked my phone casually to see the time. Oh, it’s almost time!  I straightened up in my seat to make sure I could see the stage well. It seemed like the whole room did the same, any side conversations that had been going on suddenly lulled and faded out. The entire room’s focus shifted to the empty stage at the front. We waited in collective anticipation for Okame’s ghost performer to walk up on stage. I peaked around the room for the familiar looking girl but to my surprise, one of the staff members walked onto stage instead. People turned towards each other and began murmuring in confusion. The staff member tapped into the mic to refocus everyone’s attention. 

“Good evening, everyone. The Squeaky Wheelhouse has an announcement to make. As many of you know, typically around this time our resident performer, Okame, has their ghost performer read their work. Unfortunately, Okame has informed us that they will be going on hiatus starting tonight. We are very sorry to see them go but we wish them well and hope they will come back whenever they are ready. With that being said, lets move right into our next performance.” 

The room remained silent for a moment as the announcement sunk in. Then all at once, chairs began to scrape against the floor as people got up to leave. Wow, I had no idea that this many people came specifically for Okame. Among those that got up was Mr. Edgelord. Huh, never would have pegged him for an Okame stan. I wonder what his deal is? When did he become a fan? I’ve never noticed him before. I was pulled out of my thoughts by a gruff, low voice speaking to me. I looked up to see Edgelord standing next to me.

“Excuse me.”

I pulled my legs in to make room for him to pass by, not saying anything. He looks super disappointed. I really can't remember ever seeing him here before. How weird. I looked around to see a noticeable amount of people had left already. I feel bad for the rest of the performers. I should stay for at least a little bit longer. I don't have anything better to do anyway and no one is waiting on me back at the dorms. Despite my best intentions, I could only make it through about another 20 or 30 minutes of performances before I decided that I didn't have to punish myself anymore with tonight’s below-average open mic entries. I gathered my things together and put them into my bag. I headed outside to start my walk back home. As I went to pop my headphones in, my quirk started to pick up an immense amount of sadness coming from someone to my left. I looked over and saw Edgelord hunched over on a bus bench with his head in his hands. Before I knew what I was doing, my quirk was dragging my body in his direction. I gently sat down next to him and reached out to tap his shoulder.

(Shinso’s POV)

If I’m being honest, I barely paid attention to the other performers. I knew I was being rude,  but I couldn’t help myself from impulsively checking for my ghost performer as it was getting closer and closer to the time slot. She liked to keep me on edge so I’m sure she was waiting for the last second to show up.  I heard snaps followed by the crowd hushing as the last performer before “Okame” left the platform. I stared at the stage intently but to my bewilderment, one of the staff members walked on instead.  “.... Unfortunately, Okame has informed us that they will be going on hiatus starting tonight…”  I didn’t hear the rest of what he said after that, his words just became a drone. She didn’t even show up.  After the staff member finished up the announcement he left the stage. My mind was blank, as the empty spotlight burned into my brain. I felt my body lift itself from the chair abruptly. Before I could process what I was doing, I was already making my way out of the place. To my relief, other people followed behind me so I didn’t stand out too much. I brushed past a few people, and luckily my auto-pilot still had some manners to excuse myself. 

My thoughts were racing as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. Fuck this, I’m going home. I swiftly beelined straight to the bus stop near the Wheelhouse. The soju bottles clinked together as I dropped down on the bench. I impatiently dug in my pocket for the pack of cigarettes I was trying to stretch for the week. I’ve cut down significantly and planned to eliminate it from my life completely. Right now is not the time to think about that. It’s actually the perfect fucking time to whip one out.  I put the cigarette between my lips and lit it with a shaky hand. I took one deep drag, the familiar static sensation coating my tongue and throat. If I wasn’t fuming, it might have actually felt soothing. She has some nerves not showing up after fucking around on me. What the fuck does she have to be mad about? 

We were laying together on the couch, catching up on the most recent episode of a show we both enjoyed. We had just finished laughing at the comic relief after an emotionally dense scene, when I saw her phone screen turn on in the corner of my eye. My eyes habitually followed the light to where her phone was plugged in next to me. The unnamed preview message read Are you still with him? I’ll be in the area tonight. I froze. I took in a deep uneven breath before slowly turning  to her.

 “What is this?” I rasped, as I held the phone to face her. 

She looked over and her expression shifted unpleasantly before she attempted to grab the phone from my hand, which I reflexively dodged.  She knew better than to answer my question. I rarely ever used my quirk on her, because it always managed to exacerbate the situation so it wasn’t worth it. If she’s already avoiding my questions, then this must be bad news. 

“Unlock your phone.” I demanded firmly.

 “No, Shinso.” she sighed. “You always let your paranoia get the best of you. Just stop. Don’t ruin tonight. We can always fight about something stupid another day.” 

Her dismissive demeanor irked me to no end. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I borderline growled.

 “Leave me alone!” She spat back at me before her face went blank. 

Got her.  

“Unlock your phone.” I repeated steadily. 

She took the phone with a slack grip and entered her password.

 “Give the phone to me.” 

The more I scrolled through the thread of text messages, the more betrayed I felt. I was too devastated to be angry, but I was far from numb. The intense influx of emotions caused me to unknowingly release her mind from my control. I finally realized, when I heard soft choked sobs coming from her. When my eyes returned to her, she looked completely defeated, but I could not bring myself to sympathize with her. I tossed her phone on the couch before getting up and snatching my keys off the table.

 “Shinso, stop! Please wait!” she cried as she tugged my arm towards her. 

“For what?” I retorted sharply. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t need to get more evidence to know that we’re over.” I yanked my arm from her grip. 

She said nothing.  I pushed through the door without looking back.

After reliving the memory, I slowly came back to the present. I flicked the now cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it.  Any sane person would wonder why I still wanted to be with her. The truth is, I’m a big fat hypocrite. I’ve done my fair share of bullshit in the relationship. Granted, I never cheated, but still, it’s not my place to get on my high horse. We’ve gone through so much together, and honestly, I can’t imagine what it would be like to not be with her anymore. And now...it’s actually over. Fuck, it’s actually over. The grave reality hit me in the face like a brick. I felt an unfamiliar emotion painfully swell in my chest. It terrified me. So, I did what I knew how to do best: avoid, avoid, avoid. I reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of soju. I twisted off the cap and began downing it; I didn’t even notice the bitter taste. It didn’t take me long before I was ready for the second bottle. My head was empty.

I stopped keeping track of how much I had consumed. All I knew was that the bus was taking fucking forever. Despite it being cold out, my chest was warm due to the alcohol. I could barely sense that nameless feeling in there anymore. My head was fuzzy, a little too fuzzy now. Is this the third or fourth bottle?  Before I could contemplate the answer, the horizon began tilting before my lowered eyes. I rested the weight of my upper body on my knees and hung my heavy head low, hoping this dizziness would soon pass. 

[jadelotusflower]

Fic: He Will Not Encumber Me (Han, Luke, OT era)

Luke gets drunk - Han cleans up the mess.

On A03 or under the cut

There were two things the Rebels did well, in Han Solo’s opinion. The first was hail a loss as a victory simply because it was not annihilation, and the second was to keep a well stocked bar in every officer’s mess. There was of course an obvious correlation between the two. 

It had been another brutal, demoralising loss for the Alliance, and Han wasn’t sure how many of those they had left in them. Yet what was left of the rebels celebrated because there was still a rebellion to be fought and therefore, still hope.

The embodiment of that hope was surrounded by a throng of fellow pilots, being hailed and toasted, fresh drinks being pressed into his hand the moment he finished the last one. Han had arrived late and took up his usual spot at the bar sipping a glass of Corellian whiskey, not quite ready to celebrate yet another brush with death. 

Of course, he didn’t blame the kid; he’d been promoted after all, and deserved at least one night to enjoy it with a drink - or fifteen. Han noted with amusement the wide grin that didn’t once falter, the blearly, unfocused look to the eyes, the slightly delayed reactions, and every now and then, distinct giggling. 

The newly minted Commander Skywalker was drunk. 

That in and of itself should not seem unusual, but it was rare to see Luke in such a state. Han remembered the first time he’d seen Luke drink alcohol, in those heady few hours after the medal ceremony on Yavin but before the evacuation. The ale had been flowing free then too, but while Luke had consumed as much as any of them, it hadn’t seemed to affect him in the same way, or at least not as quickly. 

He’d expected to be entertained by a fresh-off-the-farm boy scout giddy on victory and his first taste of real whiskey. But while his new friend and fellow survivor Antilles had slumped down onto the bar, laughing softly to himself and still clutching his glass, Luke had been perched happily on the stool beside him ordering another. 

“You drank in the Mos Eisley Cantina right?” Luke had said when Han had questioned him. 

“Yeah,” he’d confirmed, and made a face. “I didn’t think it was legal to sell distilled engine grease.”

“It’s Tatooine,” Luke had laughed darkly. “It’s only illegal if the Hutts don’t like it. But we have a saying too - if you can ferment it or distill it, you can drink it.”

“Whether you live to drink it again is not the barkeep’s problem I guess.”

“In Mos Eisley, sure - in Anchorhead they relied on repeat business,” Luke told him with a shrug. “But it was no less potent, there was a sill out the back using whatever desert plants we could get our hands on.”

“Tatooine moonshine, huh?” Han had lifted his glass in salute. “I’m impressed kid.”

But Luke’s tolerance for alcohol seemed to go beyond a familiarity with the strong stuff - of course there was also his metabolism that Han liked to joke was faster than the Falcon on the Kessel Run. He’d once seen the kid put away three dozen spiced ribenes (with a side order of tomo-slaw), chase them with a basket of deep fried tubers and still have room for half a sic-six layer cake. 

He won every drinking game he was challenged to for a year after joining the Rebellion, which always ended up with his opponent either slumped on the floor, vomiting into a trash can, or on one ignoble occasion, in the medward getting their stomach pumped. They’d all been given a week’s latrine duty after that, and drinking games expressly banned. 

Of course, the Alliance couldn’t police what happened planetside, and more than once when they’d been in need of some quick funds Han had tried to persuade him to invite challenge in the local bar. Luke had always refused, but had eventually told him the reason in that way of his - half pride, half humility.

“It’s the Force Han,” he’d said. “If I concentrate, I can feel the alcohol in my bloodstream, push it along and make it metabolise quickly.”

“The Force.” Han had been unconvinced. “Okay then.”

“I’m serious, Han. I think I’ve been doing it unconsciously all my life, but now I can control it.”

“Well kid,” Han had slapped his shoulder, and grinned. “Finally an upside to this Jedi business! So let’s pick a mark and we’ll have the credits for the parts we need by morning.”

Luke had shaken his head and sighed in exasperation. “Don’t you see, it gives me an advantage. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair would be me enjoying a Corellian sunset with a beautiful woman and surrounded by piles of credits, not on this junk planet with you scrounging for spare parts.” Han threw up his hands. “No one in this joint is playing fair - the barkeep’s watering down the whiskey, the sabacc dealer’s got cards up his sleeve, even that slot machine on the wall is rigged. Everyone’s a cheat, you just gotta be the best one.”

“Not me.” Luke was resolute, and while Han secretly admired his firm moral stance, in reality it just made things that much harder for them. 

They’d made it off the planet eventually, but Han had never questioned Luke’s alcohol tolerance again. 

Which was why the scene before him was so strange. Han watched Luke closely for a few more minutes, trying to determine if it was artifice. But when Luke knocked over a decanter and began apologising profusely to a potted plant rather than the bartender, he decided it couldn’t be. 

There was only one explanation left - that Luke was drunk because he wanted to be. 

Han wasn’t sure if he was relieved the kid was giving himself a much needed release, or deeply concerned that he was seeking a desperate escape. He sidled his way over to the throng surrounding Luke, hovering on the outskirts of the pilot pack. 

Wedge Antilles clinked a fork against the side of his glass and announced he was going to make a speech. Oddly, the young pilot always kept a fork on his person, and when Han had once called it weird, Wedge had given him a wry look. 

“What’s weird is putting something in your mouth that’s had a thousand other tongues on it,” he’d said, and pointed his fork at him. “Think about it.”

“No thanks,” Han had said politely, avoiding the low hanging fruit of the unintended double entendre. Others hadn’t his restraint, and since then the fork in question, and Wedge’s penchant for a clean utensil (double entendre absolutely intended) had been the source of much fun. 

“Alright Antilles,” called another pilot Han couldn’t remember the name of. “Stop banging it about!”

“Yeah, keep that thing sheathed,” yet another rejoined. “There are minors present!” He put his arm around a colleague who Han knew was of age, but had a boyish face that had earned him the nickname Baby. They all had little names for each other outside their call signs, which could change from mission to mission and through movement between squadrons. Luke had, for obvious reasons after Yavin, been given the name Starkiller.

“Oh kriff off the lot of you,” Wedge made a rude gesture, but was smiling, unoffended.  “I’m going to make my speech.”

He made quite a show of clearing his throat until they were all listening. “To Luke,” he raised his glass, “or should I say, Sir.” He gave a little mock curtsy and no one laughed harder than the man himself.

“I remember the first time I met Luke,” he reminisced. “When he told me quite nonchalantly that his favourite pastime on Tatooine was shooting at desert rats, and I thought this guy is in for a rude awakening once he actually gets in a proper ship. Seriously, Luke,” Wedge wagged a finger at him. “There’s no rats in space.”

“Says you,” Luke laughed. “The Executor’s full of them!”

“But much to my surprise,” Wedge continued, “the Empire’s most dangerous weapon blew up like many a mangry rodent before it, thanks to my friend the Starkiller. Since then there’s no one else I’d rather fly alongside, even if I now have to call him Sir for the privilege.” 

Wedge gave him a lazy salute and raised his glass. “To Commander Skywalker!”

“Commander Skywalker!” the cheer went through the room, and Wedge clapped Luke on the shoulder as they downed their ales at a rapid pace. The former finished first, wiping his mouth and banging his empty glass down on the bar.

“Okay, enough speeches,” he threw his hands up in the air. “Let’s dance!”

