#its been a wild and exhausting quarter

[lupunsus]

lots of people like bunny hybrid, but I already have Gorou so I'll expand more on Tighnari so the fucker will come home.

based on genshin hybrid au by @cinnamonest

warning: ashamed novice writer writes bad smut, tighnari drugs, manipulates, and almost eats reader several times while treating them like a living fleshlight as well as emergency food. Reader is also degraded because he thinks you're a dumb bunny who can't do anything themselves :(

In a previous post, I left off on the cute floppy eared bunny, obliviously eating an aphrodisiac flower, which makes Tighnari throw all senses out of the window and act on his predatory instincts.

Of course, as a fennec fox, he had to have a taste of your blood first. What's the harm in biting down a little too hard on those cute ears of yours? Don't cry. You clearly wanted someone to breed you. Why else would you eat such a thing in his garden? Even if you didn't know, it's too late to go back now. As a fennec fox, he already saw you as his mate. And his kind mates for life. Do yours too? It doesn't matter. Tighnari will keep you in his den far away from the humans, in a nest he lovingly made for you, and you alone.

You should be thankful he chose you. Nobody else will be able to satiate you when he conducts his specialized research focused on how your body reacts to being his mate.

For now, he can't get enough of the feeling of your little insides suffocating him. It's a bit hard to get his knot in, but it must mean it's your first time. He'd reassure you and be more gentle, but it won't be long until the flower takes effect and turns you into a stupid whore begging for his knot. Ah, but should he call you that? You're just an innocent bunny who knows nothing of the human language. It isn't your fault that you were born without ever receiving an upbringing similar to what he had.

Tighnari would think of it as a sad thing, as maybe if you had an ounce of knowledge, you'd know better to assume he wouldn't devour an adorable thing like you are. He bets you don't even have a name or an identity. He'll teach you to address yourself as "Tighnari's Mate." The only name you'll ever need as the only place you'll be is by his side, coupling to his heart's content.

You don't understand the feeling of something trying to force its way into you.

At first, it hurt so much. Even worse than how hard he'd bite into your skin and tear it with his claws. It wasn't hard for him to mark his new territory as you were bare for everyone to see. But it was because you didn't need clothes! You were a wild animal, of course, and they'd be unconventional to wear if you needed to escape. Would it have been better to have something to cover you? Just to help shield yourself from the onslaught of his attacks? Why did it start to feel good? Like a feeling of pleasure and content. An itch that's finally been scratched.

When Tighnari finally forced his knot inside, you came.

This was your first time having this kind of experience, and it was exhausting. Not even the flower could keep you from passing out. It didn't matter to Tighnari, too drunk on how absolutely tight you became, the feeling of being smothered within your warm insides driving him crazy. He emptied his load into you soon after, sinking his teeth and claws into your flesh while he rode out his high. If this is how it felt to breed you, he really had to control the predatory urge to eat you.

His private quarters weren't too far. He mainly uses it when he's going through his ruts or when he absolutely can not be bothered. But it only means he can enjoy the feeling of keeping his knot inside without anyone walking in on the two of you. It crossed his mind before on whether someone would see you being bred out in the open by him, but after experiencing your sweet, delicious body, Tighnari was willing to take the risk. But you looked as though a wild animal got to you, so he would be in big trouble as it looked as though he fucked you while you were injured, but it was obvious that those were "love bites" by his design.

It's good he knows how to patch someone up. Such a cute bunny like you deserves to be kept. He can teach you how to be a good mate in his standard. What the different chirps he makes mean, how to tell his mood based on his body language, how to kiss him, his favourite position to take you in,

Ah, he's beginning to get hard again. You wouldn't mind taking in some more of his love while he bandages and licks your wounds clean, would you? Of course not. You're his beloved mate. Leaving him isn't a choice either, not when he can just make it so that you're too drugged to even walk properly. To have you crave him as much as he hungers for you. Just thinking about the future he has planned for the two of you is enough to bring him to the edge once more.

Tighnari thinks he can get used to this lifestyle.

You, on the other hand, can't even remember your life before meeting your mate.

Being so weak and unable to walk for long, he was attentive to all of your needs. It makes you feel useless to see him do things you're supposed to do, but he insists that he wants to do them. Reassuring you lovingly by nuzzling against you and whispering some words that you didn't understand. It's okay, though. The only words you need to know are the ones he teaches you. From calling him your "beloved mate" to breathily moaning out the filthiest things that will get him going.

Tighnari is always kind enough to give you "love marks" as well. Even if they hurt at first, they are meant to represent how much he loves you, as they remain on your body for long periods of time. And when they start to disappear, he leaves more, sometimes biting down to the point where you think he'll eat you alive. It's okay, some panicked squeaks and "Mm! H-Hurts..." Will snap him out of the trance. He always feels so guilty until he licks at the wound. The taste of your blood is so sweet to him. It's addicting.

The only way to get him to realize his precious little bunny is also his one and only mate is to try to intertwine your fingers with his own. Tighnari taught you that it's what mates do to tell each other that their love is true and will last forever.

"For, rever?" You curiously asked one day, looking up at him during another breeding session. He almost came then and there from how adorable you looked, but managed to stop himself and halt his movements. "Even after your eyes close for a long time." Was his response, but it was more of a reminder to himself to rein his instincts in when he gets too far. He's taught you to trust and love him unconditionally. Even if he were to eat you alive someday, you'd still look at him with hazy and unfocused eyes filled with love and adoration.

He's drugged you to rely on him and only him, to see him as your mate. Tighnari knows that if anyone were to see you two now, you'd be taken away from him, as people would see this entire relationship as toxic and inhumane. But without him, you'd probably be in the hands of some degenerate pervert who couldn't even experience sex with a fellow human. To him, though, you weren't something to be used, but something that provided nourishment to both his body and soul.

And if you were to be moved away from him, he'd be no better than other hybrids that developed an attachment to their masters. After all, no matter how many times Tighnari may use you as he pleases, and how incapacitated he's made you with drugs, you are the only thing that can bring Tighnari to his knees.

It contradicts the way he treats you, but he truly wishes to see you happy while in his care. Even if you're not in the proper state of mind to realize that all of this is wrong and against your nature. That you have to run away from this man and live in a completely different country just to feel safe. But when he considers gradually decreasing the amount of drugs he has you on, he fears that the heaven he made for the two of you will completely disappear. And he'll have to eat you so the two of you can truly be together forever.

Tighnari has a feeling that a close friend of his knows about the secret he's kept from the other forest rangers, but seeing your tuckered out form laying in your shared nest, he decides that his friend would've stopped him a long time ago if they felt that his actions were truly wrong. But he can't help but consider a life with just you. The Withering has stopped appearing, and Collei's disease has been cured. Would it be ok to live in seclusion and succumb to his animal instincts?

"Mate..." You're calling out for him even in your dreams. He thinks you know when he's lost in his thoughts, as your actions bring him back to the present. Tighnari always sleeps with your naked bodies pressed closed together, to the point where one could consider it an attempt to strangle them. But you're used to it. Your body can tell when he doesn't have a protective grip on you, and you get really pouty in the mornings. He thinks it's adorable and apologizes by emptying several loads of his love into your body.

As Tighnari presses himself closer, nuzzling and licking at your cheeks, he wonders if he can make a potion that'll make you start lactating. When he succeeds, he'll consider finding a way to make you give birth to a healthy litter. And if there really is no way to make you compatible with his seed, he'll just fuck you enough times so your tummy stays round and full of him.

He doesn't mind pretending you're pregnant with his pups

#genshin au #genshin x gn reader #genshin x reader #hybrid au #.lurots #genshin hcs #genshin impact x reader #hybrid #yandere genshin #.luspicy #tighnari x gn reader #tighnari x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere tighnari #yandere tighnari x reader #genshin smut

[rippersz]

3. Lover’s Fear

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October Challenge Day 3: Lover’s Fear

(Lady Dimitrescu x Reader oneshot) (Threats and discomfort)

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Days had gone past with no talk at all.

No chatter.

No rumors and no notice taken of what was clearly out of place.

Maidens were gone - so where was the punishment?

Where was your chance to be indignant and rude and finally finally brave? Where was your chance to stick it to them? To tell them that you’d done what was previously seen as impossible and got the victims out?

Where was your chance to be the hero?

You’d grown disappointed and lazy in your time waiting. The days after your gesture were full of tense moments and fearful nights. Every dream turned into something dismal and grey and heavy with the weight of anxiety. But as the hours passed, and your soul went unharmed, you began to wonder if perhaps they just didn’t know it was you.

The maid numbers hadn’t dwindled though, not from what you could tell. Perhaps they were still investigating? But how? Your scent was all over those victims; put there from your proximity- when you pushed your hands onto their shoulders and arms and forced them to go forward through the tunnel. And you brushed past so many walls and walked upon so many of the long cobblestone floors in the dungeons and even, at one point, pressed yourself up against some of the blood-rusted torture devices so the girls could sneak past without rustling chains or equipment. Realistically speaking, they should have found you by now.

And yet? Not a fuckin peep.

Even the daughters fell into silence - which was so unusual that after weeks had gone by, you simply gave up. Clearly, there was no reason to wait around. Clearly, there was no reason to be tense and worried. Clearly, there would be no chance to throw the Dimitrescu’s cruelty back into their faces.

So you went on with your life.

You did your duties, you ate, you bathed, and slept, and were on time, and were just as good at your job as you had been the entire time. As though nothing was out of place. As though nothing had changed.

Until the day you realized that they did know.

They’d known the entire time.

All of them.

You were just a fool for believing otherwise.

A stupid, soon to be dead, fool.

—

You were retiring for bed, nearly limping your way over to the maids quarters as the castle’s bell-tower struck midnight. Technically, curfew was at nine, but you were a special case. The dishes, after all, would never clean themselves. And the kitchen, likewise, would never remain tidy on its own.

After a long day of working through the long corridors of Castle Dimitrescu, your feet were aching. They carried you far, keeping you upright, but you slowed down quite a bit once the trek to your comfortable bed became shorter and shorter. Exhaustion pulled at your sleeve, the most evil of all temptresses. And you were on your way to give into her, eager to feel the bliss of sleep - if it weren’t for the sudden shadow that fell over your body, blocking out the light of the lit candles behind you.

Your heart stumbled.

“Well, well…” the monster purred, “out after dark again are you, girl?” You could practically feel the way she tilted her head. “Surely you remember the rules, don’t you?”

You nodded, clasping your hands in front of you, all lingerings of sluggishness gone - replaced only by wild anxiety.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu. I was just cleaning the-”

“I don’t care,” was the quick response. Simple. Sharp. Dangerous. “I was looking for you. We have important matters to discuss.”

Oh.

You thought they’d forgotten.

You thought they didn’t catch you.

You thought it was a thing of the past.

Since the release of the old maidens, they got new ones.

No harm no foul. None of the previous ones had returned. You did a good job.

You did a good thing.

Whatever she’d do to you would be worth it.

“Whatever about, My Lady?”

But of course, only a safe woman thought like that.

There was a low grumble from behind you; gravelly and hissy and deep.

And you were not a safe woman.

There was a sudden pressure on your hips and waist, leaving bruises, leaving you without breath, as the world spun in one big loop and had you growing sick with dizziness. Your head went bonking off of the wall behind you. Your body was crushed against the hard surface, and saved only by the soft contrast of Lady Dimitrescu’s body.

She smelled so good… and she was so angry…

“Don’t play coy,” she spat, face hovering in front of yours, keeping your eyes connected as her gaze burned into a furious gold.

She was kneeling. She probably didn’t care enough to tug you up to her level. You’d seen her with other maids before; lifting them to her height, pressing them to walls and showing them the true extent of impending consequences. But your situation was new. And thus, uncharted. And thus, terrifying.

“You’re not as smart as you think you are, girl.” Lady Dimitrescu seethed, nostrils flared and nose scrunched and every muscle in her body tensed. “I could smell you everywhere.”

Then why did you wait so long?

You wanted to conjure up some bravery; you wanted to tug your heart into place; you wanted to tell her that you were glad you did it - but you couldn’t look at anything other than her eyes. And you couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of her chest. And you couldn’t think of anything other than how beautiful her lips looked when they were curled with fury.

“Are you proud of yourself? Hm? Do you think you made a difference?” She snarled, getting so close that you pressed the back of your head so hard against the wall, you thought you’d pass out.

The heat of her breath smelled like metal and death and smoke. You wanted to taste it. But that would never happen. And you would never make it out alive - not at that rate; not with the way her hands moved from your waist to land on either side of your head. Long fingers pressed to the wallpaper; palms as large as your skull lay flat next to your ears.

A silent warning.

A silent command.

Speak. Now.

“N-no, My Lady.” Hm. Interesting how courage fled in the face of Lady Dimitrescu’s ire.

But your submission wasn’t enough. A perfect eyebrow rose in mocking question.

“No?” Her velvet tone grew deep. “No? You don’t feel accomplished?” Her fingers shifted. “You don’t feel… relieved?” Two thumbs lined up with the sides of your strained neck. “You don’t feel… like a hero?” Gold eyes flashed. The sound of blades pulled from their sheaths went swinging into the tense silence.

And you could feel your pulse stutter.

I’m going to die.

I’m going to die.

It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it at all. Please don’t do this. Please don’t punish me for my foolishness.

But you couldn’t speak. And you couldn’t plead your case - or beg for mercy - hell, you could barely breathe.

The sharp tips of her thumb’s nails hovered above the thin skin of your neck. So close, you could feel the hairs rise to greet the predator’s intrusion.

If you spoke, you’d die. If you swallowed, you’d die. If you breathed just a little too hard, you’d die.

So the only thing left to do was listen.

“If you ever try something like that again, girl,” The Lady of the House whispered, her voice soft and slow, “and if you ever think that you can get away with it,” the blades felt cold against your neck- pushed only half a centimeter away from your arteries, “then you will suffer a fate far worse than death. Am I understood?”

She pulled away to get a better look at you; to pierce your eyes with her own; to write your contract out in soul instead of blood.

You weren’t sure why she hadn’t killed you, but there was no use in questioning.

All you could do was agree.

So you nodded- a snail’s pace up and down- until Lady Dimitrescu pulled her thumbs away from your neck and allowed you to breathe air freely again. Your eyes burned with the effort to stay quiet.

“Good. Remember this moment the next time you want to obey. And understand it won’t end well for you.” And just like that, while you were busy blinking yourself away from near death, The Lady of the House disappeared - leaving you alone, sporting two points of raw red skin on either side of your neck.

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Awkward thumbs up - Rip x

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#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #ripleysoctchallenge #lady alcina dimitrescu fanfic #lady Alcina #lady alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu

[tomatette]

Prompt #10 - Found Footage @huxloween

Virus

The utterly unremarkable datapad with the footage found in a deserted research station on the remote and utterly unremarkable moon, quite aptly and utterly unremarkably named DS2344, has been lying on the ever-growing stack of status reports and files to review on his desk for a couple of days now.

Usually, Hux would have longs since taken care of it. It’s unlike him to leave work unfinished for more than a cycle. But with a good quarter of the Finalizer’s crew being out of commission due to a virus that had them all coughing and sneezing for half a week now, paperwork has not exactly been his top priority.

He doesn’t exactly stumble into his quarters after another long and stressful double-shift, but it’s a close call. He only allows himself a little show of weakness, when the door is securely closed behind him, though. With a deep sigh he leans against the cold durasteel and closes his eyes.

“Tired?”

He startles. Another sign of just how exhausted he is. There’s no way he wouldn’t have realized he’s not alone in his quarters under any other circumstances. As it is, he allows his shoulders to sag forward and accepts his defeat. “Dead on my feet, to be honest.”

“C’mere.” Ren opens his arms in an unspoken invitation that Hux doesn’t hesitate to accept. He breathes a little lighter, once he’s safely enveloped in Ren’s embrace, his heartbeat in his ears and his warmth surrounding him. “You should rest.”

Hux shakes his head. “Impossible. There is far too much to do. If you haven’t noticed, half our crew is unfit for duty. I can’t just slack off and ignore my responsibilities.”

Ren hums. “You’ll be of no help if you collapse in the middle of a briefing due to exhaustion.”

With a scoff, he pushes away from Ren. “Don’t be so kriffing dramatic. I’m not going to collapse, but if you’re really so worried about me, you can help me get this sorted.” He points to his desk. “Why don’t you start with some of the reports while I go over the emergency crew roster.”

Ren relents. He knows by now which battles are worth fighting, and which aren’t. When it comes to his work, Hux will always give it his all. So he takes a couple of datapads and settles down on the arm chair next to the desk, and starts reading.

He’s half-way through his stack when he finds the one with the footage from DS2344, and after watching it for a mere minute, he pauses the video, frowning in alarm.

“Hux? You’ll better come and watch this.”

“Can’t it wait?” Hux asks without even looking up from his data sheet. "I'm in the middle of something here."

“No. It cannot.” Ren gets up, stalks over to the desk and hands the datapad to Hux. Then he leans over Hux’s shoulder and urges him with an impatient motion of his hand, to start the footage.

At first, there’s not much to be seen. Grainy grey and white, then, suddenly, the face of a man appears on camera.

“Hurry up, they’re coming,” a hushed voice from somewhere behind the man whispers.

The camera footage shakes slightly, when the camera switches hands. “This is Elron Tiffin,” the man in front of the camera says, his voice low but urgent. “I’m the leading head-scientist of the biological research station Vomentis II, and when you’re seeing this, I’m probably dead, along with every other living soul on this stars-forsaken moon. And this warning is probably going to come too late for you, as well, but I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do. I …”

A resounding bang lets both, Hux and Ren, startle violently.

The next moment, the camera is jerked around harshly, and now shows a blue-painted door, shaking in its hinges when the next blow comes.

“They’re almost here.” Elron Tiffin’s face comes into focus again. His eyes have a wild sort of shine to them, his face is pale, safe for two slashes of red coloring his cheeks. “I know embarrassingly little of the events that have led to this. All I can tell you is that less than a week ago, the first staff members started to come down with the symptoms of a common cold. At that point, we didn’t think overly much of it. People get ill, and in an enclosed space like the one we occupy, those sicknesses spread like wildfire.” The next bang to the door is accompanied by a high, screeching sound, and then … something like a groan? A moan? Hux can’t quite put his fingers on it, but he knows it sends a chill down his spine.

He looks up at Ren, who seems transfixed by the video footage.

