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weemssapphic · 4 months

Note

Could I request a fluff fic for Miranda :0?

Maybe the weathers getting colder, cuffing szn etc Miranda falls for one of her neighbors who keeps bringing her baked goods, she’s unaware that said neighbor likes her!!! (unaware queen). Literally anything cute and sweet to get me thru the treacherous winter of Northern Europe HAHA

A/N: Hello! Sooooo a. this became a bit more of a Christmas fic than a winter fic, I hope that's okay, and b. I also failed to finish it before Christmas as I had originally planned 🥴 buuut I do hope you enjoy anyway! HUGE shoutout to @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze and @agathaandgwenslesbian for beta'ing and hyping me up to post this, I love you both 🥺💖

Merry Christmas, Baby

Words: ~6.3k | ao3 link in title Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking, cigarettes/smoking

You’ve been living in your new apartment for about three months now, after leaving home and moving all the way to Australia for work. You like to think you’ve settled in well: you’re starting to get into a routine, you’ve managed to decorate most of your apartment and make it feel like home, Sydney isn’t as daunting as it was in the beginning - you were even able to give a tourist directions the other day.

The only thing missing is, well, friends. You get along well enough with your coworkers, they’ve been welcoming and have even started to invite you out. But more weekends than not you find yourself exploring the city on your own or hanging out on your couch with takeout, watching Netflix and thinking about your friends back home. You try to FaceTime them as often as you can, but the time difference makes it hard, and sometimes it makes you sad to ‘see’ them and know you can’t just meet up like you used to.

To stave off some of the loneliness you’ve been feeling, you’ve spent the past few weeks attempting to meet more people - and one person in particular has caught your eye: your neighbor, Miranda. You met her in the hallway during your first week in the building - she’d come up the stairs as you were fumbling with your keys, struggling a bit as your arms were full of groceries. She’d immediately offered to help, her eyes wide and her smile bright as she’d rushed over to you and grabbed the grocery bags right out of your hands. The way she looked down at you, watching your every move with great interest as you unlocked your door, brought a flush to your cheeks that only got worse during the subsequent small talk.

