#brixo
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Round 1 - Bracket #16
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I'm rewatching Andor again and I'm on the second episode. I'm in the part where Timm gets a visit from Bix. And I was thinking, you know what would be hilarious? If somehow Bix gets the wrong place and it's Brasso's place instead. 😂 And Brasso is all like, are you drunk? And Bix is all like, ah, kriff, I got the wrong house, didn't I? Basically, Brasso being Brasso helps her get back home, because seriously Bix what where you thinking? And Bix is just wincing at the lecture her friend is giving her. Brasso leaves her something for the headache he's sure she'll have in the morning.
Anyways, I know this ain't shippy, but I sure as hell value brixo friendship before they get into a relationship over time. Anyways, here's a little Christmas gift for you. I hope you're having a great time!
Oh this is so cute! And yes, I value their friendship too. I love a good friends-to-lovers.
I hope you don't mind, I decided that I liked this so much I wanted to write it out. Just a regular night, not the night shown in the episode.
What Are Friends For?
Bix hit the buzzer, leaning against the doorjamb. This was perhaps not the best idea, but she was bored and restless and maybe a quick screw would help burn both feelings off.
"Hey," she purred when the 'com buzzed.
"Bix?"
She jolted upright. "Brasso? What are you doing here?"
The door swished open to reveal her old friend, looking as baffled as she felt. "In my own flat?"
"Wha - " She stepped back and looked around. The spotchka she'd drunk at the pub had blurred her perception so she hadn't noticed the colorful mugs lined up on his windowsill, or the plant hanging just where the drainpipe would drip water into it, either of which should have tipped her off that she was at the wrong place.
"Shit," she said. "I must've turned a row too early. I was on my way - well. Never mind. Sorry, Brass."
"It's all right." He cocked his head. "You're out late."
She crossed her arms. "I was having a few drinks. Is that all right?"
He didn't take the bait. He usually didn't.
Ahhh, what was she getting bitchy for? It was just Brass being big-brotherish as usual. "Really. Sorry to bother you. See you."
"Have a good night," he said, forehead still folded in concern.
She turned to go and wobbled dangerously. Damn. How many drinks had she had?
"Here, Bix," he said behind her.
"Yeah?"
"Maybe I'd better walk you home. Or wherever you're going."
She was just drunk enough to want to snap, I'm not going to stagger into the drainage ditch and drown like your sot of a dad.
Just sober enough not to hurt her friend in that way.
And because his dad had met his end in that ditch, Brasso worried. What could it hurt to let him walk her home so he wouldn’t worry?
"Yeah, okay," she said finally. "Home's probably . . . best. Right now."
"Mmm." He snagged a raggedy cardigan and folded it over his arm. He didn't lock the door behind himself. This was Ferrix, after all.
They walked down the row, and she felt him glancing over at her now and then. "So," he said, elaborately casual, when they'd turned down Rix Road. "You and Timm Karlo, is it."
She wasn't surprised. A lot of people thought Brasso was stupid because he was big and quiet and kind, and he let them think it, as far as she could tell. But he knew Timm lived one row over, in another of the tiny flats that all looked the same.
"You don't approve," she said.
"You're a grown woman," he said, instead of denying the accusation. "You conduct your affairs as you see fit."
"So to speak?"
He gave her an intensely mild look. Oh yeah. He hated it.
She hugged her elbows against the cool night air. "It's just casual," she found herself explaining. "It's just for fun, okay?"
"Okay." He held out the cardigan.
She batted it away. "Kriff, Brass, it's Ferrix. My only options are someone I've known since diapers or someone who's only going to be in town for an evening."
"Or Cassian," Brasso observed. "But that ship has flown."
"Yeah. And exploded."
They both snorted with laughter, muffling it behind their hands for the sake of the dark-windowed houses they walked past. It wasn't funny, really, but when it came to her history with Cassian Andor, laughter was better than throwing things.
"Where is he, these days?" she asked. "And what's he up to?"
"Oh, who knows. Nothing good, probably."
"But when he comes back, you'll invite him round for a drink again." She tried to make it a joke and didn't quite succeed.
"Cassian's - " He paused, sighed. "Cassian's always needed something more than what we've got here. I don't blame him for it, is all. Don't get me wrong. He's done plenty to blame him for."
"I really blame him for all that money he owes me," she contributed.
"Same," he said. "But I don't blame him for what he needs, just because I - we - can't give it to him."
She hugged her elbows tighter and screwed up her mouth. That was probably a healthy way of looking at it. One she should adopt. But then, Brasso had always been a kinder person than her.
He held out his cardigan again. This time she took it. He was so much taller than her that it fell to her knees and wrapped double over her front. It smelled like him, oil and hot metal, familiar and comforting.
"Anyway," she said. "What's your problem with Timm?"
He veered into the subject change easily, as if he'd seen it coming. "I've got no problem with Timm."
"Bullshit."
"I don't. He's fine. Works hard, doesn't cheat locals."
"Then what's your problem with me and Timm?"
He didn't say anything for a few minutes, and she thought she was going to have to prod him, when he said, "So, it's casual. That's what you said."