“Then, yesterday, the first of those who had caught the virus reported back for duty again. It was then, that the first of them shifted.” Tiffin barks a laugh that sounds almost hysterical. “It probably sounds completely mad, but I swear, this is exactly how it happened. One moment, they were still themselves, and the next …”

When the door suffers the next attack, duracrete dust rains onto the floor. Another loud clang, and the top right of the door just folds like it’s flimsi instead.

“Stars help us,” Tiffin whispers.

Then the door gives, and Hux and Ren see hands with long, sinewy fingers and bony joints push through the opening.

The next moment, the camera clatters to the floor but keeps filming the nondescript white-grey ceiling of the room. What is more remarkable though, are the noises the device captures.

Screams of pain and terror, mixed with the terrible sound of rending flesh …

“What …” Hux has to clear his throat twice, before he’s able to get out another word. “Ren, what the kriffing hell was that?”

Ren shakes his head. He looks exactly as horrified as Hux is feeling. “I don’t know, but …”

There’s a bang against the door - his door, here on the FInalizer! - that has them both jump to their feet in alarm.

“Ren …” Hux swallows.

Ren takes his lightsaber from where it is attached to his belt, and flicks it on. “Stay behind me,” he says, starting to walk toward the door, but Hux grabs him by the wrist of his free arm and pulls him closer.

Thinking how this might be the last time he gets a chance to do this, he raises to his tiptoes and kisses Ren, breathlessly. Desperately.

When they part, they’re both breathing heavily.

Maybe it’s just Mitaka behind that door, wanting to make sure he actually went to his quarters for his much needed rest cycle. Or it is …

“Together,” he whispers.

With a nod, Ren’s hand goes for the door opener.

#huxloween2023 #huxloween #found footage #armitage hux #general hux #kylo ren #kylux #mine #tw: violence #tw: violent death #allthestuffimade

[sytortuga]

Deafening silence

General summary: Pre-canon. Din goes to the Wild Space on a mission to capture a Kaleesh bounty. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he didn't expect the mission to have permanent consequences on his life.

Warnings: poisoning, general violence, animal attack, animal injury, depictions of sickness, hallucinations, permanent nerve damage, permanent consequences on way of life. Some warnings are omitted to avoid spoilers. Proceed with care if any of the above are triggering subjects.

Author's notes: I'm so excited to contribute to this @ailesswhumptober!!! This work wouldn't have never happened without the talented @itzagoodthing, who's been the brainstorming partner in crime: contributed with many ideas, did tons of editing and proof reading. It has been sooooo much fun!!! I'm very grateful 🤩

This will be a 3 chapter fic. Upcoming chapters will come soon! Posted here, but you can also read it in AO3 if you prefer.

Happy whumptober 2023 everybody!

Chapter 1/3: The Bounty

Din woke up with a start. For a second he couldn’t figure out where he was. It was surely not the Crest. He closed his eyes, listening to the noises around him: the Covert, its members surely starting along with their day. The sound of heavy steps up and down the hallway leading to his quarters. That was certainly what had woken him up. He felt tired, but forced his eyes open. With the strong Imperial presence in the sector, the decision of going out one at a time needed to be taken, he knew it, and accepted it. The knowledge of their numbers needed to be concealed, hidden from the enemy to protect their covert’s whereabouts. But under such circumstances, the task of being beroya, the tribe’s provider, was starting to weigh and to take a toll on him.

Physically he felt exhausted. Their numbers were slowly growing, often taking in foundlings, or, more rarely, taking in the remaining members of other tribes that had been destroyed by Imperials in the effort of completing the Mandalorian Purge. They counted on him to gain enough credits to supply for the needs of the Tribe. But the toll was more than physical. Being almost continuously away from the Covert, his nearly complete absence to the daily activities and interactions with the other members of his Tribe, spending almost all his time alone in the Crest, started to take a toll also on his soul. He knew all this, but had promised himself not to dwell on it. Being the Hunter was his mission. He would stand up to his station.

Finding the strength to get himself up from his cot, Din put on his armor and pulled aside the curtain separating his quarters from what was now a busy Covert. He navigated the network of corridors. Sewers. He hated that they had been pushed to hide in the sewers. Everyone hated it but they all implicitly trusted that better times would come.

Moving towards the exit, Din crossed several other Mandalorians, who just watched him pass. None greeted him, so he simply acknowledged their presence and continued his stoic walk through the corridors. He was clearly spending too much time away. A deep sensation of being a foreigner in his own Covert made him quicken his pace. He exited behind Nevarro’s market stands, which were just starting to exhibit their goods, and made it to his ship.

Settling himself in the cockpit, he set up the coordinates to Nirauan. He didn’t need to check the three bounty pucks he had picked up from Karga the night before upon delivery of the previous assets. He didn’t think twice about getting the three highest bounties on the table. Unsurprisingly, they were all in the Wild Space Territories. And the high price was not for no reason: those were dangerous and distant worlds on which not much information was available. And on top of that, the fuel was very expensive these days. But desperate times made him take high stake bounties, so Nirauan, and the Kaleesh mercenary who he was after, was set to be his first mission.

As it had become a habit, Din spent his time in hyperspace preparing his gear and tuning his armor. Upon arrival to the Grandilis sector he quickly set course to the second of the worlds composing the Nirauan system. This was the first time he was in Nirauan, and the vibrant green cover of the planet struck him. Even if he risked being detected, he made a couple of passes around the last known location of the asset. Din figured it would be difficult to move through the dense forest and thus needed to pinpoint the best area to look for the asset. He landed several klicks away as the jungle-like environment covered most of the surface of the planet. The puck indicated the bounty was probably hiding in a partially destroyed fortress, where he detected numerous life forms.

“Calvrilhy pirates,” Din thought. If his information was correct, they took over the ruins of the fortress when it was destroyed by Rebels.

After securing the Crest, Din followed the puck's coordinates. Crossing the jungle he arrived at the base of the fortress. He knelt behind a large tree and got out his amban rifle. Through the scope, he scouted the compound. Several pirates were keeping guard at strategic posts, probably alerted by his survey of the planet. He presumed many more should be inside. He couldn't possibly take on all of them.

"This mission is going to be worth every single credit," he thought to himself, and decided to wait for the cover of night to infiltrate and search for his bounty inside.

Din couldn't believe his luck when, upon what looked like a shift change, a Kaleesh took over the easternmost post. The puck confirmed it. It was his asset.

Covertly, he approached the nearest wall and, after firing his grappling hook, started climbing the wall. Din had nearly reached the top when he saw that his asset had turned his back to him. Jumping to the top of the wall, Din’s movements were swift as he put the Kaleesh in a headlocked and pressed his blaster to the alien's forehead.

"Don't make a sound," Din whispered in the man's ear.

Shocked, the bounty remained quiet for a couple of seconds before he started struggling against Din's hold.

"You'll never get into the compound," the bounty said.

"Don't need to; I already have what I want," he whispered back.

"I won't come with you, bounty hunter."

"I can bring you in warm… or I can bring you in cold. Prize won't change. Your choice".

Din pinned the man against a nearby wall, and cuffed his hands to his back. Looking around to make sure his actions had not alerted anyone, he unrolled his whipcord. After securing the hook to the outer wall, he used the other end to tie the man’s ankles together.

"Wait", the man said, "what the hell are you going to…"

He didn't have time to say anything else. With one strong movement the Mandalorian shoved him over the edge of the fortress. The man screamed all the way down. The line stopped the quarry barely a meter above the ground. The Mandalorian quickly climbed down the line. He needed to act fast. The bounty’s screams had alerted the rest of the men guarding the compound. When reaching the ground, he unhooked the man from the line and stored away his gear.

Din pushed the Kaleesh towards the jungle in the direction of the Crest. There was movement starting to build behind them. The beginning of a searching party, he presumed.

Remaining focused, the Mandalorian kept directing the bounty towards his ship when heard a whistling sound coming from the depths of the jungle. His HUD didn’t give any signs of humanoid presence, and he discarded the possibility of a threat. Din increased his pace nevertheless. That was until the bounty gave him a wicked smile before whistling back in the same direction. Picking up on a certain cadence in the man’s whistling put the Mandalorian on high alert. He pressed the end of his blaster to the bounty's back and encouraged the man forward.

"Enough with the noise," Din threatened.

As they continued towards the ship, the bounty suddenly looked into the shadows and whistled once again.

"I said, enough!"

But the Mandalorian barely had the time to finish his word when, from between the trees, stepped out a small globulous green creature. Standing on two long and thin legs, its eight eyes stared directly at Din. It growled menacingly as it slowly approached Din.

In a rush of adrenaline, the Mandalorian shot the creature, which caused no apparent harm, the blasts bouncing off the animal’s skin. Clearly aggravated, it quickenedits approach on Din. Through the corner of his eye, the Mandalorian saw that the Kaleesh was trying to flee using the creature's attack as distraction, but Din shot him in one leg, making him fall with a loud thud to the ground. At the same time, he hit the ground himself, pushed by the blunt force of the animal jumping on him.

Pinned by the green creature, Din managed to turn around and use his vambraces to protect himself from its large teeth. Saliva formed in the mouth of the animal. The instant it hit the Mandalorian’s flight suit, the scent of burned fabric hit him, followed by an intense pain as the acidic fluids reached his skin. The Mandalorian found himself screaming with pain at the same time as the animal sank its large claws in his arm to prevent Din from escaping. Din activated his whistling birds, and half a dozen of projectiles hit the green animal.

At first, the animal seemed to reduce his pressure on him, and Din used the opportunity to roll away from the creature. Seeing it was still alive, with no apparent intention of retreating, the Mandalorian attacked it again, now with his vibroblade in hand, and stabbed it repeatedly. But breaking the creature’s skin caused it to release a gas that took Din by surprise.

Having an extremely strong smell to it, Din instinctively activated the seal in his helmet, not before breathing a small amount of the gas. With the creature now immobile on the ground, Din got back on his feet, panting. He allowed himself a few seconds to evaluate his status, what hurt, and if any injury required immediate attention. He got distracted by the noise of other people in the jungle. The search party was getting near. They needed to move.

He went back to the Kaleesh, who was lying on his back and smiling cockily.

"You got a good dose of my Divvik's gas back there. How are you feeling?" the Kaleesh asked.

"Stand up and move," was Din's only response, but the man didn't make any effort to stand.

The Mandalorian's patience now clearly exhausted, Din bent and grabbed the man's flighsuit collar forcing him to stand and, despite the man’s limp, pushed him again in the direction of the Crest. Din felt his limbs getting heavier, pain and exhaustion suddenly invading. He thought that to be weird, since normally adrenaline should be keeping him in working condition for some time longer. But he knew they needed to get off-world, and fast. His mission was close to being completed, but Din felt like he could fall asleep right there on his feet. By the time he could see the Crest between the trees, his vision started getting blurry. Having his goal in sight motivated him to push harder despite feeling weaker with each step. The Kaleesh noticed how he was struggling and was now outwardly laughing.

"You won't make it out of this planet alive," the bounty said.

The Mandalorian stopped for a minute and searched in his belt. Bringing out a stimshot, he thrusted the syringe into his thigh and emptied its contents, hoping that it would help him with the last dozens of meters and the take-off. Without waiting for the effect of the shot to set in, he immediately pocketed the syringe and restarted the painful task of pushing his asset to the Crest.

After what seemed like an eternity to Din, they reached the ship. He pushed the bounty into the hold, making him hit the ground. With the asset’s hands still bound behind his back, the Mandalorian quickly bound his feet as well before he tumbled to reach the ladder leading to the cockpit. It took a lot of his remaining strength to climb up but he made it and dropped himself into the pilot's chair. He could notice himself starting to feel confused. He needed to start the take-off sequence, a process which he had internalized so deeply with his years of service to the point of it being automatic. But at that very moment he realized he couldn’t remember if the ion flux stabilizers needed to be activated before the main engine pre-heating and ignition command. Panicking, he started to hyperventilate. He recognized he was losing control, there was no way he'd ever forget the take off sequence which was simply muscle memory to him by that point. There was something really going on.

"Keep it together, Djarin," he whispered to himself.

Din closed his eyes and breathed calmly and deeply. He needed to regain control of his emotions. Focusing, he went through the sequence again, the engines came online as he saw the pirate search party coming out of the woods on his starboard side. Blaster fire rebounded off the Crest's hull as Din pulled the ship up, engaged the thrusters, and set course towards the atmosphere.

He felt himself dozing off. His head was pounding, and his ears rang to the point of almost not being capable of hearing the usual and reassuring humming of his ships engines. The biosensors integrated in his armor told him he was starting to be bradycardic and hypotensive. He input the coordinates back to Nevarro on his navicomputer. There was one thing he clearly knew at this point: unless the effects of whatever product he inhaled back on Nirauan miraculously got out of his system, he wouldn’t be able to work the other two bounties he was set to capture in the Wild Space Territories.

Once he hit hyperspace, he dragged himself down to the cargo hold. The Bounty was now sitting against one of the walls. He looked at Din as he stumbled down the ladder.

"How are you feeling?" the Bounty asked with a grin. "I'll admit that I'm impressed. With the amount of toxin you got, I would have bet you'd be dead by now and I would be the happy owner of a… Razor Crest is it?" He said, looking around as if admiring a new acquisition.

"Get up," the Mandalorian ordered.

Grinning, the Kaleesh looked slowly up to Din with a defiant look, with no intention of moving.

"I said, UP!" Din was screaming now. He was tired, needed to tend to himself, and this bounty was just determined to test the limits of his patience.

Upon seeing no reaction from his bounty, he grabbed him by the collar of his flight suit and forced him once more to stand up. Making the Kaleesh take a couple of steps backwards, he set the man in the carbon-freezing chamber.

"No! NO! WAIT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" The man screamed, realizing what was about to happen.

The man, despite being bound from hands and feet, fought as hard as he could to get out of the Mandalorian's hold. Din continued to shuffle through the chamber’s controls as he pushed the man against the block. He was barely doing this by touch, his sight was getting blurrier, he could barely discern the buttons if it weren't for the colors flashing.

The man continued fighting, trying to get away from the carbonite chamber. Seeing the little effect this was having, he violently headbutted the Mandalorian. Despite being protected by the Beskar, the action didn't help the Mandalorian's pounding headache.

"YOU CAN'T PUT ME IN CARBONITE!"

With all the ringing in Din's ears he wouldn't have heard the Bounty if it wasn't for how loud he was screaming. Finally losing patience, Din grabbed the man by his neck, and looking straight into the man's eyes from behind his visor, he whispered coldly, "Watch me".

"YOU'RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE AND I WILL BE TRAPPED IN HERE, IN A SHIP ADRIFT IN SPACE, FOREVER."

Din punched the final button that activated the chamber and the bounty was finally frozen.

Once the Carbonite cloud started clearing and the chamber stopped its hissing, the gravity of the situation hit Din full force. He stumbled backwards until hitting the wall of the cargo hold and let himself slide down to a sitting position. His ears were ringing so hard it made him dizzy and nauseous. His left arm and leg started to feel numb. Letting his head rest on his knees he forced his foggy mind to reason and evaluate his situation: the bounty mentioned the name of the creature that had attacked him, but feeling increasingly confused, made it difficult to recall the name. One thing he was sure of, is that he hadn't seen or heard of it before. He also recalled the bounty talking about a toxic gas. Nerve toxin, Din reasoned based on his symptoms. He knew he could treat nerve toxins. But how?

The task of concentrating was getting harder. Growling in frustration, Din told himself to think. He knew his trade often worked with a neurotoxic species. What was it? He knew he carried treatment against their stings. Nasty little bugs. What was their name? He couldn't recall.

Not important, Din thought. Now, treatment. He knew he carried something against their stings when he worked the Outer Rim and the Wild Space. Where would he keep the shots? Time was important now, he knew this in the back of his head. Where. Concentrate on the where. The bunk. He kept his med kit in his bunk.

Get to the bunk. The idea turned around in his head, over and over again. Medkit, that was his goal. It was getting increasingly difficult to think. Was this toxin affecting him that fast? Or how long had he actually been sitting there? He tried to make his body move, get up from the ground. His left side wouldn't cooperate enough for him to stand up. Rolling himself onto his right side, he managed getting to his knees and then achieved a resemblance of verticality. Dragging his left side he aimed at getting to his bunk, supporting himself on the crates stowed on the side of the hold.

Din was now sweating profusely. The stimshot's effects were wearing out, he felt the backlash of the effects of whatever he had inhaled. Fumbling with his bunk's control panel, he opened the door and reached for his medkit, emptying its contents on the cot. For a moment, he couldn't recall what he was looking for. He continued ruffling the contents of his medkit. Shots. He was looking for a shot. Of what? He found a couple of stimshots. No, that wasn't it. He wasn't sure he knew anymore what he was looking for. He kept looking through the contents of the kit until he found a small box with vials labeled "Atropine - Kouhuns".

Kouhuns, yes. That's what the neurotoxic bugs were called. If he had a chance at surviving whatever he had inhaled, this was it. He fumbled to load a syringe with the contents of one of the vials, struggling to help himself with his barely working left hand. Din clumsily removed his left vambrace. He expected a loud noise to come from when it hit the ground, but never heard it with the overwhelming ringing of his ears. He rolled up the sleeve of his flight suit and tried injecting the counteragent intravenously without any success.

Frustrated, Din sat back and took a deep breath. He blinked hard several times, trying to clear his vision and then tried one more time. Sure that he had gotten it right that time, he injected the atropine. He never saw the syringe fall from his hand. He never felt it when he hit the ground.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #paz Vizsla #young din djarin #young paz vizsla #the armorer #bounty hunting #injury #whump #ailesswhumptober2023 #prompt 1 #day 1: poisson

[supernovafeather]

A New Start

FO!Poe Dameron x F!FO!Poe Dameron

Summary : After all their adventures together, Poe and Reader try to find a new purpose.

Content : mutual pining, love confession, angst, fluff.

Please reblog if you liked it !

It was all over but at the end, nothing changed. Poe could watch the rain pouring down the muddy roads on his porch for hours and hours and still no change would get noticed. Planets would rotate at the same speed, life and death would keep dancing with each other endlessly, languages and cultures would keep on changing, disappearing and appearing. The Commander felt empty but not exactly sad or melancholic or tired. This war exhausted his mind and body more than he thought it would but it didn't explain that fully. Instead of looking for answers, he watched the rain falling of the skies. He liked it now and felt as if he aged prematurely by a few years only an hour after the official Firsts Orders's victory over the Resistance. His soldiers present on the base danced and sang along in a muffled and chaotic combination of different level of talent and drunkenness.

"Oh look at who's there."

