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fourmoony · 4 months

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Friends or What?

James Potter x F!Reader

A coming of age story in which Potter's Corner Shop has a funny way of bringing people together. Falling in love is daunting when everyone is watching.

Ao3 Link (chapters will be uploaded here the day before Tumblr).

CW: For Chapter One, the content warnings include: Use of the word 'fag', but in context to a cigarette (UK slang) Foul language A minor using the word 'shagging' Smoking/Drinking alcohol A comment about hoping someone chokes Threat of caving someone's head in with a baseball bat (it's lighthearted, I swear) Implied internalised homophobia Mentions of fighting

Please be aware that this fic will contain multiple hard to read scenes, and I completely understand, if because of this, you choose not to read :) it's a coming of age fic, while there'll be lots of fluff and happy moments, there'll also be lots of hard, uncomfortable moments, too. Please, please, do not make yourself uncomfortable.

CHAPTER ONE (7k) -

Sirius is stocking the fag drawers, behind the counter, when you come in through the shop door. The little bell above the wooden frame dings to announce your arrival. Sirius doesn’t turn upon hearing the bell, nor does he acknowledge there’s even anyone in the shop. You follow his lead, heading up the sweetie aisle, wiggling your fingers as you go, lips puckered in anticipation as you search of the cherry lollies you know were delivered this morning. Whether or not Sirius has bothered to unload the pallet yet is a strong factor in whether you’ll find them sitting where they’re supposed to be. Your eyes scan the shelves, there are no cherry lollies to be found. No worries, you think, picking up a fashion magazine as you pass the stand.

You walk the loop of the shop, hear the bell ding in the distance signal someone else has come in. It smells like newspapers and the inside of the fridges that line the back wall of the shop; the radio crackles through tinny speakers, playing the UK Top 40 and you just know Sirius is hating every minute of it. When you approach the till, Sirius still has his head in the fag drawer, whistling along to his own song, radio be damned.

“You didn’t put the cherry lollies out, lazy arse,” you say.

Sirius jumps, turns as though you might be standing there with a balaclava and machete, ready to demand he open and empty the till. He rolls his eyes when his brain catches up with the situation, head bobbing to the left where the storeroom door sits, a pale blue, creaky thing that drives everyone insane on stock days with its constant whine every time it opens and closes, “Help yourself.”

The storeroom is cold and dark, but spacious, with piles of overflow stock lined up against the walls, organised into specific sections. It’s almost scary how neat it is. There’s a pallet in the middle of it all, wrapped in black plastic that’s been ripped at the top; likely Sirius taking the fags out. You scan the pile with a frown, knowing it’ll be an annoying game of Jenga trying to find the lollies without pulling everything else down with them. It takes a while, and a bit of rearranging, but you find the tub and return to Sirius with a triumphant smile. The customer that followed you in is filing out the door, so you allow Sirius to scan your items and give him the money.

“You should be about halfway through that pallet by now, it’s gone one in the afternoon, you know.” You chastise Sirius playfully.

He scowls when you sit on the counter beside the till one leg curled up and tucked underneath you, the other swinging back and forth, kicking and wobbling the specials display underneath the till. He knows he’s not getting rid of you any time soon when you flip open your magazine, unwrap your lolly, and stick it in your mouth.

“It showed up late. Problem with a road closure, or something.” Sirius replies, turning back to the drawer.

He rips open a packet of Sterling Duals and starts stuffing them into the drawer. You hum, amused, “That what you’re going to tell Effie?”

Sirius scoffs, an air of arrogance to him when he looks over his shoulder, long, black hair flicking with the movement, “It’s the truth. Plus, Effie never shouts at me. You know this.”

“Perks of being the boss’s son.”

Sirius seems to preen at your jab over his nepotism. He’s always very happy to be known as Euphemia and Fleamont Potter’s son. You don’t know much about his situation, just that the Potter’s took Sirius in when he was sixteen and none of them ever looked back. He’s happy and he’s cared for, and he seems to love being their son. So, you don’t ask. It’s none of your business, anyway.

The bell dings again and you and Sirius both look over out of habit. You have to lean past the roll stand to your left to fully see who’s came in, but when you catch sight of James, your grin grows wider. James Potter is Euphemia and Fleamont’s son. Biological son. Granted, that doesn’t matter with the way Effie fawns over Sirius like he was the biological one. She claims to love them the same. You secretly think Sirius is the favourite, though you have no idea why. He’s an insufferable shit, most of the time. James is nice. He’s bright and always happy, a proper ray of sunshine which, on the bad days, can be a little annoying.

It’s rather hard to be angry at the world when James Potter is standing there with his stupidly pretty grin and his big brown eyes, spouting such optimism into the world that things just start to feel better because he says they will.

“Delivery came late, mate. Just got it half an hour ago.” Sirius doesn’t even greet his best friend with a ‘Hello’, just moves straight onto damage control over the fact he’s still restocking the fag counter at one o’clock in the afternoon.

“Don’t listen to him, Jamie,” You say, popping the cherry lolly out of your mouth to talk properly, “He’s a dirty liar. Lazy arse, too.”

James laughs, approaches where you’re perched on the counter and stands so close you can smell his aftershave. It’s a bit of a cliché, honestly; fancying your boss’s son. Well, really, he’s your friend before he’s Effie and Monty’s son. You’ve always been friends. Since before you started working at the shop. Since school, really. But still. The cliché sits a little clunky in your chest sometimes. Especially when he looks as handsome as he does, today. He’s wearing his rugby jumper and a pair of joggies. Really, it’s nothing special. But he looks so soft. So cosy. His hair is all mussed up from the wind and his glasses are a little squint.

You reach out a manicured finger to push them further up his nose and he smiles down at you. Yeah, you think, pathetic.

“Are you here to work or cause trouble?” James asks with a teasing smile whilst Sirius sputters at your accusations.

“I can multitask, you know,” is your reply, words sweet as honey, “But to answer your question, no, sadly I am not here to work.”

“And yet you’re still here, annoying me with your presence.” Sirius mumbles.

You roll your eyes, turn to James with pouted lips, “See the way he talks to me?”

In James’s defence, he plays the game. See how far you can push each other before the other gets flustered and has to walk away. Last week he gave you a taste of your own medicine so bad that you had to stand in the stock room like an idiot for five minutes counting tins of beans until your face returned to its normal colour. You’re good at putting up a front, acting like whatever the two of you are doing doesn’t effect you, that you’re cool, calm, and collected about the whole thing. But the tins of beans in the stock room would tell a different story, could they talk. You’re glad they can’t, as silly as that thought is.

James, bless him, humours you – much to Sirius’ dismay – and coos, brows furrowed in mock-sympathy, “Poor soul.”

“Okay, fine, if this was your plan to get me to do the pallet, I’ll go.” Sirius finally breaks, hands held up in surrender.

It wasn’t your plan, but you watch him leave with an amused smile.

“The road into the village was shut, I know the delivery was actually late.” James laughs to himself.

“Hm,” You hum, ditching your magazine to the side and swinging your legs over the counter until you’re standing behind it, “Me too.”

“Thought you weren’t working today.”

You shrug, picking up where Sirius left off with the fags, your back turned to James, “I’ll do these and then I’ll be off.”

“Thanks.” James rounds the counter the normal way, punching his clock in card on the machine beside the till.

You look up, find him leaning against the counter by his hip, a small smile on his face. He’s so charming, you think.

“Don’t thank me,” You warn, the ghost of a mischievous smirk dancing across your face, “I’m putting them all in backwards, so he has to redo them all.”

“You know how he gets about the fag drawers,” James groans, because he knows he has to spend the rest of the day listening to Sirius gripe about whatever it is you’re about to do. “They’re his… area.”

“Yeah, well,” You shrug, “He didn’t put the cherry lollies out.”

James doesn’t have an answer for that. He just huffs a laugh and reaches for a packet to open and starts to pass you them.

-----

‘The Saturday Girls’, or so they’re nicknamed, are nice. They’re so coined because they only work Saturdays to help with unloading the bulk of the delivery that comes that morning. It’s a weekend job, perfect for them because they’re still in school, and it offers them a bit of pocket money. It would’ve been a dream job for you at fifteen, but Shauna and Lisa sometimes seem like having to work a shift in Potter’s Corner Shop is the bane of their entire teenage existence. Like now, Shauna stands leaning up against the end of the third aisle, passing Lisa packages of toilet rolls off the trolley with a sardonic look on her face.

You can hear them talking about a girl in their form class, how she’s after Shauna’s boyfriend and it brings unwanted flash backs of being that age, that naïve, when the idea of someone stealing your boyfriend felt like the end of the world. Really, they should have a trolley each, working on separate aisles. But you don’t get paid enough to boss them around; and if Shauna’s insults to whatever girl is trying to steal her man are anything to go by, you don’t actually want to be on her bad side.

Sirius has taken a falling out with the fag drawers since your ruin of them, yesterday, and so you’ve spent the better part of the morning facing them all the correct way. There’s a box of clipper lighters on the floor at your feet to be unloaded, too.

“I’m too scared to tell them that putting toilet roll on the shelves isn’t a two-woman job,” James appears behind you following the nerve grating squeak from the storeroom door, leaning on the counter with a lopsided smile.

He’s placed the clipboard with all of today’s stock details on the counter, pen tucked neatly under the clip of it. You know he’s here for your signature, cutting the job in half for you by doing the inventory himself. He likes numbers, you hate them, he’s happy to do it so long as he doesn’t have to fix the mess you created in the fag drawers. Besides Sirius, you’re the only person to be trusted in Sirius’ sacred area. Ironically enough. You pick the pen up with a hum, scribbling your name to state you were here when the delivery arrived this morning, “Some poor girl in their form is getting it tight, today. Shauna thinks she’s after her man.”

James laughs airily, “So I shouldn’t go over there and intervene?”

“Best not. I’ll come up with something I need help with in five, ask her to help me. Just need to finish these, first.” You say, waving a packet of JPS Red around so James knows what you’re talking about.

“Thanks,” Is James’ reply, “For the signature and for saving me from getting called a daft bint, or something, behind my back.”

Your laugh is bubbly and comes out of your mouth so fast you don’t have time to be embarrassed about it. It makes James laugh, too, low, and throaty as he taps the pen against the clipboard. He shakes his head and makes his retreat to the office at the back of the storeroom, likely to file the inventory sheet for Monty to look over on Monday. It only takes you a few more minutes to fix the rest of the fags, all in their correct places, all facing the correct way. The clippers are unloaded haphazardly into the tub in the bottom drawer, and then you’re off, on the hunt for Shauna.

She and Lisa have made it to the baby wipes when you come down the aisle that they’re in. Shauna is leaning against the trolley now that she doesn’t have the wall at the end of the aisle to lean on, and she’s passing Lisa the packets one by one. Lisa has her head ducked into the shelf to reach all the way to the back, but Shauna straightens up when she sees you round the corner.

“Hey, you okay to help me build some stuff up in the storeroom to get it off the pallet?” You ask.

There’s an empty box on the trolley that you reach for, pulling it apart until it’s flat and you can stick it inside the bag on the back of the trolley. Shauna gives a longing glance to Lisa, as though being parted from her will bring her physical pain. It’s quite comical, really. A small part of you misses being so young and carefree. Shauna nods, following you to the storeroom.

James is holding the door open on your way past, “I’ll keep an eye on the till.”

You thank him and Shauna follows you through. There’s not much to be unloaded, really. You and James got the majority done this morning when it arrived, and so its overstock that’s left. Shauna follows your lead, knowing by now where everything goes. There’s cereal and biscuits, teabags and coffee jars, there’s alcohol and fizzy juice. Shauna doesn’t talk much while you work, which isn’t surprising. She’s rather quiet and subdued with the rest of the staff, most of the time. Without Lisa to bounce off of, Shauna doesn’t usually say much.

“How long have you and James been together?” Shauna asks out of nowhere.

It’s less surprising to hear her starting conversation than the question she’s actually asked, which is saying something. The box of ready salted crisps in your hands go toppling backwards from where you’d been reaching to put them on top of the pile as you twist to face her, eyebrows somewhere near your hairline. The girl looks nonplussed, lifting a crate of Red Stripe and placing it with the other alcohol against the wall closest to the door.

“Sorry?”

You can’t quite find the words, brain reeling at a mile a minute because have other people noticed whatever game you and James are playing and assumed you’re together? That’s incredibly embarrassing and unprofessional. Shauna doesn’t seem to notice your confusion as she barrels on, seemingly in her own world, “It’s just cause, me and this boy from school have been going out for, like, a month, yeah?”

She doesn’t actually wait for your response as she picks up another crate of beer and sticks it on top of the pile she’s created, “And this girl from my form keeps trying to text him. He’s told me he’s ignoring her, but I dunno if I believe him.”

“Right.” You say, a bit dazed, trying to keep up with what she’s saying whilst trying to put together what this would have to do with you and James.

“I guess I’m just wondering what you’d do if it was another girl trying to get with James. Like, would you go barmy?” Shauna asks, and you can tell there’s a hint of insecurity in there somewhere.

Picking up the crisps you’d dropped rather ungracefully, you tell her, “Well, James and I aren’t together. Like, at all. But if it was someone I really liked, I’d be a bit upset, I suppose. If he says he isn’t replying, I’d believe him until he gives you a reason not to.”

Shauna seems pleased with that answer, but feels the need to add, “Anyone would think you and James are together. Or, at the very least, shagging.”

There’s really nothing you can say to that, is there? It knocks the wind out of you, flusters you, and concerns you all at once. What do fifteen-year-olds know about shagging? Well, you suppose it’s all your friends wanted to talk about at fifteen, too. But. Well. No. Just, no.

“Right,” Shauna breaks your flustered silence by dusting her hands on the side of her trousers, “That it, then?”

Right enough, the pallet is empty. You open your mouth to talk but find nothing will come out, so you close it and nod. She files out of the storeroom after shooting you a weird glance but doesn’t feel the need to add anything more. You count tins of beans until your brain decides it can function again.

“The Saturday Girls have got to go.” You tell James when you slip behind the till ten minutes later.

He breaks his focus from the screen the security camera’s run on, eyebrows narrowed in concern, “She said something?”

You wave your hand, 'nothing too bad', it signals, “Asked how long we’ve been shagging.”

James promptly chokes on air, pounds his chest a few times with wide eyes. You wonder if you should be offended, or if he’s just genuinely surprised Shauna was so brass necked about the whole ordeal. You settle on a nod and a placating look, exactly, you think.

“She’s like, twelve.”

Huffing a laugh, you correct him, “Fifteen, actually. But still, I dropped a box of crisps, nearly toppled the whole tower I was so gobsmacked.”

“What,” James laughs after, “at the suggestion of shagging me, or her boldness?”

If there’s one thing James Potter knows how to do, it’s get under your skin. He’s wearing that signature knowing smirk, the one he wears when he’s thinking something mischievous, or he knows exactly what you’re thinking, feeling, like he can see right into your soul. He’s a prick, you decide. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The thing is: this game is slowly spiralling into more than you can handle. It’d started as an easy way to irritate Sirius, then an even easier way to make the boring shifts go in quicker, then it was just fun. Watching the way his tongue pokes the side of his cheek when he’s considering a rebuttal, or trying to hide a smile, the way his jaw clenches when you come in on your days off wearing tight clothes, only to perch yourself on the edge of the counter and promptly tease him all day. It’s fun. But now it’s too much. James is too much. Because at the start, he’d get shy and flustered, brush you off in a polite manner. But now. Well, now he’s an evil shit who likes to make you weak and hot and bothered and all of the in-betweens every chance he gets.

“Jamie,” You smile, sweet as honey, eyes doe-like and offering him the challenge, “You couldn’t handle me.”

The minute James shakes his head, hair flopping to the side, tongue pushed into his cheek, you know you’ve won this round. He slinks off to find another job for Shauna to do, who you can see on the security cameras has gone back to passing Lisa things off of the trolley.

Twenty-six tins of beans. There are twenty-six tins of beans in the storeroom.

-----

The rota goes like this: Monday: Monty, open. You and James, close. Tuesday: Sirius and James, open. Remus, close. Wednesday: Effie, open. Monty, close. Thursday: Remus and James, open. You and Sirius, close. Friday: Sirius, open. Effie, close. Occasionally James, close. Saturday: You and James, open. Effie and Monty, close. Sunday: Monty, open. You and Remus, close.

The open shift runs from seven o’clock in the morning, until two in the afternoon, and the close shift runs from two o’clock in the afternoon, until ten o’clock at night. Potter’s is the only shop in the village open until ten, and it’s a busy shop because of this. Probably, also, because the Potters are well known, well liked, and well respected.

But the main thing to note about the rota is that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are never scheduled to work a shift together. Ever. The simple reason is because they don’t get on. Like, despise each other for a reason that is unbeknownst to you, and even James, who is Sirius’ best friend in the entire world, his brother. Personally, you think their beef is pointless. But the delivery driver who dropped off the Saturday pallet five months ago and ended up having to break up a petty argument between the two would likely disagree. Apparently, some harsh words had been said between the two, and after the Potter’s decided Sirius was just as much an instigator as Remus was easy to snap, and that both of them were irreplaceable as workers, the new rota was made, stapled to the office wall, never to be changed, and with their names never beside each other.