"Yeah," she said, fisting her hands in the pockets of the cardigan. If he was going to get judgmental on her -
"It's just, he doesn't feel casually about you."
She blinked, mouth hanging open for a good five seconds before she snapped it shut. "What has he said?"
"He hasn't said anything. Not to me."
"So you, what? You just know?"
"I keep my eyes open," he said.
"You think I'm going to break his heart."
"I'm not fussed about Timm's heart. That's his lookout. I'm worried he'll try to pull you along into something you don't want."
She stopped on a street corner to look up at him. Everyone else she'd talked to about Timm had gone on about how steady he was, how he had a good job. Would be a good provider.
She didn't need to be provided for. She was doing all her own providing. She just wanted someone to get naked with on occasion, not somebody to give her babies and forever. Not yet.
Misinterpreting her silence, Brasso said, "Now, if you do want it, just tell me. Shut your mouth, Brasso."
He had his hands in his pockets. She shifted closer and threaded her arm through his, giving a little tug to keep them walking. "Like I could. Don't worry, Brass. I'll make sure he knows casual is all he's getting from me."
"Mmm," he said. "You so sure he'll listen?"
"Of course he will."
"Mmm," he said again, and didn't say anything more until they cut into the alley next to her shop and stopped at the side entrance. "Here's you."
She let go of him to unlock the door and then remembered something she'd been fixing for him. "Hey, I've got that caf maker all ready for you."
He looked pleased. "Have you?"
"Yeah, come in and get it. That way you'll have nice warm caf in the morning instead of the instant shit."
He followed her through the yard, putting his hand out only once when her foot caught on a junked up speeder, flat on the ground.
"Thanks." She unlocked the back door of the shop and patted around the shelf next to the door until she found it. "Hah. Here. She'll work twice as good now."
"I have no doubt," he said, tucking the caf machine under his arm. "What do I owe you?"
"I put it on your account. And I don't want to see a chitty of it before payday, you hear?" He was making inroads on his dad's medical bills since he'd got promoted to shift head, but he was still struggling.
"All right. Take a pain tab and drink a bottle of water before bed."
"Yes, Dad."
He tugged her braid lightly. "Never mind your sass, you'll thank me for it in the morning."
She would, and after the walk and the talk, she was just softened up enough that she didn't spit at him for it.
The bored, restless, jagged feeling that had been haunting her all evening had dissipated, too. Maybe she needed to spend time with Brasso more often, instead of just exchanging hellos when she saw him in passing.
She walked him back to the street entrance so she could lock up behind him. As he turned down the street, she leaned out the door. "Hey, Brass!"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for walking me home."
"Anytime."
She closed the yard door, crossed the yard carefully, and went into her house. Ah, kriff. She still had his cardigan.
She shrugged and pulled it around herself. She'd get it back to him, sooner or later.
FINIS
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New short fic
By damn, the writing gods are with me at the moment. I need to keep the momentum up so even though this is (shock, horror) a new ship, for anyone that likes the idea of Bix/Brasso here are 2000-odd words of angst and pining.
Hiding.
[Don't worry though, there will be more rebelcaptain from me this year. Soon, I hope. Fingers crossed.]
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Saw your tag about how Brasso needs a last name. How does Brasso Caleen sound?
/flips table
GALAXY MIND RIGHT THERE
#Fantastic#I love it#Brixo#andor#got so excited for a moment there I forgot to add tags#ask#random stuff
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Anthony Fineran (B 1981), 110109 Brixo, 2023
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YAY ur back we missed u babes, did you see the kelce documentary trailer, where Travis is holding the lil baby and Jason is just like “like a football” like 🥹🥰🥹🥰🥹pls can you write a little blurb on that if u can 🤍
I did! I hope Travis gets to have his family soon because I know he's going to be an excellent father. This blurb is focused on the first night Travis and the reader brought Alex home from the hospital 🥹
The First Night
Travis knew football; it was his whole life. He had 10 years under his belt, along with the injuries to prove it, but he was only sure of two things in his life, and football was one of them. The other one was that he loved you with his whole being. He knew it wasn't much, but his love for you could move mountains, and it created a new life, a bundle of joy that somehow fit perfectly in his hands.
The house was calm and quiet as you slept; bringing Alex home had taken all of your energy. It was late, the sun was set to rise in a couple of hours, and Travis had only closed his eyes once in the last several hours. He just couldn't take his eyes off of his son, committing his face to memory. Even at only a few days old, Alex looked exactly like you, short of the big blue eyes he got from Travis.
Alex wriggled in Travis' hands, taking the first of many breaths in his new home as he slept peacefully, and Travis hoped that Bubba couldn't hear his heart beating out of his chest. The hard part was over, he thought. His son was home, you were healthy, his family was complete, and yet, he was terrified, realizing that the hard part was truly just beginning.
"Just like a football", Travis quietly chuckled to himself as his brother's words echoed through his mind. He had vivid memories of holding Bennett for the first time not that long ago, and how fragile she felt in his arms. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of cries escaping Alex's tiny mouth.
"Hey, hey, little man. What's wrong?", Travis whispered. The sound of Travis' gruff voice calmed Alex immediately, his eyelids fluttering as he self-soothed with the help of his pacifier.