Poe grinned as he stared at a half-destroyed TIE stranded far away and stuck in the mud accumulating around it. He could play the old school Commander scolding you for drinking so much with your male counterparts but it was none of his will. He heard you crashing loudly against a piece of furniture, and let you sat down by his side, a bottle in your hand and your pilot outfit completely soaked.

"What happened to you," he asked as he noticed all the dirt glued to the bottom of your pants. "Uh… fell from a window. I bet I could get on the base roof but it didn't work."

The Commander watched you quietly as you started to drink from your bottle again, needing to rest an arm behind you to hold you still. Despite the alcohol scent following you there was something wild he appreciated with you tonight. Careless, far from the most anxious but also deadly pilot of his squadron. Your growth under his wing had been impressive.

"I see you know how to celebrate," he commented half-heartedly. "Come on sir, you're the first one to know how to have fun come with me."

Slightly disconnected from this moment, he let you grab his hand, get on your knees then try to stand up in vain, falling back onto your buttocks. You groaned of frustration then tried again, unsuccessfully.

"Don't worry," he started to taunt, "tomorrow you'll learn how to walk again." "Great because I need to go back to the party. Oh wait no. I wanted to tell you."

Curious, he watched you kneeling in front of him, your eyes right above his as he waited for your next sentence.

"You're the best. Like… thank you Commander for leading us to victory," you said in a slurred voice, "I thought I'd die dozens of times throughout that stupid war but with you by our side it wouldn't have felt vain. You gave us all a purpose. And Maker, it's beautiful. I left my farm for a great squadron, a great Commander and a great team. So… please go to the party with me you need to have fun."

He smiled a little more, allowing himself to get a closer and tender look at your sleepy face.

"Thank you soldier. I appreciate your honesty. It was an honor to serve with you." "I don't want it to end," you sobbed.

Thanks to his flawless reflexes he grabbed you right before you could hit the floor of his quarters and managed to rest your bottle without spilling too much of its content. Confused by your sudden breakdown he then took the bottle firmly in his hand to put it far away from you, on a table before sitting back down next to your sobbing form.

"Sh, what's going on little one," he whispered with a quick embrace, "what's going on there?"

After the longest series of hiccups he had ever heard he managed to decipher your answer while feeling your arm grabbing his waist in a powerful hug.

"I don't want to leave that family I want to keep on flying with you all." "But the war is over. We won. Our mission is over." "I don't care I don't want it to be over I want it to keep going so I can still defend our squadron."

Despite the few sentences following he was unable to understand, Poe kept you close to him, rocking you back and forth slowly. It was certainly not comfortable for you but your drunkenness allowed this. Lying there face against his chest, your arms weakened.

"We are all alive and well," he commented, "you are safe, uninjured. You are really lucky after all the heart attacks you gave me." "I serve no purpose now."

He froze, looking down at the mop of messy hair ight under his chin as you struggled to find a better position in his arms. You called down but remained in his embrace as he finally got the words on his feelings.

"What do you mean?" "I left my lovely farm for the First Order. I found a purpose by training hard to defend my land that still got destroyed despite my efforts. But I found you and the others. We had a common goal. We killed, scouted and conquered together. Nigel wants to start a shop. Nalem wants to open a garage. Fay'l wants to get rich by selling Resistance objects. I don't know what I want to do. And you ?" "I… don't really have an answer to that," he confessed. "Well that sucks. Well you'll get a higher job I. The First Order, maybe you'll lead the next war. Good for you, you deserve a better salary for what those rebel assholes did to us all. I love it when good people get what they deserve. Money. Fame." "Does loneliness scare you?"

It did scare him now that he put his finger on what caused that uneasiness in him. You sighed, struggled for a while at trying to lift yourself up against him and he put a strand of hair out of your glassy eyes.

"Maker I wish I had your talent so I could lead my own squadron and make you proud and keep my living friends with me because right now I'm scared of everything." "Come here."

He was sobbing too but in silence. Finally someone that understood his own pain. He saw arriving to the first tests with big intimidated eyes to become a deadly weapon after a few months under his command. He felt useful at molding you into something capable of surviving on the frontline and able to feel that camaraderie for your fellow pilots. He wished he could have given the weapons necessary to prepare for the aftermath. But after all himself had no idea he would see the end of this war.

"I'm proud of you for everything you've accomplished," he said as he crossed your gaze, "I only guided you. Determination, motivation, discipline… you did most of it. You were the one shooting. You dodged enough times to survive. You learnt everything in time and protected us all. I do owe you my own life, several times." "But same for me sir and…" "We are a team. And trust me you are not the kind of soldier I would forget anytime soon. And yes I mean it as a compliment."

Your huge smile caused his to reappear. Tears ran down his cheeks in torrents but more because your eyes got smaller.

"Oops. I think I love you now," you whined.

Flattered, he left that warmth spreading in his chest at your words. It felt incredibly good to welcome it instead of ignoring it. I was free to feel.

"Don't talk nonsense please, you drank a lot," he replied with his same smile. "Still. I think I'm in love. Not really professional." "Who cares about professionalism right now?" "Well now that's hot."

Relieved to hear and feel your laugh against his chest, he rubbed your back. He liked to do such a simple thing to support you and also to appreciate the effect he had on you right now. Flirting with random cute girls in cantinas or in the different bases he's been on had never brought him so much joy.

"Are you in love too," you whispered as you looked up at him. "What do you think of it?"

Now feeling as light as if he was capable of walking on clouds, he sent you the most seductive face he could make. Repressing a laugh at your focused features and narrowed eyes to get a clear view of him, he ended up cracking up at the same time as you, his nerves finally erasing all that tensions accumulated for months little by little.

"What? What did I do," he asked. "I don't know, you exist and it's wonderful already." "Oh stop stealing my phrases, I'll have to flirt with more classical lines now." "So… so do you want to flirt with me?" "Maker, as if I could say no to the cutest girl alive. Look at you."

Your uncharacteristic giggle made him proud.

"Stop I'm not as good as I could be at it," you complained with a faint slap on his chest. "Give it a try, believe in yourself. Show me your full potential."

After a few seconds of a confused babbling from you, he finally understood something as your fingers played with your top, staring down.

"If I opened a new farm I'd like it to be with you. I know you're not the kind of guy that would like that kind of lifestyle but… I don't know you would be cute like that." "Well if you think I might be cute then it must be true," he laughed. "I mean you're handsome and hot but cuteness would really suit you on a farm." "And you're beautiful and hot and cuteness suits you."

After a painless punch in his chest he sent you one back, making you laugh as you fell backwards. He had no interest in getting further physically due to your state but taunting you felt great. Amazing even. He will try again tomorrow, but tonight you needed some water, a shower, clean clothes and a good sleep. And after that, a new and fresh start.

- - - -

@queen-of-elves

@qrjung

#lovely anon #poe dameron #fo!poe dameron #oscar isaac

[elsanna-shenanigans]

November/October 2023 Contest Submission #1: Pull of the Tide

Words: 3,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: no Content: angst, Anna teasing Elsa about sex dreams

*****

Anna doesn’t slam the driver’s side door. Normally, she would – it’s been a long, hot day in an even hotter car with no AC – but she closes it as gently as she can, takes the few steps around to the passenger side door, opens it, and crouches.

“Elsa?” Her hand settles on her sister’s bare knee, and she smiles when those crystal clear, blue eyes flutter open and settle on her in sleepy recognition. “Hey.”

“Mh.” There’s a sluggishly hidden yawn, and Elsa takes a second to blink at their surroundings. “What time is—Anna.” A low, exhausted groan. “You were supposed to wake me hours ago!”

“You just said you don’t know what time it is.”

“But I do know the difference between sunlight and moonlight.” Two fingers come up to tweak Anna’s slightly sunburned nose, and Elsa sighs. “You’ve been driving since lunch.”

“Yeah, well… heat’s harder on you.” Anna pushes herself to a stand; crossing her arms and stepping away from the car. “And maybe I feel guilty for getting us lost in the first place.”

“You also made sure we had a full tank of gas this morning, not to mention several bottles of water.” A soft ‘click’ signals the seatbelt being undone, and it doesn’t take long before Elsa is standing beside her; still sounding a little sleep-drunk, but peering through the narrow tree line with interest. “And now you’ve found a lake?”

“Near a road that’s actually paved, even if it’s patchy as hell.” With a grimace, Anna pulls her sweat-dampened hair free of its low ponytail. “It’s progress, right? Maybe we’ll get signal again soon.” It’s her turn to sigh this time. “Even if we have to sleep in the car.”

“Or you could sleep while I drive.” An arm comes up to curl around her shoulders, and Anna lets her sister pull her into a side-hug while she tries not to notice how it makes her heart climb up the inside of her throat until it’s basically using her uvula as a punching bag. “I think that’s only fair.”

“Bossy.” Anna nudges her with an elbow mostly to have an excuse to extract herself, and starts off towards the lake before lazily tossing the keys over her shoulder. “Coming?”

A muffled jingle tells her that they’re caught. “Warn a girl,” Elsa grouses, and there’s the soft, hurried crunch of her footsteps, followed by the slamming of the car door and the low ‘clunk’ of it locking.

“Right.” Anna settles the hair tie around her wrist before grabbing the bottom hem of her t-shirt and pulling it over her head in one go. “We haven’t seen another human being since this morning, but sure; can’t be too careful. Bambi and his friends may have taken to a life of crime to make ends m—hey!” The definite snap of something against her backside makes her hop forward, but at least she doesn’t trip over anything. “Rude.”

“Uh huh.” The tank top has settled over Elsa’s arm by the time she catches up, and Anna firmly keeps her eyes on the lake. “Is this where you tell me what’s been going on with you, or is it still not the right time?”

‘The right time’ would ideally be never, so Anna veers off when they clear the tree line; heading for a rocky outcrop that slopes up out of the ground and into the water, and trying to not hear the soft sigh behind her.

It had been a good idea at the time. A short(ish) road trip for just the two of them; not only to mark Anna completing her first year of college, but to let Elsa do at least one ‘wild’ thing before she officially entered adult life. Time for them to rebuild the connection that had admittedly stretched a little thin, and to get to know each other better as adults.

And if there’s one thing Anna knows? If you’re crushing hard on someone, nothing will kill that crush faster than forced, close quarters and unpredictable stressors. It worked every other time, so of course it isn’t working now that she really, really needs it to.

Anna toes off her dusty sneakers and sets them on a relatively not-dusty patch of rock. Somewhere behind her, she can hear her sister go through much the same process, and she concentrates on unbuttoning her shorts when a long, slender arm deposits Elsa’s small pile of clothing – much more neatly folded – in her peripheral vision.

She could try to think of it as Elsa in a bikini instead of Elsa in her underwear, but… yeah, that wouldn’t help. So no; better to avoid the issue as long as possible.

The soft sound of moving water is another excellent reason to keep her back turned, and Anna takes the time to fold her clothes properly because it’s as good an excuse as any to focus on something else.

And she might as well not have, of course, she realizes when she finally does turn, because putting off the sight doesn’t make the reality of it hit her any less hard.

Elsa is submerged up to her waist, and stands there under the moonlight with her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face. The overheated flush she was sporting has receded, and only continues to fade further under Anna’s watchful gaze until her sister’s skin regains its normal, pale tones and she looks – for all the world – like the moon personified come down for a lazy, late-night swim.

Then Elsa lowers herself fully into the water. She cranes her head back until only her face and a section of her throat is visible, and the water surrounding her moves gently as she brings her hands up to rake through her submerged hair.

It must feel nothing short of blissful, because the soft, pleased groan travels through the still, night air with alarming clarity, and Anna about swallows her own tongue.

So, revision: it hadn’t been a good idea at the time. It was a fucking awful idea then and it’s an even worse one now, because if Elsa is the moon, then Anna is the tide; separate but connected, and endlessly, helplessly pulled to her in ways she has no hope of controlling.

… and that is way too much teenage angst for someone pushing 20, so Anna takes a deep breath, strides into the water and dunks herself; crouching on the lake bed with her arms wrapped around her knees, and hoping that maybe the cool water will help clear her head.

It would be easier if it was only a matter of desire, or if they weren’t sisters. But it isn’t and they are, and so the only option Anna has is to shove it all down as far as she can, and hope that eventually, it’ll go away.

(It hasn’t yet, and not for a lack of trying.)

At least in a few more weeks, Elsa will be starting the job she landed before even graduating because of course she did, which means that she’ll be moving. Far enough away that they probably won’t see each other outside the traditional holidays, which should make everything easier.

(Except that it will make everything much, much harder.)

She’s perfectly content to stay underwater for as long as her lung capacity will allow – avoidance has worked well enough so far and she sees no need to mess with an at least relatively successful formula – but Elsa, of course, is a factor too.

She gets the warning of the water moving before there are hands closing around her upper arms, and then she is hoisted back above the surface and into the very vivid reality of her older sister standing a scant foot in front of her; barely decent, dripping wet, and platinum hair turned almost silver in the moonlight.

“Anna.” Those gentle hands release her arms and lift to cradle her face instead, and Elsa’s eyes are pained and frightened and pleading. “Will you just tell me what I did?”

“… did?” There is least a small blessing to be found in how those hands are keeping her eyes focused on her sister’s face. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Elsa’s voice tightens in frustration, and her fingers curl until their tips are pressing into the skin behind Anna’s jaw. “You’ve been so distant and quiet this entire trip, and I just—” A pause, and slow, trembling exhale that warms the lower half of Anna’s face. “… did I say something in my sleep? Today, or earlier?”

“Wh—” Anna blinks, but considers the question; for one because Elsa is the one asking, and for another because it’s something to think about that isn’t a halfway-panicked loop of ‘eyes up’. “I—well, you mumbled about chocolate, but what else is new, right?”

“… right.” There is nothing new about that, and yet even in the moonlight it’s clear that Elsa is blushing.

That’s another something to think about that’s at least less to do with her being nearly naked, and Anna seizes it gratefully. “Elsa, did you have a naughty dream?” The deepening blush and abrupt widening of those eyes is answer enough. “Oh my god, you did!”

“I did not!” Her sister releases her – pulls her hands away as if burned, actually – and takes a few staggering steps back that makes the water slosh around them. “Who even calls it that?!”

“You had a naughty dream!” Anna wades after her; gleeful in the way that only a younger sibling can be when tormenting an older one. “While right next to me!”

“There was no—” Her sister is burying her face in her hands and retreating until her back hits a boulder that stands taller than her. “—s-sex dream!”

“Uh huh, sure.” She is trying to contain her grin as she stalks after her, but probably failing. “You know the only one calling it a sex dream is you, right?”

Elsa makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine and presses her face even harder into her own hands, and Anna… is sort of stuck between feeling bad for her and being intensely curious.

So over-the-top ridiculous it is. “Who was it about? What happened in it?” She’s nose to nose – or nose to knuckle, rather – with her mortified sister now, and leans on the boulder with her hands on either side of Elsa’s shoulders. “Did you dream about a professor of yours? Multiple professors, even?” Another groan-whine combo. “Elsa, did you dream about a gangbang?!”

“No!” comes the yelp, and the pale fingers part enough for Elsa to send her a horrified stare. “Oh my G— Anna!”

“Then it can’t be that bad, can it?”

This time, the sound is just a groan, though it’s definitely heartfelt. “I swear, you shave at least a month off my life every year.”

“Excuse you. Regular cardio is healthy.” When Elsa’s hands finally shift enough for her to do it, Anna gives the end of her sister’s nose a tap with a fingertip; idly appreciating the contrast with her own, deeper tan. “I’m adding to your lifespan, if anything.” The definite glower she gets in response makes her smile. “So who were you dreaming about?”

Somehow, Elsa actually pales. “Not telling,” she mutters, and pushes weakly at Anna’s freckled shoulders. “Would you move, already?!”

Anna leans harder on her own hands; bending her arms at the elbows until their faces are so close they’re practically breathing the same air because this is normal sisterhood: One needling the other over something embarrassing until one gives up or the other gives in. It’s simple and innocent and playful, and it is in no way making her forget that they’re both standing there half-naked.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She works to maintain her best ‘annoying younger sibling’ expression while Elsa looks at anything but her. “Spill. It was someone inappropriate, obviously. Who?”

Silence.

“I’m gonna start guessing if you don’t tell me,” Anna reminds her cheerfully. “You know I will.”

A red-faced glare is the answer to that, along with more silence.

“Okay.” A shrug, and she tilts her head back to study the night sky. “Someone inappropriate. Not a professor of yours, and I’m guessing not one of mine, either. A fellow student wouldn’t be inappropriate even by your standards—” She ignores the offended noise. “— so it’s someone you think you shouldn’t have those thoughts about.”

“Anna…” The tone is wavering and has a definite, pleading note to it. “Stop. Please.”

It stops being funny, and Anna sobers. “Okay,” she promises - softer now – and straightens until she’s no longer invading her sister’s space quite as much. “Okay. I’m sorry.” And she is sorry and wants to drop the subject, but while her vocal chords obey for once, her mind is absolutely whirling.

Because who is it? Who would Elsa not only be so into, but also be so clearly ashamed of having feelings for?

And Anna, while Elsa slumps against the stone with an unsteady exhale, feels something in her just stop and start, because she can really only think of one option.

“Elsa?” She feels the water move when she shifts; hears her brain screaming at her to shutupshutupshutUP because she could be wrong, but her heart was always the one ultimately in charge. “If— would you be totally disgusted if I kissed you?”

Elsa stills completely and then jerks her head up to stare at her, and Anna is acutely aware of everything. The slow sloshing of the lake’s surface, the silence between them because they’ve both stopped breathing, and how her own heart is frozen solid and also pounding its way through her ribcage.

Something about the moonlight makes the faint freckles on Elsa’s cheeks stand out more, Anna notes somehow; distracted as she is by the fact that she can see her own reflection in her sister’s eyes.

There are several strands of hair sticking to her cheek – coppery red turned almost brown by moisture and low lighting – and Anna would move them if she could make herself move at all.

“No,” is the answer; in a tone that sounds like Elsa is stuck on the same frozen-still, faster-than-light rollercoaster. “But… why—”

Anna kisses her before she can lose her nerve; halfway expecting to be pushed away even if she’s pretty sure how Elsa meant the ‘no’.

She isn’t. Elsa does freeze in place again for a split-second eon, but then… then she shivers – head to toe, hard enough for Anna to feel it – and there are arms curling around her and the chill of the water contrasting with the warmth of her sister’s skin, and for a long, exhilarating moment, Anna forgets how to even think.

But she does remember eventually, and draws in a slow breath that tastes like Elsa. “This… feels pretty close to a point of no return, right?”