Han was content to leave them to it, leaning against the bar and savoring his whiskey. It was good to see Luke let loose a bit - the poor kid rarely got the chance since between his obligations to the Rebellion and trying to train himself to be a Jedi, Han didn’t know when Luke had time to sleep, let alone have fun. Now he’d been promoted to command, another burden he seemed happy to take upon himself without thought of the consequences. 

He’d had seen it too many times among pilots and revolutionaries - they shone bright and burned out quickly, taking on more responsibility, more risk, until their luck ran out. But there was no reasoning with the kid - Han had tried, and Leia was no help, she was exactly the same way. So he had to content himself with keeping close, watching over Luke, ready to pull him back from the brink when he strayed too close.

Han sighed as he signalled to the barkeep for another drink. How he’d become mother hen to these rag-tag rebels, he didn’t know. But there is was. 

Aggressive rock music blared over the speakers, and Han watched in amusement Luke banging his head along in time with the heavy drum beats, mouthing the words and moving his feet with surprising rhythm. It was one of those anti-Imperial anthems, played in many an underground club to whip people into a rebellious frenzy, and a popular choice among the young pilots looking to offload some post-battle energy. 

Well, the other popular choice, Han smirked as he saw a few pilots pair up and scoot off to celebrate surviving another day. A few hopefuls sidled up to Luke, and while he danced and laughed and shared a drink with them, one by one they gave up as they realised he wasn’t the one-night stand type. He'd learned the hard way early on; his mission with Nakari Kalen had been the beginnings of a sweet romance until it had ended in tragedy, and the other brief relationships he'd observed Luke have had seemed to have made him battle-shy. After the losses that day, Han didn't blame him. 

Eventually the revelry died down - Wedge passed out on the lounge snoring loudly, and a few others sprawled out less comfortably on the floor. But Luke had held out, and stumbled over to Han at the bar with a boozy grin.

“What’re drinking?” Luke asked, reaching for the still mostly full bottle Han had slowly been working on.

“Something too expensive to waste on someone already drunk.” Han pulled the bottle out of his reach.

Luke laughed. “Aw, come on Han.”

“I think you’ve had enough anyway,” Han stowed the whiskey behind the bar, counting that Luke no longer had the physical dexterity to reach over it. “I’m cutting you off.”

“You can’t boss me around anymore, Han.” Luke leaned heavily on the bar.  “I’m a Commander now - I outrank you.”

“Is that so?” Han was about to remind him that his title of Captain was because of his ship, not a rank in the Alliance military, but it there was little point.  

“Yeah, it’s so.” Luke poked him in the chest. “I can just say, Captain Solo, fetch me a hydrospanner, or Captain Solo, stop flirting so outrageously with Leia, and you have to comply.”

Han chuckled to himself and patted Luke on the shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works, kid.”

“And you don’t get to call me kid anymore.” Luke brushed him away.

“Alright, Commander,” Han humoured him. “Tell you what. You walk from one side of this room to the other unaided and you can have as many more drinks as you want."

Luke stared at him for a few long moments, glanced at the large transparisteel window that made up one wall, and the exit located at the other. He straightened and cleared his throat, but then closed his eyes as if the room was spinning. 

“Fine.” He pouted and leaned back against the bar. “Spoilspot.”

“Hey, you’re the Starkiller,” Han joked, “I’m the Fun Killer.”

Luke laughed more than even Han felt the remark warranted. “You’re funny,” he slurred, and laughed again. “Do you know you’re funny?” 

“Yeah, I know.” He surveyed the room, not for the first time noting a significant absence. “Leia wasn’t here tonight.”

Luke shrugged. “Strategy meetings. After today, I guess they have a lot to talk about.”

“What, and leaving out the exalted Commander Skywalker?” 

“I’m excepted...expected tomorrow.”

Han eyed him, thinking it would take a miracle for Luke to have sobered up by then. He leaned over the bar and poured a glass of water from the tap, forcing it into the kid’s hand.

“She did come by and congratulate me,” Luke said as he took a sip. “Kissed me too.”

“What?” Han felt a traitorous tug in his heart.

“Here.” Luke pointed to his cheek, and Han was disturbed by how much he was relieved. Their shared affection for Leia was something they never talked about, and Han could barely acknowledge he had affection for Leia, even to himself. But Luke was drunk, and therefore more likely to be more forthcoming than he usually was, and less likely to remember it.

“So, a kiss huh?” Han knew it was unscrupulous, but had to know. “And did you reciprocate?”

Luke blinked at him. “She didn’t get promoted.”

Han ran a hand over his face and laughed. “Okay, kid. But you like her right?”

“Of course, she’s my friend.”

It was like talking to a toddler. “No, I mean more than that,” he pressed, rethinking his approach. “For example, what do you feel, when you look at her?”

Luke furrowed his brow and it took him several moments to respond, as if he’d never had to put his feelings into words before. 

“I feel...kinship.”

Han thought it was an odd word to describe attraction, and for the first time wondered whether Luke’s feelings for Leia were more platonic than he’d assumed. He’d certainly never pursued her, or made any kind of romantic overture, seemingly content with their friendship as it was. On the other hand, Han had never made any overtures either, although that was because he didn’t think he’d get the response he wanted, and then what he did have with her would be soured. 

“Why?” Luke asked him. “What do you feel when you look at her?”

Han cleared his throat. “Yeah, same as you. Kinship and all that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes and gave him one of those appraising stares that when sober made Han feel as if the kid was reading his thoughts, but didn’t have the same effect when Luke could barely stand upright. He just looked like he was squinting. 

“So Rogue Squadron huh?” Han changed to subject. “Good name.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, thankfully distracted. “It seemed right.”

“From what they say around here that Jyn Erso was quite the dame.”

Luke nodded again, staring off into the middle distance. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. Do you think it’s possible to miss people you never even met?”

“Never gave it much thought.”

“There was so much I wanted to ask them,” Luke sighed. “She wore a kyber crystal on a necklace, did you know that? I wonder if there was a Jedi in her family, something she could have told me about them. And they say Chirrut Imwe was a monk, guarding  knowledge of the Force at the temple on Jedha. I wish…”

“Yeah, but Luke.” Han touched his arm. “If they were still here, we wouldn’t be.”

“I know.” Luke blinked, his eyes wet. “They died so we could continue the fight. Like half the fleet today.”

“It’s what our lives have become,” Han sighed. “You know it was halfway through this little shindig I realised that other than you and Antilles, I didn’t know anyone’s real name.”

Luke looked at him ruefully. “You actually have to talk to people to learn their names you know.”

“Hmn.” Han swirled the whiskey in his glass. “You ever hear of Lernaean, kid?”

Luke shook his head.

“Vile water planet,” Han shuddered, thinking of his one and only visit, since no bounty could ever convince him to return. “They have some kind of ocean serpent there, living in the depths. You have the misfortune to come across one of ‘em, turn and run.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it can’t be killed,” Han told him putting down his glass. “Cut off its head, and two grow in its place. Cut off those two, you got four to deal with, you get it?”

“Like us,” Luke nodded. “They can take out a cell of rebels, they can destroy half our fleet, but there will always be more of us.”

“No, kid,” Han said, taking him by the shoulders. “It’s not like you at all, that’s the point! Because the Empire kills a rebel, and there aren’t two to take his place. There’s just one less rebel to worry about, and one day there won’t be any.”

“How can you say that?” Luke shook him off. “More are joining our cause all the time!”

Han shook his head - he really was just a kid. “What do you think the casualties were today - five hundred maybe? You got a thousand new recruits lined up?” 

Luke’s lower lip trembled, and he took a shaky breath. “Why are you saying this Han?”

“I just want to know what your endgame is Luke,” Han pressed. “At what point do you pack it in, and say enough is enough?”

Luke raised his chin, looking up at Han with that zealous fire he had. “We don’t. We fight until we either win, or we die.”

“Simple as that?”

“Yeah.”

Han sighed again, and drowned the last of his whiskey. “And you wonder why I don’t bother to learn anyone’s name.”

“Well leave, if you think we’re such a lost cause.” Luke pushed at Han’s chest. “Go pay off Jabba and go back to whatever life you had before this. I don’t need you looking out for me.”

He pushed off the bar and clearly attempted to stride off to punctuate his point, but instead tripped over his own feet and went careering towards the floor. 

“It’s alright kid,” Han caught him by the arms and lifted him upright. “I got you.”

“Commander,” Luke murmured, and was then promptly sick in a potted plant.  

“Get command of your digestive system, and we’ll talk.” Han grasped a napkin off the bar and crouched down to hand it to Luke. 

“This is disgusting,” he moaned pitifully and wiped his mouth. 

“Welcome to the world of mere mortals.” Han gave him water so he could rinse out his mouth. “Come on.” He hauled Luke to his feet and lopped the kid’s arm around his shoulders to steady him.

“I’m never drinking again,” Luke groaned as Han helped him back his quarters and lay him on the bunk.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.” Spying Luke’s lightsaber on the side table, Han moved it to a high shelf just in case. Seeing nothing else that could pose a danger - Luke kept his room depressingly clean - Han sat down on the bunk to unlace his boots.

“Maybe you’re right Han,” Luke said despondently. “Maybe this is a lost cause.”

“Ah, don’t listen to me.” Han decided to leave Luke’s socks on, and swung his feet up onto the bunk.

“I still have to fight,” Luke continued, staring at the ceiling. “Even if there’s only a fool’s hope.”

That’s exactly what it was, but Han held his tongue and patted Luke’s leg in acknowledgement.

“But you don’t have to,” Luke murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “I know this isn’t a comfortable life.”

“Yeah, well neither’s smuggling,” Han conceded. “Although the pay is better.”

Luke opened one eye. “When we met you were up to your eyes in debt to Jabba.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Yeah but when I met an Imperial cruiser, I could drop the sprice shipment. Can’t shoot the Empire’s Most Wanted out the airlock,” he gave him a wink, “as much as I’d like to sometimes.”

Luke chuckled, eye closing again and head lolling to one side on the pillow. 

“I have to leave eventually though,” Han said softly. After all, he was still in hock to Jabba up to his eyeballs, and who knew how much longer it would be before the slug sent some goon looking to take payment in blood.

“Hnm.” Luke seemed to be drifting off, so Han pulled the blanket up over him and patted his shoulder. He located an empty rubbish bin and moved it to the side of the bunk for easy access should Luke wake up and need to be sick again, which based on the kids complexion was highly likely. A quick sweep of the room left him satisfied, and he made his way to the door.

“Han?” Luke muttered, and when Han turned back he seemed asleep, but must have been only nearly so.

“Yeah?”

“That water snake - anyone ever kill it?”

Han smiled, tapping his fingers against the doorframe. “Not yet,” he said. “Who knows, maybe you will.”

The door slid closed behind him, and Han headed down the corridor to his own quarters, thinking that if anyone could slay a monster like that, he’d bet on it being Luke. And maybe - just maybe - he'd be there to see it.

[fratboykate]

Aw that sucks! What happened? I had my fingers crossed for you.

It was weird to come off like two months of work where EVERYONE who was involved was excited about it. It has been nothing but positive notes and good energy from the development team who heard the initial pitch and then obviously chose to develop it further with me. They have now seen the deck, know the story inside out, have seen the sizzle we made, and have read the pilot. I even took it outside of our circle to my writer’s groups and other TV writer friends just to make sure we weren’t too close to it and had objective feedback. I’m not talking one or two people, between both my writer’s groups alone we’re at thirteen readers. We routinely shred each other’s work to bits but they all had overall wonderful things to say once they read everything. So of course, imagine the electric shock of walking into a meeting and watching people just...not get it even a little bit the entire time. It was like just...fucking deadpan central. It went right over their heads. Honestly, more than anything I think what really struck me the most was that some of the shit that was said was just so outrageously off base that for a moment I was like “Huh?!? Was I unknowingly speaking Chinese for the half an hour that I just pitched to you because me presenting in a different language is the only explanation for you to say something that dumb right now”. It just caught me off guard. The whiplash of their reaction beat me up for a second but the debrief call with my development exec right after the meeting shook me out of it. Both of my execs were on the Zoom conference so it wasn’t like they were getting info from me about how it went. They had it first hand. The other one also emailed me later last night and he was basically like “I don’t think that was as bad as you think it was. Not even close. We’ll hear back for sure in the next couple of weeks.”

My development execs are an Asian woman and a Latino man. I was pitching to three straight white people, two of which were straight white men. They’re not going to get what we’re trying to put out there. AT ALL. I had sort of just forgotten that fact. Straight white people are the ones gatekeeping content starring and made for queer people and especially POC queers. That’s always going to be an uphill battle. All it takes is to find the ONE person who does get it and believes in what we’re trying to make just as much as my development execs do so...those straight white people from yesterday are zeroes to the left for me now lol. I only had to put their reticence and “marketability doubts” into the concept of “oh...this show isn’t for you so obviously you can’t even wrap your head around it” and “oh...you have NO CLUE about how strong the wlw presence is...even though I just spent a significant chunk of my time trying to tell you” paired with the “oh...most agents and execs are literally known for having awful taste anyway which is why TV is the way it is right now”. Once that was back in my mind I was good to go. It was like a half an hour slump lol. I think it’s great that it happened on the first meeting. Got that out of the way and it’s out of my system now. Totally unfazed moving forward.

I took an edible last night and woke up feeling fucking fantastic again this morning. On to the next meeting and getting it out there to more people. I’ll have to witness a thousand more straight people not get it, but I’ll find the one that does. I’m chill. I know this is good. I just know.

[the-mangled-readings]

CyberPunk Love - Part 4

A/N: Sorry it took me a while but I had some things going on and I had to take care of them, hope you enjoy this one!

Pairing: Connor x FemaleReader

Story Summary: After 8 years the Reader comes back to Detroit and engages with her old Parter Hank and his new sidekick Connor, investigating new homicide cases but Connor begins to suspect she’s hiding something.