Your interactions since then have been a bit sparse - you keep hoping you’ll catch a glimpse of her in the hallway, but you rarely do. Sometimes you’ll hear her apartment door fall shut late at night as you’re falling asleep, or you’ll hear her footsteps on the stairs early in the morning while you’re still getting ready - wherever she works, she seems to have irregular shifts.

~~~

It’s a Sunday evening and you’re spending it alone (again). When your friend back home had canceled your scheduled FaceTime call at the last minute, you’d decided to distract yourself by baking. As you put together the ingredients for blueberry muffins, you find your mind wandering to your tall, blonde neighbor - wondering what it is she does for work, where she’s from (you thought you caught a British accent but you weren’t sure anymore), whether or not she’s seeing anyone…

The sound of the timer pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn off the oven and pull the muffin tray out, setting it on the counter. Your heart sinks when you realize there’s no way you’re going to finish them all by yourself. You suppose you could bring some to work… You bite your lip, your brow furrowing as you stare down the baked goods. Perhaps you could bring Miranda some? Butterflies erupt in your tummy when you picture her opening her front door, her lips stretching into a smile that reaches her bright blue eyes. Perhaps she would invite you in, perhaps the two of you would spend the evening on her couch, getting closer by the hour as you get to know one another. Perhaps…

You shake your head, trying not to get ahead of yourself. You’ll just stop by with a few muffins and see what happens. Maybe she’ll be busy. Or she won’t even be home and you’ll be forced to leave them next to her door.

After preparing a small basket of baked goods and changing from your rattiest sweatpants into a pair of jeans, you slip out of your apartment and cross the hall. Your heart begins to pound, your hands turning clammy as you bring your fist up to Miranda’s door. After a brief moment’s hesitation and a deep breath, you knock.

At first, you’re met with silence - your heart sinks a bit, and you try to ignore the little pang of disappointment that begins to creep up on you. But just as you’re about to turn around, you hear a shuffling behind the door. It opens just a crack - you hear an “Oh!” - and then it swings open fully, revealing Miranda in a navy bathrobe. Her hair is wet, slicked back - one strand falls over her eyebrow and she pushes it back, a smile growing on her lips as she looks down at you.

“Hello,” she says, sounding a little breathless. You feel yourself flush as you realize you must have caught her just out of the shower - perhaps it took her so long to answer the door because she wasn’t dressed yet, and the thought makes you slightly dizzy.

“Hi.” You can’t help but gawk a bit, and the thought of just dropping the muffins at her feet and leaving before you can make a fool of yourself briefly crosses your mind.

Her brows furrow slightly and so do yours, before you realize that you should probably say something else.

“I just wanted to…” You gesture vaguely at the basket you’re holding. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” you manage to stutter out, focusing all your efforts on keeping your eyes on her face.

“Oh, you’re alright,” Miranda says, craning her neck a bit to catch a glimpse at what you’re holding. “Are those muffins?”

“Yeah. For you.” You thrust your arms out, holding the basket towards her. Her eyes widen, darting between you and the basket as she takes it from you.

Her entire face seems to light up with excitement - she looks positively giddy. “Did you make these?”

“Yes! Yeah. I like baking. And I made too many. So I thought I would see if you want some.”

The smile that’s broken out across Miranda’s face is one you wish you could save and put in your pocket to look at on your worst days. It lights up her entire face, making her eyes sparkle and her nose crinkle - it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You’re so distracted by it that you nearly miss her next words.

“Would you like to come in? I was going to make some tea.”

“Sure.”

You blush as Miranda steps aside, allowing you to step over the threshold of her apartment. She shuts the door behind you then walks past you into her kitchen. Even the way she walks is attractive to you - the mesmerizing sway of her hips, the way she pushes her shoulders back and swings her arms, her long strides. Taking a deep breath, you follow her and lean against the door frame, watching as she sets down the muffins on the counter and puts on the electric kettle.

“I didn’t know if you’d be home,” you say, breaking the silence. You’re a bit embarrassed that your voice comes out hoarse, and you clear your throat. “I don’t see you around much. Do you do shift work?”

Miranda glances back at you as she rummages through the cupboards for two mugs. She smiles softly. “Sort of. I’ve been on call a lot lately.”

“Oh.” You cock your head to the side. “What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, a police constable.”

Your eyes widen as you process the information. It makes sense, you realize - and then you feel your mouth go dry as you picture Miranda in a police uniform.

“What do you do?”

Her question breaks you out of your trance, and you can feel your cheeks turn red. “Oh, um, that’s… I work in accounting.” You swallow back your embarrassment at having a “boring” desk job, your eyes darting around Miranda’s kitchen - anything to avoid meeting her gaze.

“Steady work then,” she says - you can hear the smile in her voice and you dare to steal a glance at her face. Her expression is soft, completely at ease, and you can’t help but feel your shoulders relax a little. “How come you moved to Sydney? Did you move here for a guy?”

A sound between a snort and a chuckle escapes your lips and you quickly look away again. “Nope.” You want to say that you’re more into women, but you get nervous and something stops you. “I just needed a change of scenery. I figured moving to an English-speaking country would be easiest, and I thought the weather here would be nicer than in the UK.”

Miranda laughs a full-belly laugh, throwing her head back. “I’m from the UK, you know.”

“Tell me I’m wrong then,” you tease with a grin.

Her eyes flicker briefly over your form, an amused grin on her face. “You’re… you’re not wrong.” She ducks her head in surrender - then the kettle goes off and she turns to busy herself with preparing the tea.

“So why did you move to Sydney then?”

“My boyfriend at the time was Australian.” Miranda hands you one of the mugs, then leans back against the counter, taking a sip of her own tea and observing you carefully. You try not to let on to the way that your stomach sinks when you hear the word “boyfriend” - it doesn’t mean she’s straight, you remind yourself (and besides, even if she did like women - it doesn’t mean she’d like you). You nod and hum in acknowledgment, hoping to come off as casual and unaffected as you sip your tea.

Miranda sets down her mug and reaches over the small kitchen table to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Once again you find yourself mesmerized as long, slender fingers pull a cigarette out of the pack, placing it between her pale lips as she lights it.

For a moment, she seems unaware of your presence - she takes a deep drag from the cigarette, her fingers playing with the lighter as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then her eyes fall to your face and widen slightly. “Oh, God, sorry. Do you mind?”

You shake your head - it’s not your apartment so it’s not like you have a say anyway, and, if you’re honest, you find it a bit hot. “Go ahead, it’s your apartment.”

She shoots you a grateful smile and takes another drag from the cigarette. “You want one?”

You nod and she tosses you the pack. Once you’ve plucked a cigarette from it, she steps towards you. “Here, let me,” she says, moving to light it for you as her own cigarette dangles from between her lips. She gets closer than would probably be necessary and her proximity makes you feel a little faint - you can smell the shampoo in her still-damp hair, and the smoke on her breath. Your eyes are trained on the lighter - when the flame goes out, you glance up, only to be met with the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re even lighter than you initially thought and her gaze is intense - it’s slightly overwhelming.

“Thanks,” you whisper hoarsely, forcing yourself to blink and take a step back. Miranda’s eyes are fixed curiously on your face as she plucks her cigarette from between her lips. She tilts her head, her lips parting into a smile.

“What?” There’s a playful edge to her voice and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You freeze, your cheeks turning pink. “Like what?”

“You find me intimidating, don’t you?” You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off, gesturing down the length of her body. “It’s my height, isn’t it? I get that a lot.”

“It’s not- I mean…” You shrug lamely, taking a sip of your tea to give yourself a moment to think. “It’s not you, I’ve just had a long day. A long few months, actually.” Okay, so you’re deflecting - but it feels way too nice just to bask in Miranda’s presence, and you don’t want it to end so soon by making things awkward.

Miranda’s face softens in an instant, little creases appearing between her brows. “From the move? It can be so hard to uproot your life like that.”

It’s a phrase you’ve heard before - people trying to sympathize with you, looking for something meaningful to say. But with Miranda, it feels different. With the way she’s looking at you, it feels like she truly understands.