“I passed the point of no return when I realized that I couldn’t kiss anyone without wondering what it would be like to kiss you.” The admission is so quiet that Anna has to strain to hear it at all, and she watches Elsa’s throat work in a hard swallow. “Going back hasn’t been an option for a very long time.”

A long, shaky breath, and Anna lets her head drop forward until her face is pressing into Elsa’s shoulder; curling her fingers around the edge of her sister’s waist while tender, achingly familiar arms pull her closer, and feeling the press of a lingering kiss against her temple as she takes a moment to just… process.

“Yeah.” Her voice is hoarse and halfway muffled by soft skin. “I know what you mean. I just—” A pause and another long breath, though at least this one isn’t as shaky. “I don’t want this to be something we regret. You know?”

“I know.” Gentle fingers tug at her hair until Anna has to straighten, and then they’re forehead to forehead and those eyes are all she can see. “For what it’s worth, I doubt I’ll ever regret anything as long as you’re involved.”

That’s worth a lot, actually, and Anna smiles. “That’s kind of cheesy.”

“It’s very cheesy.” Elsa’s chuckle is little more than a puff of air. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” There’s a languid touch circling her ear before Elsa’s hand settles on her shoulder. “Should we stop?”

Going by the tone of Elsa’s voice and the look in her eyes, the question is completely serious, and Anna takes the time to give it the equally serious consideration it deserves. If she said yes, she has no doubt that Elsa would not only accede to her wishes, but that she’d do so with a smile.

She can see it in her eyes, if she looks close enough; a subtle tightness behind her irises that signals at once fear, understanding and preemptive acceptance, and that tells her how much this – how much she – means to Elsa better than words ever could.

So instead of answering verbally, Anna kisses her, and God, the sound Elsa makes when she does. It’s breathless and relieved and so raw it’s almost animal, and her entire body actually shifts down a few inches when her knees unlock.

Anna, in response, presses her harder against the stone and kisses her again; light and gentle and tender while Elsa’s breathing stutters against her mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, and watches those eyes well up and spill over while Elsa’s fingers tremble against her shoulders. “I want this. I want us.”

Elsa holds her so tightly it almost hurts; buries her face in Anna’s hair and lets those quiet, hitched breaths warm her ear in fits and starts.

In return, Anna holds her just as tight. She kisses Elsa’s shoulder and throat and gets it more than her sister probably realizes.

It won’t be easy, she knows. But few things worth having ever are.

#elsanna #October 2023 contest #prompt: water #submission #cw: angst

[heniareth]

Fanfic writer bingo

Tagged by @greypetrel and @shivunin and thank you so much for the tag!! I had a blast with this XD XD XD XD Let's go!!

We got ourselves a bingo!!!!! (I think. I never played bingo)

Some notes on the above below the cut

I do roleplay online!! Apart from playing D&D of course, I have met some really cool people here with whom I also roleplay my Dragon Age OCs. It's a ton of fun

I have beta-read for friends from time to time and I enjoy it! I like going through a text and picking up what works and doesn't work and also squeal about it

All my published fics are unbeta'd (though I do rewrite each chapter once before publishing it)

Screams and typesmashes are a love language and go with more analytical bits like salt and vinegar go on potato chips (best flavor)

Fanfiction is a literary genre with its own conventions, rules, sets of expectations, and so forth. Fight me

I have so many unpublished fics and stories. Mostly from other fandoms. I have been writing since I was 11

Editing and formatting before posting was once hell to me (now it is no longer). I formatted everything I posted on AO3 with html. Which means I went through the whole chapter to put this <p> before every paragraph and this </p> at the end of every paragraph just to get a paragraph spacing I liked. Not to mention italics and shit. It was exhausting. Thank God for the rich text editor, now I do about a quarter of the work for the same result

I have never written drunk, but I have written sleep-deprived, which has about the same effect

And when I write I don't need any food or drinks, but precious we wants them!! What I do absolutely need is music. Mostly ambiences. Skyrin, the Witcher, Unravel (which I know nothing about except that it has a beautiful very calming soundtrack), AmbientGuild, or ambiences of the places in DAO are all things I have running in the background on a regular basis. For action music I also sometimes put on D&D battle music. For extremely calming music I recommend this DAO camp ambience (link takes you to Youtube)

All my fics deserve more attention, and I say this very flippantly. I really don't look at the numbers anymore right now XD XD XD XD The story is worth the writing

I will have published at least one fantasy novel before I die

This was very great fun XD XD XD XD I am going to tag, of you want to participate, all of my ficwriter friends. @oxygenforthewicked @bumblewarden @icy-warden @wild-houseplant @scribbledquillz @kingdomvel @the-iron-lion @yukichouji feel free to take a go at this if it feels fun ^^ And also you, if you have gotten this far and would like to participate. Have a lovely day all of you!!

[jedimordsith]

From an random AU that hasn’t quite come together yet.

- - 

The laundering unit in the corner was humming softly when Luke stepped into his quarters. The tiny kitchen area smelled of tea, a deep tannic blend that made Luke’s heart swell. Only one person ever touched the expensive little tin in which he kept a stash of that blend. 

Shedding his boots and cloak, he padded through the dim suite toward his small bedroom in the back. Just inside the door a familiar, heavily-worn nerf-hide duffel hunched atop a plain chest. The window tinting had been dialed up, letting through only the faintest glow from Coruscant’s millions of lights.

The comforter he kept in his closet for just such nights had been dragged from its shelf and flung haphazardly across the low bed. Fondness squeezed his heart and Luke silently stripped off his remaining clothes. Crawling into the bed, he burrowed beneath the blankets and wrapped himself around the warm, lean body that had stolen his pillow. 

His palms glided over cool synth-fabric squares seamlessly adhered to silken skin and he dipped his head, burying his face in her soft, wild hair. Bacta patches. 

That explained why he hadn’t known she was returning. This was recuperation leave. Master Windu had doubtless commed her private line and threatened to drag her back to the Temple himself if she didn’t agree to a break. 

Luke huffed a silent laugh. There would be a message on his comm in the morning —his father complaining that Mace was sulking about “your son corrupting my padawan again” and his mother brushing Anakin and his good-natured complaints aside to insist that Luke bring Mara to dinner while she was on planet. 

Mara mumbled his name and Luke caressed his sense along hers as he stroked his fingers along her collarbone. “Welcome back.” 

“Hmmm.” Mara sighed, twining her sleepy sense around him in fuzzy welcome. 

Exhaustion soaked the air around her and bled into his own tiredness. With his lover safe in his embrace, Luke made no effort to evade it. The Force sang softly at the edges of his awareness, joyful as his heart was light, its lullaby soothing him to sleep. 

#Luke Skywalker #Mara Jade #luke/mara #WIP Wednesday

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for March 23, 2024 

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 12:10-11(KJV): 10 A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast: but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. 11 He that tilleth his land shall be satisfied with bread: but he that followeth vain persons is void of understanding.

Thought for the Day

Verse 10 - A righteous man cares for his animals, unlike the wicked who is cruel even when he thinks he is being kind. Does God care how we treat animals? Does He respond to the fearful mewing of a motherless kitten or the exhaustion of a donkey staggering under a far too heavy load? Does He care about animals bred in cramped quarters and exploited for profit? Does He care that cocks and dogs are encouraged to fight to the death for a bet; or that bulls are repeatedly stabbed, and then killed for applause in the studied pageantry of man against beast? Yes, He cares, and so should we. In Genesis, He commanded Noah to make an ark big enough to hold two of every kind of creature so that they would not be made extinct by the flood. He made animals for man's enjoyment and never intended the abuse that we see today of these wonderful creatures.

The Bible actually has much to say regarding animal abuse. In the beginning, God put the earth and its wonderful creatures under human authority, entrusting them to man's care (Genesis 1:26). Our sinful nature, however, causes us to abuse them, sometimes unknowingly. God expects Christians, above all others, to care for creation. Exploiting or abusing any part of it shows disrespect for God Himself and it does not reflect His character, but the evil one's. Several Old Testament laws instructed the Israelites in the care of animals. The Sabbath day was designed to give man and his animals rest (Exodus 20:10). The Israelites were instructed to help their friends and enemies get their oxen or donkeys back up on their feet if they fell in the road, or beneath burdens too heavy for them (Exodus 23:5; Deuteronomy 22:4). Animals were also to be allowed to eat as they worked (Deuteronomy 25:4). Finally, God says to us in Proverbs 27:23 (NIV), "Be sure you know the condition of your flocks, give careful attention to your herds."

Verse 11 - This verse tells us that if a man works and takes care of his land, it will provide him with food. Men not only abuse animals but also abuse the earth through overuse. The Israelites were instructed to keep a Sabbath year of rest for the land. It was to lie fallow so that the poor and wild animals could eat from it (Exodus 23:11; Leviticus 25:7). The earth is a gift from God to man and we are to manage it properly. If abused, it produces inferior crops. If a man takes care of his land, it produces a harvest providing the bread that he needs. Whoever follows useless pursuits and neglects his land or responsibilities lacks an understanding of the principle of stewardship. Christians should lead the way in ecology that is Bible-based.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you for Your beautiful creation of the animal world. Lord, I am personally thankful for all the wonderful pets that I have had throughout my lifetime. They have been, and are a great joy in my life. I pray for the safety and health of them. Lord, I pray that men will care for the animals in this world properly. Change men's hearts that are guilty of exploiting the animal kingdom all over the world. Bless the creatures of the sea, the birds of the air, all the domestic animals, and all of the wild animals as well. Lord, it will be a blessing when the day of Your kingdom arrives on this earth and the animals will no longer fear man and the lamb and lion shall lie down together. In the meantime, help us all to do our part in caring for your magnificent creation -- animals, plants, sea, and land. In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

Pieces - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/OC Issa Straun

Warnings: Swearing, drinking.

Word Count - 9.2k

A/N: ALRIGHT NERDS! I'M BACK HAHAHAHA.

After what feels like the world's longest hiatus, my personal life is back on track and this fic is ticking over once again. To apologise for my absence may I present a 9k chapter that I spent far too long agonising over. Biggest of thank yous to @wild-karrde - Karrde my friend, you are the reason this fic continues to live, thank you for all your help, advice, and for battling through my lack of commas <3, one day I will learn 😁.

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Steam clouded Issa’s lenses as she wrapped her thin hands around the mug of tea before her, lifting the red liquid to her lips. The Jedi took a sip and gave a content sigh as the warm drink did its work of fighting off the cool from the ship’s air supply. 

It was her first moment of peace in little over a month she realised. The fighting on Antar 4 had been relentless, and the only reason for the battalion’s sudden respite was the fact that their initial campaign had been a success. They’d managed to push the Separatists out of the main city, and established a secure perimeter to keep them out, which gave Antar 4’s elected government the chance to begin their defence efforts against the local terrorists. There were a few moments where things had been tight and times when casualties had been higher than anticipated, but overall, their success had been noted by the Jedi Council and higher ups in the GAR.

That recognition is what led them to this point, being aboard the Triumphant and heading back to Coruscant. It seemed now that the 104th had proven themselves, Issa, her master and the battalion were being reassigned to a more pressing fight in the war. 

This morning they’d welcomed the 182nd Legion and their general, Master Kolar. They spent a few hours bringing them up to speed on their surroundings before beginning the process of packing up and shipping out. It’d been a long day, but the troops were looking forward to sleeping in their own bunks again on the Venator. 

As was she.

Fighting on the frontlines of a war was something Issa had truly had to experience in order to gain some semblance of understanding of what it would be like. Words and stories didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. It’d been grinding, dirty, and exhausting to the bone. The fear and uncertainty she felt each time she got a chance to close her eyes pushed rest and ease far from her mind. 

It had been an odd feeling, not being able to slow her mind for such an extended period of time. Everything had felt thrown together and reactive, no matter how long they’d spent hunched over a holotable, strategising into the early hours of the morning. The Pantoran also didn't remember a time when she’d been among other people’s company for so long, having spent years in the calm and steady presence of only Master Plo on their extended research missions. She’d always found solace on her own, in her own safe spaces where she could unwind. But out there, she’d had no escape, especially with every sense being pushed to the extremes. It’d been overwhelming to say the least.

But, in spite of it all, she and a majority of their men survived.

We’re still here.

Since they’d returned to the Triumphant, Plo had given her the green light to retreat to her quarters to take stock of herself and what they’d all been through together the past month, while still fulfilling her new command duties but from a distance. It’d been a couple of days since she’d seen anyone really, but it had helped, so she was thankful for her Master’s understanding as always.

Having gotten used to sleeping for short bursts while on the frontlines, Issa was struggling to readjust back to a normal sleeping pattern. She’d spent a good hour that night tossing and turning in her bunk before giving up and hunkering down in the mess hall with a cup of tea and a few datapads. 

Might as well use the time to get some new scenery and do some work.

As another smooth sip of tea warmed her throat, it hit Issa that it’d been nearly a year since the last time she’d had this particular blend, and for a moment she was transported back in time. She was back in Obi-Wan’s quarters at the temple with him and one of her closest friends, Anakin. The Jedi Master was a connoisseur of teas from around the galaxy, always trying to stop off and pick up different recipes while away on missions. He’d been particularly excited about the one he’d finally managed to source from a small village on Karlinus. The three of them sat in his sparse room while the steam of freshly boiled water drifted through the small space, quietly chatting and joking amongst themselves. She remembered Anakin’s face behind his Master’s back as he grimaced at the drink’s sweet taste, sticking his tongue out dramatically in a way he knew would have Issa chuckling. He'd always been one who sought out the more bitter flavours in life, like the ten cups of caf he drank each day. 

With a knowing smile as he turned back around to the pair, Obi-Wan shook his head as he caught the way Anakin tried to hide his reaction from him. “I feel as though your palate might be a lost cause, my Padawan.”

The Pantoran smiled, shaking her head in amusement at the memory of Anakin’s failed antics. Issa couldn’t believe that the young Jedi she’d spent half her life training alongside had recently been promoted to the rank of Knight, making history as one of the youngest in the Order aged just nineteen. She was truly proud of her friend. It seemed he was truly destined for greatness, and Issa could think of no one more deserving. I’ll have to congratulate Obi-Wan on finally being free of his Padawan too. 

As the feeling of nostalgia settled in warmly within her chest, Issa placed down her cup and grabbed her abandoned stylus so she could continue her notes on Antar 4. She’d been studying a battle plan when the door to the mess swished open. Issa noticed someone paused in the doorway for a moment before entering the room with a huff. “What are you doing up?” the new entrant questioned.

“Hello to you too, Wolffe,” Issa replied, not lifting her eyes from the work before her. “I’m going over those strategies we drew up with Book and Master Plo. I want to make sure I know them inside and out for the briefing on Coruscant.”

“Well you’re not going to be of any use to us half dead on your feet. You should get some sleep.”

“Could say the same to you, Commander. What are you doing up?”

Wolffe just grunted at her before making his way over to the caf machine and pouring himself a strong cup. Still maintaining his silence, he leaned back against the counter and stared down into the dark liquid before him. Issa chanced a moment to look her commander over. He was clad in his black body glove he usually wore under his armour, and his eyes were heavy with the beginnings of dark circles blooming beneath them. Her eyes traced up to his hair, which was slightly mussed, and his frown was even more downturned than usual, which was really saying something. 

Wolffe had something on his mind, that much was obvious. Though it was also kyber clear that he didn’t come in here to talk. In fact, he was surprised to have seen her, which meant he’d likely been looking for some solitude.

Do I check on him anyway? Issa asked herself. She knew she would likely be met with a biting response demanding she mind her own business, but as her eyes flitted over to Wolffe once more, his sombre expression gave her the final push of concern she needed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered quietly, averting her eyes so that they remained firmly on the datapads before her so as to not put him off with any unwanted attention. Issa and Wolffe weren’t exactly close. The clone commander was rather rough around the edges, and they were still finding their feet with whatever working relationship they were forging, which added a nice layer of uncertainty to many interactions between them. 

“No,” Wolffe grumbled. Though he didn’t say anything else, which was more positive than Issa was expecting. 

“Okay.” 

Maker, this is awkward.

With a small nod, Issa pushed her frames higher up her nose and returned to her work while Wolffe began sipping at his hot caf. A good few minutes went by, and they settled into a rocky silence while Issa lost herself in strategies and plans. She became so engrossed in the data before her that when Wolffe spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“We lost some good men in that last battle.” Wolffe’s voice wasn’t loud. In fact, it could probably be called a whisper, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like he’d shouted into the quiet room. 

Issa knew her eyes had widened in shock, confused and relieved that Wolffe was actually talking about what was bothering him. She peered up at him through her lenses and settled the datapads away from her, giving the commander her full attention. “We did. Wrexler, Vick, Kip, Dino and Zander were all great guys.”

Now it was Wolffe’s turn to look shocked. “You remember all their names?”

“Of course. Master Plo and I said we’d learn everyone’s names that first day we all met. We don’t say things we don’t mean. You’re people Wolffe, not droids. The lives we lose aren’t so easily swept away for us either you know.” Wolffe grunted again and fell silent, staring back into the mug in his hand as if it held the answers to whatever questions he was torturing himself with. 

Feeling brave and maybe stupid, Issa took a steadying breath before choosing her next words carefully. “Do you… blame yourself?”

Wolffe’s eyes shot up to meet hers, his amber irises burning with something she couldn’t pinpoint, making Issa swallow. Shit, okay too far. Feeling her face flush with embarrassment, she held her hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” Great, that’ll set us back nicely. Smooth Straun.

As Issa mentally kicked herself, she noticed that something in her reaction to his heated gaze had caused Wolffe’s frustration at her to cool. His glare softened, and he averted his eyes to stare at the wall to his side as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the galaxy while bouncing his leg ever so slightly. 

“Yes,” he eventually replied, biting the word out as if it went against everything in him to utter it. It took Issa a moment to realise he was responding to her question. So he does blame himself. Wolffe continued. “I’m their Commander, my choices lead to their deaths. I’m the person who's supposed to protect them.”

“That’s not your job alone, Wolffe. If that’s your logic, Plo and I are equally as to blame as you.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?” she asked. Her question wasn’t fuelled by impatience or frustration at Wolffe’s mindset but by genuine curiosity. Issa wanted to understand exactly the reason why he was putting this responsibility solely on his shoulders.

“Because you’re not one of us,” he snapped, eyes burning brightly once more. His harsh tone appeared to be an accident as a sliver of regret slipped onto his features while he flexed his jaw. 

Issa gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I'm not offended.” Every soldier lost is another member of his family gone, another face identical to his that was taken too soon. “It’s personal for you, I understand.”