It’s strange, to you, because Sirius and Remus are both lovely. You enjoy working with both of them. Separately, of course. They seem to know that in the situation of their hatred of each other, you and James are both Switzerland. You’ll listen to them rant about each other, sympathise with their feelings, but ultimately add nothing of note to the conversation. Sometimes you think that bothers them more. Unfortunately, there’s no avoiding their hatred of each other every Saturday in the pub, but they’ve become increasingly better at tolerating each other’s presence. It no longer ends in one or the other storming out of the pub or offering to meet each other outside for a scrap. Small wins. You’ve no idea where they get the energy to put so much effort into their animosity towards each other. A small part of you actually thinks they enjoy getting each other riled up to the point of snapping, the same way you and James do, just with more insults and less innuendos. Each to their own, you suppose.

Remus has his foot kicked up against the wall with a fag in his hand when you near the shop door. He’s staring across the road at the small play park, looking rather lost. There’s a group of kids on the swings, laughing and chatting away. They’re young looking. Ten, maybe eleven. When he notices you, Remus seems to snap out of whatever daydream he’s in, eyes softening and his lips turning upward into a smile. It pulls at the scar slicing across his cupids bow, taught, but paling out at the stretch. There’s a number of scars that litter Remus’ skin, the product of a nasty car crash he was in as a child. You don’t notice them as much, now, as when he first started working at Potter’s. They’re just part of who he is, and they make him no less handsome.

“Here even on your day off,” Remus tsks, passes you the cigarette.

You have a draw, blowing out the smoke with the ghost of a teasing smile on your lips, “Someone’s got to mind the till on your eighteen fag breaks.”

Remus laughs, accepting of the jab, “Monty’s in today. Shops not totally unmanned.”

“Ah,” You hum, passing him the fag back, “Unusual for him. He usually runs off the minute his shift finishes.”

He nods, sandy hair flopping in a mess of curls on top of his head. “Something about having to find a new supplier, the drivers for Zonko’s are complaining about having to drive into the village.” Remus speaks through an exhale, the wind carrying the smoke along the street.

He flicks the fag to the ground and follows you inside, finding his place behind the till whilst you meander down the aisles, still content in having the conversation, “That’s ridiculous. It’s only fifteen minutes off the motor way.”

Remus makes a noise of agreement but doesn’t say anything else until you return to the till with a cherry lolly and a magazine. He looks at your purchases with an enhanced non-surprised glance, eyes flicking up to ask with a simple look if you could be any more predictable. You shrug, hand him a fiver, and he passes you your change.

“Think they’re just annoyed because the only road into the bloody place is always closed because that daft Mr. Filch keeps forgetting to shut his gate and the cows always escape.” Remus comments, closing the till.

You take up your usual space, to the left of the till, leg tucked under you, subconsciously kicking the specials stand with your free foot. The customers are never surprised to find you sitting here. Most of them often comment that you’re like the store’s very own cat. Always lurking, happy to sit, and watch the people go about their days. Really, you just like to annoy whoever is working. Unless it’s Effie or Monty. They usually put you to work if you hang around for too long.

“They should really just bolt that bloody fence shut. He’s always losing his cows.”

“He does it on purpose. I don’t know why, yet, but he does.” Remus theorises, his brows furrowed as though it’s some great mystery as to why old Argus Filch is always letting his cows run free, as though he has some ulterior motive.

Perhaps he does. You’ve never given it much thought.

“They should switch to Ollivander’s, anyway. I’ve been telling them for months that they’re better priced. Plus, they’re closer, the delivery charge wouldn’t be as much.” You say, eyes scanning the pages of your magazine.

The cherry lollypop rattles off your back teeth, something you know drives Remus insane. You don’t stop.

“They don’t stock Pettigrew’s butcher meat, though.” Remus counters.

Pettigrew’s Butchers is the most sought-after Butcher meat in the village, and Potter’s is the only place that stock it. It’s what drives in most of the customers, you’d argue. It’s good meat. You’ll give them that. It’s why Effie and Monty have been hesitant to drop Zonko’s as their distributor because they’ll lose their access to Pettigrew’s. Truly a conundrum in the eyes of the village. You flick to the next page, shrugging, “It’s only a forty-minute drive out of the village. Wouldn’t Pettigrew deliver it himself?”

“What, every morning?”

You sigh, long and suffering. This conversation is, truly, boring. You love Remus. You do. Really. But you miss Sirius. Or James. Remus seems off, today. He’s less humorous, less sarcastic. You won’t push. You know he doesn’t like that. But you shouldn’t have to suffer the world’s most boring conversation because of it. Perhaps that’s selfish of you.

“Zonko’s doesn’t even deliver to us, every morning. Just have Pettigrew's tie in with the days we get from Ollivander’s.” You suggest, though, you know there’s nothing Remus can do about it.

It’s a conversation best had with Monty or Effie. Even James. But they’re smart. They’ll likely figure it out on their own. You hop off the counter, pulling the lolly from your mouth as you go, “Either way, it’s going to be a shit few weeks if we don’t have a distributor. I need to go, meeting Sirius for a cuppa at the Leaky.”

You wince as soon as the words come out of your mouth, watching as Remus’ expression falls.

“Hope he chokes on his cuppa.” Remus mutters, though a saccharine smile comes across his lips.

You roll your eyes, pointer finger already aimed at him, “Behave!”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, though you know behaving is the last thing Remus Lupin will ever do when it comes to Sirius Black. It’s ridiculous.

“Give Monty my love.” You say in ways of a goodbye and Remus waves you off.

You pretend not to hear when he tells you to give Sirius the middle finger for him.

-----

“You’re a genius, you know.” Sirius says, sitting your drink down in front of you.

The pub is, strangely, quite quiet. There’s a family of four in the far corner, eating a meal in stoic silence – awkward – and a group of older women by the bar, a bottle of champagne in an ice cooler on the table and bubbling glasses in each of their hands. Of course, you and Sirius were the last to arrive, meeting the rest of your friends at the only large table the Three Broomstick’s own, which lead to him shooing you off to get a seat and buying your drink for you. You won’t complain. Your regular table is already a mess of empty pint glasses from James, Remus, and Frank, and two empty wine bottles from Lily, Mary, and Marlene. Alice is on nightshift at the police station, a lucky feat for everyone because it means there’ll be no tequila shots tonight. Fine by you.

It’s a long table that you all occupy, with two benches running along either side, and no matter how busy the pub is, people always seem to know not to sit there. None of you would mind if they did, really. But it’s just something people don’t do. Your group has been coming to the Three Broomsticks since you were seventeen (not that Rosmerta, the owner, knows that), minus Remus, who moved to town seven months ago, wandered in for a pint one night, and unfortunately for him, got stuck with you lot.

“Mm,” You hum, cheeks puffing out in your pleased smile, “I know. Do feel free to tell me why, though.”

Sirius guffaws, rolling his eyes at your theatrics – as though he isn’t the carbon copy of you, just in male form – “For the Ollivander’s idea. Well, tying it in with Pettigrew’s, at least.”

“What?”

You hadn’t told anyone about that idea. Anyone other than Remus, at least, who looks incredibly sheepish when your eyes flick to him further along the table, conveniently out of arms reach of Sirius. James, who swallows a gulp of his pint before he speaks, looks incredibly cheerful when he says, “Yeah! Dad loved that idea. He didn’t even consider asking Pettigrew’s for a private contract. He didn’t think they’d be up for driving into the village, but turns out the son, Peter, delivers to the next town over twice a week, anyway.”

“Right.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink to wash the awkward feeling that’s settled over you away.

Really, you hadn’t meant to form some type of master plan.

“Sorry.” Remus winces.

“Why’s he sorry?” Sirius is quick to question, ever the one to start an argument, “What’s he done now?”

Remus scoffs, “Funny you think I’ve done something.”

“Well, you were the one apologising.”

“He’s not done anything, Sirius. Give it a rest, both of you.”

That shuts them up.

“I told Monty about her idea after she left on Tuesday.” Remus admits, looking rather sheepish.

Sirius seems placated enough with his answer, so he shrugs and enters into a conversation with Frank and James, who lost interest the minute Remus and Sirius started bickering. You assure Remus that it’s okay, waving him off before nudging your head further down the table, inviting him into the conversation with Lily, Mary, and Marlene.

Lily is complaining about her job in the council office. She’s pretty high up, though, you couldn’t for the life of you tell someone what it is she actually does, had they asked. Something to do with the local MP. There’s a shit tonne of paperwork and multiple people who Lily thinks are, in her words, so far up their own arse, they forget they’re civil servants and not, in fact, the be all and end all of the world. Her job is highly stressful, as is obvious by the empty bottle of wine in front of her, even though it’s not long gone five o’clock. Lily Evans worked incredibly hard to be where she is, though, the fireball of a human that she is, and she’ll be damned to ever give up, now. You admire her, really. She grew up in the village, like all of you except Remus, noticing the prejudice it held, the unfair situations people lived in, the real issues the place held, rather than what every other member of the council saw as ‘issues’, and she went to University, got her degree, came right back, and got to fucking work. She hasn’t solved world hunger yet, but you’re sure she’s well on her way to it. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’ll be Lily Evans.

Mary and Marlene are listening intently, especially Mary, who’s been begging the council to fund the one primary school the village has, Hogwarts, more substantially than it has in previous years. She’s a teacher there, and she loves it with every bit of her being, but the school is incredibly underfunded, so she and Lily have been working on a campaign to bring it to the Council’s attention. They’re making progress. But not as quick as Mary would like. That much is obvious in the way she rants about Lucius Malfoy and his pretentious, pompous, personality. He is a bit of a prick, honestly. He’s the head of the school board committee for the village, and he’s the main reason the school hasn’t received the funding it’s needed in almost ten years. He’s a toad.

Marlene, even though she couldn’t give less of a shit if she tried, is listening, anyway. She’s a good friend, Marlene, but past her friends, her family, and music, there isn’t much Marlene McKinnon really gives a toss about. You commend her for it really, her no-fucks-given attitude towards the world, the way she’s so carefree, and lives her life how she wants, no matter what. She’s laid back and honestly, doing better than the rest of your friends in adulthood. She’s the only one out of the lot of you who hasn’t had a full-scale meltdown, so far, this year. Or ever actually. You don’t remember the last time you saw Marlene truly upset about something.

“Honestly, Mary, you’d think he’d give more of a shit about funding things like the school’s library, considering his wife’s due any day now and his kid will likely attend Hogwarts.” Lily seems truly frustrated, her shoulder slumped, her index finger circling the rim of her wine glass.

“He’ll probably send his little demon spawn to some posh boarding school, knowing him. More money than bloody sense.” Comes Mary’s equally frustrated response.

She necks the rest of her glass in one gulp, shivers, and then sends Marlene off to procure another bottle. She goes without complaint, so you assume it’s her round.

“Surely it’s not legal to withhold funding from a school in such dire need of it.” Remus comments, ever the pessimist.

He thinks the worst of everyone. Especially Mr. Filch and his disappearing cows. He thinks he has an ulterior motive and he’ll die on that hill.

“Apparently there is no funding. And he won’t even push for any, either. It’s like he doesn’t give a shit that the school under his jurisdiction is struggling, majorly.” Lily replies, rolling her bright green eyes at the mere idea of Lucius Malfoy.

“There’s something not right about that.” You add, frowning.

Surely, he’d want his school to thrive. Apparently not.

“You’re telling me.” Mary pipes up.

“Anyway, enough work talk,” Lily says around a gulp of wine, waving her hand like it’ll banish all of the negative vibes Lucius has caused by simply existing, “How’d your date go with the handsome paper boy, Rem?”

Remus grimaces, “Don’t call him a paper boy, it makes him sound twelve years old.”

The story goes: Remus thought that someone was trying to break into his house, last month. Upon inspecting the situation with a baseball bat that everyone knows for a fact Remus does not know how to use, he met a rather startled, rather handsome paper boy named Christopher. Of course, Remus only learned this after he tried to cave the poor bloke’s head in with said baseball bat, only to find out that it was Christopher’s first day on the job and he had delivered the paper to the wrong house. After copious amounts of apologies, Remus had claimed he was fine with never seeing Christopher again. Until he realised that the paper’s he was delivering came directly from Potter’s. A travesty, really. Sirius howled with laughter, much to Remus’ dismay, and Effie had slipped an extra fiver into Christopher’s wages in ways of an apology. Turns out, no apology was needed, because Christopher, for whatever reason, took a liking to Remus and asked him out for coffee.

“Okay, your date with Christopher, then.” Lily corrects with a smirk.

“Wasn’t a date,” Remus singsongs, because he’s insecure and adamant that no one could ever fancy him. Even though you’ve already promised him that if he wasn’t painfully gay, you’d shag him. Lily had then felt the need to add in that if she wasn’t painfully gay, as well, she’d shag him, too. Still, he lives in denial. Idiot.

“Was too.” Marlene says, rather bluntly, returning with the wine which she passes to Mary.

She’s brought a glass for you, too, bless her. You finish the dregs of the drink Sirius bought you and accept the glass of wine Mary passes you with a ‘thank you’.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about.” Remus argues.

“Christopher. The hot paper boy whose skull you nearly caved in with a bat. Keep up, Remus.” Marlene winks at Remus, who simply huffs in defeat, taking a long swig of his pint.

“So?” Mary follows up, never one to let Remus catch a break. She’s almost as bad as Sirius, except she does it in a much more loving, much less spiteful way.

“It went well. We chatted about books.” Remus bobs his head, swallowing thickly.

Sirius is eyeing him from the other end of the table, lips twisted into a mean looking frown. It doesn’t last long before Frank is asking him something to do with motorbikes, and Remus is long forgotten. No one else catches it, so you ignore it.

“Books?” Marlene asks in disgust.

“You spoke about books.” Lily repeats, clearly trying to find some hidden meaning she’s not going to find. You know Remus well enough to know he likely did spend the entire date-that-wasn’t-a-date nattering on about books. He’s a bookworm at his core.

“Yes,” Remus confirms, slightly agitated, “We spoke about books.”

“Right,” Marlene sounds a little deflated, always one for the seedy stories, “Lovely.”

“It was, actually.”

“I’ll bet.”

Remus huffs a laugh and excuses himself under the premise of a cigarette. No one bats an eye, and you watch him leave. It takes Sirius approximately two minutes to excuse himself from his conversation with James and Frank and follow Remus straight out the door to the smoking area. James and Frank continue on, too engrossed to realise the shit show that’s likely to unfold any minute. Lily, Mary, and Marlene fall into a conversation about whatever show the three of them are watching and you stand up, walking around the table until you’re sitting next to James.

He smiles warmly when you sit down, shuffling a little so he can face both you, and Frank who’s across the table.

“Alright,” Frank greets, head tipping forwards.

“Hiya, Frank. How’s Alice?”

Alice is Frank’s wife. They grew up together but didn’t ever get together until they both attended Tulliallan when training to become police officers. They’re sickly in love, it’s actually kind of nauseating at times, but sweet, nonetheless. They’d been daft for each other since they were thirteen.

“She’s good. On nightshift, tonight.”

You hum, sympathising with her. Nightshift is no joke, especially in a village as quiet as yours.

“Uhm,” You turn to James, “Sirius and Remus are in the smoking area. Together. Alone.”

James sighs, takes a swig of his pint, and is up like a shot to stop whatever fight is likely happening in the Three Broomsticks beer garden. He squeezes your shoulder in thanks before he goes, offering you a smile he only ever seems to give you. You can’t read it. But it’s soft. Not the teasing smile he has when you’re flirting merciless with him, or him, you. It’s just. A nice smile. For you. You watch him go; head turned, the ghost of a smile on your own lips. He pushes open the wooden door and it swings shut behind him.

“How longs that been going on then?” Frank asks, nodding his head towards the door James just went through.

“Pretty much since they met, I suppose.”

Frank laughs, which causes you to frown, and then he shakes his head.

“No. You and Potter.”

“There’s nothing going on.” You say, though your face heats up all the same.

“I can keep a secret, you know.”

“Why does everyone think I’m shagging James?” You ask, rather loud for how empty the pub is.

Your face is flames when Lily, Mary, and Marlene fall silent and look over at you, biting back laughs and whatever comments it is that are sparkling behind their eyes. You groan, embarrassed, and turn to follow James out of the door. For a moment, you think he’s allowing a full-on fight between Sirius and Remus occur. He’s standing not far from the door, sheltered by the wooden terrace that leads out to the concrete of the smoking area. It’s dimly lit in comparison to the rest of the beer garden. You frown on approach, confused as to why he’s just standing there.

It takes all of two seconds for you to see what he’s seeing. Remus has Sirius crowded against the wall, caged in like some sort of animal, and he’s kissing him so violently, so aggressively, that they actually could be fighting. In some sick, twisted way.

“Holy shit.”

James’ eyes snap to yours, moving into action to pull you back inside before Sirius and Remus realise they’ve been foiled. His hand burns like fire against your arm, his eyes steely and sharp as he looks down at you, “You cannot tell anyone what you just saw.”

“You knew?”

James shakes his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips. He has you pushed up against the wall, much like Remus did Sirius, and your cheeks heat at the thought. Jesus, they’re more messed up than you thought.

“I suspected.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s not my place. Look, Sirius is – he’s complicated, okay? I don’t know if he even knows he’s – just don’t say anything, okay?” James is flustered, panicked.

You get it. Sirius has never mentioned being gay, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that perhaps, being gay isn’t something that was on Sirius’ radar until Remus popped up out of nowhere and sent his perception of himself tumbling. Okay. Fine. You get that. You can relate. Not entirely. The situation is different. James Potter is a boy you never paid any interest to, growing up. Not romantically, at least. Until he went away to Rugby camp one summer and came back looking like sin incarnate. Well, then you’d noticed, and everything you thought you knew about him came tumbling down. So, not exactly the same, but you get it.