~~~

In the past few weeks you��ve gotten into the habit of bringing Miranda baked goods - always on the pretext of having made extras for work and other neighbors (though you never have any intention of giving them to anyone except Miranda). It’s more than worth the hours spent in the kitchen to see the smile that lights up her face when she answers the door. Sometimes she invites you in for tea and a cigarette, sometimes there’s only time for a bit of small talk before one of you needs to get going - but each time, butterflies erupt in your belly and you find yourself wishing you were brave enough to make a move.

What you don’t know is that Miranda finds herself wishing the same thing. Sure, she loves everything you make her (nothing you’ve ever baked her has lasted more than 2 days at most), but the real reason her face breaks into a splitting grin when she answers the door is because it’s you who’s standing there.

Miranda can’t get enough of you - you’re easy to talk to, you make her laugh, you seem to take her as she is. And you’re damn beautiful. The most exciting part of her week is wondering on which evening you’ll come by unannounced after work, and she finds herself praying she’ll have the time to talk to you.

One such evening, you’ve come over with a tray of red velvet cupcakes - decorated with festive little Christmas tree sprinkles. Miranda’s just gotten off a shift and has the evening off, and she’s never been more grateful as she leads you into her kitchen and turns on the kettle. You make yourself right at home, settling on a kitchen chair and tucking your legs underneath you as you reach for the pack of cigarettes on the table - it’s almost become a routine now, and you look like you belong there. Miranda likes that thought more than she’d care to admit.

Still, despite how often you’ve come by lately, she feels there’s still some sort of barrier between the two of you. Your conversations are the best part of her week, yet they tend to feel a bit… shallow. She’s desperate to get to know you better but she’s holding herself back - the fear of driving you away, of being too much for you to handle, causes her to freeze up. You’re just being nice, trying to make new friends in Australia, and here she is, falling for you one red velvet cupcake at a time.

“Mir?” Your voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. She tries desperately to remember what you were talking to her about, but she realizes quickly that her efforts are futile - she was too busy admiring the lock of hair falling across your cheek, the way you ran your fingers through your hair to push it back.

“Sorry.” She offers you a sheepish smile, her cheeks slowly turning scarlet.

You smile back, and her heart skips a beat. “I asked if you’re staying in Sydney for Christmas or if you’re going back to London?”

“I’m staying here. I work on Christmas, so…” She frowns slightly - she hasn’t gone home for Christmas in a few years. Usually, she works and spends her off-hours curled up in bed watching Christmassy rom-coms by herself. She’s gotten used to it. “Are you? Going home for Christmas?”

“Nah. I blew all my savings in the move, can’t afford the plane ticket.” Something about the way you shrug your shoulders, your gaze dropping to the floor, tells Miranda that your nonchalance is a front.

“Would you like to come over?” Miranda, what are you saying? “We could cook something and watch a movie together.” Miranda, shut up! “Maybe you could sleep over and we could keep each other company.” Oh, great, now you’ve done it! Miranda’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying, but she can’t take it back now - and, to be honest, she doesn’t want to take it back. Her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage as she waits for you to reply. It only takes you seconds, really, but those few seconds might as well be hours as time slows and Miranda begins to find it hard to breathe.

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to take me in! I’ll be okay, I wouldn’t want to impose.” Your words come out in a rush and your cheeks are turning pink - Miranda’s heart starts to sink and she scrambles to find the right words to save the conversation.

“You wouldn’t be imposing, I’d have just had a few beers by myself after work anyway.” She chuckles nervously, before adding, “I could use the company.”

She quickly looks away from you, finding the brief moment of vulnerability too much to handle - she couldn’t bear to see the look in your eyes at the moment, certainly one of pity or judgment.

“Oh… Well in that case, I’d love to spend Christmas with you. If that’s okay.”

Miranda’s eyes widen and she glances over at you to see you smiling shyly - her heart stutters in her chest and she feels her stomach flip pleasantly. She lets out a shaky breath, unable to stop the wide smile that’s creeping up her face. “Okay then.”

~~~

Ever since that evening in Miranda’s apartment, you’ve been buzzing with excitement. She’d ended up giving you her number so that you could plan when to come over, and it’s taken all of your restraint not to bug her every waking second - you wouldn’t want her getting sick of you and regretting inviting you over.

But as Christmas is just a few days away, you decide to shoot her a text as you’re lying in bed at night.

Y/N: Hey there, it’s Y/N! I just wanted to ask what time you wanted me to come over on Christmas? :)

You toss your phone aside, not expecting Miranda to text back anytime soon - it’s already late, after all. When your screen lights up moments later, however, your heart begins to pound.

Miranda: Hey! Miranda: I work until 4 Miranda: So evening I would say

Y/N: How does 6 sound? Is that too early?

Miranda: That sounds perfect :)

Y/N: Great! Should I bring anything?

Miranda: Just yourself ;) Miranda: Wait Miranda: Actually Miranda: Do you remember the cookies you brought me last week?

Y/N: What, am I not enough for you? ;) Y/N: (I’ll make some more)

Miranda: Are you sure?

Y/N: Absolutely!! Anything for my favorite neighbor.

Miranda: You’re too good to me

By the time you’re done texting her, you’re grinning down at your phone like an idiot. The screen goes black and you catch sight of your reflection - you blush and bury your head in your pillow. For the first time since you moved, you’re actually starting to get excited for Christmas.