Wolffe scoffed and lifted a hand to rub at his jawline, his fingers scraping across the rough, growing stubble there. “I don’t need a lecture on the losses of war, just so you know.”

Issa’s smile grew. “I wasn’t planning on one. I was just going to say that should you ever want to share that burden, Master Plo and I are carrying it as well, maybe in a different way, but we are. We’re here to support you, Wolffe, as much as you are us.” He didn’t have a reply to that, but Issa was happy that she’d been heard. She chanced a look down at the chrono on one of the datapads and realised it was very early in the morning.

“Hey, since we’re both up, fancy a spar? Might help tire you out.”

Wolffe took another sip of his drink with a raised eyebrow. “A spar?”

“What? Don’t think you can handle a Jedi?” Issa teased, which earned her one of Wolffe’s signature eye rolls, slow and exaggerated, and she couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his dramatics.

“Fine. But I'm not explaining to the general why his padawan’s pride is in pieces tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

The pair made their way to the training room. The open space was cast in shadow until the sensors detected their presence and triggered the lights to roll on. In the centre of the hangar was a blue mat, which Issa stepped onto gently. The plastic covering was cool beneath her feet as she stretched her arms above her head, sighing as some of the bones in her back popped. Kriff, I’ve been sitting down for too long. Across from her, Wolffe shook his limbs out and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“What sort of spar did you have in mind?” he questioned as he pulled an arm behind his back, stretching the Republic cog in the middle of his shirt even further across his broad chest.

Issa shrugged. “You’re my military teacher. I thought you could decide.”

“Fine. Hand-to-hand it is. You know the rules?” Issa shook her head and he continued. “Mostly anything goes, though no career-ending hits, and if your opponent taps three times you let go and the match is over. Clear?”

“As transparisteel.” At her confirmation, Wolffe locked eyes with her and met her in the middle of the mat. The area they were fighting on was rather large; the hangar the mat sat in was designed to house multiple gunships, and the mat itself was almost the size of one. Issa took a steadying breath as she tracked the strong commander in front of her. 

“Sure you wanna do this Straun?” Waves of confidence rolled off of the clone as he stepped closer.

“I’m not going to break.”

“Alright.” The word had barely left his lips before he darted forward with a swing of his right fist. Issa managed to duck just in time to miss Wolffe’s punch, but her confusion left her open, which Wolffe utilised by delivering a swift kick to her ribs, winding Issa and forcing her back a few paces. 

For someone so bulky, I thought he’d move a hells of a lot slower than that. Unfortunately the universe wasn’t that kind. It seemed the commander had plenty of training on keeping his speed up in a fight. The Pantoran heaved a few ragged breaths before she willed her breathing back under control. 

“Sure you want to carry on?” The question was genuine, but the slight upturn on the corner of his lips made Issa bristle.

“Only just getting started, Wolffe.” 

They traded blows back and forth fairly evenly from then on, Issa decidedly not underestimating her commander any further. She might not have had military training, but the ways of the Force lended well to combat, and her years at the temple hadn’t all been studying and katas. She’d trained on how to fight without her weapon just as much as she had with it. It was just a skill she hadn’t had to call upon in a real world scenario in a while. As she analysed Wolffe’s movements and opportunities for attack, her training slowly came trickling back on how she could lean on the Force to make her movements more swift, her attacks hit harder, her defensive positions more fortified. 

By the time they were bone-tired and sweaty from their fight, Issa had managed to get a few good hits in on the clone commander, including a kick to his cheek that left the skin bright red. Overall, Wolffe had bested her more times and was the clear winner of the fight, but it was progress, both in her training to become a better commander and also in her relationship with Wolffe. This had been the longest the two of them had been left unsupervised, and they were both still talking to each other, which Issa felt was a great victory. 

“Not bad, Straun, though you’re thinking too much. I can tell you were holding back at times. You don’t trust yourself. You’ve got to get more comfortable with your abilities if you want to throw your all into a fight.”

“Right.”

“We’ll try again when we stop off on Coruscant, bring a few of the men in so I can point some things out to you.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Wolffe.” The commander nodded at her and the room descended into silence until an almighty yawn tore its way through Issa before she could stop herself. She met Wolffe’s gaze, a look of exasperated confusion conveyed through his raised eyebrow as she gave a sheepish chuckle. 

He huffed at her with a shake of his head. “Let’s go back to the barracks.” 

The pair of them walked in silence through the halls of the Triumphant, passing the odd pair of patrols on their way who always stopped to salute their two commanders. Finally they arrived at their neighbouring rooms and bid each other goodnight before Issa collapsed onto her bunk and drifted immediately off to a dreamless sleep.

—

The next day the 104th arrived on Coruscant. Issa, Plo, Wolffe and Admiral Coburn had been holed up in a meeting room for an in-person debrief of the situation on Antar 4. They’d spent hours divulging everything including their findings on the enemy, loss ratios and any future battle plans they had drawn up which could be passed onto the 182nd, who would be taking over the protection of the Republic-aligned moon. 

It’d been a long day, but Issa felt confident that she’d been able to contribute to the meeting where appropriate rather than just listening and learning. They’d also been told that they’d be heading to the Outer Rim to Scariff. Apparently the Separatists were planning to build a factory on the planet and were shipping in large portions of materials for the development. The 104th’s job would be to disrupt the delivery of the materials and take out as many of the enemy forces as they could. 

Since landing on Antar 4, it felt as though everything had been non-stop for the battalion. They’d barely had a moment's respite in the month they’d been fighting, and it was starting to show among the troops. Thankfully, Plo had convinced the council to extend their layover in the Republic’s capital for an extra couple days, giving the full squad some well-earned downtime. 

The news of their first night off had sent shockwaves of celebration through the ranks of the 104th, which warmed Issa’s heart. They’d fought hard in tough terrain and deserved the time to themselves to revel in their victory and remember the brothers they’d lost. What had sweetened the deal even more for the soldiers was that the Republic had created a bar dedicated to the clones right here on Coruscant where they could drink for free and enjoy their downtime in peace amongst their brothers. 

The Wolfpack were truly overjoyed with the news of a night partying and had even kindly extended the invite to their two Jedi to join them. However, Plo and Issa decided that the troopers deserved a real night off, away from their natborn commanding officers, as Issa had learned they’d been called.

At the GAR headquarters, Issa was chatting pleasantly with Admiral Coburn as they exited the meeting room, the pair trailing behind Master Plo and Wolffe. The padawan watched as the two men in front of her talked amongst themselves. It was clear to see in Wolffe’s presence how he respected his general, and while Issa was on the road to earning that respect herself, it warmed her to know that Plo had the same effect on other people as he had on her. From her few conversations with Wolffe over the past couple months, Issa had been gaining snippets on Wolffe’s views and the weight of responsibility for his brother’s safety that he shouldered, and it was clear that his trust was rarely given out. Issa was glad he at least had someone of seniority who he could truly put his faith into beyond the respectful level of courtesy he automatically gave as clone commander.

Admiral Coburn cleared his throat politely, drawing the small group to a stop. “Padawan Straun, Master Plo, Commander Wolffe, I’m afraid I will have to bid you a farewell here. Please enjoy the rest of your shore leave and I look forward to our first mission together in a few days.” 

“Thank you Admiral, we shall see you soon,” Plo replied, nodding in goodbye as the naval officer turned on his heel and down an adjacent hallway, his shiny black boots clacking on the metallic flooring as he walked away. 

“Issa, I believe we should head back to the temple.”

“Yes of cour-'' Issa was cut off by her comm chirping, the light flashing up at her from her vambrace. Her forehead creased as she clicked the button on the device. “This is Commander Straun.”

“Sir, it’s Sinker. We were hoping you could come down to the barracks with Commander Wolffe after your meeting.”

“Do I dare ask why?”

“Probably best you didn’t.” Issa could practically hear Sinker’s smirk on the other end of the line, picturing his silver eyes sparkling in mischief, likely with Boost and TP hanging over his shoulders. 

“Alright, we’re finished now so we’ll head down.”

“Well it appears you have other business,” Plo suggested fondly. “Enjoy your evening Commanders.”

Issa’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’ll be back at the temple after this, Master,” she assured. 

The Kel Dor said nothing as he inclined his head at the both of them and began walking towards the exit, leaving Issa perplexed. She chanced a look at Wolffe to see if he could elaborate on what had just transpired. Unfortunately all she received was a restrained eye roll before he silently led the way to the turbo lift, leaving her to trail after him.

During the battalion’s stay on Coruscant, their troopers were given bunks at the Guard’s sleeping quarters. The lower levels beneath the HQ practically acted as a clone hotel; there were levels upon levels of rooms for any visiting soldiers to use alongside the resident red and white troopers.

As the lift skid to a halt, the pair stepped out and made their way to where the 104th were staying. 

—-------

The slow and deliberate thump of footsteps sounded. Followed by the scrape of something metallic being dragged across the floor.

The man held his breath, hands clamped over his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping him as the attackers' steps sounded ever closer.

Suddenly all noises came to a halt, and the man could do nothing but wait… Until–

“Booooook, come on it’s going to be morning by the time you put that ‘pad down, vod,” Boost whined as he clipped his now polished vambrace back into place.

The strategist locked his datapad reluctantly and sighed. His perfectly crafted world for his story in his mind had now officially been shattered at the interruption. Can’t get a minute's peace in this place. A heavy weight fell onto the mattress next to him, causing the clone to bounce slightly.

“Yeah Bookworm, we want some attention for a change,” Two-Pint teased, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder and yanking him into his side for a crushing hug.

Book scowled as he fought the stronger man for his freedom, his copper hair ending up more than a little ruffled as he broke away with a half-hearted frown. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

The heavy gunner grinned. “I do.” 

“Come on short-ass, be nice,” Boost challenged with a mischievous smirk, which only widened at Two-Pint’s pout at his own nickname. Serves him right, Book thought smugly.

“Alright alright, reign it in you lot,” Wolffe chided as he made his presence known with a humoured Commander Straun standing at his side.

“Commanders! Perfect timing,” Sinker called out pleasantly as he pulled his gloves on.

With one last ruffle of Book’s hair, TP and Boost moved away to find their boots. The strategist carded a hand through his red curls to try and tame them while his Jedi Commander walked over to take TP’s spot at his side.

The Pantoran bumped his shoulder lightly with her own and gave him a small smile. “Whatcha reading?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, just a thriller novel.” He tried not to sound too deflated, but he couldn’t help it. He loved reading, but moments of jabs with his brothers served to remind him that he was a bit of an outlier in their group. He wasn’t crazy about weapons like TP and Cloud, or strong like Boost and Sinker. Instead he favoured learning and reading as his method of developing his skills as a soldier. Book knew his squad didn’t mean anything by their teasing; it was their way of showing that they cared, but even still, it did a good job of highlighting just how different he was sometimes.

Of course, the Jedi next to him was somehow able to figure all this out without him even having to utter a word. With a gentle look in her eyes behind her lenses, she placed a blue hand at his shoulder bell. “You know, as much as the ‘Pack love to wind you up, your interests are what make you you Book. Your brothers would never want you to change or be ashamed of them. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah… I know.” He gave a small smile of thanks. Because he did know. But it was nice to have the reminder every now and then he supposed. 

Seemingly content that she’d eased his worries, the Jedi looked up at the rest of the group. Their previously battle-worn armour had been cleaned and polished, not the the point of shininess as each scrape and scuff ingrained in the plastoid was a sign of each battle survived, but clean enough to not be caked with the mud and blood of their last campaign.

“So Sinker, you called?” Issa questioned as she caught the sergeant’s eye.

“Yeah, we’re going out sir, and you’re coming with.”

Still sitting next to Book, Issa sighed. “Guys we went over this-”

“Yeah but we’ve decided to overrule you, so there you have it,” Boost explained, leaving no room for argument.

“We want you to come along, Commander. It’ll be fun. You’re one of us anyway. Your insides were christened with TP’s brew,” Cloud added with a soft smile.

Smirking, Issa replied. “Oh so there is a reward for suffering through that.”

The heavy gunner in question somehow managed to pout even harder, which given his intimidating exterior, only served to make the room chuckle. “Hey! Don’t you all come crying to me when you want a night to unwind.”

“We’re kidding ‘Pint.” Sinker huffed as he threw his arm around his shorter brother’s shoulders and pulled him into a loose headlock. 

Eventually the Wolfpack stopped rough housing and were ready to paint the town red, as it were. 

—---

79’s was a beacon of life. Neon boards decorated the walls while the sound of laughter and chatter wove through the notes of the heavy bass music reverberating through the venue. The dance floor was already packed, clones and natborns alike dancing their troubles away, connecting with new souls as their inhibitions faded and bodies moved to the beat. At the bar, a group of pilots were sharing a round of shots while a squad of commandos in their heavy duty armour took quiet sanctuary in a booth in the corner, flirting with the beings who’d captured their attention. 

Issa couldn’t quite believe that the Republic was providing such a normal place for the troopers to unwind. I suppose it’s the least they can do. After all, they are heroes fighting for the civilians across the galaxy, protecting their way of life.

As the Wolfpack made their way towards an empty table, Issa noticed a few of the patrons whispering as they passed. While most of 79’s was full of plain white armour, she supposed a maroon, wolf-stylised commander and Pantoran Jedi were a bit of a giveaway as to which battalion they were. It seemed their success on Antar 4 had been passed through the other ranks. 

Next to her, Boost nudged her with his elbow, smirking. “How’s it feel to be famous, Commander?”

“Famous is a bit of a stretch.” Issa rolled her eyes at the sergeant who chuckled next to her.

“I don’t think that’ll be our last big win, so you best start getting used to it.”

Once the group had settled in their spot, Issa had offered to get the troopers their first round of drinks, allowing them to relax for a moment while she navigated the sea of bodies to reach the bar. After finally clearing a space for herself to lean forwards, the Pantoran drummed her fingers on the neon surface as she waited to be served. She was minding her own business until the being next to her gave her a nudge, knocking the Jedi off balance. Frustrated at the person’s lack of awareness, she spun around to confront them. That was her plan at least, but unfortunately the person she came face to face to made her pause, her fiery words dying on her tongue.

“Quin? What are you doing here?” Issa breathed. 

There he was, Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master and Shadow, back from his extended mission like he hadn’t just disappeared for a year without a word. It’d been a while, but it appeared his flare for the dramatic hadn’t changed.

“Issa! I was supposed to meet Aayla but she got stuck doing General things, so I stayed for the free booze and pleasant scenery. Fancy seeing you here.” His honesty and cheeky smile were so familiar that it nearly made her heart ache. It’d been too long since she’d last had a chance to spend time with her friend and despite all of his bravado, Issa had missed him dearly. He looked well, a few new scars littered his bare upper arms and his dreadlocks had grown, extending to his jawline, but he was in one piece. A weight the Pantoran didn’t know she had been carrying suddenly lightened, and she smiled fondly at the Kiffar’s antics.

“The drinks aren’t free for you, you know,” she chided.

“Ah but surely they’ll have to take pity on a poor religious figure like me. Remember young Padawan, Jedi can have no attachments, which means no material items, which means no credits to buy those items, which means free watered-down Corellian ale,” Vos explained while lifting his drink in the air in a ‘cheers’ motion before taking a satisfied sip.

“That’s not how that works, and you’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you,” Quin replied with a beaming smile of pride.

Without another word, Issa launched herself at the man, locking her arms tightly around his neck and catching him by surprise. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Issa felt it as Quinlan relaxed in her hold and wrapped his own glove-clad arms around her middle, smiling into her shoulder. “Missed you too, kid.”

Issa was finally able to place her order and while she waited, she spent the time catching up with the man she’d come to look up to as a brother. His mission had been a success, as they always were, and he managed to take down a critical drug ring in the outskirts of the Mid-Rim. 

Smiling with pride, Issa nudged the man beside her. “Sounds like another job well done.”

“Yeah, it went about as well as the Council would allow.” The end of his sentence was slightly muffled as he lifted his glass to his lips, but Issa heard him all the same.

She took a moment, trying to unpick the meaning hidden in Quin’s words. “The Council? I thought you were heading this as a Shadow?”

“Let’s just say if it was up to me, I’d still be out there.”

“Why?” Issa’s brows were furrowed as she tried to navigate Quinlan’s vague hints.

The Shadow Jedi seemed to have noticed her questioning look and snapped out of his mood with a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Let’s talk about something else. How’s the war going, Commander?”

His sudden change of topics perplexed Issa. Whatever Vos found at the end of his assignment had him on edge, and seemed to be straining his already tenuous relationship with some members of the council. Not wanting to spark a debate about the politics of the Order at that moment, Issa let him off the hook for now and launched into her experiences of leading an army for the past month.

“You’ll have to come meet the Wolfpack. They’ve heard all about you.”

“All flattering things I presume.” Just as Issa went to reply, a light began blinking on Quin’s forearm, pulling his attention. “Ah I better get this, but I’ll see you over there in a bit.”

While Vos trudged through the many bodies to an exit, a striking Mirialan placed a tray of drinks in front of her, which Issa took with a quick ‘thank you’ to the bartender before using all her concentration to avoid spilling the ale as she finally reached the 104th’s table for the evening. 

Now that everyone had a drink in hand, the Pantoran allowed herself the chance to relax, sliding into the spot Sinker had made for her at the edge of the booth, facing Wolffe across the other side of the table. His permanent frown was unsurprisingly still in place, but it was slightly softer than usual which was nice to see. This may be as relaxed as I'll ever see him.

After a round of ‘cheers’ and the first few sips of their drinks, they asked about Quin after having seen the two of them during their reunion.

“Do all Jedi make fashion choices alarmingly unsuitable for battlefields?” Wolffe cut in sarcastically, making Issa bark out a laugh she wasn’t expecting, nearly choking on her drink. 

“Actually if Quin had his way, he would probably rather have a lot more of himself on display, but he needs things like the gloves he wears to prevent accidental use of his Psychometry. It’s a power that lets him see impressions or events tied to an object based on who’s touched or used it previously. As you can imagine, that can get quite invasive quite quickly.”

“Woah, can you do that?”

“Unfortunately not. Jedi all have similar basic skill sets, the standard things we’re taught at the temple, but some of us excel further in some areas or are born with special abilities. Quin was born with Psychometry. It’s a common gift among Kiffars, and it runs in his family. He’s grown incredibly skilled in it, but it can be quite overwhelming at times, hence the gloves. While psychometry is one example, some Jedi have been known to have deep connections with animals, plants, space matter and even technology, making them easier to read or utilise with the Force.”