“I won’t, James. I won’t say anything.”

“Not even to Sirius. Or Remus.” James looks panicked, like one wrong move in handling this situation will blow it up royally.

“Promise.”

James nods, seems to realise that he’s still got an iron grip on your arm, and drops it like you’d been the one scalding him. The door opens, washing you both with cool air, and Sirius storms back inside, halting when he sees the way James has you pushed up against the wall.

“You two shagging then?” He asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone you can only assume was brought about by whatever the fuck just happened between him and Remus.

“Jamie wishes,” You plaster a sickly-sweet smile on your face, “He couldn’t handle me.”

With that, you leave them to it, returning to the table and finishing your entire wine in one gulp. The girls are kind enough not to say anything, but Lily gives you a sympathetic glance and refills the glass for you. Frank laughs to himself, you flip him off.

Remus returns a moment later, dodging Sirius and James who are still huddled where you and James just were. He takes a seat, finishes his pint, and calls it a night without another word.

You don’t miss the way James has to grab onto Sirius’ wrist to stop him from following.

Ahhhh! The first chapter is out!

I sincerely hope ya'll enjoyed :) Let me know your thoughts.

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danpuff-ao3 · 11 months

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SNARRY FOR BEGINNERS

Are you a bit Snarry curious, but also sorta wary and unsure where to start? Good news: I have some recs for you!

Snarry is a tricky ship for some folks. All of its most problematic themes are what draw me in personally, but that's not to say there aren't some safe places to start for a newcomer!

What I've chosen are:

Nothing too long, so you can get a little taste to see how you feel. So I'm looking at 50k or under.

Nothing "problematic" or as few "problematic" themes as I can get. No underage. No power imbalance. No consent issues. (...or at least nothing egregious haha.)

Works that also maintain some integrity to Harry and Severus' individual characters, and the tension between them. If I play it too safe it won't feel properly Snarry to me! Half the fun is the tension between them, so we must keep that!

So...If you wanna check some out, keep reading!

An Awkward Customer

by AnyaElizabeth. Rated: E. Words: 10,768. Postwar. EWE. Romance. Humor.

Snape can't figure out why Potter is hanging around his shop.

Why Read? A nice rom-com based on the prompt: "Harry makes a bet with someone that he could seduce anyone if he put his mind to it, and that someone selected for him is Snape, naturally." Severus owns an apothecary so we get some nice flirting at the workplace!

a scratch for every itch

by bleedcolor (@bleedcolor.) Rated: T. Words: 11,478. Fluff & humor. Magical maladies. Friends to idiots in love. Romance.

Severus Snape is an itch that Harry just can't scratch.

Why Read? Surely fluff is a safe place to start! And as a person who isn't often drawn to fluff, this is one I love, and is a comfort read of mine. Very sweet and silly and a great place to dip your toes in!

Dumbledore's Folly

by Dementordelta. Rated: M. Words: 47,446. Romance. Courtship. Oldie but a goodie!

Snape must court Harry according to wizarding traditions.

Why Read? I've reread this fic countless times over the years and it's still such a fun read. If you like arranged marriage/courtship fics, this is the one for you!

The Interrupted Kiss

by emynn. Rated: E. Words: 24,291. Postwar. Romance. Hurt/comfort. Mystery.

Once upon a time, Severus Snape shared a kiss with Harry Potter. Then Harry had disappeared after killing the Dark Lord, leaving Severus the reluctant darling of the Wizarding world. When Dumbledore insists on throwing a ball in Severus’s honour, Severus is convinced the world has gone completely mad. But when he comes across an ashy-faced young man whose half-answers about his identity haunt his every thought, Severus realizes that a ball might be the least of his worries.

Why Read? What safer place to start than a fairytale? If we ignore that most original fairytales are pretty effed up, actually. This is a Cinderella-inspired work. Severus is the Prince (naturally), and Harry is the wandmaker (cool career, right??) who attracts many cute animals! (He does not sing to them, though; what a shame!)

This Time of Ours

by emynn. Rated: E. Words: 35,442. Time travel. Hurt/comfort. Romance & drama.

Severus Snape wasn’t supposed to die. Neither was Harry Potter.

Why Read? Emynn has plenty of great Snarry fics, which is why you're getting 2 recs! We start with some fun snarking, move onto sweet bonding, and then...second chances! Very light, enjoyable read.

On the Deficencies of Translation Spells

by LilaDiurne (@liladiurne.) Rated: E. Words: 41,130. Getting together. Magical theory. Professor Potter & Professor Snape. Beaubatons. Pining. Light angst. Minor Harry/others.

Divorced, single, and free, Harry lives a completely unapologetic life in Paris. Between casual hook-ups and an easy, comfortable job, he likes to think he is as close to happiness as he'll ever be. And when he gets offered a teaching job at the prestigious Académie Beauxbâtons, he thinks he may have found exactly what was missing. But Harry is thoroughly unprepared for what he finds there - a familiar face that's been haunting his dreams for six years.

Why read? It's very Harry-centric. It's Harry's POV, and very about Harry and his journey as he moves to a new place, in a new phase of his life, and settles in. There's an existing connection and attraction between Harry and Severus, and one that unfolds so sensually and beautifully. Harry's very much an adult and mature and has lived a lot of life when he and Severus reunite.

Rapture

by mia_ugly (@mia-ugly.) Rated: E. Words: 48,123. Time travel. Romance.

Snape sees the man, for the first time, on his twenty-fifth birthday.

Why Read? It's a classic! It is very beloved in the community for good reason. Gorgeous writing. The relationship develops so naturally, and the pure emotion will knock your socks off. Potentially the best place to start for Snarry. I'm not a big fan of time travel, but I love this fic!

Revealed, Gently

by sarkysue. Rated: T. Words: 22,243. Postwar. Romance. Humor.

Snape isn’t dead, he’s back at Hogwarts and in need of an assistant. Coincidently, Harry is hanging around Hogwarts, reluctant to move on with his life. Cue sniping and snarking, tears and laughter and, possibly, love.

Why Read? It's fun. It's cute. It's a bit silly. It makes great use of how not easy it would be for these two, and having a blast with it! There is arguably a power imbalance what with Harry being Snape's teaching assistant, but it doesn't really feel like much of one. It's only a great opportunity to force these 2 to hang out long enough to fall in love!

The Sleeping Prince

by who_la_hoop. Rated: T. Words: 42,758. Postwar. Deaging. 8th year.

It's hard to ignore your past — and impossible to do so when you can't remember your future. But a meddlesome portrait, a dragon with an ancient grudge and true love's kiss teach an unlikely Prince that a regrettable past doesn't have to mean an unhappy ending.

Why Read? While probably the most questionable on the list, it's still fairly tame. Student Harry and his developing feelings for Student Severus, who is deaged postwar. It feels very much like a feel good teenage romance, wherein the characters very much act their age, awkwardness and all! The only caveat being things change a bit at the end, but there's no underage and it is rated Teen, to be fair!

The Beating of This Fragile Heart

by Writcraft (@writcraft.) Rated: E. Words: 33,146. Hurt/comfort. Fluff & angst. Serious Injury. Romance.

After the war, the last thing Severus Snape needs is the memory of a fleeting wartime kiss and a very persistent Harry Potter thwarting his plans to live a peaceful and solitary life. It’s only when Harry’s life is endangered that Severus is finally forced to confront his feelings head on.

Why Read? If you're coming from Drarry, you might be familiar with Writ's works! They've written plenty for drarry and some rare pair works, and they are a fantastic storyteller. This fic in particular is very romantic. Full of hesitancy and insecurity, and seeing how the relationship begins and how it unfolds and changes (for the better) when Severus is forced to deal with his issues. It's quite a journey but so full of love from start to finish and it's just so lovely and full of feels and one I return to again and again.

#danpuff recs #snarry #snarry for beginners

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srbachchan · 3 months

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DAY 5868

Jalsa, Mumbai Mar 12/12, 2024 Tue/Wed 11:19 AM

🪔 ,

March 13 .. birthday of Ef Meghali B. Lahiry from Kolkata .. all joys and loves from the Ef Family .. keep well .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

Late again .. but late from work last night .. as the completion of KALKI approaches .. and as has been informed it is May 9th of the release ..

So last efforts to get all in shape and in order to bring to all an experience that promises the vision of the makers ..

I must to the other work place now .. the gym .. to mobilise the body .. to make it work in accordance with daily routines and routines that may come up in the future ..

The future is ever the unknown .. but no harm in visualising it .. and to believe that if thought out shall sought out ..

Ahh ! a new phrase earning in the best shape of the cerebrum

😁

BELIEVE THAT IF THOUGHT OUT SHALL SOUGHT OUT !!

thank you my little 'impedimented' brain ..

"An impedimented brain grapples with obstacles that hinder cognitive function, such as neurological disorders or injuries. Challenges may include impaired memory, diminished problem-solving abilities, and communication difficulties. Despite these hurdles, individuals with an impedimented brain often demonstrate resilience, adapting and finding alternative ways to navigate daily life and maintain meaningful connections."

I shall be with you shortly again ..

My love to all ..

Amitabh Bachchan

at times it is worth its while to attempt to paint your own shadow .. in your own colours !!

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

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Hey guess what? I'm just gonna send you a yandere monsterfucker ask because we should probably get even weirder in here!

Imagine a totally effed up, eldritch shape shifter that came out of the void one day and just saw you. Imagine the hijinks, a Monstrosity that loves you so much that it decides to BE you! It studies your mannerisms and routine and every little last detail about you so that it can finally, transform into its most favorite person in the world. Imitating your voice on the phone, quitting your job and saying a few mean comments to your friends and family to distance you, so that when it finally comes to show its true form to you and whisk you away to its realm forever, nobody will be in the way! Isn't that just neat?

tw - disturbing themes, implied non//con, manipulation, and obsessive behavior.

it really is the ultimate form of flattery, for a being so great and so powerful to carve a piece of themself away and shape it into the form of their most beloved mortal. they can't stand to be apart from you, so they make it so they never have to be - copying your gestures down to the smallest movement of your fingertips, learning your speech patterns and habits, practicing and practicing and practicing until looking at their own reflections brings on the same bubbling spark of joy they catch a glimpse of you. improving your life was always going to be child's play (most things about human life are when you can snap your fingers and change the very fabric over the universe), but they take a special joy in doing things as they think you would; submitting a formal resignation to the job that's always caused you so much stress, moving you out of that cramped apartment and into the property you've always said you'd never be able to afford, 'removing' a few of your old, worn-out friends and making room for the branches of themself they've designed especially for you to slip in. it's gratifying to put in the effort, and they want you to be able to understand what they're doing for you.

that's the form they choose to approach you in, too, when they decide it's time to reap the rewards of all they've done for you - because surely no face will set you more at ease than your own. you do panic more than they'd prefer, but that's alright, they just adore the sounds that slip past your lips when they're on top of you, all of it so breathy, all of it so strained, like you think there's anything about yourself you can keep away from them. they look forward to being able to share themself with you one day, as you've (however unintentionally) shared yourself with them, but you're not quite ready for that, yet.

until then, they'll just have to leave you in the hands of the person they love most <3

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere theory #yandere monster #general

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letomills · 7 months

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Download: SFS / Mega

Outfits that give your sims the appearance of merfolk, for ages toddlers to elders. Recommended for use alongside @midgethetree's Mermaid mod (further mods for merfolks by Midge here). Note however that these outfits are enabled not just for swimwear but for all clothing categories, to accomodate simmers who play a fully underwater neighborhood (inspo). If you want to change the categorization of clothing in bulk, I can recommend the Outfit Organizer or the BSOK editor.

This is actually the first part of a three-part set that will also include conversions of these outfits for custom body shapes. Edit: part 2 - part 3.

Swatches and details below the cut.

The meshes

Apart from the EM mesh which is new, all meshes are slightly edited versions of the meshes from Marvine's Merfolk project, or @jellymeduza's versions of those meshes when applicable (bottom of this post). Children to elders have fat morphs, teens and adults additionally have preg morphs.

All of them had a visible neck seam which I fixed. Example on AF:

(Note that I made this edit only after taking the UF swatches below.)

I also modified the fat morphs on the CU and AM meshes (they were 100% Maxis-match, I made them a bit smoother and, well, less weird, hopefully).

Polycounts are very low, ranging from 1,404 for PU to 1,934 for UF.

The recolors

All recolors have sortindex numbers that ensure that they will appear neatly arranged set by set in your CAS catalogue, after all of your other CC clothing (right before the Maxis stuff).

All are enabled for all clothing categories including maternity.

Shoe sounds are set to none.

The textures, though I made edits to most of them, were taken from other creators credited below.

TF & AF use the same textures: the TF recolors can be either standalone or repo'd to AF. TM & AM & EM use the same textures: the TM and EM recolors can be either standalone or repo'd to AM. CU and PU have their own respective textures.

Marie Fay

Textures edited from Marie Fay's beautiful The Little Mermaid set. I erased the portion of semi-sheer texture that went up the back as it didn't look great on deep skintones. Compared to the original recolor files, unnecessary bump maps have been removed (the TM recolors don't appear weirdly mislit and are now useable) + shoe sounds have been set to none + sortindex numbers have been changed.

Simsllama Kosmiks

Textures edited from @simsllama's Kosmik recolors. Same as above, I cleaned up the back (you can see how it was before clean-up on the fifth picture I shared here), removed unnecesary bump maps, fixed the shoe sounds and edited the sortindex numbers. Also adapted for toddlers.

Midge

Textures edited from @midgethetree's mermaid tails. I reduced the exposure on the F bra, replaced the F bottom textures with the M textures, smoothed the waist seams (there was a white cast that looked weird on deep skintones), fixed the texture bleeding onto the fingers, adapted for EF by replacing the AF bra with the Marie Fay EF bra that Simsllama also used above, adapted for toddlers. The grey recolor is now available for all ages.

JuBeos + RavenKitty

Textures taken from this post by Meshy. I just had to adapt them for UM, EF, CU and PU, fix shoe sounds, edit sortindex.

Cactus

Also textures taken from this post by Meshy. Adapted them for UM, EF, CU and PU, fixed shoe sounds, edited sortindex.

Lady Turquoise

Textures taken and adapted from Meshy's post. Flat-chested shapes (PU, CU & UM) only get one version. No shoe sound, proper sortindexing.

Misc

Textures 1, 3, 4 and 5 are from Meshy's post, texture 6 is from another Meshy post, texture 2 is from here, texture 7 is by Sunken-Woglinde (from here and here). Adapted for missing ages, fixed shoe sounds, sortindexed, yadda yadda.

Sunken-Woglinde Metallics

Textures originally by Sunken-Woglinde, though I edited the UF version into its own thing (it's giving Catallena but I'm not mad at it). Necklaces by Liana (from here, here and here). Many edits including reducing the contrast on the bump map. No shoe sounds, etc.

The T

Original texture by The T. Very cool textured matte appearance thanks to a beautiful bump map. Recolors 2-8 are by me, toddler texture replaced to match everybody else. Usual file edits.

Sherahbim & Van

Original texture is Sherahbim's Maiden of the Sea, which Van recolored. Adapted to missing ages and did the usual file edits.

And that's it, let me know if you see any issues!

#sims 2 #download #sims 2 cc #ts2cc #s2cc #sims 2 download #s2cc merfolk

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fuck-you-upmusicbracket · 3 months

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Love From the Other Side (Fall Out Boy)

We were a hammer to the statue of David/We were a painting you could never frame, and/You were the sunshine of my lifetime/What would you trade the pain for?/This city always hangs a little bit lonely on me, loose/Like a kid playing pretend in his father's suit/I'd never go, I just want to be invited

"Our love was so strong and real and intense, but it burned out, it hurt us. And I still think it was worth it. I still love you, and even if I'm not there, I'll still give you all of that love when the worst happens. I hope you can feel it when I do. The whole song is basically about the idea that love, for all of the good, incredible things it is, can still MAJORLY fuck you up. Honestly, I could have put any combination of lyrics from this song under the lyric section because every single line hits so hard."

Goodbye to a World (Porter Robinson)

Thank you, I'll say goodbye now/Though its the end of the world, don't blame yourself/And if its true, I will surround you and give life to a world/That's our own

"The feeling of it is. like someone dying, or otherwise leaving someone. and they don't want to leave them alone, but they have to go. and they don't want the person to be sad, they want them to live! and live happily! but it just reminds me of losing someone close to you and that feeling. it's bittersweet, almost. feeling glad that you got to know them, and sad that they're gone."

Poll Runner: So effing beautiful with headphones! The beginning ramp up sounds like you're in a cave filled with different coloured lights all swirling around you, getting more and more beautiful with every note- I couldn't phrase this more coherently if I tried. Oh yeah, and the lyrics are super sad.

#fuck you up bracket #tournament #polls #fall out boy #porter robinson

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speedierthanasubmarine · 2 months

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I decided to watch helluva boss and imma do 2 separate posts for seasons 1 and two (why did I write it like that…?)

Season one

God I love this show. The writing is way more my speed than Hazbin hotel on Amazon, I enjoyed the writing in the pilot, but once Amazon took over the humor just didn’t really land for me, and tbh the plot took over and I started focusing more on that, and in general I’m more partial to the rapid fire YouTube dry comedy and this sentence is a friggin mess- I found HB SO FREAKIN FUNNY

Dude when he goes “FUCK, a new hole” I lost it

“Just try and sue us”

“We’re rich and we’re hot”

“I can just buy all the things!”