"So, what do you think?" Travis looked around the dimly lit nursery, each piece meticulously picked out by you to match the cottage-inspired aesthetic you had been planning for the last nine months.
"We both hit the jackpot, Bubba", Travis admitted, as he pulled Alex up to lay against his bare chest. "You've got the best mama anyone could ever ask for. She makes me believe that I can actually do this whole 'dad' thing" Travis laughed as Alex grunted, "I know, I know, I can't believe it either. I promise you this though, I'll try with everything I have to be the best father I can be to you." He placed a gentle kiss on Alex's forehead.
"We've been waiting for you to arrive for quite a long time, bud." He grazed a gentle finger underneath Alex's chin. "I can't wait to see you smile for the first time, and take your first steps. I want to be here for everything just like my dad was for me."
"What are you two talking about?" You gave Travis a small smile when he looked over at you propped in the doorway.
"Uh, football. Just running Alex through some formations. I've got a legacy to protect, babe." Travis winks at Alex. "Isn't that right, bubba?"
Travis now knew three things for sure: football, loving you, and at this moment, he had never been happier.
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Then, along the Brixo(ntes), are wild beasts; they are called Lertices. They have the ears of asses & the wool of sheep & the feet of birds.
The Wonders of the East (Cotton MS Vitellius A XV) – Translated by E. C. McGregor Boyle (@maniculum)
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Hello once again people of the Republic! This is your friendly anchor Pelox with Republic News Update! Now, for today's updates and news:
-DRV Etreox arrives back to Republic space; the cargo ship DRV Etreox, presumed missing for almost six months, has returned to Republic space following an escort from @pari-treeminders and @union-replicants vessels following a confrontation in Pari space; the ship has been secured and the Ministry of Defense has shielded the hangar which it is being held.
The fate of the original crew remains unknown, but the ship appears to have been taken over by a band of pirates who have been detained for questioning by investigators.
"A full investigation into the fate of the ship and crew is now underway," said Commander Brixo, lead investigative officer on the case, "we will do what we can to determine how the Etreox came to be under the control of the suspects and determine the events that lead to this confrontation."
Republic diplomats have already issued statements of apology to the Parian government over the incident, and have vowed to continue anti-pirate activities as best as can be managed.
-@phlaalu Symphonic Orchestra concert 'overwhelming success'; the newest sensation to hit the airwaves is continuing its tour of the Republic, now heading to play a show on Attke before departing for @alari-nation space. Millions of viewers have tuned in and become enthralled by the "smooth, almost hypnotizing melody" the Orchestra performs.
The Orchestra issued a statement expressing their "sincere gratitude at our reception here in Republic space" and hope to continue their "multi-species national tour across many different galactic polities." Well, I for one hope they return to the capital soon!
-Republic backed trade convoy returns; a trade convoy taking part in a fair in Three Worlds space has returned following the successful completion of the event, with merchants from @guildsre and @kentiaenguilds having reported signing several new agreements with Federal officials. "A very profitable and sustainable arrangement!" said one Re'Iran merchant, who wished to remain anonymous.
The Ministry of Finance reported that several Darexi traders secured contracts of a shorter-term than the other guilds, but were still satisfied with the overall results and overall fairness of the arrangements.
-The weather forecast for today remains cool and calm, with a western wind coming in sometime tonight across the Plazian Plateau and its highways, so those commuters that way may be in for a slightly cool breeze on their nightly drive!
For Republic News Update, I am Pelox - and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your evening, wherever you may be!
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Evolet and brixo
[My fantroll and the fantroll of my friend sheldon]
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Läs hela Brixo: Låna upp till 50000
Läs allt om Brixo: Låna upp till 50000på
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A Long Way to Sunrise
I started writing this before Christmas, hoping to post it for the holiday. Then I was hoping to post it for New Year’s Eve. I will now pause for your knowing laughter.
Okay, now that we all have that out of our systems, I made up most of the holiday traditions and superstitions in this story, or plucked them out of whatever dusty store room my brain stashed them in when I read them ages ago. The exception is the food that Bix makes, which are dishes I chose because Adria Arjona was born in Puerto Rico.
A Long Way to Sunrise
They'd spent the day making the house ready for the new year, cleaning it top to bottom. After they'd finished, Bix had fallen asleep mid-afternoon, which was also traditional.
When she woke, it was well after dark. She sat up, pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes, and muttered, "Bluuuuugh," into her wrists. She had the kind of headache you got from falling asleep at a strange hour and sleeping more than a nap's worth.
The house was cold and quiet, and she shivered against it for a moment, annoyed. This was wrong, all of it. Just wrong.
On Ferrix, Life Day and the new year were midsummer holidays. Oh, of course the technical end of the year, by the Imperial calendar, was a month and a half later. But everyone on Ferrix knew the year really ended and began a week after Life Day, with Last Night and First Morn.
And the week in between, when the salvage yard and most businesses were closed, was when everyone celebrated, the sun pouring cheerfully down on them as they cooked holiday food, took gifts around the town, and held parties in the streets.
But Gangi Moon was almost perfectly opposite, as far as seasons went. They'd come away from Ferrix in a late-blooming and chill spring, and landed here in the middle of fall, already turning back to cold and dark.