“Have you got a fancy skill, sir?”

“I’ve always been quite good at illusions. In fact it’ll probably start to come in handy during the war so I’ve been working with Master Plo on pushing my skills a bit quicker than we normally would.”

Wolffe raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What do you mean by illusions?”

“Care to be a volunteer and find out?” At Issa’s challenge and smirk, Wolffe scoffed. 

“Fine.” He was clearly intrigued but trying his damndest not to show it. The Jedi humoured him and took his feigned indifference as consent for her demonstration.

Issa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Using all her concentration, she manipulated the molecules around her using the Force, picturing as each one shifted and changed to mimic the image she set in her mind. As she let the air out of her lungs, she allowed her eyes to flutter open once more and took in the clones surrounding her.

“No way.”

Issa spared a look down at herself, and sure enough, she was clad in white and maroon plastoid, the skin of her hands no longer blue, but a beautiful tan. 

“That’s creepy, two Wolffes is the stuff of nightmares, turn it off!” Two-Pint squealed as he tried to hide behind Book, who rolled his eyes at the heavy gunner.

Vos chose that moment to slide into the Wolfpack’s booth, smirking and elbowing Issa in her side, breaking her concentration and shattering the illusion. “I see you’re doing your-” Quin paused to do a little waggle of his fingers, “-magic show.”

Huffing, Issa shoved the Kiffar back, making him chuckle and throw an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah well we can’t all read emotions like you. Gotta find my ways to be useful somehow.”

Quin then infuriatingly chose that moment to ruffle her hair, making her bristle slightly in annoyance as her troopers chuckled, Wolffe notably was taking great joy in her embarrassment at the hands of the Shadow as he smirked slightly behind his glass. 

“When I tell you guys that your commander got us into some trouble over the years at the temple using those little tricks of hers.”

“Ha! I knew I liked you sir!” Two-Pint exclaimed with a beaming grin.

Soon introductions were made, and the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant comradery with the Wolfpack and Vos. Issa realised now that she’d been worried about nothing. Spending an evening with her troopers hadn’t seemed to have stopped them from being able to enjoy themselves and relax, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy spending her free time hanging out with them. They were a fun group; even Wolffe had gradually loosened up ever so slightly as the night dragged on, matching the boisterous energy of his brothers around him as they joked and wound each other up. 

It’s nice to see.

—----

Much to Book’s dismay, the Wolfpack and two Jedi had eventually gravitated to the dance floor as the alcohol in their system began to do its work. The strategist had cut himself off a few drinks prior to that, not interested in losing control of himself that evening. Subtly, Book had managed to excuse himself from his dancing battalion, giving him the chance to escape to the sanctuary of the bar where he could take a moment to himself. He even managed to snag an empty stool, pulling himself up and trying to catch a glimpse of one of the bartenders so he could place his order. Unfortunately, it was still fairly busy, so he was left to his own devices for a moment. To keep himself occupied, he spent his time eyeing up the liquor on the back shelf of the bar and trying to guess if he could name each luminous bottle. He’d definitely read up on enough world exports by now to be able to identify most of them, so he began cataloguing each spirit quietly to himself as he waited.

For not the first time that day, the peace in his mind was once again shattered, but instead of the cause being his squad, it was the result of a loud crash of a server droid clattering into one of the beer taps. Every being in the vicinity scattered in fear of being drenched as the tap went up in a dramatic fountain display, leaving the now damp Mirialan bartender to deal with the situation.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” The bartender cursed as the battered ale tap continued to spew everywhere despite them attempting to use their hands to stop the spray. Unfortunately, the tactic only served to push the liquid to the floor as opposed to up in the air.

Looking around and noticing that no one was coming to help, Book pushed off of his stool and walked over to the scene.

“Excuse me, do you-”

“Look I’ll serve you in a sec, can’t you see i’m a bit busy?” the Mirialan snapped, huffing a breath to try and move their damp claret fringe from where it had fallen across their face. The sheer look of concentration as they attempted to fix their predicament caused the black geometric facial tattoos trailing down the centre of their forehead to crease between their brows. Book knew it wasn’t the time or place, but he dared to think that the bartender looked rather cute while flustered. 

No, that is not helpful right now. Wise up, Trooper. Book cleared his throat, gearing himself up to try again. “Um, sorry, I was just going to offer some assistance. Your method of stopping the leak isn’t the most efficient. I’m happy to help.”

Those bright green eyes snapped up to his face, and he froze under the sharp gaze. Oh Maker I’ve stuck my foot in it haven’t I?

After a few dragging seconds, they finally relented, nodding behind them towards a cupboard. “Fine, there’s a wrench in there. Once you’re back we can get this sealed off and I’ll start cleaning up this mess.”

Book nodded and set about getting the tool as suggested. He ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with the bartender as he tried to get the pump to seal off while they protected his face from being sprayed with alcohol. 

It seemed they made a rather good team as after a few seconds of fiddling, Book managed to stop the flow, making the Mirialan sag in relief as they were finally free to move once again. “Thank the Maker for that… and you, I guess. What’s your name, Trooper?”

“Oh, uh Book, and you are…”

“Jae, Jae Tevv.” They reached a soaked hand out towards him before realising what they’d done and retracting with a nervous chuckle. “So Book, huh? How’d you manage to end up with a name like that?”

“It’s unfortunately very simple. I always had my head in a book while growing up on Kamino.”

“I suppose I should’ve guessed. What kind of books? I’m always looking for some new things to add to my reading list.” Suddenly, Book found himself engaged in the most wonderful conversation about literature as the two of them fell into the flow of working as a team to fix the mess from the broken tap. Jae was incredibly well-read, enjoying a variety of genres that they spoke about with a deep passion. Book was pretty sure he had a dopey smile on his face, but Jae’s enthusiasm was infectious, so who could blame him? He could listen to them talk for hours, their hands gesturing wildly, eyes alight with excitement as they relieved one of their favourite romance novels, clearly excited to finally be able to discuss the story with another reader.

All too soon, the mess was cleaned and Book found himself running out of machinery behind the bar that he could tinker with to prolong their conversation. With a sigh, he slid the wrench back into the borrowed tool box and extended a hand to Jae to help them back to their feet from where they were scrubbing the floor.

“Thank you, Book. Both for the help and the conversation. I think I've finally met my reading match,” Jae said with a kind smile. “Now that the tap’s working again, can I buy you a drink as a thank you, something a bit more upmarket than that cheap beer the Republic is feeding you boys?”

“Ah there’s no need to thank me. Plus I best stop with the drinks now. Someone has to make sure my battalion gets home in one piece, and something tells me it won’t be my commanders.” Book spared a pointed look at his two superiors. Issa was on the dance floor with General Vos, Two-Pint, Sinker, Cloud and Boost, giggling and dancing without a care in the world, her drink sloshing dangerously close to the edges of her cup. Wolffe was seated a few tables away with one human and one Zabrak woman hanging off each arm as the three of them sank a shot each before he sat back and let the two shower him with attention. Jae followed his eyes and chuckled warmly.

“Well… If not a drink, how about dinner?” Their deep emerald eyes sparkled with the offer, making Book swallow nervously as his stomach fluttered. When did my collar get so tight?

“Uh, dinner?” he choked out. 

“Yeah, dinner. Give you a chance to eat something that isn’t rations maybe. My treat, I can cook us up something.”

Book felt his face flush bright red as he averted his eyes. “Dinner. Right… yes. Dinner is good. Let’s… let’s do that.”

Jae beamed at him before grabbing his datapad out of his hands and tapping something into the notes. “Great, well, here’s my comm frequency. Drop me a message next time you’re planet-side, or if you have any more books you’d like to recommend in the meantime.”

“Yes… I'll definitely do that. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Book.” And just when Book thought he couldn’t get anymore flustered, Jae leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. That was the moment Book’s brain finally short-circuited. “Stay safe out there, I'm holding you to that dinner.” 

Jae disappeared across the bar, set on a mission to serve the backed-up requests of orders, leaving Book standing there like a tooka in the headlights as his hand lifted up to ghost over his cheek where Jae had kissed him. 

—

It was 0300 by the time Book decided to corral his brothers, Jedi, and apparently General Vos. The Wolfpack and friends collectively stumbled out of the front of 79’s, giggling amongst themselves as TP told another Maker-awful joke.

As the laughter died down, Issa strolled up next to Book and swung an arm over his shoulder. Her dark eyes were sparkling with mischief, and the strategist shook his head in anticipation. “Soooo Book, where did you run off too?”

To his right, Sinker crept up and also threw an arm around him, officially trapping him for their questioning. “Did my eyes decei-” Sinker’s question was abruptly interrupted by a chest-shattering hiccup, “...ow… anyway, did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you talking to that cute bartender?” The silver-haired clone waggled his eyebrows, making the Pantoran to Book’s left cackle loudly in his ear.

“Well actually, I was. And um, I think… I think I’m going on a date?” 

At his admission, the whole group paused and spun around to face him. Book felt his face begin to heat under their teasing gaze, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, TP launched himself at him to crush the slighter clone in an almighty hug, knocking his previous two captors aside. 

“Look at my little Bookworm, all grown up, going out on dates. It’s so karking cute it nearly brings a tear to my eye,” TP announced loudly while clutching Book to his side and wiping fake tears from his face, making the strategist flush with embarrassment as he shoved the heavy gunner off.

Everyone extended their congratulations to Book and finally continued on their way back to the barracks. As they walked the lower levels, Book chanced a look up to the sky above, littered with the shimmering lights of speeders flying in all directions, and he couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face until his cheeks hurt. Despite the cheeky comments, Book felt everyone’s genuine excitement and happiness for him which warmed his heart, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was more than just a soldier bred to die on the battlefield. Because surely no cannon fodder could feel the sheer peace he felt in his chest at that moment.

—--------

Finally they reached the GAR HQ, and Quin cheerily went to bid them all a goodnight. But as he turned to Issa, his demeanour changed slightly. Issa had seen that look before during her years growing up at the temple. He was plotting something, and she had a bad feeling about just what was going on in his head.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

With an air of nonchalance, Quin shrugged and lifted his hand to examine his finger nails before answering. “Do you remember that time you broke Obi-Wan’s favourite tea pot?”

The question sent a wave of guilt coursing through Issa, bringing the memory alive in her mind as she tried with all her might to push it away. It was years ago. She’d been trying to do something nice for Plo as Master Fisto had let it slip that the Kel Dor’s birthday was coming up. So Issa had decided that she’d try and make her Master his favourite tea as a surprise. She knew Obi-Wan had a full set that he brought out when he had people over, and she would’ve asked his permission but of course the young council member was stuck in the same meetings for the day as Plo. So, she’d made the decision to borrow it and leave a note, thinking Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind. But as she went to leave his quarters, she tripped and couldn’t get her hands out from under the tray quick enough to use the force to catch the fragile items, leaving her to watch as they hit the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces. She’ll never forget the image of Obi-Wan’s sad blue eyes as he cleaned the broken porcelain from his floor later that day.

The Pantoran cringed. “You know I do.”

“Well, you know how I covered for you and got a twenty minute lecture on my lack of appreciation for other people’s property and you said, and I quote,” Quin paused to clear his throat before his voice changed to a higher pitch, attempting to mimic Issa. “Oh Quin, my hero. Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“That’s not verbatim and I do not sound like that,” Issa huffed.

“Well the gist is there. The point is, I’m looking to cash in that favour. I know I said my mission is over and the council is moving me on to another problem, which is great and all, but I don’t think my job on this one is done just yet.”

“Well, did you tell them that?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t exactly happy with me. Apparently because of the war we’re spread thin, and they need me to move on. I’ve gone against their word one too many times now, so they’re watching me like a Blood Eagle this time. Listen there’s a guy on the lower levels here, level 1313. He’s got connections to the Narkabb family and there’s been rumours that the crime lord’s cousin is looking to take over while there’s a power vacuum. I just need you to go down there and find out if that’s true so I can put it back on the council’s radar for someone else to pick up.”

“Maker Quin, that’s a big ask. Plus I don’t exactly want to go around pissing off the council. The same council where my Master, who is freakishly good at telling when I'm lying, is a member.”

“Yeah well, you do have the sabacc face of a Tooka in Plo’s defence,” Quin conceded with a chuckle, before shaking himself and guiding the conversation back on topic. “But seriously Issa, this information could help us save some lives later down the line. The Narkabb family is bad news, and if they’re coming back with a vengeance. People are going to pay and it won’t be me; it’ll be innocent people.”

His words were starting to affect her, wearing down her resolve. “Surely there’s someone better suited for this. Have you not heard back from Desh yet on when he’s coming home?”

Quin sobered for a moment at the mention of his closest friend. “I still can’t get hold of him,” he admitted with a frown that looked far too out of place for the usually easy-going Jedi. The admission that Desh was still out there alone, his status unknown, sat heavily on Issa’s chest.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t ask you for this if I thought I had any other option,” Vos insisted.

Issa gnawed at her bottom lip as she weighed her options. She’d never gone against the council’s wishes before. There’s rules and hierarchy in place for a reason. But the urgency in Vos’s dark eyes was tearing at her logic. This means a lot to him, to save the people this family has hurt. 

I’m so going to regret this in the morning.

“Ugh, fine, I'll do it. But I swear if I go down in front of the council for this Quin-”

“Kid, you won’t, I promise. I’ve got you covered. You're a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Issa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man before her. “Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘kid’?”

“When you stop being younger than me maybe.” Quin smirked at her before sweeping her up in a hug, mumbling his thanks again into her shoulder.

The pair bid each other goodbye and Issa jogged to catch up with her troops. The Pantoran just managed to join the clones in the lift before the doors sealed shut. 

She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath as she tilted her head back against the durasteel of the lift and closed her eyes. 

Maker’s sake, Quin. It’s been nearly ten years since the teapot incident, I can’t believe he’s been sitting on that for so long.

Next to her, Issa heard the small clang as one of the troopers copied her stance. Cloud quietly leaned a few centimetres closer before whispering. “Hey, everything okay? You seem tense.” 

The quiet ones are always the most observant, Issa thought fondly.

“Yeah Cloud, I’m good. It’s just been a long day.” She didn’t expand further and he didn’t push, which Issa was beyond thankful for. The two of them stood in companionable silence as they observed the rest of the Wolfpack chatting amongst themselves while the lift continued to plummet down floor after floor to their accommodation.

The troopers had been kind enough to provide her one of their spare bunks for the night to save her having to sneak back through the temple in her inebriated state. Gracelessly, Issa nosed-dived into her bed for the evening, all background noise falling away as she settled into the hard mattress and flat pillow. As the dark bliss of sleep closed in around her, a final thought drifted through her mind, in particular an image of her Master’s amused, all-knowing look earlier that day when Sinker had first called. Issa smirked to herself at the reminder. 

He knows me too well.

Taglist: @misogirl828

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#tj writes #pieces fic #star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #tcw #commander wolffe x issa straun #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x oc #commander wolffe x ofc #oc issa straun #clone oc #clone trooper oc #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #clone trooper boost #clone trooper sinker #plo koon #clone trooper oc Two-Pint #clone trooper oc Book #clone trooper oc Cloud #wolfpack #star wars fanfic #star wars fic #104th battalion #slow burn

[rollofleaf]

WIP Wednesday!

First one in a few weeks, but I finally have a WIP to Wednesday! I’m completely normal about Rogue Trader I swear.

“Elantach, we must speak.” Yrliet looked unusually on edge as she marched onto the bridge. Exhaustion and anger rested upon her brow clear as day. Something had clearly ruffled the normally-unflappable xenos, enough so for Arethousa to be concerned.

Her throne-like Captain’s chair swiveled around to face Yrliet (far too slowly, she’d need to speak to Pasqal about changing it), and she quickly stepped off it. “Oh? Wonderful, because I’ve been meaning to ask you for some help.” She motioned for Yrliet to follow her as she left the bridge and took the elevator to her quarters. “What’s troubling you?”

Yrliet glanced around. They were alone in the elevator, nothing but the gentle, deafening hum of machinery all around. “Am I so transparent? Yes, I am troubled. I have grown accustomed to the looks of hatred and revulsion I receive from the mon-keigh aboard this vessel. Their curiosity does not concern me, neither does the way they curse me from afar, ward themselves against me, and follow my every move. After all, what can be done with such weak-minded, primitive creatures. And still…” Her hand strayed to a stone encased in her vest and her face twisted with disgust. “One mon-keigh’s stunt has caused the cup of my patience to spill over. She approached me, a welcome change at first. She spoke to me, then, touching my hand, she suggested that we withdraw somewhere private. She wanted… wanted… Kae-morag!” Though the word was foreign, Arethousa needed no translator to guess its meaning. “The mere memory of it stirs up a tempest in my soul!”

Arethousa winced at the recollection and the obvious discomfort it had caused Yrliet. She had avoided speaking about the xenos to her crew, perhaps that was a mistake. The concern also crossed her mind of a particularly zealous crewman taking a less amorous approach to her and getting someone hurt. She could simply put out a message that Yrliet was to be treated with respect. After a short pause, she shook herself out of her thoughts and spoke. “That’s contemptible behavior from my people, and I apologize. I’ll see to it that it doesn’t happen again.”

Yrliet tilted her head to she side, as though she couldn’t believe Arethousa’s words, then looked intently into her eyes. “I… Accept your words, elantach. And still…” The emotion overwhelmed her until her body began to tremble. “Try to imagine, elantach, even one that does not mind being surrounded by animals would still find it abhorrent to be lusted after by one. It is… Foul. Disgusting. So vile it makes your very soul shudder.”

Arethousa raised an eyebrow at that. “I understand the repulsion to such unwanted advances, Emperor knows I’ve received my share of people that refuse to take no for an answer… But I think you’re being unfair comparing all humans to animals over this incident.”

“Your kind’s simple souls and narrow minds are the root of these flaws. Narrow minds and simple souls… Every day, I feel as if I am caught in a trap, surrounded by a pack of wild animals…” Half-closing her eyes, she added in a low whisper, “I am prepared to pay this price to find my kin. But I have limits.”

Arethousa sighed softly as the elevator stalled, then shifted, then finally came to a stop. She led Yrliet down a long corridor to a lavish, ostentatious room. Her room. A pit sunk in Yrliet’s stomach. The Rogue Trader’s chambers, surely she wouldn’t dare? Arethousa was at least slightly above the rest of her kind, she wouldn’t be so cruel as to lure Yrliet to her quarters immediately after such a conversation? But of course, what did humans ever want xenos for? They only viewed other creatures as resources to be exploited for profit or pleasure, or enemies to be destroyed. She treaded carefully as Arethousa walked towards her desk.