Chapter Summary: The reader and Connor have to face a big decision that could change everything.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,081

Tag List: @lamnothome  @margaret-mortem   @pymmsolstice  @bee-wrecker @rainbowsithlord @damaris109 @lunadea-nox-arcana @khaleesi-of-assassins

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 ( Coming Soon )

( Y/N’s View )

9: 45 AM

The sunlight shined through the clear curtains from your borrowed bedroom. Hank’s snores had gone down, meaning that he was getting ready to wake up at any moment. You were sitting down in your bed, staring at your hands, letting the sunlight hit your now bionic hand, remembering what Connor had said earlier:

“I think they’re beautiful ... I think you’re beautiful, with or without the synthetic skin.” 

“Connor … Kiss me.”

You sighed deeply at the thought, running a hand through your face.

“Jesus Christ ... How cliché.” You said as you threw yourself back into the bed. “What was I thinking ...” 

( Connor’s View )

“Okay ... this should do it. Hank will wake up within 5 minutes, and ... so will (y/n).” Connor said to himself as he took a deep breath looking down at his first time ever made breakfast; Fluffy pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and sausages, with Hank’s usual morning coffee.

“Wow ... smells amazing.” He snapped from his thoughts at the sound of your sweet voice. “Holy shit Connor, this looks amazing, I didn’t know that making breakfast was part of your program.” She praised as she began to walk to the counter and pull out a child-like cup, pouring herself some coffee. 

“It isn’t, I just downloaded some typical breakfast recipes this morning, I thought you and Hank would enjoy it.” He said with a warm smile, as he pulled the chair in front of him, waiting for you to take a seat. “Well, I wouldn’t mind waking up like this every day ... Hank is very lucky to have you.”

“OH, MY GAWD ... what’s that sweet smell ... Holy shit Connor, I didn’t know you could cook.” Hank’s voice was still tired but his eyes were scanning all around the table. Connor noticed (y/n)s eyes trail off from Hank to him, with a quirked eyebrow. She chuckled, quickly catching up Connor’s real intentions while serving herself some of the food. 

Connor watched Hank and (y/n) eat and began to wonder, what would it be like to be able to eat ... to be able to taste things, was it just like when he analyzes blood samples?

“Whatcha thinking about Connor?” 

“Nothing important, (y/n), more coffee?” He smiled while pouring more into her small cup. “Yes, thank you.” She smiled warmly at him.

Software Instability ^^^

“I see that the two of you are getting along pretty well ...” Hank teased, making her blush a little. “Oh Jesus, Hank ... Really?” She laughed while getting up from her chair, not long before Connor got in front of her. “Don’t worry about them, I’ll wash the dishes, while you guys get ready.” He smiled, as he took her plate and cup away from her.

“Okay, well, I’m a go ahead and shower then.” She said, turning on her heel and quickly walking to her room. 

“You know son ... She’s one of the most important people in my life, she deserves a lot. She needs someone that will be there for her, ‘cause honestly, I’m getting too old, and I won’t always be here to protect her.” Hank stood up and began to walk towards Connor. Placing a hand on his shoulder. “So you got to try a little harder if you want to be that someone in her life.” He winked at the puzzled android, before walking away. “I need some air ... Sumo, get over here.” He ordered the big St. Bernard, earning a bark in return. “Good boy, I won’t take long.” 

Software Instability ^^^

( Y/N’s View )

Knock Knock

“Yes?”

“It’s me, Connor, may I come in?”

You rolled your eyes, as you looked down at yourself in the mirror. 

“Yeah ...” The door slowly opened, but quickly closed. “I’m sorry (y/n), but I need to talk to you about ...” You turned to see Connor, who was covering his eyes while standing by the door awkwardly. “About?” Crossing your arms, you began to walk towards him, startling him for a second at your sudden moves. “About your condition.”

“What’s to talk about, I’m a Cyborg, there’s nothing that can be fixed, I basically lost my arms and legs, I can’t get new ones, Connor.” You puffed out, kinda offended. “I didn’t mean to say it like that, it’s just that Hank needs to know, I know how much he cares about you and this is something that he should be aware of.” He said finally looking at you. “Wow ...” His eyes scanned you from head to toe. “What type of clothing is this?” 

“It’s a special bodysuit I made while I was back in San Francisco, helps me move better.” You teased, turning away from him, and walking once more towards the mirror. “I needed something that would help me along the way.” 

“Along the way?” He asked curiously.

“I did a couple of things back in San Francisco that might of have upset a few people.” Taking a deep breath you turned to the puzzled android. “I guess I got a lot of explaining to do, huh?”

“At least not to me.” He smiled warmly at you, giving you a weird sensation in your stomach. “Well, I’ll let you shower while I do the dishes.” And with that, he turned and left you alone in your room. You were about to head out too when you began to hear a low static noise.

"(y/n) ... Ar-there ... we ne- bac ... up - Ple... Answer!”

You began to hear a familiar voice inside your backpack. Quickly searching the noise, you founded a small hearing device and instantly inserted it on your right ear.

“Vic?? Are you there??” You pated, desperately, but heard no answer. Tears began to fall into your cheeks, and anger quickly grew into your core. “Fuck ... I shouldn’t have left. Fuck.”

( Connor’s View )

As Connor was finishing up the dishes, Hank entered the house again, smiling at the large St Bernard, and slowly turned to Connor whose expression was blanked but had his LED yellow,  making Hank frown a little. 

“Everything alright son?” He asked leaning on the counter, making Connor blink a few times, and changing his LED to blue. “Yeah, I was just thinking ...” Still not convinced, Hank insisted again. “Did you upset her?” Connor immediately stopped his actions and was about to speak when (y/n) stepped into the kitchen, already dressed and with a different attitude from earlier. “Hope you guys don’t mind ... but I’ ma head out already, I need to take care of some stuff before we go to work.” Quickly turning away and slamming the door behind her. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO NOW?!” Hank yelled angry at the poor android, making his LED turn red. “I have no idea why she’s upset, she was fine when we talked ...” He began, not really knowing what was going on.

“Well, you must've had said something that pissed her off, what were you guys tal...”  “I’m afraid that’s something that needs to be discussed between the two of you.” Connor quickly cut off Hank in midsentence, pissing him even more. “What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

“I can’t tell you, Hank, by doing so it would go against (y/n)’s --” “I don’t care.” 

Connor took a deep breath and looked into Hank’s eyes, almost pleading him. “Please Hank, don’t make me say it.” Making him scoff at the android's words. “But I can tell you for sure, that I have honestly no idea of why she’s upset.”

“Does it had to do with San Francisco?” Hank asked, crossing his arms while he looked at Connor’s face, he might still be an android, but he slowly started to develop small expressions, human-like ones, and with that, Hank was able to tell whether or not Connor would be lying to him at times, and this was no different than those times. “Connor ...”

Connor’s expression began to frown, his eyes never leaving the floor. “Yes.”

“Did she mention a guy?” Connor’s eyes immediately went back to Hank. “No.” 

“Good.” Smiling suspiciously, Hank began to walk away, leaving Connor more confused than ever. Did she leave Detroit for a guy? Who was this guy? Is he the reason she ended up like this?

Software Instability ^^^

( Y/N’s View )

“I had a dream last night That I was piloting a plane And all the passengers were drunk and insane”

The Rolling Stones song Doom and Gloom was blasting through your helmet as you passed every car that was on your way. Your mind was at the verge of exploding, you were desperate to know what was going on back in San Francisco. Was everybody okay? Were Victor and Eric okay? Did the Hunters finally found the Equinox? Could it be a trap? How was she supposed to go back when she just got here?

FUCK!

You screamed into your helmet accompanied by a loud roar from your motorcycle, as you quickly turned into an old exit, just outside Detroit, changing from concrete into dirt, your bike began to move a little, but you could care less, all you wanted to do was get to your destination. After driving what seemed forever, you finally reached your destination, an old abandoned building. 

“Here goes nothing ...” You told yourself, as you got off from your bike. Your hand quickly moving to your side, ready to pull your gun, in case of anything. The inside of the building was as expected, empty, but something inside of you told you that it wasn’t. “Hello? ... I’m looking for Olc. I need help.” 

No response.

“I don’t mean any harm, all I want to know is if my friends were attacked. I received a call this morning from ... FINE.” Giving up, you began to take off your jacket, exposing your arms, which quickly changed into your bionic ones. Making the entire building go dark, and within seconds, you were surrounded by both androids and cyborgs, who were pointing at you with their own guns. Scoffing at their first instinct, you rose your hands into the air. “I believe I said I didn’t mean any harm. Where’s Olc?” 

“Who gave you our location?” One male android stepped up from the circle and asked you firmly. “And how do we know you’re not one of them?”

“My name is (y/n) (y/ln) ... I’m the CyberPunk of Detroit.” Everybody began to lower their weapons after your words, making some startle. “I’m sorry, Miss (y/n), we didn’t know, we been attacked before, and we didn’t want to run any risks, my name is Adam, welcome to Solstice.” 

“Please ... Call me Cyber.”

( Connor’s View )

Connor sat quietly on the way to the DPD. Hanks tunes were softly playing on the background. The air felt thick and awkward. Hank didn’t know whether to say something or just keep quiet, he needed Connor to speak up but he also didn't want to make it obvious that he was still into what had happened earlier. Just before he was about to give up ...

Software Instability ^^^

“Hank ... Can I ask you something.”

“If it has to do with (y/n), maybe you should ask her personally.” Connor quickly picked up where this was going. He turned to face Hank, who had his eyes fixed on the road. “I understand you still want me to tell you what we had talked about, but I can’t tell you, Hank.” 

“Well, then you might as well wait till we get to the Station so you can ask (y/n) whatever you want to know.” Hank teased, he knew Connor wasn’t going to last any longer, maybe in the past, he would of, but now he began to grow impatient when he needed to know something. “I mean, you can always tell me whatever happened, and we’ll call it a day.”

Software Instability ^^^

“You really want to know?” Connor sighed at his words.

Something inside of Hank instantly lighted up, making him smile cockily. He won after all.

“Yeah? How bad can it be?” Hank joked but was quickly taken back by the android’s troubled expression. “Connor ...”

“Hank, I need you to promise me that you won’t see (y/n) differently after this ...” Hank began to regret this, whatever it was, it was serious, and it made him feel uncertain. “Hank, I’m afraid that (y/n) is ...”

[agent-yolk-writes]

Friends Like You and Us - Venom!Reader - Ch. 4

And we’re back! First AO3, then Quotev, now finally Tumblr! Good thing for post resets.

In today’s episode, we jump straight back to the present to meet the last member of the B-Team. Venom has a plan for once, the Reader is Absolutely Done(tm) physically and emotionally, and what Aunt Mary doesn’t know who her nibling is bringing into their apartment while she’s on a business trip won’t kill her...yet. 

(Nibling is the gender-neutral term for niece/nephew, the more you know)

Note: If you’re using this to teleport to the AO3 version I would like to give a heads up that the italics for some reason stop working when the Reader meets Peni. I don’t know how to fix it, so it be like that sometimes. Enjoy!

Previous Chapter | Start from the beginning | AO3 version

...

Indeed, it did get weirder.

You didn’t realize that the hunt for your next meal took so long. The sun just...got ahead of you. The shadows in this creepy part of the city started stretching, covering everything in its path. You thought your eyes were playing tricks when you saw another pair of Spider-man’s white eyes in the darkness behind Ham. The tingling sensation faded as the shadow started moving, revealing that it was an actual goddamn person.

Despite being a self-proclaimed ‘superhero’ for almost a week now, you aren’t getting paid enough for this.

You rubbed your eyes expecting this weird dizzy spell would go away, but upon opening them again they were still standing there staring at you.

“Don’t worry, I get that all the time.” Ham commented. He eyed his taller companion and nudged him on the thigh. “C’mon man, you can’t just stand there menacingly forever.”

“...”

Should I just go or-

“You got some nerve stealing the glory of someone else’s hard work.” Great, he also sounds familiar. Is this some reunion you didn’t get the memo for?

“Well you certainly can’t leave them here to waste!” You rebutted as you stood up. “Someone’s gotta clean up, and it might as well be us.”

“There’s no us in this, missy.” He rebutted.

“That’s not what I-Ugh, whatever!” You shook your head in your heads in frustration before looking back at them. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere bickering like this.” You motioned your hands to the two. “You guys are out of place, clearly. Let’s discuss this somewhere else before-“ On cue, the sudden wail of police sirens announced their presence as they block off the only ground entrance out of here. Venom instinctually covered your ears to block out the loud sound. “...that.” You sound of your croak almost sounded not human.

The two looked at each other. While you were right that this isn’t the ideal spot for an interrogation, you’re still not in the clear of their suspicions.

“Alright. Let’s skedaddle then, but you’re not out of the hot seat yet, missy.” The brooding spider detective said, shooting a spider web and letting it pull him up. You couldn’t help but groan, he speaks like a dad in a cartoon.

Ham nudged you deeper into the alley. “C’mon kid. It’s quieter up top.” You could feel Venom trying to dig your heels into the dirt, but at this point, it was too dangerous.

~

Spider-Ham, also known as Peter Porker, was in fact not a pig at first. According to him, he was the spider bitten by a radioactive pig that later became his aunt. He told you not to think about it too much. In his world, everyone has been anthropomorphized into an animal. He works at the Daily Beagle where they work him like a dog trying to sniff out the latest scoop. He was just finishing a fight with a mad scientist lobster before he got snatched between dimensions. The more he talks, the more vocal your thoughts are trying to figure out where have you heard his voice before. A thought passed somewhere about what you might look like in his world.

His black and white companion was Spider-Man Noir, also known as Peter Benjamin Parker, who lived in a monochromic version of Earth in the 1930s. He used to investigate stories for the Daily Bugle and during that time a spider that resided in an exotic statue from Africa escaped and bit him. After the betrayal and death of his mentor Ben (“Not to confuse ya with my uncle Ben, who also bit the dust.” He explained.), he decided to become a P.I. and fight Nazis along the way. You liked this guy already, and yet he also sounds so familiar.

To think just half an hour or so, you were about to metaphorically throw hands and eat heads…

And we still didn’t eat them.

Yea, I’m a bit disappointed too. I’ll make it up later.