“You should commit die”

“Hehe, Trumpet!”

These are just my kinda lines, I don’t know how to explain it, I was wheezing all throughout the season

The music OH LORD when I say I’ve listened to stolas’s lullabye, lulu land, cotton candy, and house of ozmodius like 100000 times I’m… exaggerating but like you get the point the music here is friggin fantastic I also really like how a lot of the music is diegetic, I think that’s a fun touch. I don’t remember whether this is the case in Hazbin, but in this one it was like… I don’t know, it made sense that they were singing when they were singing… am I articulating myself well? I don’t care, iykyk if not, no prob

The animation is great, Viv loves them spinny shots and I am here for it. The amount of genuinely amazing action scenes is super impressive, and even the chill scenes have a ton of personality

The voice acting might be what steals the show for me, idrk anyone’s names cept Alex Brightman but BLITZS VA NEEDS AN AWARD, also slight tangent but I don’t know what it is with stolas’s va but he sounds a lot like a bird in the same sense that Gary Oldman sounded a lot like a bird in Kung Fu Panda 2, what is it that casting directors recognize in actors that screams bird?! Because both of these men are just SO BIRD DOES ANYONE GET WHAT I MEAN moving on, Ozzie’s voice was also effing PERFECT it slid silkily over me like… silk butter or smtg it was the perfect lust voice, I loved it. Everyone else was also great, but they were extra great.

It was also just so fun? Like in hazbin there’s very little just… shenanigans to enjoy, nothing wrong with that because it’s not that type of show, whereas this season is jam packed with them. Like I’ve heard that everyone hated episode 4, but like I don’t know I loved it😆 I just found it to be good old fashioned chicanery, and I liked the chaos and stupidity of it, made for some entertaining TV. This story engine is just mad entertaining for me.

I also enjoyed the writing of most of the characters (Millie, Moxxie, Loona, and Octavia still leave a bit to be desired imo, but whatever, they can’t all be winners and there’s nothing wrong with them) Blitz kinda reminds me of a Barney Stinson type character, which I really enjoy, and I also really like how his boss persona kinda infects everything he does while simultaneously being what’s screwing him over, his nature is kinda like a snake swallowing its own tail, which is tragic and beautiful, and Stolas compliments him well by being, not an enabler, but… I don’t know a clever way to say this… Stolas is a wreck in the best way and he just works. He’s short sighted, like extremely so, like how he thinks sleeping with Blitz will fill his emotional void so he does it but it just drives them further apart so it’s like he’s in a hole and in order to get out he’s gonna dig to pile up dirt so he can climb out but he’s an idiot and that’s a stupid idea and I loved his whole arc. Very enjoyable stuff drama.

Kinda random but whoever Viv’s foli artist is also deserves an award, the sound effects in this show are pristine and it’s incredible (yes I’ve seen the scene where the gun sounds go off a few seconds too late, and yeah, mistakes happen, but every bone crunch sounds and other stuff like that being so enunciated in an indie show is extremely impressive)

Anyhoo, very fun, very emotional, nice to look at, very funny, yada yada- altogether great season 1.

#ash #thoughts #helluva boss #blitzo #blitz #stolas #stolitz #helluva boss ozzie #helluva blitzo #helluva stolas #helluva loona #helluva fizzarolli #helluvaverse #helluva millie #helluva moxxie #helluva asmodeus #musings #season 1 #testing a theory

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murfeelee · 25 days

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IWTV INSP - MerMay Pt6: Venus Girdles

They swam further along, out of the forest, and then deeper, down past the current rock shelf. Lestat’s hand was firm in his own, feeling like an anchor, as they moved further down into the depths. It slowly got darker, the glow off Lestat and himself seeming increasingly bright as they swam, until the faint glow had become like liquid sunlight drawn over them. “Look at that,” Louis said breathlessly, hand automatically coming out of Lestat’s grip to point. It was like a thick giant ribbon in the water, translucent apart from the rainbow shooting through it, moving fluidly as it swam. “It’s a Venus Girdle,” Lestat said with a smile as Louis looked back at him. “Is it safe to approach it?” Louis asked, fascinated. “Go ahead,” Lestat encouraged, “Why don’t you try some song?” Louis hummed, trying to project no harm, no danger, friend on a little loop into the hum like Lestat had. He wasn’t sure how successful it was but Louis was able to catch up with the creature, able to see each glowing piece of internal comb shift and move within its transparent skin as it swam. Louis kept pace with it, swimming alongside it as it wove through the water, and watched it intently. It was marvellous, like something out of a dream. Louis reached out, letting it brush against his hand, it felt like soft leather despite its translucence. Louis swam back to Lestat, feeling slightly giddy, and they continued to descend.

-- Excerpts from Part of Your World, by @weather-mood

My [Thalassophobia] entry for @vamptember's MerMay VC event!

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

I can't swim, so I'm not effing with the ocean. Some deep sea creatures are really cool, but others are straight up demonic.

CC CREDITS

- I redid the Venus Girdle I uploaded here, so that it glows the way I originally wanted it to. It'll be uploaded in Pt2.

- Angler fish in beta by me

- Poses by Mia8

#sims 3 loustat #vamptember #sims 3 island paradise #sims 3 gameplay #tw: thalassophobia

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dukeofriven · 11 months

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So I haven't watched Spy Kids for probably 20 years? It came out in 2001, I never saw in theatres, but my stepbrother had it on VHS. I remember watching it several times when my step-mum and father first started dating but never after they moved into a house together, which I think cannot have been any later than 2003. The podcast How Did This Get Made just got me to watch 2004's Sleepover staring Spy Kids' Alex Vega, and it had me going 'man, I should rewatch Spy Kids, a film I used to love—hell I should watch all the Spy Kids movies because I've only ever seen the first and Robert Rodriguez is a director whose work I want to dive into' and since its 2023, with a little bit of effort I can easily do that. (Also, I always thought, based on a vague knowledge of their similar poster design, that Spy Kids 3D and The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl were the same movie, but apparently not! Also, Sharkboy et al. had a 2021 sequel? That was popular? And is getting its own sequel? Will have to investigate.) Thoughts on the opening ten minutes of my Spy Kids rewatch:

This production logo is so ugly it causes me physical pain. I hate this boy with his Kate Moss arms (Miraculous Ladybug arms, for you youngsters out there), his ugly beanie, and unbearable smirk.

Also, the telecine weave on the production logos is very noticeable, they're bouncing all over the place and it got me idly musing as to when more modern image stabilization techniques simply took that away. Not that we really noticed in 2001 because even with auto-tracking, gate-weave and other playback artifacts were just accepted as a given on your eight hundred pound convex CRT TV with 480 Ps of resolution that output enough radiation to kill grandma with a Jeopardy marathon. Do young people know about VHS tracking, auto or otherwise? Does the above paragraph make any sense to them at all? Do they know the pleasures of laying your hand on a still-warm television screen and having your whole body shiver as the static discharge runs through your unresistant flesh? Kids today with their big pants and their blue-tooth hula-hoops and their fancy PSPs just can't understand.

The opening shot of the movie is so under-exposed (or, more likely, over-exposed and then over-corrected in post) that Rodiguez's 'written and directed' credit is unreadable. You can see its blur to the right of the red 'FILM' there. It's so bad I thought there was something wrong with my copy so I... uh... found a new copy with a larger file size and it turns out that, nope, it actually just looks like that. Even in fancy 1080p this is just a terrible ærial shot. There's some fantastic shots and cuts in this film so to open with such a stinker is bizarre. Was it bad coverage that day, only one good shot in the can, did somebody fuck-up the film in the lab? I am curious.

Carla Gugino is so cute in this movie it's criminal. Not to be a lesbian but oh my god oh my fucking god. 12 year-old me was all about Carmen but adult me just wants 90 straight minutes of Carla Gugino in casualwear wandering around her lovely home smiling coyly. I would buy a BluRay player to own that movie on BluRay. I'd not picked-up that she played the mom on The Haunting of Hill House because she had long styled hair instead of this absolutely flawless textured pixie cut. 10/10, no notes.

I would like to spend an hour talking about the incredible tilework in that bathroom and nothing but the incredible tilework in that bathroom. I will update you if the film has any further shots of the incredible tilework in that bathroom but I fear it does not. As as an aside, kind of furious that this film was not more influential in the field of home decor. Two decades of effing shiplap and cold grey suburban blandness—what if we'd given up on bloated cookie cutter micro-mcmansion shitboxes and instead gone all-in on brightly coloured Andalusian rough plaster and stonework? What if we all had great tilework in our bathrooms, like the kitchen sink in Howl's Moving Castle?

You know what I mean, you depraved tile nerds.

I don't want you to think Antonio Banderas is not also a total smokeshow in this movie. Because boy howdy. He's a goddamn hunk.

There's a four-second long shot of Banderas flicking this ring box along the coping of the Eiffel Tower balustrade, and all I can think of how hard it was to get to get that box to stay in a straight line, how completely frictionless the box must be (did he shellac it?), and if his marriage prospects would have been ruined had it—in all rational likelihood—gone flying off the railing and smashed into the Champs de Mars.

You know you're in for a rollicking good time when the helicopter perfectly slices-off the stone heads of the two statues, but it's the padre giving the benediction while attack choppers go roaring over head that gives you chills.

A particular shout-out to this lovely unnamed bridesmaid on the left here who not only takes 'putting a parachute on the bride' in stride but looks gleeful and fabulous doing it. Where's her movie?

In 2001 we really thought computers were going to be cool and fun instead of machines that sold our personal lives to corporations and gave children crippling anxiety disorders.

Carla Gugino has a track built into the floor so that her vanity-computer chair can slide backwards across the room so she can have face-to-face chats with her husband. From this we learn two things: 1) she does this so often she's automated it for maximum efficiency, and 2) Banderos, in an ordinary desk chair, never attempts (or knows better than to attempt?) the reverse. To be continued?

#spy kids #spy kids rewatch #antonio banderas #carla gugino #robert rodriguez #alexa vega #shiplap #interior design #andalusia #tile work #howl's moving castle #miraculous ladybug #telecine #films #weddings #spies #kate moss

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aria-ashryver · 2 months

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yooooo im SO tired, have a health update 💞

(which was going to be another video update but then a bird came and i got distracted and now im too tired to speak lol. also WOW imagine being so pale you create your own god rays slkdjf)

so, ive been feeling like hot garbage for some time, which is perhaps not surprising with the whole "was poisoned via chemo for a year, is still recovering" thing. Recently my heart has been feeling Not Good TM, and the fatigue waves are getting pretty extreme at times.

So, I followed this up with my doctor, very much expecting it to be a case of "no you're just out of shape / your asthma is playing up / you're just being super lazy, try harder, etc". He booked me a specialised heart test which I had last week.

Uhhh apparently I wasn't just being pathetic! (Which is somewhat gratifying to know that there is a reason things have been so hard lately and it's not just in my head)

There is a thing called your Ejection Fraction, which is essentially a measure of how much oxygenated blood your heart is pumping around your body -- its the factor that keeps you feeling energised.

Mine has dropped. Fairly significantly. When I had the same heart scan in October, mid-way through chemo, I was still retaining a lot of my heart health and muscle mass from when i was pre-chemo, so my EF was sitting at about 80. Which is a sign I was initially quite physically fit (or, to quote my oncologist: "giiiiirl, you a Boston Marathon runner or what?)

Since my last scan, my EF has dropped to 58. Which is still actually higher than average, most people sit at about 55, so I've dropped to an average range lol.

My heart is working, but such a significant jump is still cause for concern. My oncologist said that if I had been less young and fit, it would have been a case of dropping from 55 to somewhere in the 30s, to which he said "you'd struggle to even walk down that corridor at that point."

At this stage, I have a (hopefully reversible!) cardiomyopathy. Unfortunately, reduced heart and lung function can be complications of the two immune therapy drugs I am taking to prevent my cancer from coming back. So the current course of action is to put my immune therapy treatments on hold for 9 weeks to let my heart recover.

Yes, that is a tad spooky, but the drugs have a very long half-life, so I should be okay not taking them for that short period. On the plus side, this should hopefully improve my overall quality of life while my heart heals, and a break from immune therapy will be really nice anyway, because that shit hurts lmao.

Otherwise, the metastatic cancer in my spine and my hips remains stable and is still showing signs of healing because I am AWESOME AND COOL. Oh, and I also had a massive internal lesion (a chemo complication I never mentioned here bc like... if I told you guys every little thing that's wrong with me, we'd be here all day lmao) but that is now healing on its own too!! Woo!

So... ye. Gonna have a nap, knowing that medically my heart is broken and I have yet another reason to take it easy now haha.

Send me lots of "oi don't get cancer again in the next 9 weeks you absolute nugget" type vibes. I don't think I will, I'm not worried, but yk yk vibes are nice 🥰💝💖💓💕🩷💞 if you are still reading, I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

#aria pincushion tally:#complete #look how much hair i have now whoa #i have chemo curls

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sinisterexaggerator · 3 months

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Tech and Hondo Ohnaka ( Part 2 )

Rated: Teen and up (a rare general audiences fic on my part.)

Warning: Violence, death, injury, all comparable to what we see in The Bad Batch, pain mention, broken bones mention, attack by a wild animal, blaster fire.

Fic Summary: Tech is plummeting toward death, yet he is spared, all thanks to a Weequay pirate who was simply in the wrong place at the right time, depending.

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: This is a kind of crack / AU scenario. I like the idea of Hondo being the one to encounter Tech after his fall. The idea was definitely inspired my Phee's line at the end of season 2: "Well, don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers while you're gone,." :) Don't take this too seriously, though at the same time I tried to make it plausible. The main point of this was to have fun with Tech and Hondo ribbing each other in their own way. I love both of these characters, and I am excited to see what you guys think.

Chapter 1 | Read on Ao3

“Could you keep et down?”

“I have not said anything.”

“You are breathing much tuu loudly.”

“I cannot help it,” Tech argued. It was true, his breathing was labored. Though they had taken their time, the trip was slow-going, and his broken ribs were making it difficult for him to absorb lungfuls of oxygen.

“Perhaps… ef you took dat helmet off,” Hondo suggested, “den et would not be like listening tu an orbak chuffing en my ear.”

“Then I would not be able to see,” Tech reminded him, adjusting the weight of his pack. It felt heavier than normal. He was sure it was because he needed rest though now was an inopportune time.

“And you du see dat overgrown tooka, yes? De big blue one de size of a landspeeder who es currently feasting on de carcass of some nasty, six-legged vermin?”

Tech could not understand why he would ask this question. “I was the one to point it out when I saw it on my thermal readout,” he was quick to answer, the Weequay’s eyes constricting into two tight diagonal lines.

“Den you should know he will be able tu hear you!” Hondo emphasized, the feline in question at once perking up its ears.

Tech already did not appreciate the pirate’s boisterous personality, despite having dealt with so many others like him in the past. The clone’s brow creased beneath his visor as he lowered his voice to a whisper, all too aware of the current situation they had found themselves in. “Then perhaps you should be following your own advice,” Tech shot back evenly.

Hondo grumbled a closed-mouth complaint, turning his head slowly back toward the apex predator, sizing up their options as it was currently blocking their forward path. “We must find a way tu skirt past dis furry monstrosity; he es en our way,” Hondo stated, Tech assuming that had been quite obvious from the start.

“The best course of action may be to wait it out. Once the animal has consumed enough sustenance to—”

Tech paused, jerking back as Hondo rounded to face him. They were stationed on the ground, camouflaged behind a fallen tree trunk and copious amounts of shrubbery and grass. “What is it?” he questioned brusquely.

Evolving under rather merciless conditions, Weequay were adept at many things to ensure survival, one being the ability to detect sounds that were of a suspicious origin (should they quiet down long enough to listen in Hondo’s case). While most of his species communicated silently through the use of pheromones, Hondo preferred spoken language, yet even he knew when it was time to take things a little more seriously; he had not survived this long by being stupid.

“Footsteps,” he muttered, voice deeply resonate. “Et appears we du not have time tu, how you say, ‘wait et out.’”

Tech repositioned himself just enough to glance back over his shoulder, catching the outline of something warm, and alive. Many somethings, as it was another squad of TK troopers hot on their trail.

“They have yet to spot us,” Tech informed him, realizing they were now sandwiched between a deadly carnivore and half a dozen soldiers who were hellbent on finding and most likely killing them, if not something far worse than that; being a prisoner of war was not something Tech was looking forward to, nor was being shredded to bits in the jaws of a ferocious beast.

“Let us make haste! De mining facility es tu de northeast of here—"

“—I do not think we should make any sudden movements. It is best to give the feline a wide berth, as we do not know if—”

“—I du not intend tu die tuday, so unless you wish for me tu leave you behind,” Hondo gave him a sidelong look, “you will follow closely, hm?”

Tech did not have time to offer anything more in the way of protest, watching as the pirate crept to the edge of their hiding place. Ohnaka stood halfway, keeping low to the ground, advancing in the direction of a more heavily wooded area.

Tech sighed, exasperated by the whole ordeal, and still in quite a lot of pain; it felt as if his entire being had been run over with a HAVw A6 Juggernaut turbo tank, yet he was not a quitter. He would keep pushing forward until his body decided to give out, whenever that might be.

He followed the Weequay’s heat signature; it ran hot in comparison to other species, much like his own, Hondo’s outline burning brightly through the cracks in his head-up display, not to mention his gaudy red coat would easily give him away. Tech wondered why he did not dispose of it if he was so worried about being found. It would be like wearing a large bullseye across your back - very conspicuous.