To Bix, it just felt as if she was stuck in the middle of a winter that would never end.
"Stop that," she said aloud, and forced herself up out of bed.
She dug her fingers into her scalp and massaged until the tension eased, then undoing the tie at the end of her braid and combing her fingers through it until her hair spilled loose over her shoulders. She shook it out, considered her reflection in the night-dark window, and smoothed down as much of the frizzies as she could.
Then she undid the ties of her quilted jacket and the shirt underneath it, and the drawstrings of her pants, letting everything dangle loose so as not to stay tied to anything from the old year.
She'd never trucked with such superstitions before. She was Bix Caleen and she controlled her own destiny. But now, humbled and sobered in more ways than one, Bix felt the need of all the luck she could get.
With all her clothing loose like this, the chill got to her, so she pulled her blanket off her bed and wrapped it around herself. She peeked over in the other room at Brasso's bed, but it was empty. Maybe he'd gone out to get something.
She got herself some pernil from the chiller box, noting that it was close to gone, and packed the savory shredded meat into one of the sweet dinner rolls they'd made the night before Life Day. Brasso's recipe, passed from his mum and his nan, his family's Life Day tradition.
After she'd eaten her makeshift sandwich, he still wasn't back. Frowning, she assembled another one with the last of the pernil. "Bee?" she called out.
After a moment, she heard the little droid’s servos shifting and his wheels rolling slightly - his version of a sleepy query.
She went into the hall where they'd put the charger they'd managed to find. "Hey, Bee," she said, crouching down. "How's your charge?"
"Eight-t-t-ty percent."
She frowned. He'd taken to spending longer and longer on his charger lately, with a far slower charging time. "We need to get you a better charger."
"This is f-fine."
"It could be better," she said. "Where's Brasso gone to?"
"Outs-s-s-ide. In the b-back." They had a patch of back, not even big enough to be dignified with the term yard.
"All this time?" She opened the back door and found him sitting on the small, square step.
Something about the slump of his shoulders made her go out to him. "Brass? What are you doing out here? It's cold as balls."
"Just thinking," he said, with a slur at the edge of his words.
He had a bottle of something set down by his feet. She frowned at it. "Are you drunk?"
Brasso would have a drink at the pub or with friends, but she'd never seen him drunk, or even heard of it. She'd always figured it was because of his dad.
"Lil' bit," he sighed. "Just a lil' bit."
She handed him the sandwich and the last roll. "Here. Soak up some of that in your belly."
He took it. "Is this the last of it?"
"Yup. Best to get everything eaten before First Morn." She leaned up against the house and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. "Thinking about Jezzi's message?"
"Don't know what's worse. That we're not home or that they can't celebrate proper." He was still holding the sandwich, picking at the crumbs flaking off the edge of the bread.
She kicked her heel uncertainly against the house. Usually it was her down in the dumps, and Brass trying to cheer her up. What would he say if she came up with this? "It was still Life Day, a week ago," she offered. "And tonight's still Last Night."
"No private gatherings of unrelated persons," he said gloomily. "No leaving your house after curfew. No sound above a certain decibel level. Permits for any community gatherings."
Translated, that meant no parties, lasting far into the night and inviting everyone on the street and half the town besides. No open-house day at the cramped row flats where Brasso had lived for years, where everyone threw open their doors and wandered from flat to flat, laughing and eating and drinking.
"No concert," he said. "Think of that, Bixy. No concert at the school."
Oh, now, that was taking it too far. "Nobody goes to that concert if they don't have to. It's completely dire."
He battled for a moment, then admitted, "Well, yeah, it's bad, but it's nice to know it's there all the same. I sang in that concert thirteen years, and you did too."
"Yeah," she sighed. You smirked at your friends and neighbors who had to turn up to that concert because their kids were singing, knowing that someday it'd be your turn to sit through it for some kid you loved.
He shook his head. "Isn't right," he said. "It's not the way things should be."
She couldn't say anything to that. Knowing she wasn't going to be home for Life Day, or for Last Night, had dumped her in the swamps for most of the month. She'd dragged herself to her feet most days because Brasso worried so much when she didn't, but the day after Life Day she hadn't been able to get out of bed at all. She was looking forward to being through it and not having to think about what she was missing anymore.
"A lot of things aren't the way they should be," she said. "But tonight's still Last Night."
"They won't be permitted to celebrate," he said darkly. "All those people in the streets. All the noise and the shouting, and the trumpets and the drums when the sun comes up. Like another riot."
"Still," she said. "I think they will."
"They bulldozed our wall, Bix."
Just thinking it made her sick. That had been part of Jezzi's message too. The wall - the wall of all their people -
"Our kin are rubble and gravel," Brasso went on. "You think the ones who did that will care for First Morn?"
"But Ferrix people'll stay up for Last Night," she said. "Even if it's behind closed curtains. Even if they have to stay out of the streets. Even if they can't sing the last moon down or cheer the sun when it rises. They'll stay up."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because we are."
He twisted around and stared at her a moment. There were tears in his eyes. He looked away, wiped his nose, then reached down for the bottle. "This rotten stuff is doing my head in, and no mistake."