Those poor criminals, wasted. Handed to the police before you could even nibble on a finger. If Venom starts to act up like a grumpy child, it’s on them. After the small buzzing in your ears died down, all you’re left with is that dull throbbing in your head that you get with migraines and hunger from both you and your companion. It’s not your fault the universe slapped a literal man-eater on you.

Then again, after the whole exposition dump they piled on you, you felt a little guilty sprinkling your truth with little white lies on top. By the way your companion was treated by his not-so-friendly superhero, you could only assume that it’s mutual throughout the alternative universes. Better play it safe and claim you built your suit out of some nanotech that was laying around...somewhere. You even ‘pulled down’ your mask as a sign of trust.

You regained your focus when Venom used your limbs to jump between buildings to catch up with the eccentric duo. You haven’t really kept in touch with the whole lore of superheroes. They didn’t involve you, so you didn’t get involved. It wasn’t going to be the end of the world if you didn’t reblog five different gifsets of the same skit Tony Stark was in on Sunday Night Live. If they’re taking you to some secret spider cave, then it’s news to you.

Speaking of which,

“Sooo,” You decided to break the ice. “Where...exactly are we heading to?”

“Our own little Hooverville.” Noir answered. “It ain’t much, but it’s the best we got at the moment.”

“Plus we already have someone guarding the helm while we searched for more folks like you!” Ham added.

“You’re telling me there’s another one of you guys?” You held your hands up and counted the total number of spider heroes, not including yourself.

“And together, we make quite a ragtag bunch.” Ham continued on. “Who knew you could make a robot shaped like a spider?”

“Don’t forget the fact it’s small enough for that kid to get in and out with ease and her fingers still intact.” Noir added.

“Who...is this…’person’ you’re talking about?” You questioned, trying not to assume to worse.

“Don’t worry, she’s a sweetheart.” The detective added. “She’s got spunk for someone her size.”

Oh god, Venom.

What?

If this is an actual child I swear-

~

“Welcome back!”

You had to give your eyes a good rub to process what you were seeing. In front of you was indeed a small mecha shaped like a spider. The red and blue metal pieces clash together but at the same time was fitting for something like it. The small figure that was tinkering one of the robot’s legs when you arrived. As they stood up and you finally get a good look at her, you wanted to go apeshit over the fact that, indeed, it’s an actual child piloting a robot. You’ve seen like two movies that basically told you why it’s a bad idea for a kid to pilot a destructive machine in the first place.

You can tell by her appearance alone that she too is from another universe. You couldn’t describe it, but her dimensions seem...rather flat? No, that’s not the right word. Whatever it is, Ham has it too. You thought it was just Ham being Ham up until now since, after all, he's a walking, talking, crime-fighting pig you see in cartoons.

“Hey kid, hope there weren’t any scuffles while we were gone.” Noir was the first to greet her as she ran up to him.

“Nope! It was quiet as a mouse.” Was her response. She peered around his brooding form and met your eyes. Her eyes managed to grow even bigger as she approaches you excitedly.

”Hello! You must be the one we were sensing!” She grabbed your hand, giving it a nice shake. “I’m Peni Parker, and that over there is my robot SP//dr!” As if on cue, SP//der’s faceplate lit up and gave a friendly wave. Out of politeness, you waved back while ignoring the spidey-sense going off threefold.

Peni Parker...Peter “Noir” Parker...Peter Porker...Not to alarm anyone, but you think there’s some kind of pattern going here, and you’re the outlier. Well, at least Gwanda is with you for this one.

”H-Hello, Peni…” God, why are you acting so awkward all of the sudden? ”I���m (First Name), hero name TBA.” You shot your arm out awkwardly, letting the small girl take the reins in the art of the first handshake. You wonder if she can sense your weirdness with that firm grip of hers.

“So, now what?” Ham was the first to break the silence before it got weird. “We’re basically sitting ticking time bombs until we figure out a way to get back home! New kid!” He pointed at you, making you jump at the sudden action. “You got anything new to contribute?”

Shit! Shit! No one told me this was a quiz! Vee!

...We have an idea. Cover us.

Huh?! You have a-

Venom assumed control of your body, shrugging off your backpack to find your phone. Your phone? What could there possibly be on your...Oh! You have...some sort of an idea on what he’s doing! Maybe.

“Actually,” You started, bracing yourself like you’re stalling for time on an in-class presentation. “I heard a rumor the other day online…” Subtly, Venom pulled back the tendrils over your thumb so your phone can scan your print. “Somebody on a high-rise took a picture of the area-passwordiscapitalqwerty-where Spider-Man died. Can’t guarantee that-yesallcaps-you’ll see the body with this quality though.” Now if you can only find said photo if the mods of that subreddit didn’t remove it first. Ugh, this public wifi sucks ass. Who's hoarding it at this hour?

It doesn’t help that your hand is visibly shaking as your phone struggles to detect any pressure from your sweaty appendages and three sets of eyes that are on you expectedly aren't making this any easier. To make sure karma knows it's laughing at you, your phone slipped out of your grip at the most inopportune moment. Your case had taken some beatings in the past, but you know for sure by the sound of the landing that it was time for it to be replaced. You just stood there frozen, wondering when the panic attack kicks in.

Instead, your tingling skin is your only warning before your muscles went out of control. It felt like you were being ripped from the inside out and then being ripped outside in twice fold. The pained garble coming out of your mouth was either coming from you or Venom. It was tough to see with your spotty vision, but it looks like your newly befriended companions were going through this too in various states of pain.

After a few seconds, the out of body experience ended. You know immediately that trying to get up quickly will kick you in the ass right after.

You good, buddy?

Peachy.

Figured.

When you patted around and found your phone, you couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of new cracks branching over your screen.

”Son of a bitch…” You couldn't help but swear out. ”You know what? This would be better if I did this at my place, yeah?” Digging your hands into your face you inhale, waited, and exhale slowly. When you looked up, they were still staring at you with concerned eyes. “What? It’s my first week on the job, can you give me some slack?”

~

While you knew your aunt was a few hours away somewhere upstate you couldn’t help but pray that she doesn’t decide to come back home in the darkness of the night. If Penn Station was closer, maybe you could’ve caused some delays on the Amtrak. Didn’t help that you now have guests sheltering in your apartment clearly not built for four heroes of various sizes that had to get inside through the window. You hope no one in the next building over calls the police. You all even put a tarp over SP//dr, much to the dismay of the robot, to make sure it doesn’t end up on your social media timeline later on. At least Mr. Davis wasn’t there when you unlocked the door manually.

“It’s nothing much, but it’s the best I can do. Make yourself at home.” You didn’t need to say that twice. Almost instantly they go around poking and observing whatever they can. “Can I...get any of you something to drink?”

“An egg cream for me.”

“I’ll take some juice, please!”

“Rum and coke. Shaken, not stirred.”

You have no idea what an egg creme is, there’s only vegetable juice in the fridge, and there’s certainly no alcohol in this apartment. You’ll make it work somehow.

Keyword: somehow.

Do pig-spiders even need to get drunk in the first place? According to Google, egg cream is just a fancy way of saying milkshake. How old are these people exactly?

[thanksjro]

Polyhex Wars, Book 1 Part 2: The Timeline for the Robots Being Gay Goes Back Further Than I Thought

Ratchet wakes up from that whole, “mystical passing out” thing to find himself strapped to a table with his head all poked into with wires. Optimus and Prowl are also being subjected to this treatment, but they’re not awake yet.

I guess we all have that one character we just latch onto, don’t we?

Chromedome was there when all three of these guys collapsed, and went to go get help. Ratchet explains that there was black fire and breaking glass and it was all like some god-awful acid trip.

No kidding, doc.

Ratchet seems to think that all that actually happened, but it turns out that it was all in their heads, much like everything else that they’d seen. Chromedome just saw them drop with a flash of light.

Optimus wakes up, and First Aid explains that their mental trips into Limbo are coming closer and closer together,  and becoming more violent as a result. There’s a good chance that the next time they have an attack, they’ll be sharing a dreamscape.

Prowl hasn’t woken up. Optimus is worried that he’s stuck in Limbo, and demands that they be put back under to guide him back to the land of the living. First Aid has his reservations, but what is he gonna do, argue with the space pope? Optimus and Ratchet are sent back in with the power of mind-transfer.

Let’s take a quick look at some Chromedome canon before we move on to the next chunk of story, because I want to try and get a feel for why Roberts seems to like him so much.

In the Marvel comics, Chromedome was kind of a reclusive computer nerd, who very much disliked the fact that all his programming skills were only being applied to the war effort as opposed to literally anything else. When Fortress Maximus decided to up and leave, he went along gladly. He ended up getting paired with a very outgoing, vain Nebulan partner named Stylor when the whole Headmaster thing happened. They had their differences, but ultimately were brought together by the common goal of kicking Decepticon ass for the greater good. Comic Chromedome is a relatively nice guy, if a bit cowardly- his final entry in the series was heading for the hills when Unicron showed up, but honestly I can’t really fault him for that.

And then there’s the Headmasters anime. Yeah, Chromedome was an anime protagonist back in the 90’s. Anime Chromedome is a completely different entity than his comic counterpart. His whole thing is that he wants revenge for the murder of his friends at the hands of Sixshot. He’s also a Headmaster- no shit- but it works a little differently, in that he’s the only one involved with the process. Chromedome himself IS the head, and the big body he plugs into is just this sort of inert mecha that he pilots when he wants to be able to reach the higher shelves at the supermarket.

Anime Chromedome is the second-in-command to Fortress Maximus, and he’s a bit of a jackass at times, but he seems to have his heart in the right place. You know, when he isn’t busy beating Decepticons to death. Anime Chromedome goes hard.

Getting back to the story, we return to the scene we left at the end of Part One, with the 40 Autobots having been caught in a trap in Darkmount.

Well that lasted all of five minutes. Poor Grandpa.

This starts a chain reaction, and it isn’t long before all the Autobots are throwing punches. Blaster goes full cowl, taking four guys on at once, and potentially kneeing someone in the nuts so hard they flies up into the air and are promptly exploded by gunfire. Blaster throws a gun to Sights, who is a sniper, and then is right back in the center of the fracas.

Sights is a sniper here, but it looks like the only Sights in Transformers canon is a bird who can turn into a fusion cannon. They probably aren’t the same character, unless there’s something I don’t know about birds.

Sights hauls himself up to a ledge using a grappling hook, and starts picking off Decepticons. Things seem to be turning around for the Autobots at this point, because Sights is the best.

Sights is what some might call a Mary Sue- he’s the best at sniping, rivaling Optimus Prime himself with his accuracy, everyone seems to know him, and he singlehandedly has turned the tide of this fight. As the Autobots escape, he manages to explode a key piece of Decepticon equipment, killing over a dozen enemy troops.

This is an earlier work, if you couldn’t already tell.

We do see some neat transitions in the writing, though.

Ratchet and Optimus have entered Limbo, and are feeling a little manic about the whole thing, especially since the space is just filled with corpses from the Time Wars. Like, it’s a carpet of dead bodies.

Roberts was all about that edge from the get-go, huh?

The two robots start walking, looking for Prowl.

Over with Red Alert on the Celestial, he’s not really feeling the vibe on this spacecraft. Neither is Hot Shot, but neither of them can really pinpoint why exactly that is. Sideswipe points out that Getaway doesn’t have his Nebulan partner with him- for this particular story, we’re going with the take on Getaway as a Powermaster, which means he has a smaller person who plugs into his body to act as a battery, kind of like a reverse parasite.

Comic books are weird.

Toy gimmicks are also weird.

This cues in the Autobots that things might not be on the up and up here. You know, that and the whole “Witterquick” thing. The boys load their weapons, but keep them concealed as they approach not-Blaster, who’s beginning to worry that he’s been caught after all this time.  He must have sort flavor of social anxiety, because he’s kept his cool over the video chat for the last few weeks, but the moment Red Alert enters the room, he blows his cover and orders the Decepticons to attack.

Back at Darkmount, it seems we’ve lost a few people, as the count has gone from 40 to 29. The boys are running through the halls, completely clueless as to where to go in order to escape.

Don’t be shocked by the language, this is G1 Silverbolt, not the one who fucks is a complete gentleman to a spider.

I’m still convinced that this Courier guy is evil. You should be tossing him out the window, not looking to him for help.

The Decepticons are gaining. Hound, exasperated, asks as nicely as he can for Silverbolt to try and wake Courier up as they attempt to keep the distance between factions as wide as they can. Laser fire quickly becomes involved, and Swerve and Bumblebee go from the back of the pack to the front. Little fellas can move when they want to.

While Sights does another cool thing with some guns he stole, Courier wakes up and says- with some trouble, since he’s just woken up and still bleeding from that leg wound- that they should jump into the sewers to escape.

That’s all well and good, but if they intend on doing such a thing, they’ll need to put a bit more distance between themselves and their assailants. Everyone starts shooting at the ceiling, attempting to bring it crashing down. Everyone except Sights. No, instead Sights goes on picking off any Decepticon who gets too close for comfort, until they manage to bring the house down.

The strong, silent type, Sights is. Tall, dark, and handsome, too, most likely.

Back in Limbo, Ratchet’s starting to crack.

As if on cue, the ground starts to crack, revealing lava of all things, and the whole scene turns into Dante’s Inferno-flavored Hell. Yeah, proper noun Hell. Optimus and Ratchet are exploded by contact with a downpour of acid rain, then their bodies reconstituted, only to be burned to crispies by the lava. When they wake up from that, they find themselves stuck on a spinning silver plate in the sky, where they have an excellent view of where Prowl’s gotten to- he’s stranded on an asteroid with a big, scary Decepticon, who’s about to complete wreck his shit.

You know, the snark has always been there in Roberts’ writing, but it didn’t really hit its stride until after this piece of work.

Meanwhile, in the sewers, our Autobots aren’t doing so hot. Courier’s probably going to die if they don’t get him medical attention soon. I guess they just didn’t have any sort of medic on the Celestial when it was overtaken, which seems like a massive oversight. Or maybe they’re dead.

We don’t have time to worry about the hiring practices of the Autobots right now though, because a few Decepticons just arrived on the scene.