~~~

Three days later you’re wrapping up a pair of Christmas pajamas (red, covered in little white snowflakes - you have a matching pair) to give to Miranda - you want to give her something for Christmas, but you don’t know her all that well yet to get her something personal. Still, you think (or at least, you hope) she’ll find the pajamas silly and fun.

Armed with the gift, a huge tupperware box full of candy cane cookies, your keys, and your phone, you pad across the hall and knock gently on Miranda’s door. You hear her muffled voice yell “coming”, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps, before the door swings open. Miranda’s eyes flick briefly down your body, over the wrapped gift and the cookies, before she finally meets your gaze. She’s slightly out of breath, and her lips curl up into a smile that meets her eyes. What you would give to kiss those lips…

“Merry Christmas,” you say, smiling back and forcing your eyes to remain trained on her own.

“Right! Merry Christmas!” You could swear you see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink, but before you have time to question it she’s ushering you into her apartment, her hand coming to rest on your lower back as she steers you towards the kitchen. “I did some food shopping the other day. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, I’m not usually big on holiday foods and I didn’t have time to prepare anything because of work.”

Miranda’s rambling has you swooning - you can tell she’s nervous, though you aren’t sure why. If only she knew you’d happily eat frozen pizza or cereal for Christmas dinner, as long as you get to spend it with her.

“It’s fine, I don’t care much about Christmas dinner, we can eat anything.” You hope that you’re coming off as reassuring, though you can’t really tell as Miranda blushes again and lights up a cigarette.

“Maybe a curry?” she asks, chewing at her bottom lip.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Just tell me what you need help with.”

She seems to relax a bit, heading over to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. “What do you drink? Do you want a beer?”

“Please.”

The two of you spend the next 45 minutes side by side in the small kitchen, cooking, drinking, talking - mostly it’s Miranda, telling you about her workday. When she’s done chopping vegetables, she reaches for the pack of cigarettes again - “sorry, nerves,” she says with a faint smile. You still can’t fathom what she’s nervous about but you don’t want to push her, so you shrug it off and turn your attention to the curry that’s simmering in the pan. You dip a spoon into the sauce to try it, humming in delight the second the flavors explode on your tongue.

“This is really good, try it!” Without thinking you bring the spoon to Miranda’s mouth and, without thinking, she closes her lips around it. Her eyelids flutter shut and she lets out a little noise of pleasure that’s dangerously close to a moan. Heat pools in your stomach, your eyes glued to her lips as you slide the spoon out of her mouth - it’s the first time you notice a little scar above her lip, and you swallow thickly.

You quickly avert your gaze as Miranda’s eyes open again, taking a sip of your beer as you check on the rice.

“I was thinking we could just eat in the living room and watch a movie?” Miranda suggests when the curry is done cooking. You agree and help Miranda carry the bowls and a couple bottles of beer into the living room. It’s small, like yours, and a little cluttered. There’s a string of fairy lights above the window and a small Christmas tree sat atop a side table. Miranda’s eyes follow your gaze and she chuckles.

“I actually put that up two days ago, I panicked when I realized I didn’t have any Christmas decorations up at all.”

“You didn’t have to decorate on my account,” you tease, earning yourself a laugh.

“Oh but what kind of Christmas would it be without a tree?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Miranda smiles at you as she settles on the couch, crossing her legs and setting her bowl in her lap. She gestures for you to join her. You tuck your knees underneath you, angling your body towards her. As you eat, you fall into an easy conversation - you find yourself getting even more comfortable in Miranda’s presence, feeling right at home in her apartment. You can tell she’s relaxing as well - she stretches her legs out, her toes (clad in Christmas-themed socks) touching the side of your thigh.

“I got you something, by the way,” Miranda says suddenly, leaning over to place her almost-empty bowl on the table. You follow suit, a smile lighting up your face.

“I got you something, too - wait here!” Miranda looks somewhat surprised as you jump up and rush into the kitchen, returning with the gift you’d brought. She now has a gift of her own on her lap, and she’s picking at the edge of the wrapping paper as you settle back down beside her, a soft smile on her face.

You exchange gifts and Miranda’s chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she watches you tear open the wrapping paper. It’s a cookbook for baking - you can’t help but laugh, and you look up to see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink.

“Is this meant to be a hint?” you tease, and Miranda chuckles nervously.

“Sorry, I-”

“I love it,” you cut her off, setting the book down beside you and leaning over to wrap your arms tightly around her torso. She returns the hug - her arms are strong and comforting and you’re immediately enveloped in her scent. It takes everything in you not to kiss her.

After pulling away, you gesture eagerly to the gift that’s in her lap. She has a look of nervous excitement on her face as she begins to unwrap it - her smile widens when she takes the pjs out of the wrapping paper and holds them in front of her.

“I hope they fit, I guessed your size. I have the same ones and you seem like the type of person who would like them.”

Miranda’s eyes widen as she looks over at you, her expression nothing short of giddy. “You have the same ones? Wear them! We can match.”