"Best pour it out, then."
"Rather make a rebel's cocktail with it." He sloshed it thoughtfully, then sighed and flipped it upside down, letting the cheap stuff glug into the dirt. "But there's nothing for us to light on fire here, so pouring it out it is."
She wrinkled her nose. "From the smell of it, a rebel's cocktail is the best use for it anyway."
He was still holding the sandwich, and now he took a meditative bite. "Did I tell you this was really good?" he asked with his mouth full.
"You did."
"You didn't make any of your rice this week."
"I made rice."
"Yeah, and it was good, but not the special rice you make, with the sort of - " He waved the half-eaten sandwich. "The beans in."
"Arroz con gandules," she said.
"That's it. Yeah. S'good."
"I couldn't get the pigeon peas," she said. She'd barely been able to get the seasoning for the pernil, which had come as a nasty shock. There were so many Mimbran families, or families that had been Mimbran recently enough to still cook the food, living on Ferrix that things like pigeon peas and good spices were a basic staple in the grocer's. Not here, though.
"Ah,” he said. “Sorry about that."
She hugged the blanket tighter around herself and made her voice brisk. "It's just food. It's all right."
She'd told herself that over and over, the day she lay in bed. It's just food. There's no reason to feel so awful about it. Don't be so silly.
He shook his head. "You used to make that all the time back home. I remember you brought a great dish of it when my dad died."
She probably had; it was her go-to for occasions like that. Mostly because if she made a big enough batch there was plenty left over for her even after she'd taken some to whatever family was grieving or celebrating.
"Surprised you want any, with an association like that."
"I do, though. Every time I took a bite, I knew someone was thinking of me." He finished off the sandwich, rubbed his hands together briefly, and tucked them into crooks of his elbows. "Same with what everyone brought."
She nudged him with her foot. "Mine was best, though, right?"
"Of course," he said. He gave her a sly look. "Better'n Jezzi's famous green beans. But don't tell her I told you that."
"It goes with me to the grave," she said solemnly.
She thought of when her own dad had died. She'd been too numb and exhausted to think anything but food I don't have to cook about the dishes that crammed her chiller box. But Brasso was right. Every dish had been brought by someone who was thinking of her.
Maybe that was why they all did it. Bix had never thought of it more deeply then, that's what you do.
Brasso hadn't brought anything, but nobody expected anyone living in those dinky flats to actually cook. He'd come with the other Sons of Ferrix, as her dad had been a Son. Before they'd loaded her dad's body onto the decorated salvage sled, he'd offered her a moment alone, and she'd said no. Fuck. No and burst into tears.
He'd wrapped her up in his arms until she'd cried herself out, leaving skies only knew what on his shirt. She'd burrowed into his embrace for at least five minutes more beyond that before pulling away to blow her nose and wash her face.
A chilly gust set her shivering, and she squeezed in next to him on the tiny step. He shifted to make room for her, but they were still hip to hip, which she wasn't complaining about. "You're sure you're still warm enough?" she asked.
"Haven't been so warm since the summer." He smoothed his hand down over the coat she'd gotten him for Life Day - dark brown, sturdy, hard-wearing.
His red ceremonial coat, which he'd worn when they fled Ferrix, had stayed in the closet even as it got colder and colder, the bitter wind whipping off the sea. He wanted to keep it nice, he'd said, and added another layer on top of the several he was already wearing.
She'd saved up as much as she could from the fixes she did for the second-hand shop in town, and the "errands" they ran for the Rebels, and spent multiple afternoons sifting through the offerings at the second-hand shop until she found one big enough, thick enough, and with only some tears in the lining and tatters at the hems. She'd taken it to the repair shop to get those fixed.
She'd been prepared for a fight, as she didn't have the best reputation in town, and she was pretty sure she'd gotten in a fight with the shopkeep's son during one of her benders. But credits spoke every language, and the stone-faced woman had taken the order and haggled without obvious resentment.
"You're not half-bad when you're not drunk and mean," she'd said when they came to an agreement.
"I'm still mean," Bix said. "Just not drunk."
The woman had actually cracked a small smile at that. "I'll have the coat ready for your man before Life Day."
"He's not - we - we're just - " Bix had fallen into confused silence at the shopkeep's raised brow, and escaped when another customer came in. There'd been no more words about her man when she'd gone to pick it up, but she'd been self-conscious the whole time.
But it was a damn nice coat, and the repairs were almost invisible. She petted the heavy material with satisfaction.
When she looked up, she realized Brasso was studying her with furrowed brows. "What?" she said.
"Just noticed you weren't wearing your jewelry." He cleared his throat. "Not the last couple days."
She touched the edge of her ear. She had never felt completely dressed without some kind of jewelry on, mostly in her ears or braided into her hair because necklaces and rings were liable to get caught as she was making repairs.
He'd given her a set of ear cuffs for Life Day. She'd put them on immediately and he'd smiled and said, "There we are. Didn't seem right, Bix without some pretties on."
At the hotel, the ISB had taken all her jewelry off her before - well. Before. She hadn't had any since.
"Yeah, I took them off," she said. "They're inside, on top of my clothes chest."
"Saving them for special?"
"No, they just, uh, I needed to fix them."