Well, there goes the token girl character.

Seems like nobody told these ‘Cons to not hit their deep cover operative. There goes several thousand years of Autobot secrets, dumbasses. Soundwave’s going to be so pissed.

The Autobots quickly fall into formation and start defending themselves. Turns out Rev-Tone’s on the scene.

Hi Rev-Tone!

Someone gets shot and proceeds to explode, which causes enough chaos for a Decepticon to load up a missile launcher without being noticed and fire it into the crowd.

Things are looking hopeless, so that means it’s time for Sights to make his Heroic Sacrifice™. Hound begs him to stay, because he can’t bear to lose anyone else.

Unfortunately, the Hound/Sights coffeeshop AU slowburn fit written by Rewind will have to have a fix-it fic tag, because Sights is almost immediately and literally ripped apart by a smattering of Decepticons. Knowing his time is running out, he busts out the big guns.

Oh my god he’s got fucking laser vision.

That isn’t quite enough though, so he initiates self-destruct, thereby saving his fellow Autobots and dying a hero.

You know, if you stack Sights on top of what was left of Quark after the interrogation scene, you make a whole robot. Worst. Duobot. Ever.

Not to worry though, because Wheeljack’s taken the opportunity to be all weird and cryptic, and insinuates that they potentially COULD bring Sights back from the dead. Because of course he can.

We don’t get to find out how that magic’s going to happen though, because it’s time to check in on Optimus and Ratchet.

Things aren’t going great. They crashed the disk, and it turns out that the giant Decepticon threatening Prowl and throwing body parts at him is Galvatron. Optimus leaps into action, attempting to use his magnetic repellence on the enemy.

I guess that’s a thing he has.

It works, but it’s taking a lot out of Optimus, so they need to figure something else out fast. Optimus, ever light on his mental feet, surges the power so that Galvatron explodes. Ratchet goes over to Prowl to see what his deal is, and it’s looking like he’s going to need brain surgery.

“Now back the hell up, Optimus, you’re breathing contaminates all over Prowl’s exposed brain.”

Back on Cybertron, it turns out that things might just be okay after all, as Hound and company have stumbled across the lost city of Subterrainia. Subterrainia did not exist in Transformers canon at the time of this writing, but it would in 2012, when Roberts used his immense power as a hired writer for the franchise to make it so.

Now that they’re in a place that has medical equipment, they can heal their wounded and indulge in a little lore. Trasher provides us with the backstory of this lost city.

Long before the War, Transformers lived on the surface of Cybertron. Then, one day, someone said, what if we didn’t do that? Then they built Subterrainia and lived there instead. Then the War happened and people sort of just forgot that it was there. The end.

That’s literally it.

After that riveting explanation, we check back in with Optimus, who I suppose forgot to put on his patience hat this morning, as he asks Ratchet to hurry up with the life-saving field surgery he’s currently in the middle of. Ratchet calls him out on it, as he should, and Optimus apologizes, going back to worrying about his troops outside of Limbo.

Over on the Celestial, Red Alert’s just had his arm shot off, and there’s a continuity error running amok.

You are supposed to be back at base, mister!

The Autobots are getting their asses kicked, and it’s not hard to see why- a lot of the Decepticons on this spacecraft are heavy hitters. Starscream’s here, the entire Combaticon team, it’s wild.

Then Starscream calls for escape plan 3 to take place, and they just… leave. It’s strange, and it’s sudden, and the Autobots can’t help but agree. Red Alert decides to see what’s on the computer to try and figure out what they’re planning, and ends up setting off the countdown for a bomb. Slapdash yells at him for being an idiot.

Back down in the City of the Mole People, Getaway’s come back from checking out the place, and informs Hound that it’s completely abandoned. He theorizes that the Decepticons killed everyone who lived here, an will probably come looking for them sooner rather than later. That’s all fine though, because Courier’s back and better than ever.

I still don’t trust him.

He says he knows how to get out of Subterrainia- which only chalks up more points against him being a true Autobot- but hold on! What about Sights?

Sights just got Goldbugged. It’s Ammo now.

Roberts will never let a pair of robot titties go unnoticed. I can’t believe that Wheeljack, with the limited time they had, would go and make Ammo this attractive, and then have the audacity to show him off with a dramatic reveal. It was completely unnecessary, but here we are, staring at Ammo’s strong arms and thighs, wishing to be held by Hotbot 9000 over here.

Hound is all about this overhaul. Look at him, getting all flustered.

Ammo as character is present in the IDW run of the comics, but in name only. They are very different creatures, much like the different iterations of Quark. Roberts is very into recycling, and here is no exception.

After Ammo’s debut, the narrative checks in on Autobot City, where things aren’t nearly as sexy; Starscream made a beeline for the place the moment they left the Celestial, and they’re wrecking shop. He’s doing this without orders to do so, by the way. This is just how Starscream wants his Monday to go, I guess. It’s looking pretty grim for the Autobots, and Optimus is still stuck in Limbo. Hopefully he gets back soon.

[morningpagesmp3]

The Last Person On Earth

Words: 7685

Pairing: Taagnus

Rating: Teen+

"No! Ugh, I wouldn't fuck Magnus if he was the last person on earth." 

Ao3

Cycle 7

  Taako eyed the confusing contraption that the locals of this world liked to smoke a peculiar blue herb out of, as Magnus' thick hands almost snapped one of the delicate appendages clean off. 

"Be careful!" Taako shouted, feeling his body lean towards Magnus. "Don't ruin Lance's handiwork!" Even though his brain—and his entire body, actually—was rippling with a static haze from the drug, he could remember the lovely person who had sold them the weird giant pipe.

Magnus and Lup  shhhhh ed Taako violently. They weren't supposed to smoke on the ship, and their perch on the roof was closer to Davenport's sleeping quarters than they liked.

Taako tried to press his mouth shut but ending up sputtering out a bout of giggles, too lost in his own head and his own laughter to even notice when Magnus and Lup started laughing with him. Lup's eyelids were starting to droop. Magnus was slouched a bit, relaxed, with his hands holding still around the contraption. 

Taako wasn't even thinking, just found himself shuffling his crossed legs closer to Magnus and taking the pipe out of his hands. He held it up close to Magnus' face. He was staring at Taako. Just to show off, Taako snapped to make a small flame appear and held it to the herb.

Taako watched Magnus put his mouth overtop the large hole and breathe. Blowing baby blue smoke off to one side, Magnus leaned back down to the pipe with a quick glance at Taako before breathing in again.

Taako just held the pipe for him. He watched Magnus' big, wide-open eyes, his face that was soft beneath the sideburns and battle scars when you looked closely.

"So Lance, huh?" Lup said, startling Taako out of the silence and stillness he had just been lost in.

Taako jumped a bit. He leaned back and looked at Lup. As Magnus coughed out blue smoke, Taako asked, "What?"

Lup sprawled backwards a bit, wearing the mischievous look on her face that Taako didn't like when he didn't know what she was thinking. She nudged him with her shoe. "You're being pretty protective over that pipe, bro."

Knocking her foot away with his knee, Taako looked between Lup and Magnus with shock. "I don't like him," He explained. He huffed out a breath and brought the pipe up to his face, before changing his mind. "I'm don't like—I'm not gonna do anything with any of the locals."

It seemed like Magnus was just staring at Taako, or maybe the pipe, but Lup looked up at the stars. They were extremely bright in this plane. "It's been six years," Lup said, and didn't elaborate.

"More like six and a half," Magnus clarified. He reached for the pipe, but Taako pulled it away and started to smoke again.

Taako heard Lup say, "Okay, no locals for Taako. Us, then. The team."

Taako started to cough and cough and cough. He was actually grateful that Magnus took the pipe, as he could barely prevent his insides from spilling out of his mouth, let alone concentrate on staying still. Taako coughed until the smirk on Lup's face became too much to bear. " What? "

"Come on," Lup goaded, "You wanna get down and dirty with Davenport?"

Taako choked on his own tongue for a moment before promising, " No . No I do not."

Lup laughed, probably louder than she should, and even Magnus chuckled before sucking some leftover smoke out of the maze of intertwining tubes. Lup was calm and cool as she said, "Magnus, then."

And all of a sudden Taako was anything but calm and cool. He was, he was...full of some emotion that he couldn't control, that spilled out of him as words: "No! Ugh, I wouldn't fuck Magnus if he was the last person on earth."

Lup sat and stared at Taako, looking almost confused. 

Magnus nodded. "Good thing the feeling is mutual."

Taako's heart thumped. " Please , I know you want this." He shook his hands around a bit, panicked, and snatched the bong from Magnus. Taako almost took another inhale of funny blue smoke before thinking better of it and passing the pipe to his sister.

Lup held a large, steady flame against the small glass bowl of herbs as she inhaled for 3 seconds, 5, 7. Just when Taako started to feel out of breath, Lup turned her face to the sky, and blew out an array of perfect, quick smoke rings across the black and starry sky. 

Magnus slumped forwards, still keeping his eyes wide open, and it looked like it was taking way more effort than it should.

"You good there big guy?" Taako asked.

Magnus didn't answer, but said, "None of us should do anything with the locals." He blinked twice, hard, and strained to open his eyes again. "It's not fair."

Taako could barely think in words but he felt like he understood Magnus' point and agreed. "Well, maybe you'll convince me to change my mind one of these years."

Lup looked between them, adding an uncharacteristically small amount to the discussion. Magnus wordlessly took the pipe from her.

  +

  Cycle 10

  "Fucking…of course!" Magnus raged, balling his stone of farspeech up in his fist and shaking it as he paced around the deck of the Starblaster. 

"Magnus—" Taako started to say.

"Of fucking course I get stuck on this hell-planet with you ." 

It was suddenly a little harder for Taako to breathe. Oh . It surprised him that that was what Magnus was focusing on, when the rest of their team was now missing on this strange, scary planet.

This world had no people, or at least none they could find. It was just covered in extremely diverse terrain, and constantly barraged by a range of extreme weather. They had flown over dust storms and dark clouds and tsunamis. Everyone other than Magnus and Taako had gone off to explore the quiet mountains for any sign of the light of creation, but it had been days since they were supposed to return, and days since they had answered their stones of farspeech. 

Magnus had chosen this moment to freak out about it. And he had chosen to freak out about the fact that he was stuck with Taako. 

Whatever , Taako told himself. He turned his attention back to the intense storm brewing in the distance. It looked bad. "Storm's on it's way," He said, and then turned to find Magnus glaring at him.

"We have to wait for them."

Taako glanced despondently at the mountain range they had watched their friends disappear into, knowing that they were lost now, to a storm or a mudslide or whatever. The anger in Magnus' face was scary, but the angry clouds threatening to destroy the final two of them was scarier, as they were the last two that could pilot the Starblaster safely to the next plane. If the other five were truly gone, Magnus and Taako had to keep themselves and the ship alive for almost a whole year. That could only happen if, before the storm tore apart the ship, they returned to the canyon Davenport had originally set them down in, protected from the lightning strikes plaguing the forests above.

Taako gauged the sight of the clouds in the distance. "We leave tomorrow morning." He went inside before Magnus got freaked out thinking about the rest of the year too.

  +

  Cycle 5

  Lup shoved Taako out of the way and darted up the gang plank of the Starblaster.

"Hey!" Taako shouted. He ran after her, listening to her laugh and cackle. They bounded all the way up to the deck, bursting back out into the sunshine where Merle and Lucretia were relaxing on the deck.

"Will you kids slow down?" Merle grunted and turned his copy of Pan-tastic Clergydom up to the sun. "I'm spiritualizing here."

Lup ignored him, going up to them and leaning over their chairs. "Are Barry and Davenport back yet?"

Lucretia shook her head. "They're still talking to the locals."

Taako took two steps closer towards them, which was two steps closer to the door leading down inside the ship, and he froze. "Do you smell that?" He asked in a rush, eyes instantly connecting with Lup's. He could just detect the smell of food—food that waS burning.

"Where's Magnus?" Lup asked, sort of starting to panic like Taako was. 

They both bolted to the door closest to the galley. The smell grew stronger as Taako pushed Lup along through the skinny corridors, until it finally grew a bit smokey just outside the last door on the right. Lup slammed open the door, and Taako shoved himself into the doorway as well, so they could both survey the burnt-smelling scene.

"Holy fuck," Taako cursed. There were sacks of ingredients and utensils and dishes strewn across the counter. A tray of blackened food sat atop the oven, which was open and still spouting smoke. In the middle of it all, Magnus stood, looking defeated. 

"I was trying to cook—" Magnus started.

"Fuck! Code red! No, code black!" Lup hollered. "Code black, get out of here!"

Magnus' confusion turned towards panic—so Taako grabbed Lup. "Shut up!" He said.

"But—the codes—"

"You're scaring Magnus," Taako explained. He looked between Lup's upset and Magnus' concerned faces.

Magnus tried to say, "I'm not—"

"This is very fixable," Taako interrupted. "I'll clean it up." He wouldn't trust anyone else but Lup, who never did well dealing with other people's problems. Taako found himself surprisingly calm.

"I will help," Magnus promised. 

Lup glared at Taako. "But, but, the spoons—"

"I'll put the spoons back the way you like them," Taako explained as he ushered her out of the galley. He was relieved to hear her take a deep breath. He tried to breathe himself before re-entering the kitchen. I could be fighting for my life against an extremely powerful, soulless evil. Cleaning the kitchen isn't that bad. "Let's go big guy—you aren't hurt or anything, right?"

"A tiny kitchen knife isn't gonna hurt me," Magnus proclaimed confidently. His arms were crossed tight over his chest.

Taako was not impressed with that attitude, not in his kitchen. "You cut your hand, didn't you?"

Magnus' brow furrowed a bit and he released his hands from under his arms, inspecting the back. He was uncharacteristically quiet, saying, "Just a little bit.”

"Let me see," Taako asked, and then, "Oh that's horrible," when he saw the makeshift bandage wrapped haphazardly around the cut. Taako removed it, pulled the hand over to the sink to rinse it, and then cast a quiet healing spell so it was as good as new in no time. 

Magnus mumbled a thank you.