Her reaction is exactly what you hoped it would be. The prospect of wearing matching Christmas pjs is both adorable and a little intimate, and you’re filled with nervous anticipation as you head across the hall to your apartment to get changed.

When you get back to Miranda’s apartment a few minutes later, the blonde is sitting on her couch with her legs tucked underneath her. She smiles so widely that her nose crinkles, and she opens her arms to you. Without a second thought, you allow yourself to be pulled into a tight hug.

“Do you like them?” you ask as you pull away.

“I love them!” The smile on her face is genuine, her eyes shining brightly, and you can’t help but blush, your entire body tingling a bit as your eyes drift down her body.

~~~

You’re about an hour into the second movie of the night and you’re already several beers deep (you’ve lost count, to be honest). You’ve scooted closer and closer to Miranda as the evening has worn on, and now you’re practically on top of her - your legs are bent at the knee, tucked against your body and resting on the outside of her thigh, your shoulder is all but glued to her own.

You drain the rest of your beer, then pout at the bottle. “It’s empty,” you say, more to yourself than to Miranda, who chuckles and shifts beside you.

“I can get you another one?”

“It’s fine,” you say with a giggle. “Maybe I should stop drinking.” You’re not drunk but you’re definitely tipsy - you turn your head to face Miranda a little too quickly and, for a brief moment, the room spins, causing you to burst into another fit of giggles.

Your eyes meet Miranda’s, before dropping to her lips and getting stuck there. They’re curled into an amused smile as she chuckles at your inebriated state - though the smile slowly fades as her brows begin to crease. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and your own laughter quickly dies in your throat, your mouth going dry. You can tell Miranda’s breathing has gone shallow, her eyes falling to your lips. The air around you becomes thick and heavy, and Miranda’s gaze darts away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, scrambling to scoot away - before she can get very far, your arm shoots out and holds her in place.

“What are you sorry for?” you whisper. The only sound you can hear is the pounding of your own heart in your ears as you wait for Miranda to respond. Her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, a lovely shade of pink rising in her cheeks.

“I-” she starts, cutting herself off as she swallows visibly.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You don’t know what prompted you to be so bold (probably the alcohol), but when a soft, barely audible whimper escapes Miranda’s throat, you can’t say you regret asking.

“Yes.”

You definitely don’t regret asking.

“I want to kiss you, too,” you whisper, leaning in slightly as you fix your gaze on soft-looking, pale pink lips that glisten slightly in the dim light of the living room. Then you stop yourself, hesitating as the room spins again. You’ve dreamed of kissing those same lips for weeks now but something is off.

The alcohol, you realize - you don’t want your first kiss with Miranda to be clouded by alcohol. You want to appreciate and remember the moment fully, you want to savor every second. So, as much as you’re dying to close the gap and absolutely ravage the lovely, beautiful woman sitting next to you, you decide to pull back. “But I’m going to wait until tomorrow. I want to be completely sober for that. And… if you still want to kiss me tomorrow… then I’ll kiss you.”

Miranda nods slowly, looking a bit dazed. “That’s, uh,” she starts, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat. “That’s a good idea.” She shifts in her seat, crossing one thigh tightly over the other. The air is still thick and heavy, and it takes everything in you not to say ‘fuck it’ and push her back onto the couch - but you mean it, you really do want to be sober for that. So you lean back, putting a few inches of distance between yourself and Miranda for the remainder of the film.

You feel yourself becoming more and more tired, and by the time the credits are rolling, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Pushing yourself up off the couch, you sway slightly as you make it to your feet, and immediately decide to sit back down so that you don’t fall over.

“You sure you can make it back down the hall okay?” Miranda teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watches you lean back against the sofa.

You roll your eyes and shoot her a playful glare. “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.” As if to emphasize your point, you yawn widely as you finish your last sentence - Miranda laughs.

“You can sleep here if you want,” she offers - then her face goes pale and she rushes to explain herself. “Not with me of course, but the couch is quite comfortable. Or you can take the bed and I’ll take the couch, that’s fine, too-”

She’s talking a mile a minute and it’s the most charming thing you’ve ever heard - especially since you definitely would sleep with her. You’d just prefer to do it sober. Giggling, you decide to show her mercy and cut her off. “Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll take the couch if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, let me get you some blankets.” She turns off the tv and stands, leaving the room for a minute and coming back with a pillow and an armful of blankets. You get up and try to help her to make a makeshift bed for you, but your movements are a bit sluggish and you realize you’re just getting in her way, so you end up perching on the edge of the coffee table until she gives you the go.

You snuggle into the blankets - they smell like Miranda, and it takes everything in you not to bury your nose in them and moan out loud. Instead, you shoot Miranda a smile and mutter a sleepy ‘thank you’ - she nods, telling you to yell if you need her, then turns to leave.

“Oh, Miranda?” You lift your head off the pillow and crane your neck towards the blonde.

She pauses in the doorway, turning back to face you as she runs a hand through her hair. “Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.” You beam at her, even as your eyes threaten to close any second. The evening was far from a traditional Christmas celebration, but it was the best Christmas you’ve had in a long time.

“Merry Christmas,” she replies, her smile soft and genuine, before turning around and disappearing into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

~~~

You’re out like a light the second Miranda is gone, completely oblivious to the internal struggle she faces as she curls up in her own bed. She tries to close her eyes and force herself to sleep, but she’s not tired at all - her mind is racing and her heart is pounding, her entire body responding to the evening she’s shared with you. The laughter, the sense of familiarity and peace, the tension when you nearly kissed her. And, God, does she want to kiss you. But you’re tipsy, and you probably just said that in the heat of the moment - she gets it, sometimes alcohol makes her flirty and a little horny as well. You probably won’t remember that conversation in the morning - and you probably won’t want to kiss her anymore either.