He frowned. "Did they break?"
She gave in and admitted, "The metal made my ears itch, all right? But I'll get some varnish and paint the insides and I'll be wearing them every day again."
"Any kind of metal that doesn't make your ears itch?"
"Yeah, the kind that's too expensive for us right now." Which was why she hadn't said anything before. She nudged him. "Don't fret on it. I've had to do that with almost every piece of jewelry I ever owned."
"If you're sure," he said, still doubtful.
"I'm sure. I love them."
Another chilly gust snuck over the wall. A shudder racked him, swiftly suppressed.
"Brass, you are cold."
"I'm fine."
"I felt you shiver. Here." She opened her blanket and draped it over him. He didn't argue further, just tugged the other edge around himself.
Draped over two, it didn't quite cover them. But the warm bulk of Brasso's body made up for it. She tucked herself up close to him and slid her arm through his, fitting them together.
"Wouldn't mind some of that summer heat right about now," he said.
"What'd you do for Last Night a year ago?" she asked.
"Spent it with some of the lads from the yard. Aladon and Denz. At their place. It was nice."
"I spent it with Timm,” she admitted, like a shameful secret. “For the first time. See what that got me.”
He tilted his head down towards hers. "I think that's the first I've heard you talk about him," he said. "Not even since we left home. Since he died."
"Well, he wasn't the most popular person in Ferrix, once it got around he'd called the Imperials in on Cassian. And people were strange about talking about him in front of me. Either they thought I should be a grieving widow or they thought I should spit at the sound of his name."
"Which is it?"
"I don't know. Most of the time I just want him alive so's I can kick his ass. What an idiot."
"Won't argue that."
She looked down at her feet and kicked them in the dirt of the yard. "Do you think," she said, mostly to the dirt. "Do you think if I'd just managed to love him the way he wanted - "
"Then we wouldn't be here?" Brasso finished. "Mmm. Maybe."
She'd expected him to deny it, and shot him a betrayed look.
"Then again," he continued in the same tone of voice, "if Cassian Andor hadn't riled up the corpos like he did, they wouldn't have been after him in the first place, for Timm to turn in. And come to think of it, if Maarva and Clem hadn't taken it in their heads to adopt a half-grown boy from wherever it is they found him, he wouldn't have been on Morlana to rile up the corpos at all. And you know, if Naboo hadn't elected Sheev Palpatine Senator in the first place - "
"All right!" she said. "All right. I get it."
"And," he said more quietly, "if I'd been able to hold them off a little longer, they mightn't've caught you."
He sounded actually serious about that. How long he been stewing on it? She squeezed his arm. "Even you couldn't have held them off that long," she said. "And where would I have gone, anyway? There were too many of them. If I'm not to blame, you're not either."
"No," he said on a sigh. "No. The ones to blame are the Imperial Shithead Bastards."
"Yeah."
They were quiet together for several minutes.
"Don't feel bad about what you couldn't feel for Timm," he said in a low voice. “That's not really something you choose."
She sighed. She had a lot of regrets when it came to Timm. She'd taken advantage of his devotion, it was true. And she'd told herself that she'd made her own stance clear - just for fun, just to pass the time - when she knew full well he thought he could talk her into more. She shouldn't've let that go on. Look how it had ended. But -
"You're right," she said. "Even if I'd wanted to, I don't think I ever could've loved him. Not that way."
"My mum used to say hearts don't beat on command."
She swallowed hard, looking down at the dirt again, feeling her own heart - the one that had been so careless toward the man in her bed - soft and yearning toward the man at her side. "Be easier if they did."
He sighed heavily. "It would at that."
She cast about for a change away from dangerous subjects. "You don't talk about your mum much," she said.
"Well, she's been gone a long time. Near twenty years. You remember her?" he asked, almost hopefully.
She wished she could say yes. But if she did remember Brasso's mum, it was as another face in the formless mass of adults that most little kids saw. "I remember people talking about her."
"And what is it they said?"
Better'n that Jakin ever deserved. Ardeth is probably the reason Brasso turned out so good. "Just that you're a lot like her."
He smiled as if he could hear the things she wasn't saying, and they fell silent again.
"What time is it?" he asked after a while. "Can't tell without the moon."
"It said after two on the chrono when I woke up. So later than that. By a good hour, I’d guess. Maybe more.”
He sighed. "It's almost down at home."
The last moon of the year, a tiny sliver of a thing. Tradition said the old year ended when it set.
She nudged him. "Go on then. Sing it down, Brass."
It was a child's tradition, singing the last moon down, so he sang a child's song, soft and sweet. It was a lullaby that Ferrix parents sang to their babies, so there had never been a time Bix hadn't known it, and probably Brasso too.
He had a clear, unselfconscious tenor voice, and she rested her head on his shoulder and listened to the words for maybe the first time in her life.
It told of a bird in the depths of winter, in the ice and the cold, in the smoke of its breath and the chill of its toes. But the bird sang, defiant, promising the winter-frozen world that spring was closer than it had been at the start.
He finished the song and fell silent. She shut her eyes and sighed, picturing the last moon slipping down over the horizon, leaving them all together in the pause between years, before the first sun rose.