The Rogue Trader slid open a drawer in her desk. “Let’s see, bottom drawer. Ah. I… I forgot about that. Well, two things I need your help with!” Yrliet had been standing near the exit, ready to run if Arethousa tried anything, but that piqued her interest. She slowly stepped over as Arethousa pulled out a polished, cleaned skull and set it on the table. An Aeldari skull. Before Yrliet could put to voice the many terrible thoughts swirling through her head, Arethousa continued, “I came across this on the Lilaethan, and if I’m correct it’s an Aeldari skull.” The weak nod from Yrliet confirmed that. “I have no knowledge of Aeldari burial rights, so I’m giving this to you to be treated however it should be. It’s the least I can do for your fallen kin.”

Yrliet was taken aback. She fixated on the skull, emotion welling up within her. The briefest of glances was cast at Arethousa, her searching gaze finding only sympathy and warmth. Genuine compassion was beyond mon-keigh, so what was her purpose in this? An attempt to disturb or hurt her, or an attempt to convey friendship? Arethousa’s eyes did not lie, she truly had good intentions. With a sigh, Yrliet reverently slipped the skull into a pouch. “Thank you. I will see to it they are treated with proper respect. You mentioned two things?” Dread still hung over the Aeldari.

Arethousa nodded and, with a slight grin, delicately pulled out a gorgeously-crafted Aeldari long rifle. “Yes! I received this beauty as a gift, and I’d like to learn how to use it. Would you be willing to teach me?” She smiled up at Yrliet, a faint hint of pleading in her voice. Relief rose in the Aeldari’s chest.

Yrliet’s thoughts were briefly occupied by the procurement of such a weapon. No doubt stolen or ripped from the corpse of a warrior… But she could not blame Arethousa for that. Her hand trailed delicately along the rifle, lost in thought. “This is a fine weapon… You are certain you want to learn this instead of remaining with your crude human weapons?”

Arethousa shrugged. “I’ve seen how efficient you are with yours, and I’d like to learn. Please.” There was more she was not sharing, but Yrliet had been persuaded to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Very well, I will teach you. I assume you have a place to train?”

Undisguised joy spread across Arethousa’s lips as she set the rifle into a case and slung it over her back. “Yup! Shooting range is a few decks down, let’s go!”

#rogue trader #warhammer 40k #oc: Arethousa von Valencius #yrliet lanaevyss #she’ll get over her dislike of monkeighs just enough to cuddle arethousa

[c-rose2081]

Of Sirens Deep — [Chapter 5]

—

—

—

Melody. The captain.

Delphine. The navigator.

Neva. The quartermaster and helmsman.

Caravel. The boatswain.

Morrigan. The cook and surgeon.

Reef, Marina, Trench, Meridian, Arrow, Swift, Selene, Isla, Rhodes, Moon, Desiree.

Me. The runt of the litter, as it were.

I sat on the forward deck, notched awkwardly between the starboard banister and a spare barrel. I'd never been more exhausted in my life. Neva wasn't the type of person—type of siren—to bluff, either. I'd worked all night and all day, hunched over the bucket and brush cleaning whatever I could reach. The skin of my hands was bright red, pulsing and bleeding from abuse. I suppose that's what I deserved, having soft hands in a place like this.

I should've expected it.

I wanted to sail like Pa did, yet I'd never actually considered what life was really like on the open sea. Pa was Captain of the Blonde Lady and probably lived more luxuriously than this, but he still returned home appearing twice his age and with a crick in his spine. I winced, rubbing the small of my back which radiated with a burning ache. Here, on a ship that apparently had no name, I was of little consequence to its crew. Even Melody, my supposed sister, hadn't come to check on my well-being since the day I arrived. She and Delphine were always cloistered away in the Captain's Quarters, bent over maps and charts. This left Neva—the Quartermaster—in charge of the deck, meaning life wasn't bound to get any easier.

Thunking my head against the side of the barrel, I exhaled deeply and tucked in as best as I could. My stomach growled hungrily and my lips were horribly dry, but Neva kept me working long after the crew took their meal. It didn't surprise me that I wasn't offered to eat—Neva didn't like me, though I wasn't entirely sure why. Being an outsider was obvious enough, but her downright maliciousness seemed far more personal. I ran a hand across the bottom of my jaw, feeling the cut mark Neva had made beginning to scab.

Delphine said I wasn't a prisoner: she lied.

Possible ways of escaping had crossed my mind, but I scratched all of them just as fast. We were in the middle of nowhere and my sense of direction was skewed. Even if did spirit myself off into the night on a lifeboat, I would sooner starve or go mad on the open sea. If I tried to simply take the wheel and turn the ship around myself, I probably would become a prisoner, or would just be slaughtered on the spot.

So what was a warmblooded outsider like me to do?

I stared up at the sky, finding Pa's necklace. Melody claimed the pendant had come to me when I called for it; that the moonglass no longer belonged to the sea. Yet there didn't seem to be anything special about it. At least...not that I knew. Besides the one incident, the amulet was as quiet and ordinary as the day I put it on. Running a thumb across the smooth surface, I did feel more at ease—like Pa was still alive somewhere, staring up at the same sky. But such relief was short lived as a chill breeze cut through me like a knife and I shivered.

Amazing how cold it got at night.

Dropping the necklace in favor of pulling my knees to my chest, I stared at nothing in particular, listening to the sounds of the ship. A few of the crew were singing a jolly shanty up on the mast, while clattering and laughing wafted up from below deck. There was the rush of wind and the flapping of canvas as the sails caught. The dark water lapped against the ship's hull. We were moving along at a steady clip, but to where? I hadn't the faintest idea.

I found myself dozing while still sitting up, jumping as someone poked the front of my leg with their shoe. Whacking my head against the barrel I grabbed my scalp with a hiss, only to feel suddenly cold at the thought of who was in my company. Blinking wild eye'd at the pair of boots which stood mere ticks from me, they were not the same steel-toed leather weapons the Quartermaster stomped around in.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

The stranger was Reef, someone Delphine pointed out on my first day. Not sure why she was here or what her intentions were, I avoided meeting her gaze, tucking back into my alcove and resting my chin on my knees. No one had bothered to talk to me in the two days I'd been on the ship—not even Caravel who was more than a little chatty when we'd first met. I didn't want to take the chance of this being some sort of cruel joke.

"I...um...I have some things that are yours? I thought you might want them."

I glanced over my bent elbow as Reef delicately laid my jacket and boots on the ground between us, backing off quickly as though I might bite. Her bright, unnaturally turquoise eyes were striking, settled into richly dark skin mottled with scales the color of sea glass. Her hair, which I originally saw as dark, was actually dark blue to match the rest of her fishy traits.

Glancing from her to my jacket, it looked a little beat up, but there were no tears or holds that I could see. Reaching out cautiously, I pulled the pile towards me, setting aside my boots to instead rifle around in the pockets of my coat.

I felt like crying when Oceans & Islands emerged, still exactly where I'd left it.

"I couldn't read it."

Forgetting who was in my company, I pulled the book closer to my chest as my eyes once again landed on Reef. She gave a tight smile, rocking on her heels. "Morrigan helped me dry it out, but she couldn't read it either."

'You can't read?' Was the first question on my tongue, but I stopped myself from broaching it. Of course she couldn't—at least, perhaps not in the way I did.

"It's a human book," I muttered quietly, noticing how Reef stared at me in confusion. Right—the term 'human' was a man-made definition, she probably had no idea what that meant. "It's a...er...a warmblooded way of writing."

"What's it about, if you don't mind my asking."

"It's the journal of a man who sailed around the world." I shrugged, glancing over my things and heaving a tired breath. "Thank you. I thought everything I had was gone."

"Neva wasn't going to give them back, but Captain Melody ordered her to." Reef admitted. "I uh...didn't see you at dinner? We don't bite, I promise."

"I was working."

"Oh." Reef made a face that I couldn't quite define, her blue eyes flickering under long, dark lashes. "Wait just a tick, I'll be right back."

The siren whisked herself away, stomping back down where she had come and vanishing from sight. I just assumed she wasn't actually coming back, choosing to shrug on my jacket which still smelled briny from its time in the water. For a while it was just me again, lightly dozing against the barrel. I startled awake when footsteps came back up the stairs.

The smell of food grabbed my attention like a riptide.

"There wasn't much left," Reef complained, plopping onto the floor across from me as to not drop her haul. "But Morrigan makes a great bone broth."

Reef offered a crude wooden cup to me; the soup inside was still steaming. Reaching for it, I had only just wrapped my fingers around the circumference when searing pain shocked through my fingertips. My hands released, a pained gasp escaping between my teeth. Reef was fast, prying my grip from around the cup and setting it on the floor as to not spill it. She set a foggy bottle beside it before taking hold of my wrists, causing another wince to flicker across my face. The webbing between the girls fingers felt...strange...as she pushed my hands apart to reveal two palms of bright red sores.

"Ouch. What happened?"

"I'm soft-handed." I whispered softly, repeating what Neva had been yelling at me all day long. Soft-handed. Princess. Warmblood. Outsider. Pathetic whelp. "It's fine."

"Looks like it hurts."

I couldn't really lie and claim that it didn't. But what else could I say? Of course it hurt, but whining and weeping over it wouldn't do me much good. If I so much as talked while Neva was around, she had her stupid sword pointed at my head in a second. And if I dared complain? Well...I'd figured out that it was best to just not speak at all—conditions be damned.

"You can talk to me, you know." Reef said. "Neva ordered we didn't—that you were just another warmblood? But she always has her scales in a twist over something. I decided to come up and meet you for myself."

Running my sore hands across my knees, I carefully took soup cup again. It stung but I managed not to drop it, relishing in a large gulp to satisfy the hole in my stomach. At this point I could've eaten just about anything, I was so hungry. "Is it true that you grew up around warmbloods?"

I nodded as Reef pursed her lips, leaning over her crossed legs intensely.

"I heard warmbloods are violent killers." She practically whispered. "My Ma used to tell me stories of how they skewered sirens on long metal spears and tangled them into nets, never to be seen again."

"I...wouldn't know." I frowned, setting the now empty soup cup aside and picking up the glass bottle. Uncorking it, I took a whiff and recoiled.

"It's some of Morrigan's best Grog," Reef explained as I took a hesitant sip. The taste wasn't the worst, surprisingly enough. It was a mix of briny-sweet and lemony. "But what they say about warmbloods—what Neva says. Is it true?"

"I suppose it is, in some ways." I admitted, swirling the Grog within its bottle as the liquid sloshed around. "Sirens were dangerous to our sailors, luring them into the water to be killed. So they were hunted down to make the sea safer. I didn't know they still existed; I'd never even seen one."

"Really? We don't sing for anyone but ourselves." Reef complained, "The stories said that we took the warmblooded men underwater because their ships were coming to destroy and pillage our coves."

"You don't eat them?" I wondered honestly as Reef made a guilty face.

"Well, we eat anything that can be hunted."

"So if a hu—a warmblood, is killed by a siren?"

"It would be a shame to let a meal go to waste." The girl shrugged as I stiffened, pushing back a bit into my hole. "Don't worry, we don't normally hunt warmbloods willingly," Reef continued, no doubt realizing her error. "We mostly hunt fish, sometimes a whale or shark if there's enough of us."

"So I'm not on the menu, then?"

"Of course not. Besides, you're a siren, just like us."

"I feel like some kind of monster." I shrugged, finishing off the Grog only to cough painfully at the alcoholic taste lingering at the bottom. "My body is changing. I don't recognize myself. And this life? I'm not really sure it's for someone as soft-handed as me. It's not what I thought it was."

"None of us really want this life either," Reef sighed honestly, reaching up to remove a bandana from her hair. Using her claws she began to shred the cloth into strips. "Sailing like warmbloods isn't in our nature. We had to learn how."

The girl nodded to my hands, giving me another watery smile. "Let me wrap those soft-hands for you."

"I just don't understand," I muttered, holding out a palm as Reef began to wrap the worst of the callouses. "I should be on Macatania, worrying about getting married and having kids. This life was just a fantasy...a childish dream of mine that made nights go by faster."

"Doesn't sound like you wanted whatever came before now," Reef commented mindlessly. "You didn't know you were a siren?"

"No. It just started happening one day and everything spiraled out of control. Now I'm here and I don't even know why or what I did to deserve this torture."

"Sailing may not be the easy choice, but it's not torture either," Reef chortled, waving for my other hand as I relinquished it. "You just need to carve yourself a place here with us, that's all. Stop thinking yourself as an outsider and eventually you won't be."

"Tell Neva that."

"Neva is sour-scaled and power hungry," Reef scoffed. "This ship isn't run by one siren alone, Aria. Make yourself apart of it and life gets easier."

"Sounds like you've had some experience?"

I tilted my head curiously as Reef finished her work, webbed hands lingering on mine before returning to her lap.

"This family found me, just like it found you." She sighed, rising from her feet and taking the empty soup cup and Grog bottle. "Get some rest. We're only a day out from White Sand; tomorrow will be busy. Neva is bound to be in a poor mood."

"White Sand?" I wondered, "Is that a place?"

"Mhm. Just a quick stop until Delphine and the Captain decide what our next true destination will be. Have a good night, Aria. I'll...well, see you tomorrow, at least."

Reef smiled and headed back down below deck, a place that had long since grown quiet as the night grew darker. Only a few crew remained awake, hanging amongst the ropes as lookouts. Sinking down to rest on my back, my body still ached in soreness as I stared up at the sky, one that was dark and speckled with stars. Once upon a time, Pa might’ve used this same sky to navigate vast curved horizons. With the rocking of the ship and the gentle splash of waves, I let my eyes fall shut, happy to rest if only for a short while.

— — —

The next day was blisteringly hot.

My skin was sticky with sweat as I swabbed the deck—again. Thankfully Neva had shoved a mop in my hands rather then the rickety old brush, but it still didn’t soothe my poor palms which were aching only a few hours in. All around me the crew ran this way and that, mostly moving sails and securing ropes to catch the gusty wind which had kicked up in the night.

Reef was working with Arrow and Swift, going down the banister to drop lifeboats from their overturned positions on the main deck. I could only assume it was for transport to White Sand, but I still wasn’t sure what exactly that meant. Was this mysterious place inhabited? Could I use it to slip away and escape? Lots of thoughts crossed my mind, but all of them were stalled when I lifted an arm to see large dry patches which were beginning to form. A faint pattern of scales was coming to the surface, dull and bronzy-gold, just like Melody’s. Who would take me back to Macatania when I looked so much like a monster?

“Get back to work, whelp! Stop daydreaming!” Neva barked from the helm, bringing me from my thoughts as I quickly dunked my mop and continued to clean, doing my best to stay out of everyone’s way. For a while it was the same old routine, the heat only getting worse with each passing hour.

“Oy! Moon! Careful with that rope!” Caravel shouted somewhere above my head, swinging like a monkey between the mast and supports. “It’s been finicky all week.”

“Aye, Caravel!”

Moon was a lithe, tiny creature even smaller than me. Like her name suggested she had skin the same shade as the moon and hair the color of obsidian. Her scales were the color of pounded silver, while her fins were spiky and sharp looking. Watching her figure as she began to work with a shackle and rope, I blinked as something tickled through me.

It was a horrible feeling.

Glancing down, a faint blue glow was emanating from under my shirt as I grappled Pa’s necklace. The moonglass.

“…get us all a drink while you’re down there, Reef!” Arrow said, causing my head to snap up in panic. Reef was crossing the main deck just as a loud SNAP broke the stale, hot air.

“Reef! Look out!”

My mop clattered to the floor as I ran towards the only friend I’d made so far. She looked up at me in confusion as I shoved her to one side, her figure rolling out of danger. I only had a split second before something heavy slammed into my chest, sending me to the ground with a horrible thud and a flash of pain. The end of a rope snapped across the side of my neck like a whip, my gills flaring as I grappled them with both hands. Something hot and wet gurgled up between my fingers as I struggled to find a breath, curling into myself with a squeak.

“Aria!”

I recognized Reef’s voice as she dropped to her knees beside me, webbed fingers grabbing at mine. “Hey, it’s ok. Let me see what happened.”

I whimpered as Reef’s hand pried mine off the wound, a shuttering gasp passing her lips.

“Someone get Morrigan!” She called, pressing the flat of her fingers against my gills as I struggled to breathe.

“What happened?”

Caravel’s footsteps came nearer as Reef made a strangled noise of discontent.

“I-I don’t know. Something must’ve snapped…I didn’t even see it….”

“Calm down, Reef.” Caravel ordered firmly. “Keep holding her gills.”

“What’s going on here?”

I couldn’t help it as my body stiffened, feeling ridged under Reef’s hand as heavy boots thunked nearer. Neva.

“An accident,” Caravel explained. “Hopefully Morrigan can stitch her up.”

“Don’t waste our supplies on a warmblood.” Neva snorted. “She was in the way, therefore she deals with the consequences.”

“Aria pushed me out of the way!” Reef barked angrily, hissing a bit past her own set of fangs. “Would you waste supplies on me if I were in her place?”

“That’s different….”

“No its not,” Reef snarled. “What’s your problem, anyway?”

“Outsiders don’t belong here.”

“Then I guess you don’t either, hey, Neva?” Caravel asked, her voice low as the Quartermaster hissed angrily, unsheathing her sword.

“How dare you.”

“Leave the pup alone,” Caravel warned, brandishing her own cutlass. “She’s done everything you ordered without a single complaint. The poor thing is exhausted and still found it in her to push Reef out of the way.”

“We all work equally on this ship….”

“Doesn’t seem very equal when Aria doesn’t take meals with us.” Arrow muttered nearby. “Reef’s been taking her leftovers.”

“She doesn’t sleep with us either,” Isla agreed, “hardly seems fair.”

“You’re outnumbered.” Caravel snarled. “How would the Captain react if I tell her you’ve worked her little sister to the point of exhaustion?”

There was a ripple of noise around the ship—mostly confusion and surprise. Had my ‘relation’ to the Captain not already been known? I had no idea it was a secret. Personally I thought it was a bit obvious what with how similar we looked, but then, I also wasn’t sure how siren families worked.

“Last chance before we get violent, Neva.” Caravel warned again, slamming her blade against the floor to kick up splinters. “Back off.”

“You’ll see soon enough that having a warmblood in our midst is a mistake,” Neva warned, putting her sword away as Caravel did the same. “We should’ve let her drown. She’s dangerous, just like the people who raised her.”