For a moment, Tech thought they might be in the clear, both men having made it to the edge of the tree line, the clone unable to help glancing behind himself at intervals. He only realized something was amiss once he had turned back around, hearing the pirate speak, and not to him.

“Uh—hello,” Hondo said dumbly, Tech’s eyes widening at the appearance of a lone TK, his blaster poised and ready to shoot, though for the moment he seemed to be caught off guard just as much as they had been, the trooper not moving a muscle for several precious seconds.

Then, he called for help to his squad mates, or attempted to, via his comm; his transmission was cut short as Tech himself took the soldier out. Hondo watched as his armored form hit the forest floor like a sack of Corellian potatoes with a dull and lifeless thud, the Weequay speaking in low notes with a hint of indifference lacing his voice. “Eh… so much for stealth,” he shrugged.

Tech whisked back around, knowing his comrades would soon be on their way. It did not take long for bolts of plasma to scorch the trunks of trees surrounding them, thankfully these new troopers being unable to aim properly to save their lives.

“Iiiiii am not sure ef we should fight dem,” Hondo interjected between the pew pew sounds of laser fire, Tech having held his ground until this point, both men zigzagging between obstacles to find much needed cover.

“Please, explain what you think we should do,” Tech sardonically retorted, both of his DC-17’s withdrawn from their holsters as he prepared to engage the enemy.

“I tink we should wait for—”

At that very moment, the colossal, azure feline had been roused from its meal, considering these newcomers a threat to its territory and to the kill it had worked so hard to slay. Blaster fire only seemed to irritate it further, as the white-clad soldier’s attention had been diverted from the pursual of their quarry to the idea of staying alive.

“—dat,” Hondo finally finished.

Screams echoed through the forest as teeth and claw bore into plastoid, easily penetrating the TK’s armor as if it was nothing more than flimsiplast. Blood spurted as limbs were shredded and torn apart, the angry beast leaving a trail of viscera in its wake. Tech stood stock-still, riveted by the scene before him. “Fascinating,” he admitted beneath his breath.

“Now we go, ah?” Hondo asked, shooting Tech a quizzical look infused with mild disgust. He was not sure what he found so “fascinating,” and Tech’s only regret was not having his recording device at the ready to immortalize the ferocious, guttural sounds the beast was making as it mowed through nearly a dozen men.

Tech only snapped to attention when Hondo rapped his knuckles on the outside of his helmet. “Wake up en dere!” he growled, at once beginning his journey in the opposite direction, the one that was now a straight shot toward the general area of the lommite mine, Tech surmised, and he was content to follow, as he did not want to be next on the menu should the feline tire of its current entertainment.

“So nice of you tu join m—” Hondo stopped short, another TK Trooper having dropped before them from his hiding spot in the trees, blaster rifle held high and a smug tone permeating his voice as he gave his demands.

“Drop your weapons, and put your hands in the air!”

Both men glanced to one another, this being a rather unfortunate turn of events. Tech obeyed, but Hondo knew better; he had never withdrawn any in the first place. His lip curved just slightly; he could hear a rustling sound coming from a patch of nearby brush.

“My friend, we are de least of your worries,” Hondo relayed dryly. “I would put dat blaster away, ef you value your life, hm?”

Tech’s eyes darted as he registered the thermal readout of the very large feline stalking their way, calculating the odds of their survival mentally, which presently did not appear to be very good.

“Shut your mouth, Quay, and get on the ground!”

“Ef you insist,” Hondo replied, the pirate taking his time in bending first one leg, and then the other, his knees dropping onto the soft dirt below as if kneeling in prayer.

“You too, traitor,” the TK snapped, his blaster aimed loosely at Tech as the clone was forced to abide this man’s orders. He lowered himself beside Hondo, keeping his eyes trained not on the weapon’s barrel, but on the animal that was slowly creeping forward toward the unsuspecting soldier. He thought to warn him, but what would be the point? To face death head-on was not a privilege afforded to all. Sometimes, it was a surprise.

“Hands behind your head,” he barked. His “prisoners” obliged, the TK calling for assitance on his comm. “Found the terrorists a kilometer down from the mine, requesting back up.”

“Terrorists?” Hondo thought, meaning to give the man a piece of his mind. Even so, Hondo was privy to something he was not, keeping his mouth closed - if only just this once - as hypnotizing, unnatural yellow eyes shone like two bright suns just behind the soldier’s helmet. The head of the overgrown took’, not to mention its fangs, were both wider and longer than his head and arms. It was as if he was this man’s big, blue shadow, sooo massive in fact, it captured his attention; the sky had appeared to darken as if anticipating a rainstorm, the trooper looking up.

“Huh?” was all he managed to say, the TK’s head tilting for a better vantage just as the fanged maw of the creature enclosed around his throat. There was a terrible crunching sound as the ginormous cat severed through cartilage and bone as if they were nothing more than twigs, leaving both men to stare on in revulsion and awe as his body fell to the ground at their knees.

Hondo could feel Tech itching to rise and fight. Or. Perhaps to flee. “Du not. Move,” he instructed.

Tech decided to listen. He remained still. He was not sure why he had opted to trust the pirate on this matter, but he knew he would not be able to outrun the beast regardless. In other words, what did he have to lose besides his life? It was a kind of running joke at this point, he mused.

Hondo bothered to follow his own advice this time; he kept calm and motionless, even as the feline raised its eyes to look squarely at them. Blood dripped from its elongated eyeteeth like water drops from a leaky faucet, the formidable lifeform beginning to slowly prowl in their direction.

Tech took a breath to speak. Hondo interrupted him.

“Stand your ground. Du not panic, and du not run. Retreat only when I give de signal.”

Tech wanted to ask what the signal was, or explain that tactics that may work on one member of the Felidae family did not necessarily mean they could be employed against every feline they encountered. Still, Tech did not have experience with this particular species and wished to know more about them; perhaps Hondo had dealt with this kind of predator before. It was a shame that his equipment had been so badly damaged as to cease functioning properly, otherwise he may have been of some use.

A low growl emanated from the beast; Tech centered himself and relaxed. If it was his time to die, so be it, though he had not died yet when he had been almost positive he was going to only hours before.

Hondo lowered his head and stared at the creature’s feet; he made note he was so very fluffy, and if he was not so sure that he would get his face torn clean off for doing so, he may have been tempted to stroke its fur.

The cat bared its fangs; it roared only inches away. The wave of hot, stinky breath that followed did not impress Tech, though the Weequay beside him made a point to wrinkle his ridged nose.

Then, its attention turned solely to Hondo. Its snout was close enough to kiss. Hondo lazily lifted his head, the feline snorting out a blast so powerful, it sent one of Weequay’s braids behind his shoulder.

Hondo spoke; his voice was low and soothing. If he was at all afraid, he did not make it known, Tech observed, though he kept his eyes averted toward the wildcat’s legs. “We can be friends… yes?” he whispered huskily.

The behemoth stuck its nose against the Weequay, inhaling sharply to sniff Hondo as if he was a flower growing in some tranquil meadow, not a pirate in a crimson coat. Then the creature nuzzled his oversized head into the crook of Hondo’s jowls just below his frills, its broad, rough tongue brandishing itself to lick a stripe that would inevitably saturate his entire face.

Hondo laughed, a throaty chuckle indicative of something a little more than amusement. It was as if he knew to expect this all along.

“Dat’s right, what a sweet beast you are,” Ohnaka crooned as if talking to a lover, or a child, the pirate having spent many long hours in the fellowship of creatures both great and small, loving each one individually not for what they could do for him, but because, in most cases, animals were far better company than man.

For one, they did not double-cross him. Usually.

Tech thought the creature was giving Hondo a taste before deciding on whether or not to make him a second course, but to his surprise the feline began to produce a sound that was not unlike a purr from the bowels of its throat, it being somewhat reminiscent of the activation of ion engines set to embark on a journey through time and space.

The muscular mammal nearly knocked Ohnaka backward, so strong was the headbutt it administered against the Weequay’s Desevrar Infantry helmet that Hondo teetered on his knees, but managed to keep his place. Then, he did what he had wanted to do without fear of repercussion, placing one striated hand along the feline’s muzzle in a gentle pat. “Such a good boy,” he offered in the way of praise.

Tech was baffled; this was not something he was accustomed to. He had only witnessed Jedi commune with animals. This had occurred once during his time in the field under the leadership of the Republic, and never quite like this.

The scoundrel stood, and the cat allowed it. Hondo had the audacity to scratch it beneath its chin. “Ah, but you remind me of someone else blue with sharp teeth, hm? All hiss and no hunting us, yes?” he asked, as if the thing could speak its mind, and he would be able to understand its meaning.

The fuzzy leviathan seem to agree, circling the pirate to wrap its tail about his waist before releasing him and nudging Tech against his shoulder. Tech withheld a gasp, his body aching, and while the feline seemed not liable to attack them, he would not bother to stand quite yet.

His pack was most definitely weighing him down, Tech feeling as if one hundred duracrete bricks resided inside. He kept his nearly useless eyes fixated on the dead and drying leaves of the forest floor, Hondo speaking to the clone as if he was much more self-assured.

“Animals, beasts, de wily creatures of de forest, dhey love me,” he boasted. “I treat dem with kindness and respect, and dheyyy du not eat me. Isn’t dat right, blue one?” he inquired to the affectionate feline.

Then, the creature’s ears twitched, and his stark, golden eyes narrowed. Hondo withdrew his hand and cocked his head, turning toward the direction the feline was now focused on and asking it another question, never having received an answer to his first. “What es et, my darling? Du you hear someting?”

The varied shades of blue fur along its back bristled; the differences in its coloration formed alternating stripes like waves in a vast ocean. Tech could not help it— he held his breath. The king of Eriadu’s jungle quickly leapt away to disappear amongst the foliage, the distant sound of men screaming echoing through the otherwise peaceful woods.

“Our cue tu leave, no?”

“Affirmative,” was the only thing Tech could think to say, rising to his feet, albeit with great difficulty. He decided not to question the Weeuquay, or his ability to commune with the native fauna. This man was proving to be odd by all definitions of the word, his prowess for taming wild carnivores only one of his unusual traits, Tech suspected.

Tech’s thoughts were interrupted by an ache in his chest as he had bent to gather his blasters; he could not remember ever feeling so exhausted, nor could he recall a time when he had found it this laborius to breathe. Ambulating slowly forward, Hondo once more took the lead, Tech wondering what Phee might say should she learn that he had coincidentally, “run off with pirates.”

Unknown feline attacking a young Tarkin:

#tech #TBB tech #hondo ohnaka #tech AND hondo ohnaka #Star Wars #the bad batch #tbb #clone wars #TCW #fanfiction #AU #tech’s not dead #galactic empire #my writing

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yacinthemorning · 4 months

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Gundam Birdie

A Little Birdie

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Summary: Jimmy is a mobile suit pilot and the bad luck charm of his base whom the higher ups are done giving second chances to. It's the old beat-up relic Birdie he's been given or nothing. Lucky for him, the mechanic assigned to get her working is enthusiastic to help, but their friendship leads Jimmy back down roads he'd rather forget.

Ships: Jimmy & Tango (Platonic)

Warnings: War, death, violence, military, guns, fantasy politics, fantasy racism, trauma, alcohol, vomiting

There was something about the hangars that eased Jimmy’s heart. Realistically, they were the calm before the storm, and should have put the fear of the void into him, but he couldn’t help it. The echoes of clanking tools and pistons being tested. The scent of oil and burnt wires baked into the steel beams, the sight of people scrambling, heads buried in their tasks, ready to send machines into the field at the drop of the hat. In that environment, Jimmy faded into a shadow, an afterthought until launch, in the way at worst, a spare hand at best.

It almost made up for how wretchedly hot Earth was this time of year.

“You came back again, huh?” A bored voice drawled.

Jimmy blinked away the stupor he’d lulled into, his neck cracking as he leaned forward out of the remains of his cockpit. The large gash down the shell of the once-pristine Birdie let him see without rising up completely where Martyn tapped his foot on the concrete floor. He didn’t even look up at Jimmy, eyes too busy with his tablet. “That I did.” Jimmy said, leaning against his console. Even if it could respond in its state, the Birdie was already drained. “Should I not have?” He joked.

“Do you want the funny answer or the actual answer?” Martyn finally glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

Jimmy didn’t need either. He wasn’t in the mood, and if he focused he could already hear the grumbling of the mechanics around him. ‘How on earth did he make it back in that?’ ‘Another one already?’ ‘We absolutely sure he isn’t trying to destroy our whole fleet?’ ‘At least it was one of those relics from the basement this time…’

‘Where’s the rest of the squad?’

He wiped the sweat collecting on his brow and shrugged. “What can I say, I specialize in running away.”

Martyn tsk’d him with his stylus. “Unfortunately for you, Blue, running away costs a fortune we aren’t authorized to spend. And might I remind you your debt to the EF is already high enough.”

“Oh, come on Martyn.” Jimmy whined. “Can’t you sweet talk Ren for me? Just this once?”

“Ren’s already stuck his neck out for your first three mobile suits.” They paused as the entire Birdie shifted, the platform below it dropping deep into the ground until Jimmy could heave himself over the edge and drop only a few feet. When he tried to throw his usual goofy grin at Martyn, though, the accountant just shook his head. “Look, Jim, you know Ren sympathises. His parents are Lunarian, he knows what you’re going through.” He sighed. “But you aren’t exactly returning the favour and-“

They were cut off once more as Jimmy jerked forward. The mechanic brushing past didn’t even bother with an apology. Jimmy’s gaze locked with their own disgusted glare as they walked off. Martyn leaned closer in, voice a harsh whisper. “- And you aren’t exactly doing a stellar job of making this all seem like a good idea to the nay-sayers.”

Jimmy laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Don’t be silly. What’s there to nay over about an experienced pilot, who’s an expert on the enemy, controlling a front-line mobile suit?”

Martyn gave him that tired look, frustration wrinkling his youthful face. “I think even if you weren’t a deserter that would be too flattering a description given your results so far. Do you know what it’s like just to convince someone to work with you?” A gesture towards the brutalized Birdie emphasized his words.

“Look, it’s not my fault that I’m sent into the trenches- “

“But it is your fault you keep coming back alone.”

Suddenly the dry summer air seemed like an ice bath. Jimmy was pretty sure he hadn’t meant to so bluntly state what was meant to go unspoken. He could feel the gaze of a nearby worker on his neck, hear the echo of a giggle from across the station.

Martyn took a deep sigh, “I’m sorry Jim. There isn’t another one after this. This Birdie is your last chance. I can assign a specialist to the poor thing, but you have a shoestring budget to work with and if it ain’t operational by next launch then you're going to have to find somewhere else to complete your immigration assignment. That’s the good scenario where they let you go.”

He was screwed. He knew that the second he retreated from the skirmish. All Jimmy could do was agree and sign the papers Martyn put in front of him. When he left Jimmy turned back to the mobile suit and simply stared.

His fate was basically sealed. Jimmy had seen many a machine in his short lifetime. Maybe with a few months and top of the line care she could come back. The worst of it was superficial. But he knew from the struggle back to the checkpoint that the giant hole from a well-placed beam fried her internals. Its not as though Jimmy liked seeing the machines he’d dedicated his life to piloting in such a sorry state. He tried to take care of her just as much as the last half-a-dozen. Each of those multi-billion credit war machines were now rotting in landfills, though, and the prospects for this one were non-existent.

Just the same as his former crewmates.

A whistle broke through his mulling. “You really weren’t gentle with her, were you?”

Jimmy spun on his heel, giving the newcomer an incredulous look. It was a mechanic, judging from the jumper, though it was red instead of the typical orange, and a black jean vest covered its upper half. Slightly shorter than Jimmy, but his messily swept back hair tried hard to compensate for it. The beginnings of wrinkles under his eyes gave away his greater age, and that the grin reaching ear to ear was probably a permanent fixture.

Most oddly his pupils were the deep red of Mercurian heritage.

He put out his hand, though he didn’t bother to take his eyes off the Birdie. “Name’s Tango. Been told I’m gonna be giving your mobile suit some personal TLC for the next couple weeks.”

Jimmy squinted, calming the bubble of annoyance in his throat as he weakly shook Tango’s hand. “Jimmy.”

Now they were just treating him like a field of glass. That, or this guy was as much stuck with Jimmy as Jimmy was with him.

If he noticed Jimmy’s sudden tension, he didn’t care enough to take his eyes away from his assigned project. Rather, he seemed completely entranced by the busted heap. His grip fell away from Jimmy’s as almost an afterthought. It instead went to brush against the jagged metal of its shell, and dip in over the exposed reactor in its lower chest just below the cockpit. Jimmy winced. He really had been a hair’s breadth from blowing sky high.

“An MSF-71 Birdie, huh?” Tango practically cooed, like the museum piece was the coolest thing in the world. He moved on to its left arm, where the joint had been jammed by a piece of debris from the consulate Jimmy watched go up in flames. “And the frame’s in good shape besides what you’ve done to her. Man, they haven’t built one of these since…”

“The 36 EvO belt wars.” Jimmy supplied. Jimmy remembered seeing them on the news as a child, the complaints. Brand new and already being ditched for newer models of older fighters. They were made to be compact, light, easily transported with minimal fuel and speedy on the battlefield. What they actually were was incredibly prone to being taken out by the slightest bit of damage, and outpaced by sturdier suits with better propulsion systems. Always the first to go down on the battlefield, and the better mobile suits were screwed without their supporting flanks, so dragged their entire battalion with them.