Taako barely had to look up at him to meet his eyes. “Better?” He asked, even though he knew it was.

Magnus looked away and nodded. “I was just, cooking, I couldn’t remember—”

“It’s cool, big guy,” Taako said, leaning into his field of vision. “We all miss home.”

Magnus just stared at him.

“Alright. I’ll deal with the food. Throw everything else in the sink,” Taako instructed, and watched Magnus get to work expediently. He surveyed the dishes of black gunk, and then looked back at the large man gingerly setting glass bowls into the sink. Cleaning the kitchen...definitely not that bad.

 +

  Cycle 10

  Magnus was doing what he usually did those days, sulking on the deck of the Starblaster with his stone of farspeech somewhere nearby, when Taako sauntered out of the cabin and set a plate down in front of him. For one second, and then another, Magnus looked like he had seen a ghost. With Taako sitting calmly next to him, he acted confused. “What’s this?”

“Well Magnus, these are called cinnamon buns.”

Taako watched Magnus swallow and stammer, “Why—I don’t—”

“The day you destroyed the kitchen wasn’t that long ago,” Taako teased.

Magnus shook his head. “I was cooking.”

“Buddy, I’m a cook and a pastry chef, I know cinnamon buns when I see them.” He hadn’t expected Magnus to put up so much of a fight. He pushed the plate across the table a bit.

Magnus’ brow furrowed as he stared at the plate, at the 6 golden pastries waiting for him. 

“It’s okay,” Taako said, hearing himself talk in a softer tone now. “We all miss stuff from home.” It had been ten years. But he still couldn’t say home without hurting over the world they’d lost for a second.

Taako was distracted when he realized Magnus was looking at him, and almost smiling. He smiled back. Magnus kept his gaze still. Okay, weirdo, Taako thought. 

“Well I’ve been smelling this cinnamon for days and it’s driving me crazy, so.” Taako picked up a cinnamon bun and took a bite. Nice .

Magnus finally took one for himself too. Taako felt like he shouldn’t watch him eat, like he usually did when people tried his food, but did anyways. Magnus made a hm noise, and then said, “I’m not going to tell you how good they are because you already know.”

Taako actually chuckled. 

“Just…thank you.”

“Of course, buddy. Hey, it’s just you and me,” Taako explained, “Any requests and the chef is on it.”

Then they sat and ate cinnamon buns in the shadow of the canyon, listening to the lightning strike the forest above.

  +

  "Are you serious? Why didn't you lead with that?" Taako chided as he and Magnus trotted down the side of the canyon.

"I don't know, I just—"

"Okay, rewind, you're standing in the kitchen and you've made a huge mess," Taako instructed, "Me and Lup walk in. What do you say?"

Magnus sighed a bit and concentrated. They were almost at the floor of the canyon then, a stone's throw from the Starblaster's extended gangplank. "I'm sorry I made a huge mess," He started, and as Taako nodded him along, "My mom…used to bake me cinnamon buns and I miss them a lot?"

Taako started clapping as he jumped down into the dirt. "Yes! That was beautiful! All is forgiven, can you believe?"

Magnus just rolled his eyes, unable to hide a tiny smirk. He entertained Taako's shenanigans more often now that they'd spent months together, alone. Taako entertained Magnus' too, even climbed out of the canyon to check if the stone of farspeech got better reception higher up with him. Every day.

"I didn't realize how late it's gotten," Magnus pointed out as they walked slowly towards the ship. Taako hadn't realized either, and looked straight up, seeing the blue sky turning pink with the sunset. He hummed. 

They walked in silence for the rest of the way, and Taako thought about what he was going to wear tomorrow. He had brought too many clothes to obey Davenport's rules about always wearing the uniform. Taako's red robe and jacket hadn't seen the light of day in a while, and he enjoyed the chance to forget about being on a team that wears a uniform and just be Taako, who wore whatever the fuck he wanted. It appeared that Magnus, on the other hand, hadn’t brought any clothes at all, and in Davenport’s absence just walked around shirtless most of the time. Yes, Taako was pleased no one was enforcing the dress code. 

Tonight, Magnus was wearing his jacket, so Taako just watched his feet as he climbed up the gangplank behind him. Magnus stopped on the deck of the Starblaster and just looked at the sky a bit. Taako stopped too, leaned around to inspect his strange behaviour, and then turned his head to the darkening sky as well. It would soon be black, and filled with billions of tiny stars packed so close together Taako thought they must be friends with each other.

Then, Magnus spoke so softly, Taako thought he might not have spoken at all. “I want to sleep under the stars.”

“Huh?” Taako replied instinctively to the sound, and then regretted it. He was too loud, too in-his-head for this strong-hearted man.

“I’ve always wanted to sleep under the stars,” Magnus said normally then. Looking around the ship, he explained, “Out here on the deck.”

It didn’t take Taako long to decide, “Magnus, that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

  +

  Taako knew that Magnus was the last person on earth. 

But he started realize that it was just the two of them left in a new way, as they laid on the deck of the Starblaster under thick blankets and a thick curtain of stars. It was just Taako, next to just Magnus; there was no calling out for long-gone teammates through enchanted stones, no shadows threatening to devour them. Taako was way too comfortable wearing his favourite sweater, lying next to a man he was way too comfortable talking to. He’d never thought he’d bond with Magnus like this. Without an end to the run from the Hunger in sight, however, it must've been bound to happen eventually. 

“I can’t believe I left my mom behind,” Magnus told the stars quietly.

Taako looked over. After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Magnus rolled his head over too. He didn’t accept Taako’s words, just asked, “Who did you leave behind?”

Taako choked on air for a moment.

“I just…worry about everyone. We lost so much .”

Feeling his heart thump, Taako nodded. “I mean, Lup and I didn’t really have anyone else.” He paused, thinking about life before the IPRE more than he had in a long time, and then thinking about thinking about that. Then, “Would you believe me if I said I'd always had a bad feeling about this trip?”

Magnus answered only with his eyes, wide and twinkling as they reflected the multitudes of stars above them. Taako realized he had rolled mostly onto his side, towards him.

Taako said, “It was almost a year before we left, it was only supposed to be three months…but I knew it was a good time to be alone. Broke up with my boyfriend. Told my friends I loved them. That kinda thing.”

“Wow,” Magnus said, very quiet. 

Taako shifted a bit, and then realized he’d shifted closer to Magnus. Oh well . “Lup broke up with her boyfriend too. They had a fight, the morning before the press conference.”

“Wow,” Magnus said again.

“So yeah,” Taako said, “Don’t worry about me. Yknow, I have Lup. Don’t worry about me.”

Magnus was quiet for a moment, and Taako waited for him, but he took his time. Taako wasn’t even sure if they were still talking about the same thing when Magnus finally broke the silence again. “I think we have each other now.”

Taako had a lump in his throat, and he tried to swallow it. “Yeah, we do.”

“I—I mean,” Magnus started, suddenly louder and more present in a way that killed the innocent sleepover mood. “All of us, have each other. The team.”

Oh. Taako thought he might make a joke to break the awkwardness Magnus had just introduced into the conversation, but didn’t, and just nodded a bit. He was staring at Magnus. He rolled a bit closer, and then looked up at the stars. Taako let the awkwardness dissipate in the silence. He breathed the cool, fresh canyon air and pulled his blanket closer to his body. “This was a good idea,” He reiterated.

Magnus waited a long time before saying, "Thank you." Taako offered a look that was sufficiently confused enough to prompt Magnus to start stammering, "For being… You—… I didn't think we would survive this long, just the two of us."

Taako gave him a big smirk; he earned it. "Me either, buddy."

Magnus stared at Taako; it felt like he was still trying to figure him out, even though they had figured out how to not kill each other so far. They had gotten surprisingly close, and Taako felt surprisingly fond of the rough but kind man he had known for over ten years. They were surprisingly close, physically, in that moment they were lying very close together. Taako's heart beat a bit off-rhythm. There was nothing in Taako's brain but how lovely this moment was, this man he was sharing it with. 

One millisecond, Taako decided what to do, and the next millisecond, he was doing it. He was leaning over to close the very small gap between him and Magnus and pressing a kiss on his mouth. He held it for a second, to let it stick, and when Taako realized Magnus was frozen against him, he pulled away.

Taako pulled his hands into his body as he looked at Magnus, who seemed mostly just surprised. "I'm sorry," Taako spat. Fuck . 

He had started to shift away from him when Magnus said, "It's okay."

Taako froze. He glanced back over. 

Magnus was staring up at the stars. "I need a minute."

" Okay ," Taako whispered, and settled not too close but not much farther either. He didn't watch Magnus, but could tell when he brought his hand up to touch his mouth where Taako had just kissed him. Fuck . Then he thought, This is bad. I'm gonna die here after all.

Taako almost jerked away when he felt a touch, but relaxed when he realized Magnus was just putting his hand over top of Taako's. The touch, the feeling of Magnus' giant warm hand over Taako's spindly one, it made his throat dry and head run wild a bit. 

Magnus tightened his grip on Taako, and then loosened it. Then he said, "Do you want to do that again?"

Taako looked over and he was already nodding. Magnus was leaning in, pulling Taako's hand, so Taako wasted no time pressing another kiss to Magnus' lips. 

It was solid and soft. It felt so good, so right, to finally be doing this. It had been years. It had been months. It felt so right to be doing this then, with Magnus. Taako pressed his mouth in deeper, his pointy chin brushing along Magnus’ beard. He kissed him again, and again, feeling Magnus lying so close to him, kissing him back, holding onto his hand for dear life. Pulling him closer. Taako let himself get lost in the blankets and Magnus’ hair, touching his face and leaning on him as they kissed.

There was a moment when they both paused against one another, and then broke apart. Taako caught his breath. Magnus was looking at him, still holding him close. Taako asked, “Was that okay?” He brushed a shaggy curl out of Magnus’ face.

“Yeah, it—” He stopped, and then cleared his throat. “It was…good.”

Taako’s heart warmed a degree. He felt like that was a massive understatement, like he could fly, like he would live for a million years. But he didn’t say that. He tried not to smile at Magnus and said, “Yeah, it was.” And before he could stop himself he tucked his face into Magnus’ neck and shifted right up against him. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, and he wasn’t going to count on it happening again. Taako decided to just be still and enjoy the memory of it while he could. Feeling Magnus tighten his arms around his body, Taako could see white threads spinning around them when he closed his eyes.

They laid still and quiet for so long, Taako thought Magnus had fallen asleep when his gruff voice spoke up once more, "Do you want to do that again?"

  +

  The rest of the year passed in a haze of pale red, the walls of the canyon and Magnus’ hair, as they lazed around the ship having given up hope of finding their friends or the light. They opted instead to sleep in, kiss, touch each other, bake and cook and watch the baking and cooking with small smiles. Some days Taako felt like he was buzzing with unused magic, missing his sister to spar with and a journey to fight through. Other days were so red, they made Taako feel rusty, tired, and thankful that Magnus was content to hug him from behind and enjoy the sun together.

At night they would hole up in one of their darkened bedrooms, kiss until their lips hurt and wonder out loud if they were only doing this because they were lonely. Taako started to tell Magnus he loved him. He didn’t know in what capacity or kind, and he tried to explain as much, but he knew that he meant it. “I love you,” was the only thing Taako could whisper that he was sure of those days, in the pale red haze. It was so good to be close and quiet in the dark together. Magnus seemed to think so too. He seemed to like Taako’s face near his, Taako’s hand pulling him around the ship, Taako’s words in his ears. He somehow always knew when Taako just wanted to be wrapped up in his arms. It was good, and it was love, and they were happy, but all those words they tried to say about it sort of felt like a massive understatement.

  +

  “Tell me the one about the evil merchant,” Taako asked as he pulled Magnus around the deck of the Starblaster in a close, lazy, slow dance. 

Magnus just sort of smiled and asked back, "Again?"

Taako nodded. "It's my favourite," He said, and squeezed one of Magnus' shoulders.

Still smiling, Magnus sighed. "Once upon a time, there was a little town with a little merchant's shop."

Taako felt Magnus' feet slow, but he kept guiding him around the deck, swaying back and forth as they held each other.

"The merchant employed a nice girl named Esther. And I thought Esther was quite attractive, so I went to the shop. Every. Day," Magnus said, making Taako giggle at how he poked fun at himself. "I noticed that I was falling in love with her. But since I bought something every time I visited, I noticed something else too."

Taako prepared for the plot twist he'd heard a hundred times with anticipation written on his face. He held fast around Magnus' shoulders.

"The merchant was a liar and a cheat."

Taako gasped.

Magnus smiled and shook his head, making Taako happy to fluster him. "I know ," He empathized. "The merchant was selling fake goods, and he had been swindling everyone in town out of their hard-earned money for years. One day I went to see Esther and some of my neighbours were there confronting the merchant."

Taako just watched Magnus' face now, happy to be swaying in his strong arms and to know how the story ends.

Magnus said, "Out of nowhere, the merchant drew his sword. So I grabbed my axe and dueled him right in his own shop. I fought him until he agreed to leave town and never come back."

Taako was smiling, about to comment on Magnus' heroism, when the story continued.

"And as the duel was ending," Magnus said, his grasp on Taako tightening and shifting a bit, "Esther was knocked backwards, and I caught her like this ." Magnus instantly swung Taako down until he was almost horizontal, cradled in his arms. 

Taako's heart was pounding through the shock and excitement over what was happening—what was happening? I've never heard this part of the story before.

"And I kissed her like this," Magnus explained.

Taako let himself be lifted up so his face met Magnus' in a strong kiss, clumsy and passionate with how they clung to each other. Taako's hands tensed on his shoulders as his lips pressed up against Magnus'. Magnus was surrounding him, holding him and kissing him so deeply Taako felt like he was on a totally new plane of reality where nothing existed except the two of them and these feelings. 

Magnus ended the kiss gently, and then lifted Taako up. In a rush of flexing muscles and wind through Taako’s hair, he was back on his feet, clutched tight against Magnus’ body. Taako smirked. “My hero.”