“Return to your post, Neva. Before I get the Captain involved.” Caravel ordered as the other woman huffed angrily, her boots thundering as she stomped away towards the helm. “The rest of you, back to work! I want all sails triple checked to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

There was a chorus of ‘aye!’ as a scramble of feet and bodies ensued, the crew returning to their various posts. “Morrigan, what took you so long?” Caravel asked as someone new approached, though I couldn’t see them clearly as my vision was still swimming.

“Oy, I have to do more than anyone else on this stupid raft,” Morrigan complained, though she sounded a touch tipsy. “What happened? Who’s this pup?”

“Aria.” Reef explained. “She got struck with a rope and clasp that broke loose.”

“Is this the one you’ve been feedin’ at night?”

“Aye. Neva doesn’t let her eat with us.”

“Hm. Move aside and let me look.”

There was a shuffle as Reef peeled her hand from my gills. I felt Morrigan’s fingers poke around the area, but there was no pain. I blinked my eyes clear, feeling a bit more like myself as there was a gruff snort next to my ear. “I see plenty o’ blood, but no wound.”

“What?” Reef and Caravel spoke at the same time as Morrigan shrugged. The woman looked older than Caravel by a few years, her skin dusty brown with scales a pale greenish color. A wide seaweed colored plait ran down the ridge of her head, while either side had been tattooed with various designs.

“Sit up lass, let’s have a look at ye.” Morrigan ordered, her hand guiding me up as I was hoisted into a proper sitting position. Despite feeling a little winded, the pain of being struck had all but vanished. “She looks right as rain to me.”

“But there was a gash,” Reef insisted, making a motion down her own gills, “I saw it.”

“Well it ain’t there now. What’s this you have on, lass?”

Morrigan pulled at the leather strap around my neck as Pa’s necklace was revealed, falling to sit atop my shirt. The blue disk was pulsing, though the light was quickly fading. “Ah. Now where’d you come across a trinket like that?”

“It belonged to my Pa,” I said, hurriedly tucking the amulet away again. “It’s nothing.”

“Hm. Funny thing, moonglass.” Morrigan drawled, wiping blood off her fingertips. “Stories say it’s made out of pure moonlight and was a gift from the sea to our most ancient ancestors. Legends claim the glass had mystical powers—powers we lost our ability to use after so many centuries.”

“What does that have to do with me?” I wondered honestly, pursing my lips as Morrigan leaned in close, her near black eyes reflecting my gaze back at me.

“Seems that the sea has called to you,” she whispered, “and for whatever reason, it has chosen to protect you.”

“Oh come off it, Morrigan,” Caravel grumbled. “Moonglass doesn’t have any practical use besides looking at maps. It doesn’t have magical powers.”

“Oy, it’s true and you know it.” Morrigan snarled, standing from my side as Reef returned, wrapping her arms around me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she croaked. “I was so worried it was bad.”

“It…was the right thing to do.” I murmured, running a hand over my neck which was now covered in dried blood. There was no gash or scratch to be found. It was simply gone.

“Thanks for wastin’ my time,” Morrigan whined as Caravel rolled her eyes.

“Get back to the Galley, you old drunk.”

“Oy, I’m not a drunk!”

“You walk like a warmblood.”

“I do not!”

The bickering continued back and forth as Reef shook her head, grabbing my hand in hers and holding it tight. I stared at it, tracing how the sapphire webbing hooked to her inner fingers. Something warm burned inside my chest as I grabbed Pa’s necklace again, feeling it under my calloused palm.

I’d been bleeding…the gash was bad. Yet it had vanished. The moonglass healed me, of that I was sure.

But why…and for what reason?

#Of Sirens Deep #mermaid #siren #pirate #mermay #original story #literature #fiction #fantasy fiction #my writing #original character #oc #tw blood #word building #merfolk #writing #fantasy #ya fantasy

[wcrstarter]

SONJA'S SLEEPING HABITS.

RESIDENCE: Verse dependant. Canon verses she atypically lives in the Castle Corvinus in her private quarters, or a cabin in a remote location of her choosing. Modern verses even if she is involved with the covens it's rare she will stay with them, she will have a city residence of a condo that she keeps private. Most crossover au's she will live in a cabin in the wilds quite happily.

TYPE OF BED: She's not terribly picky, she's slept on a bedroll on the ground before. If she has the option, she does preferred a stuffed mattress when possible and will craft her own if she needs to. However, it's usually more firm than most people like.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Sonja is immune to cold, and is only as warm as her ambient surroundings. She does enjoy her creature comforts, in winter time she will (in most verses) have a thick goose down duvet that she will nestle into. Usually there are woolen knit blankets and animal furs, no more than two at a time. In warmer seasons it's usually a lightweight linen blanket thrown over her bed.

NUMBER OF PILLOWS: Usually only two, one of which she will use as a makeshift body pillow unless she has company, then it'll be given to them instead.

TYPE OF CLOTHING: Either nothing to bed (only in private residences), often just a large shift or shirt (if she can swipe a partner's shirt she's inclined to). If she's travelling its unlikely she would do much of an outfit change just to sleep, she might leave her armour on and simply go to sleep in it comfort be damned. Otherwise it'll be leggings with a large shirt/oversized shirt if she's not fully comfortable where she's bedding down for the night.

DO THEY SLEEP WITH COMPANY?: Depends on verse/other muse involved. If romantically inclined she might want the company, if she views them in a familial platonic manner she might sleep next to them to guard them while they sleep. This would apply to any mortal who would need to rest during the night when she's active.

DO THEY SLEEP BETTER WITH COMPANY?: Yes, especially if she knows them well over a one night stand.

DOES IT MATTER WHERE THEY SLEEP?: Not particularly, in verses where the sun cannot hurt her she enjoys sleeping in the sunlight or under the stars. If she is staying at the residence of someone she doesn't like, she might pretend to be fussier over her sleeping conditions--if its a court setting and she cannot stand the other noble she will deliberately do this and then simply sleep on the floor to be contrary.

WHAT DO THEY DO IF THEY CANNOT FALL ASLEEP?: She'll often sing to herself, cradle songs and war chants, pace around the room/campsite, or read until she finally drifts off. She has a hard time getting her hunting/predator instincts/battle instincts to shut 'off' in order to rest and often suffers racing thoughts closer to her bedtime.

FREQUENT DREAMS, NIGHTMARES: Some verses, her memory of burning under the sun. Most verses its relieving battles she fought in the past, or moments she regrets. Memories she prefers to avoid during her waking hours if she can. She will only talk about them if she truly trusts the other person.

DEEP SLUMBER OR NAPS: Deep slumber, she's too restless to nap unless she's been unable to sleep for days and then it'll be an exhausted driven nap.

WHEN DO THEY SLEEP: When she needs to, when she can no longer put it off, or can finally shake off the insomnia to rest.

WHAT COULD WAKE THEM UP: Sonja's a ambush style predator by nature, the slightest sound or movement will wake her. She might not indicate she's awake and aware, and there is usually a weapon nearby she will use (if she is not the weapon herself).

EARLY OR LATE RISER: Early, she'll only sleep in late if she's truly exhausted/injured, or if she has a bed companion she'll be more inclined to stay where she is and curl up closer to them.

Tagged by: @ithring

Tagging: @penddraig @tornsurvivors @halfvampirehalflycan @sookiestackhcuse @ofcatnaps @parainvestigate @causeitsmyboat @llosgcariad

#—&; dig up her bones but leave the soul alone(ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ) #;;dashboard games #sonja: piss me off and i will singlehandedly ensure that people doubt your hospitality #also she's an insomniac but *very good* at hiding it #she fought wards for ages it is ***very** hard for her to settle and sleep unless she feels completely safe #you know she trusts your muse if she instantly settles and falls asleep

[7serendipities]

My Bealtaine Season

A lot of witches and pagans use the term “Samhain Season” for the months of October and November (approximately - everyone seems to define it a bit differently) but I hardly ever see its counterpart - “Bealtaine Season”. There's an Otherworldly high tide at this time of the year as well, though it might be a little more difficult to sense, as there are upticks in activity in the physical world and many of our mundane lives as well - getting outside more and tidying gardens in preparation for planting, making summer vacation plans - as opposed to the slowing down of the autumn and winter.

But just as Samhain is the modern Irish month of November, kicked off with Oíche Shamhna, November Eve, so too is Bealtaine the modern Irish month of May, with Oíche Bealtaine the May Eve festival. Though this year where I live, the rising tide was already quite high by the dark moon on the night of April 19th-20th, and I expect it'll be another week or so before I actually feel the ebb.

It's a busy time of year, for me, because the beginning of the high tide often overlaps with another of my personal festival calendars, and there are a number of mundane anniversaries as well. My other personal festival calendar follows the movements of the star Spica, and this year, Spica’s heliacal seetting was approximately April 25th. So we went straight from the dark moon (20) into that (25), and then my wedding anniversary the following day (26), and then Oíche Bealtaine/Hexxenacht (30), Bealtaine/May Day (1), my child's birthday (3), the astrological cross quarter & full moon (5), my mother's birthday (7), mother's day (14), and the dark moon again (19), which is when I expect things to settle down, given my past experiences.

I wouldn't mind Otherworldly things settling down early, though - whether it's just that or also the astrological weather, I haven't been sleeping well, and when I've been asleep I've often been pulled off somewhere, doing magical work instead of getting uninterrupted rest. I'm exhausted.

Despite that exhaustion, though, I've been outside quite a bit, getting garden beds ready for the growing season, and getting my beautiful new crabapple tree settled in. While the cherry and plum blossoms usually follow the equinox around here, it seems like this crabapple will flower along with the azaleas and rhododendrons. Those tend to be at peak bloom just after our last hard frost, which is usually just about the first of May. And then a week later, it's time to start moving all my seedlings outside for good, so it's a busy time of year for a garden witch like myself as well! Weeding the herb bed and transplanting seedlings and planning out what else to plant where once the ground is warm enough to germinate seeds. This year I'd also like at least one more shrub to fill in a gap in front of the house.

I try to only put native plants directly into the ground, with my crocuses being the main exception. I didn't plant any of the daffodils or grape hyacinths or dandelions, though the pollinators seem to love them, so I let them stay. I try to proliferate what native plants show up, like the milkweed, the boneset, the wild blackberry, and the asters. the crabapple is a hybrid, not a wild type, but it's still close enough that the native pollinators and birds should get use of it. Pretty much all of my other herbs and veggies are in raised beds or pots, in an attempt to contain them. The containment hasn't worked well for the mint or the yarrow, but it turns out yarrow is native here as well, and the mint is a reasonable addition to my front lawn, no worse than the grass. I planted an eastern white cedar in the back yard last year, and also a passionflower vine, but I'm not sure if that actually made it through the winter. It's supposed to be a perennial but I've yet to see it this spring. If I had a bigger budget, I'd love a couple of serviceberry bushes and a redbud tree and a bunch of native irises and honeysuckles… but most of that will have to wait!

Being in good relationship with my land and local spirits is one of the foundations of my practice, and native landscaping is just one of the ways I lean into that. I've also been working on a ritual format similar to quarter calls, that petitions large nearby land spirits or waterway spirits that form natural borders in the landscape. I used it for a small ritual with a group of friends last weekend, and called upon the Susquehanna River, the Chesapeake Bay, the Potomac River, and the Appalachian Mountains. I know these landmarks, I know their spirits, and I have been developing relationships with them for years - it seems only fitting to give them offerings and to ask for their support as I do seasonal workings.

#land spirits #nature spirits #spiritwork #waterway spirits #bealtaine #holiday #gardening

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Okay so, since you may be able to tell my RotE fever has returned I thought it might be time for a little Realm of the Quarantine update/thot dump. May be a little scattered and it gets personal but here we go!

1. Yes, it has been a fucking full year between finishing Mad Ship and finally cracking open Ship of Destiny, but yes, we are still going! Again, I have been following my sister's pace with this read, and she is chronically ill and a parent of a wild 4 year old (who I essentially co-parent just btw) so her capacity to read at all can fluctuate wildly. She was maybe a quarter through Ship of Destiny when she fell into a severe slump and so I just never started it after finishing Mad Ship. She picked up the book every so often but I wasn't confident she would keep it up and I preferred to be stuck between books than between chapters. Anyway, she finally hit her stride in December and finished Liveship, and now she is almost finished Fool's Errand!! She was literally sobbing today and I was like oh shit it's happened... Nope it's only the bit where Fitz and Dutiful go through the skill pillar leaving the Fool and Nighteyes behind 🙃 honey, you got a big storm comin (I'm sorry)

2. Realm of the Quarantine? Still? Yeah, for the sake of tagging it doesn't make sense to change the name, but also my brother just got covid 🙃 first one in our family (he's okay!!) so the legacy lives on I guess. Anyway I think the name will always fit because it's a good way of tying it to the when and why of its beginnings. Literally insane that this will be the third year of this reread lol huh??

3. On that note, I cannot WAIT for the day I get to inhale this series again at my own (supremely unhealthy) pace. I was so looking forward to picking up on all the nitty gritty details and through lines because this is my first time reading chronologically and yeah I still can to an extent but it's now once again been years since I read the first books so ya know, the cohesion just isn't there.

4. On THAT note, I have definitely been pretty rusty getting back into the series. I'm engaged and enjoying it while I'm reading but you should see the amount of tabs compared to the others lol, and the amount of notes. I think it's just taking a while for my feelings about the story to kick back in all the way, but that is definitely happening more and more as I go on (almost halfway through now)! There are also just a lot of dropped threads, things I was keeping track of in my notes before which I don't have a clear enough memory of to keep following now, so it's honestly just kind of hard to know what kinds of things I should be noting? But again that's getting better. I might actually read my notes from the previous books tomorrow cos that would help, I'm sure. All this is linked with the fact that my sister, neice and I have just moved into our own place together, out from an extremely unhealthy situation. The move was really sudden, and although an incredible opportunity it was also inhumanly stressful and exhausting. I became severely dissociated and I'm still finding my way back to myself. But honestly getting back to RotE has been a big help with that!! It's just that yeah, there are so many disconnects whether it's my memory, the flow of the story being interrupted by a long break or my ability to feel much. It's all getting better. But I just wanted to put that out there in case my Ship of Destiny write up ends up being a bit of a skinny legend :( I know it doesn't actually matter I just am kinda sad about it because this trilogy is so dense and I was connecting so many dots and now it's like someone came and cut all the strings on my serial killer corkboard and I'm starting from scratch. But oh well!!

5. There is no greater motivator for reading than to know your sister is experiencing some absolute fucking PEAK Fitz and the Fool content without you

6. Speaking of which, you may notice a contradiction between my stated disconnect from Liveship and claiming my RotE madness is back. Well, this is actually not an entirely new phenomenon. Last time I was reading Liveship I wasn't disconnected from it, but it did still ignite my Fitz/Fool rabies. I'd be reading Liveship all day, perhaps without so much as a mention of Amber popping up, yet spend all night dreaming about Fitz and the Fool? Honestly just takes the most flimsy of threads for those two to hijack my brain. But I'm not complaining about it.

7. Sadly have not been struck with inspiration for memes yet, but hopefully Sa will bless me soon.

8. Long story short, I'm back and becoming more and more obsessed every day which strangely is a sign I'm doing much better lol. It sounds strange but if my sister keeps this going and I can make it through Tawny Man without any major interruptions I think it'll genuinely be really good for my mental health. The ability to get excited about something, be unapologetically passionate, think critically, experience a masterpiece which might inspire me to do some writing of my own and just generally spend time on something I love are all things that have been missing from my life. Returning to RotE is far from the most important change in my life right now but it is intrinsically tied to those changes. A friend to accompany me on this new road. Sorry to be cheesy I just honestly have worked so relentlessly and hopelessly hard to get here all while never really believing I would arrive. I still don't really believe it but I want to. The fact I even have the mental clarity or will to put this post together is remarkable on its own. So I'm taking stock. I've missed talking shit with you guys, I hope we all have a beautiful year 💫

#realm of the quarantine

[to-the-hills-recipeblog]

Two separate days of bringing my friend from back home around the city I’ve lived in for the past year, we returned home after long exhausting days. Late at night for last minute meals with little to no grocery shopping, these were delicious.

This recipe is extremely simple and easy. Ive decided it’s called Cardinal Sin due to the face we prepare it in the style similar to carbonara. No cream, no peas. The carabinieri may arrest you. And if any of my girlfriends family caught me making this, I might have been exiled to fend for myself amongst the wild boars here.

One of the ingredients were the Calabrian peppers I’ve been growing. I did have on my glasses for context. These really do pack some serious heat. An arms length away for chopping, a juicy drop from satan jumped its way over my glasses and straight into my eye. You will be in agony for 10 to 15 minutes. If this does happen, pour milk in a bowl and splash onto your eyes while blinking. It won’t stop the sting but will reduce it. Wash your hands with soap, then yogurt/milk, then soap. Lotion immediately after. No matter how many times you wash with soap alone won’t fix it. The sensation is like a bad sunburn if you touch your nose, genitals or ears. I say genitals bc this is Tumblr. And I know very well a good majority of you can’t keep your hands off yourselves and your partners. Practice self care. For those of you who are extremely curious and try to eat a raw piece, I suggest a mouthful of peanut butter or yogurt afterward.

Lames introductions aside. Let’s make some Italians mad, I present

Cardinal Sin 🌶️🍝

2-3 slices of prosciutto (cut into thin strips)

4 egg yolks

Garlic -minced

Calabrian pepper (or cayenne if you’re heat sensitive) - chopped finely

Less than a 1/4 cup of Tomato sauce

Salt, pepper, paprika

Basil or Calabrian pepper plant leaves -cut into thin strips

In a hot pan (preferably non stick) without oil, fry your prosciutto until slightly darkened. This will season the pan.

Boil a pot of water (salted) and pasta of choice. Once pasta is cooked, save a quarter cup of pasta water.

In a separate bowl, mix your egg yolks and Parmesan cheese until thick like mashed potatoes. Set aside for later

Drizzle olive oil into the pan then add your minced garlic and Calabrian peppers and fry.

Toss in your tomato sauce. Just a little bit and mix until tomato sauce is reduced

Mix in your pasta with the garlic and peppers in the frying pan. Add your egg yolk mixture and slowly drizzle in pasta water while stirring until you have a creamy consistency

Take off heat and Mix in your fresh basil, paprika, salt and pepper.

#lgbt #recipe blog #recipes on tumblr #recipes #cooking from the heart #cooking #cooking tips #good #food blog #foodies #kitchen #pasta #italians mad at food #let’s piss off small angry olive boot people #yummy