Tango perked up, “Yeah, yeah! Didn’t even know we had any of these left. Oh, man.” He suddenly hauled himself right over the damage, scampering into the cockpit with his tablet. “The shoulder propulsion was removed and never replaced, though. Even if you’re sticking to land, that's a major disadvantage. And the frame’s got serious compatibility issues with these newer 95 mm barragers the EF’s so fond of slapping on everything. I’m surprised it didn’t straight up tear off the forearm.” He leaned back, a bit of awe in his gaze as it finally landed on Jimmy. “Dude, you’re a miracle worker to get this thing back this intact.”

When considering what that entailed that wasn’t all that high a praise, but it was the nicest thing someone had said to him in a while. Jimmy found himself soaking up the small bit of praise. He placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Well, I’ve been doing basically nothing but pilot mobile suits for a decade now. I would hope I knew a few tricks.”

That actually sounded a bit pathetic when he said it out loud didn’t it? Tango just nodded excitedly, however, then pulled out his wrench. “Well, then, it’s your lucky day. Cause I’ve been doing basically nothing but repairing them for two. And this machine of yours, I think she’s got another shot if we crack our heads together.” He patted her side for emphasis.

Jimmy learned well, after his first suit went up in literal flames, not to get too attached to any mobile suit assigned to him. It wasn’t as though he had been very involved in the Birdie’s handling until now, either. There was still a part of him that became giddy, excited to see the poor old thing run again. He gave Tango a cautious smile back, holding out a hand to the mechanic to help him back down. “If you think so.”

“Oh, I know so.” Tango said, and Jimmy couldn’t help but believe him.

“Then what do you need me to do?”

“The main hurdle is our budget.” Tango said around a mouth full of burger. He tapped a sharpened nail against the schematics spread across the cafeteria table. “The right leg hydraulics, the main engine, the control system, and two of the thrusters all need full replacement thanks to those beams and the explosion you said you took. They ain’t big boys like some of the other frames, but they’ll need customization to fit such an old model.”

Jimmy nodded along, shoving another fry into his mouth. “And new guns. She needs something lighter on her joints.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Tango tapped away on his tablet. There was a long list of specs from the catalogues they were given to work with. “Normally I’d say ‘well that’s what laser cannons are for!’ But that’s definitely out of our price range. Besides just generally being expensive, I’m not sure your current reactor is strong enough to keep up with their energy needs, so we would have to get a new reactor too.”

Jimmy yanked one of the schematics out from the bottom of the pile. “And the Birdie’s frame is a weird class size for flanking, it’d need a specialty reactor on top of that.”

“Exactly!”

His chest warmed. Each new subject came with more and more bad news, but Jimmy hadn’t felt so hopeful in a long time. He leafed through the stack of dusty folders next to him, searching for the papers necessary to request test field time. A tablet was held out over his food tray, coming dangerously close to his coleslaw. Several potential lighter weight low-kick guns had been bookmarked, but so had some more unconventional weapons including a wire weapon.

“She’s way too crushable and slow for direct melee combat, but I think a loadout like this might make your life exponentially better. A lot of these are going to have serious difficulty jabificating through even mid range armour, but a Birdie ain’t gonna be sent out alone to begin with.” Tango pulled it back slightly, a nervous quirk in his smile. “Though, they’d take some practice and strategy to make it work. You think you could do that?”

Jimmy gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll adapt.”

The cautious smile stretched into something more devious as he leaned in towards Jimmy to whisper. “Then I think I might have a way to shave some costs off our repairs, if you don’t mind a bit of dubious resourcing.”

Jimmy froze with a fry halfway into his mouth. Quickly he glanced around to make sure no one had heard the mechanic. “Tango, I’m on watch-“

“No, no, nothing that bad. I promise.” The blond waved off. “I just own my own scrapyard- well, it was a family ranch, but I had to sell the cattle off when I inherited the thing. Now the fields are full of spare bits and projects. I think I have these parts that just need a little spit and polish. That’ll save us a pretty penny, I reckon. We’ll just have to dig for them is all.”

“Can we do that?” Jimmy asked incredulously. He was pretty sure if a personal collection of mobile suit parts just sitting out in the open on a ranch would get you shot for treason on Pluto.

Tango just winked. “Ren’ll look the other way, and Martyn won’t complain if it means our numbers are lower.”

“Then that’s fine by me.”

“You really came back again, Blue?” A harsh voice cut into the conversation. With a groan Jimmy turned his gaze away from a confused Tango as a gloved hand shoved against the back of his head. “Would you take the hint and kick the bucket already?” The pilot laughed, his two companions following suit.

Jimmy just shrugged. The laughter died, and when they realized they would get no reaction they grumbled and walked off. He waited until they were across the cafeteria before he let out a sigh, shaking his head, and turning back to the schematics. The energy from earlier had drained a bit, but he tried to bring it back with a friendly smile.

Tango still had an eye on the retreating pilots, claw scraping across his screen as his nose scrunched up. “Some people really got a sick sense of humour, huh.”

“You don’t have to pretend not to know.” Jimmy said. Tango flinched. With a sigh, Jimmy shook his head. “Even soldiers from other bases know about the Plutonian deserter who always comes back alone. Always finds the danger and always leaves everyone else to deal with it.”

“It’s only ‘deserter’ to the Plutonians. On this side it’s ‘asylum seeker’.”

“With all due respect and appreciation, I don’t think I’ve met a crewmate who cared for the difference. When your reputation is having no loyalty, it doesn’t much matter what side you’re supposed to be on.”

“Doesn’t exactly do much to inspire loyalty to begin with, does it?” Tango mused, turning his attention to the last bite of his burger. He tapped the screen of his tablet. A feed came up, familiar to Jimmy but from a different angle. There was the Birdie, in formation with another mobile suit, before it split away from him right towards an enemy unit. It was muted, but Jimmy could still hear his own voice warning about a hidden patrol only he had spotted, and the shout he got back for daring to not follow. It would have cut off, just as the head of the suit was dissolved by an unseen laser cannon in the feed.

Jimmy’s stomach twisted at the sight of it occurring a second time. Why’d he have to pause it there? Tango scoffed. “I reviewed the footage during prep, you know. Not a fire alarm’s fault if people ignore it. It’s kinda hard to be a team player when your team is the smug idiots we got around here, who care more about where you came from than the war you’re both supposed to be fighting.”

“Don’t say something like that out loud.”

“But that’s what’s supposed to be so great about Earth, isn’t it?” Sarcasm laced his muffled voice. “S’why my old man came here, at least. ‘Everyone’s welcome, all those other planets are strict and exclusive. Come back to Earth for unending opportunity!’ Then they turn around on you the second you show up, even while you’re giving them your life.”

Jimmy had heard that all before from other immigrants. Not before he came here, as he did so with the official and doomed mission to break through the impenetrable Karman Defense as an enemy soldier, but he had heard their whispers after. The harsh line between the preached dream and enacted reality. It made no difference to Jimmy – It wasn’t Pluto and that’s all that really mattered – but he did empathize with those tricked into believing they would be more warmly welcomed.

“So, you’re second generation?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something more appropriate, less likely to get them court martialled.

“No, but I was so young I might as well be.” Tango shrugged, the grin returning to him. “You know, it’s a bit chilly but there’s actual real food and jobs, so here I am.”

“Chi- This planet is absolutely boiling!” Jimmy melted against the table with whine. Tango cackled and reached over to muse his hair.

“We need to stick you in the cooler.”

“Genuinely, that sounds wonderful about now.” He admitted. “You deal with this summer thing every year?”

“Only in the temperate zones. Head south and you can experience it year-round on the equator.”

“I think not!”

They both laughed, and while it never returned to the high energy of before, the atmosphere slowly warmed again. Soon they were once more engrossed into plans for the Birdie. By the end of the day they had high hopes and a door-stopping stack of papers to drop on Martyn’s desk. But they didn’t separate yet.

Outside of official work hours Tango dragged him off to discuss the grey area that was the parts in his scrapyard, and to spitball modifications that they most certainly would not get away with. It was quickly apparent that, unlike Jimmy, Tango was exactly where he wanted to be as far as dream jobs went. The man was a bonafide mobile suit nerd, and though Jimmy knew his stuff Tango quickly delved into things far outside Jimmy’s pay grade.

The way he talked… Jimmy could tell he put it out of his mind what they were being used for and more so how they did it. Maybe not naïve or ignorant, but certainly not fully reconciled on the fact that his passion was war machines.

“Well, there’s plenty that are for construction and transportation…”

“But?”

“I mean, you’re not allowed to give a construction mobile suit an arm mounted laser.”

Yeah, he was certainly a little ridiculous. He was so excited to be given the clearance to do pretty much anything he wanted to Jimmy’s Birdie, though. The cogs of his brain were running faster than even his mouth could keep up with. So, Jimmy tried his best to keep up, listen to him ramble while he gently reminded him that even if you could get it to work, a cannon like that was very much illegal across the entire solar system .

“But think of how cool it would be! And I got it all worked out on how to get over the reactor hard cap-“

Jimmy let out a disbelieving laugh.

Part of Jimmy wanted to put a clock or something in front of Tango, see if he pulled it apart instinctively. Like some species of mechanic creature.

The two hardly noticed until both were being screamed at by superiors that their conversation carried them long past curfew. If Jimmy was honest, it was the first time he almost felt welcome on Earth, like he was more than not-even-tolerated. If at the end of these next few weeks they failed and Jimmy was given the boot, at least he would have one fond memory of the horrid base.

Martyn handed back Tango’s tablet with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, guys, but I just can’t get this approved. I even pulled in a favour to get the price down, but they said there’s no way they would okay this engine for a beat-up relic.”

“They’re the ones that wanted the thing repaired in the first place!” Tango growled, glaring down at the rejection notice.

Jimmy clasped his hands together. “Martyn please. We’re so close to done and there’s only a few days left.”

“Even if I did pull off the miracle of the century and, like, saved the entire review board’s families from a burning roller coaster or something to magically get them on my side, there’s not way we could get it made and shipped here on time anyways.” He gave a sigh and shrug before he returned to his desk. “I got you so much. Your weird tripwire thingamajig – and dear lord Tango I don’t know what crypt you raided to even find that catalogue, do you know what a wild goose chase it was just to find the company that made it? But there really is no more I can do. You’re well out of luck and credit at this point. I’m not even sure if you could get a bottom-line engine, in fact. I really am sorry, but you’ll have to find another solution.”

Jimmy’s heart sank.

“… Okay.” Tango said.

Both other men turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What.” Jimmy asked flatly.

“Okay.” Tango repeated, hands up in surrender before one hooked around Jimmy’s elbow. “We get it, you won. We’ll rub our noggins together and think of something else to get her up and running. Sorry for bothering you.”

Martyn had never looked more suspicious but nodded anyways. The two men left the accountant’s office and back out towards the hangars.

“Is that really it?” Jimmy asked desperately. In the last two weeks they had done so much work on his Birdie. Literal blood, tears, and sweat were spent to get her to the point she was now at. “What are we going to do?”

“Calm down, bird boy.” Tango patted his arm, leaning into him. “I got a plan.”

“A plan?” It was then Jimmy realized they were not heading towards the mobile suit hangar at all, but towards the trucks. He gave Tango a wary side eye. “What are you planning?”

“We’re taking a little trip to town.” Was all Tango said. Soon enough they were in the biggest truck they could get approved for use and being waved through the checkpoint. Jimmy fiddled nervously with the buttons of his uniform, eyes darting about for any sign they had been followed. Tango? Tango was as cool as a cucumber, humming along to the radio as he slipped on the bright red glasses he always wore off-base. Where he kept them Jimmy had yet to figure out. The song slowly died out and gave way to the news.

“Reports have revealed that the rogue freighter that passed the Lunar Sanctuary last week is housing over two hundred Plutonian refugees and is now currently en route to Earth. Sanctuary has turned them away due to overcrowding and famine amongst their own citizens.”

“Bunch of bleeding hearts up there, they don’t even have space anymore.” Tango joked. “They’re just going to find the other end of the same war if they drop here, though.”

Jimmy nodded mindlessly, watching the farmlands. “Cow.” He muttered mostly to himself as they past a field of black and white dairy cattle.

“President Xisuma has had calls from both sides arguing whether to grant the large group their asylum request. Individuals close to the president, however, report that he is leaning towards approval. The president’s opposition have started to call him out, “President Xisuma’s approved six other groups from Pluto in as many months.” Says one party leader. “He seems determined to let anyone bypass our immigration process entirely if they show up with no shoes and a sob story. By the end of the year Pluto won’t even have to invade, their whole population will be on Earth and aiding the rebels to overthrow the EF.” Mobile suits posted on the Karman Defense are already mobilizing to intercept days before their arrival.”

Tango shook his head. “As on top of things as ever up there.”

“Hard to hide in open space.” Jimmy pointed out. He put his elbow up on the window, palming his chin. “There’s a reason it’s impenetrable despite how thin they’re spread.”

“So how did you get through?” The red glasses fell down Tango’s nose as he tilted his head. “I woulda thought it was shoot on sight for an enemy mobile suit.”

Jimmy felt a shudder down his spine. “It was.” The days Jimmy spent begging for mercy were not memories he enjoyed recalling. He was glad they had not invaded his dreams much, drowned out by other memories not as dramatic but worse in their own ways. “I’m not entirely sure how I managed, to be honest. Dumb luck I survived long enough to get a word in on a good day I suppose. My suit certainly didn’t.” He blinked out at the field where a gangly roan creature pranced along the fence. “Horse…”

A hand came up to his shoulder and rubbed comfortingly. “You must love piloting to go through the trouble of becoming one again after all that.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Not really. But it’s all I’m good at. Well, I thought I was.”

“Hey, planet-side warfare’s nothing like space warfare. I mean neither are good, and I’ve never been in either, but you have to be decent for Pluto to send you all the way to Earth to try and break through the KD.”

A snort escaped Jimmy. He wished it was that cool. “No one else wanted to go on a suicide mission. I’m just the sucker who volunteered… cows.” They were brown this time. Beef cattle. They were almost there.

“We’re here.” The truck pulled up to a gated dirt road. Trees lined the perimeter but far down the path Jimmy could already see the ruddy roof of an old farmhouse. Still, the driveway was long, through acres and acres of overgrown fields, dotted with masses. Some had tarps thrown over them, but other heaps we exposed to the elements, rust creeping into their metal. Jimmy had come here with Tango a few times in the past weeks for some spare parts. His nerves returned, as they pulled to a stop and hopped out. Those were all small bits and bobs, not a full engine.

Tango rambled aloud as he went towards the old red bar. “I thiiink I got something similar to what we wanted out in the north field, but if that doesn’t work I know for a fact there’s another engine just out back. It’d need a lot of modifications to work, though, so I wanna check for the other one first.”

Jimmy helped push the doors wide open and hook up a trailer to an old green tractor. Tango was happy to throw the keys to him and sit on the back, directing him towards their quarry with one arm while the other was slung over the back of the seat.

It was one of his big finds. The entire upper half of a mobile suit was on top of several plastic tarps with several more nailed down over top. It didn’t stop rainwater from pooling under completely, but it went a long way to preserving the important parts. An hour later they had it cracked open and the engine hauled up with pulleys and make-shift cranes.

“This is definitely it. Look at that, those are the exact cylinders on the one we were gonna buy!” Tango squealed, patting the piece of machinery like it was a good dog. Jimmy chuckled to himself as he watched, listened to the engineer part of Tango’s brain take over control of his mouth. Two more hours later the engine was confirmed okay, wrapped up, hauled back to the house, and set inside the truck.

Jimmy relaxed into the rocking chair on Tango’s porch, gazing out at the mess of a ranch fondly. It almost looked like the various vehicles were their own sort of creature being grazed in the fields. Even overgrown the land had its charm. Certainly green grass and bushy oaks were a far cry from the cold landscapes of Pluto.

The porch door was thrown open, Tango shimmying through with a big grin, a bigger platter, and a pitcher of ice-tea. “Afraid I don’t have much in the fridge, so I hope you don’t mind frozen wings.”

“Not at all.” Jimmy replied, clearing some of the tools they’d left out on the table to give the blond room to place his haul. He’d changed fully now, into an oversized red sweater with a fire hazard symbol across the front – a prized possession, Jimmy had learned – paired with well-worn grey jeans and old runners. All of Jimmy’s casual clothing was back at the barracks, but he’d relieved himself of the stuffy uniform coat and heavy boots for a loaned pair of outdoor slippers.

Tango collapsed into the other rocking chair while Jimmy poured the drinks. The engineer took a glance at the glasses and smirked, reaching behind him to pull out a half-empty bottle of rum. “Care for a kick?”

Jimmy raised his eyebrow, lip twisting disapprovingly, before he readily held out his glass across the table to let Tango pour as much as he liked into the drink. Probably a mistake. He got a chuckle, and far more alcohol than he really bargained for. Hopefully it would be out of his system before they returned…

“I gotta say.” Tango sighed, settling into his chair for good now. “Whenever I’m out here, I think I get it.”

“Get what?” Jimmy mumbled past a cautious sip. He jerked back slightly. Definitely way too strong.

A hand gestured out towards the ranch, glowing in the evening sun. “Why everyone is always trying to come to Earth. Out here where there’s no one to bother you, it's beautiful. There’s so much space, so many colours, so much time. Never really appreciated it much as a kid.”