She can’t help the way her heart sinks as she comes to that realization, and it keeps her up for the better part of the night. She feels like she’s just managed to nod off when the morning light starts to filter in through the curtains and she groans, burying her face in her pillow.

Thud.

Miranda freezes for a moment, her blood going cold as she hears a noise coming from her living room. Then she remembers that you’re sleeping on her couch and her body relaxes again. She’s nervous, wondering if you’ll be awkward about the previous evening’s sexual tension, but her curiosity about whether or not you’re already awake wins out and she pushes herself off the bed, smoothing a hand over her hair and wiping the sleep out of her eyes before creeping into the hallway, careful to be quiet in case you’re still sleeping.

There’s a clattering coming from the living room though, and she finds you collecting the beer bottles from last night that are still scattered across the coffee table.

“Hello,” Miranda says, her voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

Your head whips around towards the doorway and your cheeks turn pink. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to clean up a bit. Did I wake you?” The way you’re chewing at your bottom lip is adorable and makes Miranda want to kiss you senseless. She chuckles and shakes her head.

“No, I was awake anyway. Here, let me help.” Miranda helps you clear off the coffee table, heading into the kitchen with an armful of bottles and her empty bowl from dinner. You’re right behind her with the rest of the dishes and you immediately make your way to the sink and start washing them - it feels so domestic that it makes Miranda’s heart flutter, and she has to look away and focus on something else so that you can’t see the blush on her cheeks or the yearning that’s surely shining in her eyes.

“Do you want coffee?” she asks, waiting for your affirmative hum before starting to make some. She’s so focused on preparing the coffee machine that she misses you turning off the sink and padding over to her - she yelps as you press against her back, placing your hands on the counter on either side of her and boxing her in. Her heart is racing, skipping beats left and right as your body heat warms her from behind. Drawing in a sharp breath, she turns around to face you.

“Miranda?” Your voice is low and a little shaky, and your cheeks are flushed - gorgeously so, Miranda finds her mouth going dry.

“Yes?” she croaks out.

“Remember how I said I’d kiss you today if you still wanted to?”

All Miranda can do is nod, her mouth hanging open as all the blood rushes to her face.

“Well, I guess I wanted to ask you if you still wanted to kiss me? Because I’m sober now and I still want to kiss you.” You look just as nervous as Miranda feels - she nods again, afraid her voice will betray how badly she wants you.

“Please, say it,” you plead, your eyes wide and earnest. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes. I- I want to kiss you.”

Your lips curl up into a soft smile and your hands move from the counter to Miranda’s waist, your grip firm as if you’re afraid she’ll run away from you. You press yourself up onto your toes until your face is mere inches away from her own. She can feel your breath on her face, warm and shallow. Her eyes are glued to your lips, wondering when you’ll close the gap - then you do, your lips soft and plush as they press gently against hers.

She allows her eyelids to flutter shut and kisses you back, her own hands reaching out tentatively to cup your cheeks. You smile into the kiss and she takes the opportunity to deepen it - you groan softly into her mouth as her tongue brushes against yours, and she swallows the sound, groaning back in return.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking your cheek.

“As if I haven’t been thinking about that since the moment I first met you,” you tease with a seductive grin, before wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her down for a second kiss, even more passionate than the last.

@alexusonfire @brienneswife @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @lvinhs @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @ilovetlcc @wastdstime @ladylarissaweems @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr

#miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake: china girl #i haven't posted in almost 2.5 months and i'm ANXIOUS #hype a girl up 😭#i also clearly couldn't be arsed to come up with a better title i'm SORRY 🥲

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ladyzirkonia · 1 year

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Welcome my dear fellows.

I'm starting updating my Masterlist mainly for myself because everything has become so chaotic and a lot and to bring some order into it. But be my guest and take a look if you like.

RP-Blogs:

Renegade 99 Squad Crosshair - @toothpick-man

Nite Owl RP-blog - @nite-owl-with-attitude

Knife skill challenge - Hunter and Nite Owl

Fanfiction

Collecting some data - Tech x Reader (''Fascinating'')

The perfect drift - Tech x Reader

The Bad Batch Modern Tattoo Shop AU - Tech and Crosshair/OC

Commander Ghoul x Doc - OC x OC (Part 1 - Part 2)

The Clone x Reader Bingo Event (link here)

Masterlist here.