When it did, they would all rush out into the street if they weren't there already, shouting and cheering, blowing trumpets, banging drums. In the tower, the anvil sang out note after note of joy and greeting, until the Time Grappler's arms got too tired to go on. Superstition said the longer he could go, the better year it would be.
The adults kissed, at least those who had someone to kiss did, and the kids ran around screaming with the unhinged glee of kids who were so tired they couldn't see straight.
Then everyone went home and slept for most of the day.
The day after that, the salvage yard would reopen, the shop owners would put out their shutters, and normal life would resume.
But before all that came these breath-held hours of darkness.
"Bix," he murmured.
"Mmm."
"I know it's not sunrise yet. But I'd like to kiss you."
She lifted her head and opened her eyes, and he was looking at her very steadily.
She'd always thought his eyes were a dark grey, but this close, she could see green and even a touch of blue blossoming out from the pupil, like a common flower you never bothered with until someone you loved gave you a bouquet of them.
"I'd like you to kiss me," she said.
He lifted his hand to her cheek and closed his mouth over hers.
She'd kissed him once before, drunk and angry, and he'd stood there passive, like kissing a stone wall. She'd told herself afterwards, hungover and smarting, that she probably wasn't missing anything.
Oh, how wrong she'd been.
His lips brushed soft against hers, lifting away, returning. His beard-scruff scratched, and he tasted of pernil and a hint of that rotgut and something that seemed to be just him. His hand was warm on her cheek, and if she could have lived the rest of her life in this moment she would have.
His hand shifted, his fingers sinking into her hair, and a shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cold.
She wanted to deepen the kiss, slide her tongue into his mouth, crawl into his lap, guide his hands into her shirt, grind down until she felt him harden under her -
And then what?
She turned her head, breaking contact.
A year ago, Timm had kissed like this, in this same between time, and she'd taken him into her bed.
See where that got her.
"Something wrong?" he whispered. His breath ghosted against her cheek.
"It was lovely, Brass," she said softly, smoothing her hand over his coat-front. "But you've been drinking, and we're both of us homesick, and we - we're both the nearest thing to Ferrix either of us've got right now. So I think we should stop. Before we do something we shouldn't."
His fingers were still in her hair. He let them fall, the motion tugging softly and pleasantly at her scalp. "You've good sense."
"Not always," she said ruefully.
He got to his feet, the blanket sliding off his shoulders.
She caught it, shivering with the loss of his body heat. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He looked down at her. "You should go inside. It's dreadful cold."
She got to her feet, slowly, trying to work out his expression in the darkness. Was he hurt? Upset? Annoyed? Relieved? "Are you coming in, too?"
He rubbed his hand over his face. "I think I should take a walk. Clear my head."
"Yeah, all right," she said. "Don't you freeze out there."
"Not with this coat on, I won't," he said, and detoured around to the side gate.
She went inside, hugging the blanket tighter around her, resisting the temptation to bury her face in its folds and try to catch a whiff of his scent. She told Bee that Brasso was fine, he'd just gone to get something they needed, and the little droid was wise enough not to ask what could possibly be needed so urgently that he went out in the wee hours for it.
She washed the dishes the pernil and the sweet rolls had been in, and pulled out the beans to set them soaking - something she'd forgotten before she fell asleep. She took down all the blankets and sheets they'd washed and hung up to dry, making the beds with scrupulous attention to smoothing out every tiny wrinkle.
In all that time, Brasso still didn't come back.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, brushing out the tangles in her hair, trying not to worry. He'd been fine. He hadn't really had that much to drink. And he knew better than to go down by the sea. Especially as his own dad had drowned.
When her hair was as tangle-free as she could possibly make it, she went to the table and pulled out her latest repair, a commlink with half its connections rusted out and needing replaced. It was barely worth doing, she thought as she trained her work-light on it. She wouldn't get much for it. Might be best to keep it for them, once she got a mate.
She tried not to worry. Or to think about the way his lips had felt on hers.
When the sky began to lighten, she put her tools away and went to sit on her bed again to watch it out the window. In the winter like this, the sun rose late. By her calculations, the new sun was well up on Ferrix. She sat listening to the silence where the anvil should be singing out notes of joy and luck and hope for the new year.
Finally, she saw his familiar form turn the corner, silhouetted against the delicate pre-dawn light, and let out a sigh of relief. Then apprehension. What were they going to do? Pretend it had never happened? Have an awkward conversation?
Kiss again?
No. She'd been right to stop them.
The door rattled, and his voice said indistinctly, "It's stuck again."
"Kriff," she said, jumping off her bed. Like everything else about this rented house, the door was old and half-functional, and the cold had made the lock especially stubborn lately. "Give me a moment - hah." The door slid open.
His cheeks were red with cold, but his eyes were clear. She looked up at him, and he looked away.
Oh. It was going to be like that.
But he said, "Hear that?"
"What?" She stepped out the door to join him in the street.
"There. Shh." He held up a hand, listening. After a moment, he turned his head to smile at her, and then she heard it too.
It was a bird.
A bird, alone, unseen, singing a high sweet song into the bitter air as the first edge of the new sun breached the horizon.