Jimmy smiled. “Yeah.” His eyes fell closed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair for once. The smell of mediocre food and too much rum mingled with the distant rustle of leaves and crickets. And he wondered how he ever managed without this, ever thought the hangar was a refuge from the world when this existed only a few miles down the road…

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. The wings were gone, thankfully taking the brunt of the rum. The sky had turned red before he had even noticed. He sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “We need to get back soon.”

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah?” Where had he put his boots?

“Why do you pilot?”

He paused, turning back to Tango who was staring at him from his chair. His arms were folded behind his head, glasses perched precariously on his nose, but his gaze carried an intensity greater than Jimmy had ever seen in their brief time together.

He looked away. “It’s all I know how to do. I don’t have any other skills. So I do this.”

“Liar.”

“Wha-” Jimmy spun back around incredulously. “What’d you say?”

Tango’s glare felt like it was looking right into his soul. “Liar. I’ve seen all sorts of pilots in my time, Jimbo. People who do it for the paycheck, creeps who just want the means to kill. I’ve seen the strangest pilots around, but you… I’ve seen how you are around that Birdie. Like you’re asking something from it. You aren’t some nine-to-fiver about it. You know so much about mobile suits-“

“Not as much as you.”

“But more than most, more than even other pilots!” Tango insisted. “More than you just pick up from work. Be honest, why do you do it? Why did you take up piloting in the first place?”

Jimmy sucked in a breath. Did he know how painful the memories he was asking Jimmy to recall were? Why did he need to know to begin with? The air was cooling rapidly with the setting sun. Tango patiently waited, no intent to let the question go.

Stupid words he should have never said echoed in the back of his mind. If I don’t do something, nothing will change.

With a shaky voice and glazed eyes, Jimmy replied. “I wanted… There was someone- people, that I wanted to help.”

“And piloting a mobile suit was how you decided to help?” Tango’s voice had gone almost giddy, leaning forward in his rocking chair.

Jimmy reluctantly nodded. His fists clenched tightly against his shirt. “No one else would.”

Tango stared for another long moment. Then, a grin broke across his face. He reached over and grabbed Jimmy’s nearest hand before bringing it up close to his mouth like he could whisper a secret into it. “… There’s something special I want to ask.”

Jimmy hesitated, but eventually he gave his mechanic a consenting grunt.

“Have you ever heard of a gundam frame?”

Tango punched in a code onto the lock of an iron vault-like door. It whirled to life, slowly easing itself open. Jimmy could still hear the blood pumping through his ears overtop of it. On the other side was a black, echoing void. Tango took one more assuring glance behind him to Jimmy then walked straight into the darkness. Jimmy’s legs shook, but he forced himself forward.

Just as he entered the void there was the sound of a heavy switch being flipped, and light blindingly filled the room. Jimmy had to squint, hand raised to block out the harsh fluorescent lights until he could get his bearings. He could hear Tango fast walk past him, the steps echoing infinitely into what must have been an enormous room.

When he finally dropped his hand the first thing he was greeted with was an enormous metal face. Jimmy felt himself stop breathing. A mobile suit, but not just any. It stood eighteen meters tall, a whole third taller than the Birdie, and most of it an unpainted grey, though Jimmy could see chips of yellow and blue left here and there. Its face was strikingly human compared to most other frames, looking much like a pilot wearing a mask itself, except for a sharp protrusion along its brow. It was too pointed to resemble the bill of a helmet, more like the beak of a bird, and in some small way reminded him of the Birdie’s profile. Despite that, it was otherwise unlike any mobile suit Jimmy had ever seen.

In front of them was a gundam.

… And it was encased in a giant bunker under Tango’s farmhouse.

Jimmy jerked his head towards the mechanic, who was messing with a control panel to bring everything to life. Looking around, the bunker lacked much of the professional equipment of the base, and even the mobile suit station looked almost cobbled. The corners were filled with more spare parts like the fields above, gutted and cannibalized and left under tossed-over tarps to wait for further disassembling. While the gundam itself was clearly old, its various parts were a mix of ages.

“Have you…” Jimmy swallowed. “Have you been repairing it?”

An enormous mischievous smirk stretched across Tango’s face. “Me, and my old man before me.” His hand found Jimmy’s shoulder as he approached the consoles, holding the stunned pilot stable, and gazed affectionately up at the mobile suit. They found themselves in a lift, slowly raising them up to its chest. “He came here two years before us to prepare the farm. While he was digging he found something peculiar. It took most of my childhood for us to dig this out. Lot grander father-son project than some old car, eh?”

“I’ll say.” Jimmy’s voice came out breathy and shaking. His hand brushed against its body as they came to a stop, to see if it was truly real. It suddenly jerked into motion, chest pulling open until its cockpit was fully revealed.

Tango took Jimmy’s hand and gently guided him inside the frame. “You thought your Birdie was old? This baby’s straight out of the Three-Year War!” He spoke fast, giddy as a kid in a candy store. “It’s almost fully functional, too, with all the repairs me and pa did. The only problem is… Well…”

Tango nudged his head towards the main console, guiding Jimmy’s hand towards it. Confused and more than a bit terrified, Jimmy’s hand hesitantly grazed across the dusty screen. It suddenly illuminated, and like a chain reaction so did the rest of the cockpit. The buzz of its reactor surged down Jimmy’s spine. Beneath his fingertips displayed a start up screen, system information pouring in too fast for Jimmy to read, except one piece. A name.

“XXS Gundam…” He muttered as it appeared. “Alpha-13… Canary?”

His hand pulled away as he looked to Tango for answers. The mechanic stared down at the console with breathless awe, before that same look was turned on Jimmy.

The pilot jumped at the elated shriek that escaped Tango as he wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder. “Look at that! She likes you! You really got her to respond!”

“Wh- What?”

“All this time neither me nor my pa could get her to wake up, but I knew it. I knew she’d like you! Canary, huh? I don’t think I’ve heard-”

“What are you talking about?” Jimmy squeaked. “What do you mean she likes me?”

Tango finally paused, though he could not wipe the smile off his face. “Have you ever heard of ‘the ghost in the machine’?”

Jimmy hesitated, then nodded. “I… Think so?”

“They say there’s one in every gundam frame, that they have a mind of their own. Not just anyone can pilot a gundam, only someone they choose. I know, I know! It sounds like superstitious mumbo jumbo, but we tried over and over to get her to respond to us. We never got nothing! But now- Jimmy.” Tango’s eyes widened once again in awe. “You got her to wake up. She likes you .”

Jimmy had no idea what to do with that information.

“So what now?”

They’d switched back into their proper uniforms, finished tying down the engine to the truck, and started back towards the base.

“What do you mean?” Tango asked, a chipperness to his voice that told Jimmy he knew exactly what the pilot meant.

Jimmy pouted. “Tango, you have the Mona Lisa of war machines in your basement and according to you it apparently ‘likes me’. What does that mean, what do we do? Are you going to tell the base? How illegal is it?”

“Shoot, that might be a good point.” He said, still in that tone. He didn’t elaborate.

Jimmy puffed up his cheeks. “A good point! You’re bloody right it’s a good point! So what do we do now?”

Tango hummed, making a show of tapping his chin. “Right now? Head back to base and get some shut eye. We gotta install this engine into your Birdie tomorrow morning, after all.”

“Tango-”

“It’s all fine, Jimmy!” He grinned. “We’ll come back out and do some more tests once you got your job secure.”

“More tests? On our own?”

“If we tell them about Canary right now then they’ll stompy-stompy their way in and take her away. Then neither of us will see her again. You really want that?”

“Tango I can’t pilot a gundam, I’m about to lose my ability to pilot at all.”

“You really gonna let someone else pilot your gundam?”

“It’s not mine , and you said it can choose a pilot for itself.”

“Well I chose you, and she agreed. So that’s that. I ain’t letting no one else pilot her.”

Jimmy wanted to argue but it died in his throat, unsure what he could possibly say. He leaned back in his seat instead and let out a deep sigh. “You’re something else, Tango.”

A maniacal giggle escaped the engineer. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile.

Martyn turned off his tablet. “Your machine’s been approved for duty.”

Jimmy and Tango cheered and high fived, a display that got them an eye roll from Martyn. Ren leaned over his desk with a chuckle. “Congratulations, my dudes. You're back in service! I’ll get you scheduled for a few tests and local missions as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Ren.” Jimmy said as sincerely as he could. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

The director just waved it off, but Martyn raised an eyebrow. The two higher-ups exchanged a glance before Ren spoke up. “Actually, there was one more thing. A caveat of sorts.”

“This is still your last mobile suit.” Martyn continued for him. “If you bust this one up you’ll be put on standby again until it’s repaired, or let go. We would prefer you to exercise more caution than you have been, regardless, but understand that your situation is still precarious, Jim.”

“I… understand.” Jimmy bowed slightly. “I’ll do my best to be careful.”

Martyn snorted, shaking his head. “Well, now, we can’t exactly trust that after your track record, now can we, Ren?”

“No.” Ren propped his chin up on his hands with a smirk. “No, we most certainly cannot, Martyn.”

Jimmy swallowed hard, a stone weighing down his gut. “What-”

“So, Tango.” Ren didn’t let him speak. All eyes turned to the mechanic, who flinched at suddenly being the centre of attention. He dumbly pointed to himself, to which Ren nodded. “Since you did so well once already, we’ve decided to permanently assign you to the upkeep of Jimmy’s Birdie.”

“Lord knows the poor thing’ll need it.” Martyn muttered.

Tango blinked, then blinked again, then turned to Jimmy who was just as shocked. The taller shuffled his feet nervously and stuck out his hand with a small smile. “Um, well, if you’re okay with it, I’d certainly love to keep working on her with you.”

Tango grabbed his hand with a bit too much force and shook it enthusiastically. “I’ll absolutely be your mechanic, of course!”

Ren clapped. “That’s great! Cause you didn’t actually have a choice. We’ve already done all the paperwork, you see. So, it’d be a real bummer if not.”

“Jumped the gun a bit on that one.”

The four men all had a laugh before Ren started going into what it all entailed. Jimmy couldn’t quite fully listen. His chest swelled with warmth, mind buzzing with excitement. For once he felt almost eager to get back on the field, to put what they had made to the test. He snuck a glance to Tango, who gave him a thumbs up and huge grin- he was just as excited. And for a brief moment Jimmy thought perhaps things were finally looking up, that maybe he could not only survive, but thrive.

Jimmy leaned back in his Birdie’s seat, taking in a deep, calming breath.

“Excited?”

He let out a squawk at the voice almost right in his ear. “You trying to scare the life out of me?”

Tango quirked an apologetic grin for only a half second before shoving his tablet in Jimmy’s face. “Ran a few extra tests and compared them to the last week’s worth of missions, since you got here so early. She’s all ready to go.” His head tilted in amusement. “Must be nice to finally get off-base with her again.”

“It’s just a patrol.” Jimmy insisted, though his fingers vibrated with too much energy.

“You probably like those, though, right?”

“… It is better than just glorified tests.”

They both let out a small laugh. Tango reached over and ruffled his hair, patted the side of the cockpit, then pushed off to climb back down and start up the launch. They exchanged a thumbs up, everything ready on both ends, and the machine whirled to life around Jimmy.

The seal closed. Screens lit up at the same moment, allowing Jimmy to see out at all angles. Each system slowly came online while he adjusted their settings and conditions. Finally, he slipped on his helmet – a far cry from procedure for space flight where he would be yelled at for not already dawning the obnoxious thing by the time he reached his mobile suit. Really, on land he didn’t need it at all, but it was a comfort.

As soon as he did Tango’s voice, distorted by the crackle of radio waves, once again filled his ears. “Hey, by the way.” Jimmy could hear his grin. “Got the whole long weekend off. Mercurian holiday. When you’re done with your patrol you should come out to the ranch and celebrate with me.”

More Tango code for ‘let me talk your ear off about gundams as I try to convince you to crawl into one’ . There hadn’t been a day in the last week he didn’t ask, with varying subtlety. Jimmy shook his head, huffing into his mic. It swiftly transformed into a proper frown as a thought occurred to him. “Hang on, why’re you still here this morning, then?”

“I wasn’t gonna miss my little buddy’s first real mission launch!” He replied incredulously.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. Of course. “Yep, my very first mission in ten whole years.”

“Ahahaha. Get out of here. And bring both of you home intact this time, why don’tcha?”

“Yes, dear.” Jimmy said with a snicker. “See ya.”

The comm clicked off, replaced by a robotic voice that matched to the text on a side screen narrating each step of the launch. Birdie rattled beneath him as it was moved into place. Hangar doors opened, the path was cleared out, and the clasps that kept his Birdie in place released. Jimmy pushed forward slowly, making sure all systems were warmed up.

Across the runway two mobile weapons and a suit, a Gorgon II Custom, waited already. Three connections linked to his Birdie.

“Took you long enough!” Cleo said, the Gorgon’s signal lighting up. “I was about to break out some tea.”

“Tea sounds lovely right now, actually, and I’m pretty sure you’re here early.” Jimmy replied. “But sorry.”

She turned her Gorgon around and started up propulsion towards the north Gate. “Just don’t fall behind on the patrol or I’ll ditch all of you.”

“Sure thing.” His face pulled into a frown. He’d almost forgotten.

“Then let’s get this over with, babysitting you is way too beneath my pay grade.” Was the last thing she said before she rocketed off.

One of the mobile weapons Jimmy wasn’t familiar with snickered through the comms. “She’s just salty about her punishment.”

“Maybe she should have thought of that before she went totally berserk in Hermiton.”

Jimmy shuddered. The images past around of the incident were damning, even if he never quite got the details. He’d not worked with her much at all in the year he had been on earth, but he heard things. One of the EF’s current longest lasting pilots, a talented one at that, able to pilot anything given to her, who nevertheless somehow had a combat streak about as victorious as Jimmy’s own.

Until Hermiton, that was. More than a little hesitantly, he followed after the Gorgon.

A half hour later they reached the border and began their patrol proper. Jimmy flipped on the autopilot, linking onto Cleo to test if it was functional again. In the meantime, he pulled up their route on his main screen. They’d be back by 10:00 if they did as they should. A smile crept onto Jimmy’s face as he examined the last leg of the route. They’d be close enough to Tango’s ranch that Jimmy might even be able to see it. Maybe he could take a picture for the mechanic. Knowing him he already knew they were coming and had his own camera set up. They could exchange them once Jimmy went home.

“Eyes open, Blue.” Cleo said. “You’re drifting.”

“Sorry.” He quickly snapped autopilot off again and flipped his cameras out fully. As soon as he did so the detection systems pinged. Up in the skies something descended from space. Zooming in, it was a long cargo ship. He nearly bit his tongue. Jimmy didn’t need the ID tags to recognize a Plutonian craft. “South-East, in the stratosphere, there’s a Plutonian ship.” He called.

There was a brief silence as the other three searched. “Oh, that?” Cleo replied. “Didn’t you hear the news? Those Plutonian refugees are touching down today. They must have just descended through the KD.”

“Look at that, Blue. Soon we’ll have a whole troupe of runaways for you to cry with.” The first mobile weapon sneered. Jimmy tightened his grip on his controls, keeping his lips sealed as they continued on.

An annoyed grunt escaped Cleo. “Focus on the mission!”

“Relax, Cleo, it’s just a patrol.”

“I don’t care if it’s wiping your arse. You will concentrate on the mission or get left behind.”

Jimmy, lowered their volume, focused on the descending ship instead. It was shockingly close. He was vaguely aware of the spaceport it must be landing at. No one had mentioned to him that they would be touching down in the vicinity, though. As rudely as it was said, there was a small part of Jimmy that warmed at the thought of more Plutonians being nearby, at least for a while. Maybe he could go and ask…

“Blue!” Cleo’s shout broke through his mulling. “You’re drifting again!”

“Sorry.” He squeaked and turned his attention back to the route.

Then the screen went white. Jimmy blinked, got as far as opening his mouth to alert Cleo before the ground began to rumble. His Birdie shook, then nearly toppled over as a blast punched into the patrol. His head smacked into the side of his chair, and the rumble of the metal machine drown out the mobile weapon pilots’ shouts. Two more barrages hit one after another, until Jimmy’s whole body felt scrambled.

Everything slowly settled around them, more voices joining in on the shouting both from their squad and base. Jimmy reoriented himself and his cameras. There, on the horizon they were just gazing at, were three enormous plumes of smoke. His comm squealed painfully, forcing his attention on readjusting it.

“-spaceport, reroute immediately!” An operator shouted.

“On it!” He heard Cleo say back, already turning. Jimmy and the mobile weapons followed soon after. The plumes expanded as they approached, smaller explosions joining in. Across the tarmac was the scattered remains of the ship, the station behind it completely crumbled. Staff and refugees alike darted around, confused and scared. Some other mobile weapons were already there, firing in on the ship. Out from within its haul rolled out mobile weapons of their own, far more familiar to Jimmy, and began to fire back. Stray beams and bullets were going everywhere, unsure who was enemy in the maze of smoke and panic.

Part of the ship where a dozen refugees hid lilted forward. A sickening series of metallic pops filled the air. Jimmy darted his Birdie forward, propelling its foot into a spin to slide around the screaming group and stretched her arms out wide. The wall finally collapsed, smashing into Birdie’s back. Jimmy was jerked forward in his seat, and he could hear the poor mobile suit’s brand-new light armor crunch under the wall’s weight.

There was no time to worry about that, though. He flipped on his speakers and shouted, “Evacuate the premises, now!” The terrified group hesitated at first, but two soon took charge and the rest followed them like a herd to the edge of the tarmac where others were gathering.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shouted Cleo as she rolled the Gorgon up beside him and lifted the wall with ease. “You’re supposed to be my flanker, don’t rush in!”