Magnus seemed a bit flustered, and looked down. Taako just took one of his hands and started leading him around in a dance against, coaxing his clunky feet to and fro. “Hm,” Magnus hummed as his toe knocked against Taako’s boot.

“If I worked for an evil merchant,” Taako posed, grabbing Magnus’ attention, “Would you visit me every day and fall in love with me?”

“Of course I would.”

Taako stared at him. They slid together across the deck, hands clenched together.

“There wasn’t much else to do, the town was tiny,” Magnus said, now joking and jovial though he had just been deeply sincere. Taako took a second to start giggling along, still appreciating the sentiment. He leaned in and kissed Magnus. Magnus kissed back, and before long they stopped sliding and swaying, and just held each other, kissing on the deck of the Starblaster.

  +

  Taako trusted Magnus. He trusted him to be strong but kind, to eat whatever Taako placed in front of him, to get them both back to the ship safe and sound whenever they ventured off of it. Taako trusted himself, too...mostly.

That should have been all that mattered, in this reality where it was literally just the two of them. 

But Taako didn’t trust the universe. He didn’t trust the planes, in all he had learned over the years of researching and exploring them. He didn’t trust the black shadows that attacked all the time. He didn’t trust whatever was beyond what they could see, moving and working in ways to make them suffer that their elf and human and dwarf brains couldn't understand. 

Taako wished he could approach the end of their year on this crazy, terrible planet with grace and dignity (because those were ALWAYS his strong points), but he didn’t trust the universe not to ruin this spot of happiness he had found—they had found.

So Taako had to ask, one night near the end, when they were out sleeping under the stars again. He was under a mountain of blankets, while Magnus just had one, and they laid on their backs, holding hands, staring up at the sky.

“What's gonna happen when we leave?” Taako asked, not quiet enough to be unintentional.

Magnus was breathing so quiet, Taako couldn’t hear it. There was no sound. Magnus didn’t move an inch, didn’t make a single noise. Taako waited and strained to hear him answer, but time passed and passed…

Until Taako knew what Magnus wasn’t saying. It washed over him softly, with the sound of the wind far away, slowly sinking in that the answer was nothing. Nothing was going to happen once they left. They couldn’t keep doing this once they were back with the others, in a bright new world. It was over; how could Taako have thought it wouldn’t be over? It washed over and over Taako, until the knowledge made him ache and hurt.

"I'll protect you. I'll never watch you die again," Magnus said, holding Taako’s hand even tighter.

That did not make Taako feel better. "And, how—how many times are you gonna make me watch you die?"

Magnus took another moment to think about that, apparently. Taako really caught him off guard with that one. He didn’t expect Taako to fight back, did he? He didn't think— 

Magnus said, “As many as it takes to stop this thing."

Just like that, Taako remembered the millions of people that had been swallowed by the shadows, the thousands of people living on the next world they would visit, and the 5 people they would share the Starblaster with once again in a few days time. He pulled his hand away from Magnus.

Taako remembered that they weren’t the only two people in existence, and he felt very, very lonely. 

  +

  The way the colour drained from the world made Taako's stomach uneasy. He looked up at the graying sky from the deck of the Starblaster and felt like shit, seeing the clouds hanging motionless above, knowing the evil darkness would be descending soon. It felt right that Taako had shrugged on his red robe and jacket that morning. He was this person again. He had to worry about this fucking ridiculousness again. 

"Magnus!" He yelled back into the cabin of the ship. "Come check this out!" Taako picked lint off his sleeves and adjusted his wand in his pocket, trying to remember how it used to feel as he waited for Magnus. When the lumbering steps alerted him that he was almost here, Taako looked up. Magnus proceeded slowly out of the cabin, staring at Taako. Taako felt started at. "What do you think?" He asked.

"Uh—you—what?" Magnus stammered.

Taako jerked his head at the sky and then looked up.

"Oh. Right,” Magnus said behind him. He sighed a bit. "Uh. Let's, let's just get out of here." 

Taako looked at him, wondering if he might change his mind.

Magnus looked away. His head was hanging. "I know you miss Lup," He said weakly, and went back inside.

Taako didn't know what to say or how to say it, so he just piloted the Starblaster out of the canyon and out of the atmosphere, with one eye watching Magnus standing sentry outside the helm. 

 +

  Cycle 11

  Lup looked at Taako with wide eyes that actually held a degree of awe or confusion, something Taako rarely saw, something he couldn't quite identify. He just knew she wanted answers, or an explanation or something, as she had coaxed Taako away from the rest of the IPRE reunion where Lucretia and Davenport were fussing over Magnus and Barry was arguing with Merle. 

"What?" Taako asked Kup.

She frowned a bit. She looked back, right at Magnus, and then turned back to Taako. She spoke quietly, "You and Magnus survived a whole year alone?"

Taako swallowed all his feelings and mumbled, "Yeah."

Lup softened a bit. "Was it…hard?" She asked once she found the words.

Taako knew she was asking if it was hard to get along, if it was hard to avoid the dangers of the planet, and if it was hard to escape the black shadows. "Yeah," He lied, because it had only been hard for some very different, very sad reasons. He shrugged for good measure, to abate his lie.

Lup just stared at him, knowing there was something he wasn't telling her, because she always knew. Thankfully she didn't ask. She nodded and—very gently—punched Taako's shoulder. Then gave him a quick hug. Ugh , Taako thought. He just wanted this to be over.

"If you'll excuse me," He said, "I'm going to go take a long nap."

"Of course bro, you earned it." Lup smiled a bit and it hurt Taako's chest. "I'll make you something nice—" Her face lit up, and she said, "I'll bake cinnamon buns."

Taako wondered if she would notice if he cast Blink right then. His whole body was stiff for a moment, before he heard himself spit out, "Nah, don’t do that…cupcakes would be great?”

Lup shook her head, bemused. “You got it, Taako. Go get some rest.”

Taako retreated, feeling kinda bad, but retreating nonetheless. He glanced back as he stepped into the cabin and saw Lup back amongst their friends—and Magnus staring in Taako’s direction.

He pulled the door shut firmly behind himself.

 +

  Cycle 12

  “What about Magnus’ plan? Heading south?” Taako said.

Davenport spoke against it immediately, “No, Taako, the light is definitely in the north.”

“I agree with the captain,” Lucretia admitted.

Barry and Merle chimed in, saying, “Yeah,” and “It makes the most sense.”

Taako glanced at Magnus, who just looked tired and frustrated, and then he turned to the one person who would surely agree with him: Lup.

But his sister just shrugged. “Dav has a point.”

And so it was quickly decided that the team would split up. Davenport would take the ship to the northern mountains with Lup and Merle, Lucretia and Barry would explore the northern valleys, and Taako and Magnus would head south. 

It wasn’t the next year, after they had been stuck together, but the year after that, long after the team had stopped joking about “getting stuck with Magnus for a year” and “getting stuck with Taako for a year”. Apparently, it had been long enough that they all forgot about the planet with the crazy weather, because they had no problem kicking the two of them off the ship insisting they go look for the light together. Taako stood next to Magnus, on the ground, watching the Starblaster fly away. Taako watched, and watched, the sun hurting his eyes as it reflected off the brilliant silver hull.

Taako could tell that Magnus was looking at him. He didn’t want to look back. Taako tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat, and then offered, “Let’s just get this over with.” He glanced over as he turned towards the south and tried not to feel bad at how Magnus was hanging his head.

  +

  It was a hard journey. It was long and hot, with villages and settlements rapidly growing smaller and sparser as they went. They traveled for months, asking locals about the light, searching for the place Magnus thought it might have fallen.

Taako would have liked to say they didn’t talk and they didn’t work together, but they did. Taako knew he would go crazy without prattling on just a tad bit too much. He talked about recipes and spells and Lup just to fill the silence, and Magnus listened, pretending to be interested. He sometimes contributed what seemed like a measured explanation about stuff he liked, his weapons and shit. Taako didn’t ask him about his life. He’d heard all of Magnus' stories at least twice already.

And of course, they made a fine team. Maybe the ease was only because they were trying to get it over with, but Taako already knew how well they worked together.

They had left the Starblaster well into the year, and as the weeks passed Taako started consciously thinking about the effort to physically retrace their steps back up north. At every sunset, Magnus reported back to Davenport on his stone of farspeech, "No luck today, but I've got a good feeling about tomorrow." Over and over Taako heard these words, without any indication of stopping, or even slowing. Taako brought it up one day when they were departing from a village, still traveling south. “So, when do you think we’ll head back?”

Magnus glanced quickly at Taako, but was focused on navigating the rocky half-beaten path they were told to follow. “When we find the light,” He said, verging on sounding condescending, like Taako should definitely understand this.

Taako waited a moment to speak, avoiding almost tripping on a clump of skinny roots sticking up from the ground. Then he just stated, “We only have a couple months left, to find it and bring it back.”

“No,” Magnus said firmly, “We have two and a half months to find it, and then Davenport will bring the ship to us. Way faster.”

Taako didn’t want to say. He didn’t want to say it at all, but he had to. “ If we find the light.”

Magnus actually stopped to look him in the eye. “Taako, we’re going to find it. I know I’m right.”

  +

  “So, you were wrong,” Taako pointed out, two months later, once they had overturned the last rock that Magnus swore the light would be hidden under. He looked across the small abandoned fort they had found in the deep, deep south of the main land mass on this planet. 

Magnus sighed and leaned his head back against the wall of woven tree branches. “I know.” He waited a long few seconds, as Taako watched beads of sweat form slowly on his forehead. The structure of branches and leaves provided shade and thus some relief from the sun, but they still couldn’t hide from the heat and humidity. Magnus said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Taako pleaded, “It’s alright, big guy. We did our best.”

Magnus looked at him, and didn’t look away for a minute. Taako wondered if they would have found the light if it had been Magnus and Lup, not him. Magnus took out his small stone and tossed it around in his hand, before holding it up. "Magnus to Davenport, come in Davenport."

It took a couple seconds, but then the stone played sounds of shuffling and mumbling, and then Davenport's voice. " This is Davenport ."

Taako didn't realize it at first, but this report was so different from the reports all the days before, and it started when Magnus paused. In silence, there was an unnatural emptiness, and Taako didn't quite know why but it felt wrong.

"I'm sorry," Magnus said, sounding so sad , and it was horrible. It was so far off from his optimistic tagline. Taako just looked at him, wishing he was hearing Magnus say what he had always said before so he could feel sick of it again, not sick to his stomach with sympathy for the poor guy.

" Hey, Magnus, it's okay, " Davenport started, reacting to how down Magnus sounded. " I think we're getting close. The sun's going down…but I've got a good feeling about tomorrow. "

Magnus smiled a bit, and Taako's heart lifted at the sight. "Thanks Dav," Magnus said.

" You boys take it easy. There's, uh, not much time left to come pick you up… "

"Don't worry about it," Magnus said. He glanced up at Taako, who nodded. They both knew it was a waste of the precious last few light-hunting days for Davenport to fly the ship down to bring them on board, given they would end up there one way or another. 

" You sure? "

"We're sure."

" Stay safe. We'll see you soon ."

  +

  The rest of the year passed in a haze of bright green, the leaves and trees surrounding the abandoned lean-tos they stayed near. There was no point venturing too far in any direction anymore. They sat amongst the plants, relying on spells for food, water, and a cool breeze. 

To pass the time, Magnus hummed a whole record of songs, some Taako knew and some he didn’t, while carving the bark off branches with his knife. Now and then, Taako offered to braid Magnus’ hair to keep it up off his neck, and he always said yes. He sat behind him and twisted and tied his hair slowly, as Magnus held a stick still in his hands. Simple, meaningless tasks filled their time until the end of the year—the end of the world.

They laid down to sleep on opposite sides of a small stick structure for the last time, just like every other night for the past couple weeks, except this time Magnus spoke and broke the silence.

“I wish we could sleep under the stars again.”

Taako shivered as his brain overreacted to that statement. That wasn’t...an opening, was it? That wasn’t a gentle reminder of their brief time together…was it? It took a lot of self-control to stop himself from raising his wand and burning a hole in the forest canopy so he could give Magnus his wish. He settled for rolling over, closing the space between them halfway.

Magnus looked over. 

Taako lost his nerve, and just stared at him.

Magnus barely whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You already—”

“About what happened to…us.”

Oh...oh. Taako stomach turned, in a good or bad feeling he wasn’t sure yet. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Magnus didn’t say anything else, which made Taako think he really meant it. He rolled and shifted a bit.

It was so dark where they slept, but Taako’s pale blue skin was still just visible when he raised his hand up. He watched it, avoiding Magnus’ eyes, as he pushed some strands of pale red hair back into the braid. 

Taako moved his hand slowly down and watched it slowly too, not daring to look up. 

Magnus shifted in place and the noise startled Taako’s eyes up. 

Then it was so obvious, he saw it before it happen so plainly, and yet did nothing to stop him; Magnus leaned in and softly kissed him.

Taako was so sad . 

It was so lovely and sweet; it was so sad that it was happening on this fucking planet with this fucking person at this fucking time, at whatever time or day or year it was really happening. 

He barely kissed Magnus back, but he still did, because there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss and kiss and kiss him. Taako tried to think about nothing, or anything other than kissing Magnus. They were both reluctant to pull away, but it happened eventually, like tides rolling out gradually until the waves no longer crashed against the rocks. 

Magnus couldn’t look at Taako for more than a second before his face twisted with emotion and he tucked his head down to his chest. Taako’s heart ached. He slowly wrapped his arms around Magnus’ body and laid his face against his hair. “I know,” He said. I’m sorry too , He didn’t say. “It’s okay,” He said. Taako kept whispering until they both fell asleep.

  +

  When heroes have nothing to do during the end of the world, they stay in bed. They stay in bed and stay in each other’s arms, growing sweaty with the slow heat of the morning, but unmotivated to move with the apocalypse around the corner.

They don’t want to let go of this moment, this last world where it can exist.

They roll around and stretch, but stay close by, and lay on the ground and stare at each other.

They stay in their beds with their hands locked together until their bodies dissolve into white threads. And they are gone.

[storyunrelated]

Will it go round in circles

Look at me, ma! I wrote Star Wars fanfiction!