FINIS
#Bix Caleen#Brasso#brixo#mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name#Life Day story?#New Year's Eve story?#homesickness story?#who knows#andor#star wars
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As someone who has come and gone from Tumblr throughout the years, I'm still sad that this still happens and I really hope all is well with you and that you get in your zone, enjoying what you do best and love. On the other hand, here's a little something for you:
Cassian goes to a certain moon years later and bumps into a local boy by accident. Curiously, the boy goes by the name of Clem Caleen.
I'll leave the rest to your imagination. 😁
asdsfsgfdsa this is adorable.
Very unimpressed little boy giving Cassian war flashbacks to his own childhood.
Also the implications of these two having to go on the run and then naming their child after the guy giving his life to try and keep everyone safe and things peaceful in the face of oppression. Not to mention the person who probably taught all of them that no one and nothing are every beyond being worthy of love or respect... That'd be incredibly heartwarming.
Going to add my own imagination and say this should be after the war because of course they all survive and are happy, and Cassian is on that particular moon to pick up supplies for food dome he's building in his and Jyn's house. Yes. Yes he is. This is canon. Luna said so.
Thanks so much for this! Both your kind words and the scenario!
#brixo#rebelcaptain#ask#And yeah. I've been here almost a decade too (on different accounts) and while the stuff this week wasn't the worst I've seen or experience#d#it echoed a lot of stuff I've seen before and that really had me nervous for a while#but I'm mostly back to my usuful self! Fighting a bit of spite but leaving it alone#for the sake of drawing the Christmas themes#and ofc the fridge/chicken comic
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💡Electrify your lego construction with these conductive bricks. 💡#Frobabies #Stem #brixo #chrome #electrician #electric #legos #led #ledlights #bluetooth #mashable #science #engineering #technology #math
#chrome#engineering#stem#ledlights#electric#bluetooth#technology#electrician#led#brixo#legos#science#mashable#math#frobabies
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Crowdfunded 2 years ago on Kickstarter... look what I found in my mailbox this morning! http://brixotoys.com
Pictures of my realizations available soon... :-)
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Slow Motion
Eight words when I think about us is fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me
Warnings: Smut, DNI if under 18
Whatever was playing on the television was irrelevant. At this point it was only background noise as Jack fucked you on the couch.
"Go faster, please." Jack was drawing agonizingly slow circles around your clit, his other hand holding your wrists at your face so you couldn't interfere. You let out a whimper, biting down on your bottom lip. You knew you sounded pitiful, your body writhing as Jack grinded his hardened cock against your ass. "Uh, huh, baby. We're gonna take it nice and slow." You shivered as his beard stubble rubbed against your shoulder blade.
Your chest heaved with each breath as you tried to stop yourself from passing out. He had spent the last 30 minutes edging you on, bringing you to the brink of release, only to leave you hanging onto the edge, wanting more. "Jack, please. I need to cum.", you gritted out between your teeth, only earning a dark chuckle from Jack, feeling the vibration of his laugh against your back.
When he wasn't torturing your sensitive bud, he was teasing your entrance, two of his large fingers stretching you out, thrusting in and out, each stroke brushing over your g-spot. You were coming undone, unable to hold back any of the animalistic moans that left your lips as you were under his control, a willing participant in his tirade.
In an act of mercy, he pushed his fingers further into your tight pussy, hooking his digits as his thumb pressed against your ass hole. He could feel you clench around his hand, the squelch of your wetness audible as he sped up his movements. "That's it baby girl, I'm giving you want you want. Now I need something from you. I want you to cum for me." Your release was coming whether or not he asked for it.
Your body convulsed as you came, Jack pressing kisses against your bare skin as he slowed his pace, coaxing you through your orgasm, whispering sweet encouragement in your ear. "That's it, baby. You're so good for me. Such a good girl."
"I'm your good girl", you repeated in between shallow breaths. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he pulled his fingers out of you, your wetness glistening in the light of the TV. "You think I wanna rush this, baby? Especially when your cum is already running down your leg? I've got you exactly where I want you."
You couldn't even object, your mouth hanging open, the ability to speak temporarily leaving you as your pussy continued to pulse. He pressed his index finger against your clit, making you jump from the sensation. He grabbed you by the waist, your cum on his fingers sticking to your skin. He slid his hand down your side, grabbing a handful of your ass, his fingers digging into your delicate flesh before you felt him start to pull down his sweatpants. You felt his hard cock bounce off your ass as he sprung it free from his boxers.
"Wet it." He held his hand out in front of your face, and you took his fingers in your mouth, coating them with your saliva. He stroked the head of his cock moving your hips so he could easily line up with your entrance. He had no intention on giving you leniency a second time, your hips bucking as he pushed himself inside of you, inch by slow inch, giving you plenty of time to adjust to his length.
You moved your hips, trying to initiate some sort of movement, but he held your hips in place. "What are you doing?", you questioned, looking back over your shoulder.
"I'm not fucking you. I just want you to keep my cock warm with that pussy of yours."
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#jack harlow#jackman thomas harlow#jackharlow#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow concepts#jackman harlow#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow fanfic#jack harlow smut
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#BRIXO #lego #electricity #brix #bricks #stem #education
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