My Edits (please be nice and consider to credit if you use)

The Bad Batch

Tech in ''The Crossing''

My favorite twins - Tech and Crosshair

The First Battle Memorial of Geonosis - Crosshair

Tech in ''Faster'' - Part 1

Tech in ''Faster'' - Part 2

Neon lights Part 2 - Hunter

Neon lights - Crosshair

Angry boy Crosshair

Looking respectfully - Tech and Hunter

Good morning - Crosshair

Grumpy Crosshair, Wrecker and Lula

The clone/Twi'lek couple

Commander Mayday

Tech in ''The Metamorphosis''

The Bad Batch Season 3

I belong in here - Crosshair

None of us belong in here - Omega

The Clone Wars

Juicy Jesse looking at me - with Kix

Look at these crazy boys - Bad Batch (Clone Wars)

Sassy Cody and Baby Rex

Phantom Liberty video edit - Commander Fox

It's hard to be the one who survives - Commander Cody

The faces of Commander Wolffe

Code red - Commander Fox

Masterlist Here.

The Bad Batch and Clone stuff

Incorrect Quotes

Commander Wolffe and Commander Fox

Our favorite twins - Tech and Crosshair

Bad Batch incorrect quote

Memes and rumbles

Mr. tits and Mr. I'm standing there like a model - Jesse and Tech

Every day I wake up meme with Tech

Lost my fucking cat - Crosshair

Shoutout to all my clone- and tech-girlies - Tech x Phee

protective clone (The Last Of Us) submission

The Tech-Turn

I belong with Wrecker but I fear for my spine - Bad Batch quiz

The Kinner Brothers and Cidgor

I have to confess this man does something to me - Dr. Hemlock

Hunter - Joel Miller era

Echo and some grief

The Crossing

Just some random Star Wars stuff

Mandalorian armor culture

Mandalorian tenets or the six actions

Patental divorce - Mando'a

Real talk - about shipping and romances

Space Utah appreciation post

Grief - Tech x Phee and Kanan x Hera

Ahsoka Trailor Star Wars Celebration - Screenshots

I'm so excited for my favorite blueberry! - Ezra Bridger

Were is Captain Rex? Is he safe? Is he alive? - Ahsoka Trailer

Jedi Survivor got me like this

Hottest shit on the Mandalorian throne - Darth Maul

Mandalorian women and light saber - Bo-Katan and Sabine

Cyberpunk 2077 (photomode)

Chippin in - Johnny

Who allowed you smiling like that? - Johnny

Just hanging around - Johnny

Hey choom - Johnny

Kink unlocked Series:

Thank you Star Wars for giving this to me.

Throne lap sitting:

Part 1

Part 2 - how it actually would be

Piloting skills

Double blaster

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tellerluna-stories · 2 years

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SAY SOMETHING STUPID (LIKE I LOVE YOU)

PAIRING: kaeya x reader

GENRE: fluff/crack, comedy. established relationship + modern AU!

TW/CW: intoxication and mentions of alcohol consumption, reader is a total featherweight. probably OOC. may contain secondhand embarassment for people who do not wish to remember the embarassing shenanigans they pulled when wasted

A/N: shoutout to everyone's favourite sunny-bunny @x-zho, who gave me the brilliant idea for this fic and is also the biggest!!!! kaeya kisser I know!!!!!!!! if you are ten and you are reading this, all I can say is.... ehe

also I'm trying a new format for fic titles so bear with me,,,, lmk which one looks better, the old font or the current style!

"You know, normally this situation is reversed," Kaeya calls out, but you appear to not have heard him. Well, given the state of your flushed face and the strong smell of alcohol that pervaded the air about you, he'd be surprised if you had understood him at all.

A soft, slightly off-key tune fills the chilly night air, hummed by none other than his truly— your legs swing busily as you perch on the edge of a nearby bench, mesmerised by the light of the street-lamp like you were some sort of oversized bug. Your face lights up as soon as he draws near, and one hand shoots up in the air to flail wildly (was that meant to be waving hello?)

Before he knows what's happening, something speeds over and hops all around him like a rabbit— it seems that you're only too happy to see Kaeya, inebriated as you are.

"Kae-ya! Kaeya, Kae-ya, 'ya..." Your voice is more high-pitched than normal, trailing off as you clap your hands merrily to the tempo of your little song. "Can I call you 'yaya? Is cute....."

Kaeya — or 'Yaya', as he has now been dubbed — stifles his laughter long enough for him to lead you back to the bench. "I think it's safe to assume you're a total lightweight."

Your arm looped in his (and your weight leaned entirely against him), you scrunch up your nose in annoyance. "Am not."

"Are too. You, little rabbit, are completely wasted."

"-'m not drunk." Your nose crinkles up even further and twitches like a bunny's. "And- and I'm not a light... a light....."

"...A lightweight?"

"Mm!" Now that your missing word had been found, you practically grin from ear-to-ear and flop over into his lap. "I'm not a light waiter."

(The four shot-glasses of heavily-diluted alcohol that you had downed begged to differ, sadly.)

Kaeya sucks in his breath between his teeth — don't laugh, Alberich, don't laugh — and decides that the best course of action is to stroke your hair; to calm you down, of course (though it's more for his own sanity than yours). On any other occasion he would have liked to retire and melt over you in private, but today he had the responsibility and privilege of taking care of you.

"Pretty, pretty eyes..." You interrupt Kaeya's train of thought with a soft murmur, reverently tracing your fingers along his face like he was a priceless work of art. "Starry, blueberry eyes— 'yaya's eyes are the prettiest in the world."