Jimmy grunted, pushing his Birdie to stand back up and regain his bearings through the sirens now blaring across his console. “You wouldn’t have made it in time.” He muttered.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have tried. Look at you!”

Taking in his alerts for the first time, she was right. Though not a large barrage, his Birdie had taken fire pushing into what was now clearly becoming enemy lines that they were now both deep within. Gorgon had also taken damage, more hits but far fewer penetrating its heavy armor and shield.

“Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing and start doing your job right!”

“Cleo look- AUGH!”

The comm fuzzed out just as an explosion burst behind them. Both mobile suits twisted towards the wreckage. Jimmy sucked in a breath at the sight of the mobile weapon, an axe splitting the machine open like a log. Fire and choking smoke flared out from the fatal wound, only a small puddle on the concrete below giving any closure to the status of the pilot within.

A heavy mechanical foot slammed down into the destroyed mobile weapon from beyond the smoke, the axe wrenching up and out to swing high before it slowly descended onto the shoulder of a silhouetted figure. Slowly it pushed forward until the red face of a mobile suit emerged fully.

Through the static on the comm was a pitched voice, distorted and cold. “-im-y?”

Jimmy’s blood ran cold.

No…

“Enemy mobile suit on the ground!” Cleo boomed, raising the Gorgon’s shield and laser gun. “All units mobilize immediately. Surround it. Jimmy, flank to my left!”

Jimmy sputtered, “Wait- Cleo!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, if you won’t do your job then get out of my way!” She raced towards the enemy suit.

Jimmy lurched after her, “Cleo, that’s not a normal mobile suit, that’s-“

It was too late. Gorgon fired her laser gun on what would have been a point-blank shot. But in the time it took her to press down on the trigger the enemy suit was gone – beside her with its axe raised. In one swift motion the axe tore down on its target, and the Gorgon’s head split from its body.

The world seemed to quiet down to only the blood pumping in Jimmy’s ears. His hand shook, staring hopelessly at the scene as Gorgon’s body slowly slumped to the earth, unresponsive. He could see the comm connections going wild out of the corner of his eye, but the only words that managed to penetrate through the hazy cloud in his mind were the ones he was too slow to speak

“-dam planetside! I repeat, the enemy Plutonians have released a gundam!”

Then, his console was bathed in red. An unknown connection rang once, twice, and then opened – at first he thought on its own before he realized his hand hovered over the accept button. There, within the suffocating confines of his cockpit, he came face to face with a smiling face, framed by long brown locks, and a scar running down one of two soul-piercing eyes.

Her smile widened into a grin. “Well would you look at that. It really is you, Jimmy!”

“Pearl…” He was barely able to stutter out. He thought his heart might beat straight out of his chest. “What- What are you- How did you get through-”

“Sorry to interrupt you, buddy.” Her voice was ever chipper but echoed with a familiar void. “But I’m on a very important mission right now.”

“You-”

“Although…” The grin on her face twisted. “I bet if I brought news of you being alive back, I’ll get quite a reward. Or maybe-”

“Die!”

Jimmy had no time to even take note of the second mobile weapon racing forward, firing its cannon towards Pearl. In that span she had already yanked the arm off of Gorgon which still clutched its shield and blocked the beam before her axe was flung into the mobile weapon. It hit the reactor, and the entire unit burst. Through the video feed Pearl had hardly taken her eyes off Jimmy, still staring through him with a terrifying sparkle in her gaze.

“Maybe I’ll just bring you back myself.”

He didn’t stop to think. Birdie’s controls were yanked back until the machine spun completely around, and he bolted. At top speed he went straight off the spaceport and out into the open fields. He could hear his allies screaming at him and Pearl letting out a whine, but he shut down all current comm connections and just ran. Whether it proved them right, whether they resented him, he couldn’t care about anything other than getting away.

Sensors blared at him, telling him everything he already knew- That several parts were damaged to a dangerous degree, that his reactor was wearing thin, that there was an unknown target giving chase -

Jimmy kept running.

He was so focused on running he barely noticed which direction he had gone in, nor did he notice the incoming connection until it actually opened on its own this time. Suddenly, Tango’s face, of all faces, was plastered over his console, eyebrows knit in a hard look. “Jimmy?”

Jimmy blinked in shock. “Tango? Wha-“

“I saw what happened. You’re heading south-east, right?”

A glance at his navigation board confirmed the mechanic right. South-east. South-east? That was towards…

“Meet me at the ranch.” Tango nodded.

“I can’t go there, she’s-”

“You have a three-minute head start on her. She stopped to fight the rest of the mobile weapons at the spaceport and was communicating with an off-planet signal. You’ll be here long before her if you keep going at your speed.”

The other mobile weapons…

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. He felt bile at the back of his throat. There were other mobile weapons – there were civilians! – and he’d ran away. Ran away with the only mobile suit. His words came out strangled, “Tango, I-”

“Don’t think about it right now!” He quickly interrupted with a shake of his head. “Just get here! I’ll have everything ready by then.”

“Everything? What everything?”

“You’re gonna get back in there on a level playing field.” Was the last thing he said before the comm died. There was only one way for Jimmy to interpret that. With a shaky breath he pressed onwards towards the ranch.

His Birdie barely made it into the yard. When he forced open its cockpit and practically fell to the ground in exhaustion Tango was already there, waiting, and caught him before he face planted into the dirt. “Hey! Are you okay?” He squeaked in a panic. Jimmy’s helmet was yanked off.

Part of Jimmy was so relieved to know that the mechanic was also terrified of his state that he let out a chuckle into Tango’s shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t think I have much more in me.”

“Well, find your second wind! If we don’t stop her who knows what’ll happen.”

Tango began to drag him towards the side of the house where the hatch to the underground bunker was hidden. Despite the battle Jimmy just escaped and the looming threat of it chasing him, the ranch was as peaceful as ever. He smiled. “I’m sorry…”

“Huh?” Tango’s head twisted to look at Jimmy, not stopping his speed walk. “What for?”

“I said I’d bring Birdie back home intact.”

He snorted. “Well when you left I didn’t think you would be fighting a gundam with her-”

“Owl.” Jimmy explained. “Gundam Owl. She’s- It’s one of Pluto’s greatest weapons. It’s singlehandedly how they kept the Martians from invading Io. Only Pluto’s top pilot is paired with her.” He let out a shudder, trying to block out more memories than were needed to explain to Tango exactly how screwed they were. “And that’s Pearl.”

“Do you know her?”

“It’s hard to not know her if you’re a pilot.”

Tango didn’t look convinced but nodded anyways and focused on leading the way. “Here we are.”

Canary was fully stood, its limbs secured into the launch belt surrounding it. Tango rushed over to the launch console to disconnect the last of the wires and tubes still feeding the thing. Jimmy would have to remember to interrogate Tango later on exactly how much equipment he’d managed to ‘scrap’. For now he stared down the gundam, unable to step up into the loading platform.

Tango had just finished his preparations when he noticed. “Jimmy.”

“It’s not going to work, Tango.” He muttered. The mechanic’s hand found its way to his shoulder in comfort, and Jimmy had to choke back a small breakdown. “I’m not joking about Pearl or Owl. They’ve never lost a fight. She got through the Karman Defence! I’m just a mediocre pilot who can’t even keep a machine intact. A coward who runs away while everyone else dies. Hopping into a gundam isn’t going to change that!”

“Jimmy, look at me.” His face was suddenly yanked down, his forehead bumping a little too roughly with Tango’s as he brought them eye to eye. Jimmy looked as asked, and he saw what he’d seen so far; Tango’s brow was pulled down, eyes energized, and jaw held stiff with some sort of determination. But there was something else there. His lip almost imperceptibly quivered, his eyes were wide and reddened in the corners, and he was breathing far too harshly through his nose. Even his hands that held tight to the side of Jimmy’s head had a vibration in the tips of his fingers.

Fear. Tango was scared.

“I know it’s a slim chance, I know it’s dangerous.” Tango said, and now Jimmy could recognize the slight stutter. “But nobody else is here to help. If we don’t try to do something, nothing will change.”

Jimmy felt his heart stop and start, any reply he had dying immediately. A shaky, calming breath escaped him, and he nodded ever so slightly, the motion rubbing their foreheads together once more. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Tango’s scowl turned up into a grin. “Yeah, we’ll try.” And then he yanked Jimmy onto the loading bay.

It took Jimmy a second to process that Tango was still there as they rose up to Canary’s level. “ We ?” He pipped.

The cockpit opened up, and Tango handed him his helmet. He pushed him into the seat before hopping back into the small space beside the chair he had stood on the first day he showed Jimmy the Canary. “Well, I figure I’m the one who’s been tinkering with her for the last three decades, I know more about how she works than you do.”

Jimmy whipped his head around, trying to take in both Tango’s words and the systems that were rapidly starting up. “But you could die!”

“So could you. We might all die if we don’t stop her.”

Tango’s hand was once again on Jimmy’s shoulder, and somehow it felt oddly centering. He was able to take a deep breath and slowly figure out what was in front of him while Tango continued to speak almost right into his ear. “We can still run away, if you want to.”

Canary’s screen filled the cockpit with a bright blue light. The enemy knew they were here now. He shook his head. “No.”

There was a brief pause, during which the alert system flared to life, informing them that Pearl was thirty seconds away. “Jimmy, why did you become a pilot?”

“I wanted to help people.”

“It’s the same for me, but for you.” Tango leaned forward, a strained smile on his face. “It’s what a mechanic is for. I know you can do it, Jimmy. I’ll be right here to make sure you do. We can run, but I know you’ll hate yourself if you do. But whatever you choose to do, I’ll be right here either way. I’ll help you.”

Sonar pinged Pearl almost right on top of them.

Jimmy felt his lip trembling. The small noise he made was supposed to be affirmation, but it came out more like a choke. He placed a hand on top of Tango’s. “If I try to run, stop me?”

He broke into a wide grin. “Got it.”

“Then let’s do this.” He mustered all the determination he could manage.

Canary seemed to respond immediately, bringing up everything he needed on its own. It startled him for a half a second, but he brushed it off as a thought for later, instead smiling appreciatively at the screens. Then it brought up a strange camera angle, revealing Owl towering over the farmhouse, turning its head in confusion.

“Hey, that’s my security camera!” Tango whined, pointing at the feed.

It immediately blinked away, reappearing on the other side of Jimmy. He laughed while Tango grumbled. “Ready?” He asked. There was no extra seat or buckles to lock the mechanic in, so he would just have to hold on tight to the ceiling handle. Tango gave him a thumbs up.

The ceiling above opened up and Canary was launched full force to the surface. Both men braced themselves as the cobbled launcher rattled, practically throwing the mobile suit into the midday sky. Right in front of them was Owl, who jerked around to reveal its rounded face as they appeared behind it.

It was a mobile suit Jimmy had known well, as all Plutonians did. Though Pearl had it repainted a crimson red that matched both her and Owl’s moonish eyes, the frame had changed very little over the years.

Twenty meters tall and top heavy in design, specialized propulsion decorating its upper back to move it near-silently towards Canary at top speeds. But Jimmy pushed hard down on Canary’s controls. The lighter frame built by Tango for planet-side combat twisted out of the way with ease from the space-specialized loadout of Owl. Canary was fast, faster than Jimmy was expecting, and he found himself propelling almost all the way to the edge of the ranch without intent.

“She’s a smooth flyer, even on solid ground. Keep an eye on those thrusters.” Tango warned, pointing out the problem causers on the diagnostics. “Her frame’s lightweight beyond belief. Don’t toss yourself around like you would in a heavier suit, use more precision.”

“Got it.” Jimmy reoriented his handle on the controls and pushed forward. It went smoother this time, able to spin right around the Owl to its left flank behind its axe. “Where’s the weapons?”

“She ain’t got much firepower right now.” Tango admitted guiltily.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, it’s fine. See that field?” They shrieked as Owl’s axe nearly sliced Canary in half if not for a quick-thinking duck. Tango tapped his finger against a particular camera feed where a large heap sat in the grass. “That’s an old melee unit, it has a blade still on its back.”

“A blade?” Jimmy squawked incredulously even as he started towards it. “I haven’t done any melee combat in years, Tango. Is it even a good idea with the Canary?”

“It’s what we got!”

“Jimmyyy…” The owl’s speakers blared across the farmstead. “When did you get a gundam frame? I’m so happy for you!”

“Then maybe you could let me be happy for a bit and go away!” He shouted back as he landed on top of the scrap heap and began to dig.

“Oh, you know I can’t do that. I have a mission to fulfill.”

A shadow fell over the feed. Jimmy spun Canary around in time to see Owl, axe held high, falling down towards him. He yelped. It chopped into the scraps, just barely grazing a piece of Canary’s leg armor off. Owl heaved back up, glaring down at the tumbled mobile suit.

“And you’re getting in my way.”

Tango shouts, “Now!”

Canary lurched forward. Metal screeched and wired split as a long blade pushed straight through the joint of Owl’s left shoulder. Jimmy heard a gasp over the speaker. Something vital must have been skewered, because when the blade was yanked back out Owl’s limb went limp, dropping its axe to the earth.

For half a second Pearl seemed too shocked to do anything. Jimmy took advantage of the moment and rushed back in, slicing through part of her other shoulder before the old, decrepit blade gave out and snapped. Canary stumbled back away, turning towards the fields once more.

“What else is there, Tango?”

“Um, uh- gimme a second I’m trying to-”

“We don’t have a second!”

“Jimmy!” Pearl shrieked, the speaker peaking at its volume. Jimmy shivered. Owl stuttered forward, its pilot’s rage leaking out into its movements. “How. DARE you.”

He immediately started to stutter “Pearl, I-”

“How dare you hurt Tilly!” And then the gundam was back in their face. Jimmy had no chance to react before the limp arm was swung like a flail across Canary’s face. The mobile suit stumbled, but was grabbed before it hit the earth by angry claws that lifted the whole suit straight into the air.

This was it. They were going to die. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and reached out for Tango’s hand once again.

“Pearl,” A static-laced familiar voice broke through Pearl’s speaker. “That’s enough.”

The world stopped. A flood of far too many overwhelming memories flashed through Jimmy’s mind. Suddenly death didn’t seem so bad, compared to hearing that voice again.

Owl jerked back. “But he-”

“ENOUGH!” The voice boomed. “You’ve failed your mission. Return to orbit now before the EF mobilizes and you lose the Owl to your incompetence too.”

Jimmy could feel Pearl seething, but she backed off. “As you would, Scott.”

Tango let out a sound like air being let out of a balloon when she sped off, but Jimmy couldn’t move. His mind swirled and spilled over. He knew his body had begun to shake but his control panel had become a blur.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed between her retreat and being able to think once again, but as he came back Tango’s concerned face took up his vision. “Jimmy? Jimmy, you there?”

Jimmy gaped like a fish, intending to reply but never quite being able to. His stomach rolled. In a panic, he punched the button to pop open the cockpit and crawled out. Tango shouted after him, but Jimmy didn’t stop until he nearly fell off the side of the still kneeling Canary. Hands reached out to grab him and pull him back before he slipped. Nothing could stop the bile from rising up his throat but he did his best to lean out over the edge before it could get on the Canary or Tango.

A hand rubbed soothingly against his back through the heaves. For once, Tango was quiet, and Jimmy greatly appreciated it as his mind and body tried to recover from the violent episode of dissociation. Through ragged breaths he could hear the distant sounds of vehicles. A glance to the horizon indicated the arrival of other surviving EF units towards the ranch.

“A bit late.” Tango joked. He helped Jimmy back towards the cockpit, where he commanded Canary to lower far enough for them to get out safely. On the ground now, Jimmy clung to Tango’s hand while they waited.

A hysterical laugh escaped him. “I can’t believe we just did that.” He croaked. Exhaustion began to roll over him, and he leaned into Tango’s shoulder.

“Dude, I told you. You’re a good pilot.”

“I’m not sure I would call that good piloting.”

A hand came down on his hair, a sound of disbelief escaping Tango. “You fought off a gundam, Jimmy! As far as I’m concerned, you’re amazing.”

Despite everything a smile creeped onto Jimmy’s face. “Well, it’s all thanks to you.”

“I barely did anything buddy, that was all you.”

“Don’t you start-”

Their conversation was cut short by a mobile weapon rolling up, the barrel of its cannon pointed directly on them. Several more followed, aiming up towards the motionless Canary. A speaker screeched to life. “Jimmy Solidarity and Tango Tek.” A deep, flat voice demanded their attention. Both men stood back up on shaky limbs, hands tentatively raised. “You are being arrested for treason against the Earth Federation. Turn yourselves over calmly and swiftly. Do not resist.”

“What?” Tango shouted back incredulously. “What do you mean treason, we just saved your butts!”

“With an illegal mobile suit you have unlawfully hidden from the state. I will say this one last time, do not resist.”

“Tango…” Jimmy begged before the enraged mechanic could say anything more. Tango’s nostrils flared, but he begrudgingly did as told. Soon they were surrounded by soldiers and led away from the ranch. Cuffs were placed on them as they were shoved into the back of a jeep. Tango continued to glare at his former coworkers, but all they received in return was a scoff and words muttered just loud enough for Jimmy to hear.

“This is what we get for trusting a Plutonian.”

#tangotek #jimmy solidarity #rancher duo #team rancher #mcyt #traffic series #hermitpires #fanfiction #fanfic #crossover #alternate universe #scifi au #sharing a slice of cake

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