Well, ‘fanfiction’ might be giving it too much credit. Rather, it’s basically me attempting to organise some of my thoughts on the matter, put into the form of a dialogue between two Resistance grunts following the conclusion of Rise of Skywalker.

So spoilers? I guess? By default?

Anyway. It’s in in two other places and now I’m putting it here, too.

Because I’m bored.

-

Will it go round in circles

First Order? Defunct. 

Logistically improbable fleet of Star Destroyers? Star destroyed. 

Emperor? Dead (again). 

If there was ever a time for a celebration now was definitely it.

And so it was that the Resistance or at least what remained of it at this point was having something of a shindig. Hugs of joy, kisses of jubilation, handshakes of camaraderie, drinks of relief - that sort of thing. Everyone was having a fine old time.

All, perhaps, barring Rot, background Resistance grunt, who was sitting on a crate being quiet and looking thoughtful amidst all the happiness.

Spotting him doing this Cin, another background Resistance grunt and Rot’s friend, broke away from the conversation she’d been having with a group of surviving pilots (about how great X-Wings were - the conclusion so far? That they were pretty great) and headed on over.

“Why so glum, chum?” She asked, sitting heavily along the crate and making Rot jump.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. Just thinking,” he said.

“What’s there to think about? We won!” Cin said, giving him a playful - though perhaps somewhat harder than she’d initially meant, drinks had been taken after all - jab to the shoulder.

Couldn’t argue with that, and Cin’s enthusiasm and joy was so apparent that Rot couldn’t help but chuckle. He rubbed his shoulder, too, but felt it best not to make an issue of it.

“I was thinking-” he started, but that was as far as he got.

“Wait, hold that thought, there’s Rose,” Cin said, pointing, and indeed there was Rose, hurrying, looking harried.

“Hey Rose,” Cin called out and Rose, snapped out of whatever reverie she’d been in while walking looked up, saw her, and zeroed in on the pair of them on their crate.

“Hey guys,” she said, a little on the breathless side.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. You alright?” Cin asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just, you know, busy,” Rose said. She seemed strained.

“But it’s a party! It’s the party!” Cin said, utterly appalled that, following on from what had been a fairly significant space battle (to put it mildly) poor Rose was still being rushed off her feet doing...whatever it was she did. A little bit of everything, seemingly.

“Just wrapping some things up,” Rose said, smiling weakly.

“Surely you can sit for a minute?” Rot asked and for a moment Rose did seem tempted, but then some invisible psychic weight appeared to reassert itself and whatever strength had entered her left. She visibly deflated.

“Soon, maybe. Just got to go and do something somewhere where no-one’ll see me for a bit,” she said.

That seemed quite an oddly specific thing to say. The two grunts were perplexed.

“If you say so. When you’re done and free there’ll still be a spot here,” Cin said, patting the crate beside her.

“We’ll save a drink for you,” Rot added.

“Thanks guys,” Rose said

And then she was off again. They watched her go. She disappeared into the crowd far faster than they might have expected her to. It was kind of odd.

“Poor Rose, she’s had a rough time,” Cin said, shaking her head.

News to Rot, who only knew Rose in passing.

“She has?” He asked.

“Course! Her sister dies, she goes on some madcap adventure that doesn’t turn out so great, she nearly gets executed - mean, that’ll put a kink in anyone’s day - then she just gets saddled with enough Resistance busywork to keep her in the background while all this business with the Emperor is going on. That, and a lot of people just don’t like her. It’s rough, like I say.”

“Who doesn’t like her? She’s lovely!” Rot protested and Cin held her hands out, palms up and open, empty of answers.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Some people are just like that,” she said.

“Bastards. She’s lovely,” Rot said, clucking his tongue and shaking his head.

Some people indeed. Mean, her crashing into Finn that one time had been a bit weird and - according to rumour - she’d given a pretty hamfisted speech following the crash but what of it? Everyone has their moments of weakness. 

And it all worked out alright in the end, hadn’t it? All that business with the running away and Holdo and Krayt and all that had turned out to barely matter anyway, somehow, having next to no impact on the resolution of things, so who cared about Rose crashing into anyone? She remained lovely regardless of the quality of her speeches!

“Bah,” Rot said, still annoyed at having learned of this dislike, a sour fact now sitting in his brain. To distract he thought back to what he’d been thinking about before, and tried to get it rolling again: “So yeah like I was saying, I was thinking-”

Cin cut him off again, to his chagrin.

“And Poe’s over there, looking over at - hey, who’s that?” She asked, pointing. Rot - mouth still open from being midway through his sentence - swallowed his words, looked over and frowned, seeing someone he did not recognise.

“The lady in the gold helmet? No idea,” he said.

Cin squinted at the lady in the gold helmet and at Poe gesturing at her.

“Are they friends?” She asked.

“I guess? We weren’t introduced.”

There were a lot of new faces around lately. Things had been pretty hectic last few days. Hours? Hard to keep track, especially in space.

Just one of those things.

“Huh. Well, whatever. He’s allowed friends. And ah, speaking of, there’s Finn! Let’s wave!” Rot said.

Rot waved while Cin personally favoured a hearty thumbs up. Finn, in turn, responded by giving both a wave and a thumbs up at once, much to the delight of the grunts, and then carrying on along his way to go talk to whoever it was he was going to talk to. Busy lad he was.

“Top bloke that Finn,” said Cin.

“Top bloke, top bloke,” Rot agreed, nodding.

“You know he gave me credits for the vending machine the other day? Wouldn’t let me pay him back!” Cin said and she wasn’t kidding - he wouldn’t accept it! Said she shouldn’t worry about it!

“Top bloke,” Rot said again, frowning a little to himself. “Which is a bit worrying, if you think about it.”

“Why?”

“Well you know how he got nabbed as a kid, right? He told you about that?”

“Yeah, but we knew the First Order did that anyway, bastards. Stealing kids, messing with their heads, turning them into cannon fodder,” Cin growled, pounding a fist into her palm. 

Even by the standards of an organisation that had shown a willingness to blow up planets - hell, whole systems! - stealing kids was still a dick move. Just seemed unnecessarily evil, really. Cin was fairly certain the First Order handbook also mandated that all pets in the houses ransacked for kids should be kicked, too.

She wouldn’t put it past them.

“Exactly. first rate pricks. So yeah, we know that. A good chunk of the Stormtroopers are just kids who got taken, brainwashed and made into soldiers without a whole lot of say in the matter. And then we have to fight them and we have to shoot them - you and me have shot a bunch just on our own, ain’t we?”

“A whole bunch,” Cin nodded with perhaps a touch more relish than was required.

“But, like, Finn was like that, wasn’t he? And look how he turned out. How many of these poor fuckers were just doing what they’d been beaten into shape to do? How many could have turned out as nice as Finn if they’d had the chance? Only we shot them?” Rot asked.

“Oh,” said Cin, this time without relish.

She hadn’t thought about it that way before.

“I know, right? Doesn’t make me feel good. Like hell, that horse lady, she’s ex-First Order too,” Rot said, nodding over to the horse lady in question.

“She seems nice,” Cin said.

“Haven’t really got to know her yet but yes, she does seem nice. And that’s kind of the problem. They could all be nice! And they were just kids! Mean, back when dad was gunning down Stormtroopers he said you could be pretty certain they were a card-carrying bastard who’d signed up - not like the Imperial Army, Stormtroopers were the hardcore ones. But these were just kids! Stolen! And we shoot them. See what I’m saying?”

“I do, I do,” Cin said.

“Kind of too late now, I suppose,” Rot sighed.

Some part of him wondered whether now, with hostilities either wrapping up or wrapped up, there would have to be some sort of system set up to reform the Stormtroopers, and whether it’d also work to try and get them back to the homes they’d been snatched from. A daunting task, surely, but it had to be the right thing to do. Didn’t it? The decent thing.

Rot was glad it wasn’t his job either way.

The two of them went quiet for a moment, the wind kind of taken out of the sails of the conversation by this rather grim aside. It was something that had been gnawing at Rot for a while now, and would gnaw at Cin too now that he’d passed it on.

Keen to move on Rot sat up straight and looked around.

“Where’s the lady of the hour, anyway?” He asked, slapping his thighs.

“Who? Rey? Oh, who knows. Probably doing something else important. She’s always being pulled this or that way to do that or this thing. Sometimes it kind of feels like the galaxy itself can’t quite settle on what it wants to do with her,” Cin said.

She’d bumped into Rey briefly once, and she’d seemed nice. Busy though. Always something needed her attention, always something she had to be doing. Rot felt much the same.

“Probably a Force thing. Probably?” He ventured. Cin shrugged.

“Probably,” she said.

Most things that seemed arbitrary, random or difficult to explain turned out to be Force things. You kind of got used to it after a while, particularly if you were just a background grunt. If you didn’t make a fuss about it you tended to live longer.

“Anyway, sorry, before all that I think you were saying something?” Cin asked, swivelling a bit on the crate so she was better facing him.

“Was I?” Rot asked, blinking, baffled. They’d gone off on so many tangents he’d quite lost the thread. It all came back to him quickly enough though - all the surroundings reminded him. “Oh! Oh yes. I’m happy about all this, about us winning, obviously I’m happy, I’m just concerned.”

“About what?”

“Well,” he said, shifting in a little so he was sitting more comfortably, his bottom starting to go numb. “I was thinking. My grandfather was involved in the Clone Wars, right? Not fighting, just some contract work on one of those old Star Destroyers.”

“Star Destroyers?” Cin asked, confused. Weren’t they bad guy ships?

“Yeah, the old ones. Uh, not the old ones we were just blowing up, the ones before those. Venators? The Republic ones? That kind of thing. Anyway, point is, my grandfather was involved in that war, right? That ends, Empire comes in, my dad gets into the Rebellion, he fights in that war. We get the New Republic which sticks around for a bit only to get destroyed in this war that you and me fought in. I’m just…”

He trailed off, fishing for the words.

“My kids aren’t going to have to be fighting in the next one, are they? When this all happens again in like, twenty, thirty years time?”

“You really know how to puncture the mood, don’t you Rot?” Cin said. She sounded sour.

“Hey look, I’m sorry but it’s a concern, isn’t it? Dad told me about all the celebrations after the second Death Star got blown up and the Emperor got killed - well, not ‘killed’ killed but, you know, everyone figured he was dead so it works out the same. Dancing in the streets! Statues pulled down! Galaxy-wide party! Everyone was happy! Figured that was it! Job done!”

Rot’s dad had been very effusive about this, telling a young Rot not to take the peace he grew up in for granted, to remember the sacrifices, the struggle, and young Rot had done so - it had been a primary motivating factor in his joining up himself.

“Then it all just...happens again. Only bigger and shinier. They even still had Stormtroopers! All over again! Star Destroyers again! And something that made the Death Star look like a cheap joke! Poor dad. Felt like he’d done all he’d done for nothing. He had friends die in the last one, just so his son could go in for the next one,” Rot said.

Rot’s dad hadn’t been very happy in the last few years, the only ray of hope being that grandfather - Rot’s dad’s dad - had lived long enough to see the Republic come back, but not long enough to see it go away again. That would have just been depressing. 

“Yeah but it won’t happen again this time. We won! That’s it!” Cin insisted. She felt very, very strongly about this. Rot wasn’t so sure.

“That’s what they thought last time though, ain’t it? And it depends on what happens next. A lot of what led into this was just how badly handled everything after the last war was. Just a fucking mess. I mean, I know we had the Military Disarmament Act, but-”  he started but, again, true to form, Cin cut across him.

“The what?” She asked.

“The thing that reduced the New Republic’s military? Greater emphasis placed on planetary defence forces? It’s why there wasn’t a Republic army or fleet or anything to come crashing down on the First Order when they started causing problems. Well, that and general flip-flopping and bureaucratic inertia. Politics, eh?” Rot said with a ‘what you gonna do’ kind of a cadence. Cin stared at him, appalled.

“Why would they do that?” She asked.

“What? The act? Eh, I guess towards the end of the war - the last one, not this one - there was a feeling that having a massive army sitting around was an invitation to use it. And I guess the last time the Republic did have a big army sitting around someone did use it.”

Took Cin a second to work that one out, but then she got it.

“Oh, right. The Empire. Still seems like a dumb idea,” she said.

“It was a dumb idea but that’s politicians for you. Not the best long-term planners. And I guess they figured what with having just got out of a war they couldn’t afford to throw their weight around, wanted to keep everyone on-side,” Rot said.

This explanation had always seemed vaguely convincing to Rot. At least, he could see some sort of logic running through it. It made sense to him. He didn’t like it, but it held together.

For her part, Cin was hearing about it for the first time and wasn’t feeling especially happy about it.

“Wish someone had told me this earlier, it’d have made the whole ‘Resistance’ thing make more sense…” She grumbled, taking a swig from the bottle she’d been nursing the whole time.

Cin had always felt that dubbing themselves ‘The Resistance’ right from the start had been needlessly undermining. ‘Resistance’ implied a certain level of passivity to her mind, suggestive of struggle against a force that was by very definition stronger and more powerful, but she hadn’t been in charge of branding and had arrived too late anyway - the name had stuck by the time she’d signed up.

“You didn’t do the required reading?” Rot asked and Cin sputtered, spitting out her drink.

“There was reading?!”

She’d just been shooting at the guys in the scary armour! She hadn’t thought there’d be much more to it! Certainly the instructor at the Resistance camp hadn’t mentioned any of this! They’d just told her which end of the gun to point towards the guys wearing white.

“It was all in the Resistance introduction packet they gave out. Or it was in mine. Didn’t you ever wonder why we were having to basically fight the Empire all over again?” Rot asked and Cin shook her head vigorously.

“No! I didn’t think I was supposed to be wondering that! Just thought we were meant to be getting on with it,” she said, coupling her statement with a very emphatic fist-pump, to demonstrate ‘getting on with it’.

Rot considered this, and saw her rock-solid sincerity and - not for the first time - wondered if maybe he was in the minority in thinking about the things he thought about.

“Huh. Maybe it’s just me…” He said.

They went quiet again.

The party continued.