If Kaeya hadn't already been struggling enough before, everything now became ten times more difficult.

"You're really being unfair here." A small laugh escapes his lips, and Kaeya takes your face in his hands to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'll bring you some soup and hangover medicine tomorrow, alright? You're going to need it."

You nod enthusiastically, your rosy cheeks only heating up further in the palms of his hands— any hotter, and he was pretty sure you'd be melting into a puddle. Though it wouldn't be so bad if it meant that you melted into his arms.

"Am I pretty too, 'yaya?"

"Oh, but of course."

"Hehe." You beam infectiously, wriggling in delight like an overjoyed worm— heaven help him, he could only hold back his laughter for so long. "Okaaaaay... I believe you."

A glimmering of an idea springs to mind, and Kaeya brings out his cellphone in order to execute his master plan. "We should take a picture. Pretty people should take pretty pictures together."

"A pic-tuuuure....."

He tactfully resists the urge to have a breakdown from your adorable behaviour as you readily comply with his wishes, throwing up a couple of peace signs and posing for what was about to become his new phone wallpaper to show you tomorrow— surely, there was no luckier man on this earth than Kaeya Alberich himself.

He makes sure to take at least fifty more pictures, just in case. No harm in having more blackmail to tease you about.

"Yay!" You applaud enthusiastically once the impromptu photoshoot is finished, flopping back into Kaeya's lap with the stability of unsettled gelatin. "I have a pic-tuuuure with 'yaya!"

And there were those innocent eyes again, gazing up at him with such adoration that it made Kaeya's cheeks burn; yes, getting to capture this moment would be well worth whatever future scoldings he would receive from you.

"Silly rabbit," he remarks aloud, ruffling your hair affectionately.

"Not a rabbit...." You mumble softly.

"Really? I thought you looked just like one. See, here's one ear..." He tugs one tuft of your hair upwards to vaguely resemble a floppy ear, and then does the same for the other side. "And here's the other."

"If 'yaya says so, then it must be true..." By this time your eyelids had already fluttered shut, soothed by the soft motion as he stroked your hair. "But what're you, if... if...... I'm a bunny rabbit?"

"How about the big, bad wolf? One who loves teasing cute bunnies when they're all sleepy?"

You open your eyes suddenly, a sulky look on your face. "Do you know any other bunnies to tease...?"

Whoops, wrong move.

"No, no," Kaeya hastily backtracks. "This wolf only needs one bunny in his life. Wolves mate for life."

"Good..." You huff and yank the edge of his overcoat over your face. "You don't need any more."

Suddenly you jolt upright, your arms finding their place around his neck in a tight hug. Kaeya freezes for a moment, his breath catching in his lungs as his life flashes before his eyes— but thankfully, you were not in the right state of mind to give him a headlock.

Slowly, hesitantly, he returns your embrace.

"My 'yaya," You mumble softly, snuggling your face further into the crook of his neck.

"Yes," he agrees, smiling softly. "All yours."

You were probably going to kill him or die of embarassment once you sobered up, but well... Kaeya would enjoy the moment while it lasted.

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m0nswoon · 8 months

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Palia house update - 8/27/2023

Welcome to my home. Here is an updated tour of my house! Topdown view

3 medium rooms, 1 small room, 5 hallways. Front of the house

Right side of the house - my garden, currently growing blueberries, tomato's and 1 apple tree.

A rustic seating arrangement beside the garden for all small outdoor gatherings.

Infront of that, you have the money makers, my preserve jars and worm farms

Left side of the house - my campfires for making grilled fish for my glow worms.

Back of the plot - my furniture tents, and storage tent. Since we cannot sell them yet, I will hoard until we can.

Main Entrance - with gardening being my highest level skill, I think it was good to go with the farmhouse theme

Kitchen - finally equipped with a fridge and a small hallway, turned into a nice place for plants.

shoutout to my fellow fire signs!

Crafters corner - I decided to bring the crafting stations indoors with the addition of the fireplace I think it give it a nice vibe. Entrance from the living room

Now to the right side of the house, my bedroom and bathroom Bedroom is still keeping with the farmhouse theme, while the bathroom takes an upscale turn. Entrance from living room

I love this rug so much.

Now leading into my bathroom.

Finally with the proper mirror, which makes it look a lot nicer.

And that's the full tour so far! Thanks everyone for looking, and shoutout to the Palia community who I've already made some mutuals with and have been so warm and welcoming.

#palia #palia game #welcome home #cozy mmo

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elliepassmore · 2 months

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Someone You Can Build a Nest In review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: fantasy, light horror, monster main characters, LGBTQ+ characters

Big thanks to Netgalley, DAW, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

TW: gore, animal cruelty, abuse

I definitely thought this was a novella going into this and didn't realize it wasn't until I got past all the acknowledgements, ARC stuff, and table of contents and the book was still on 1%. Most of the horror I read is in novella format, so I was a little worried I was going to end up with more than I'd bargained for, but luckily that wasn't the case!

This book definitely has gore in it, at times quite a bit, but I wouldn't really classify this as a gorey novel and, in that same vein, while Shesheshen is a monster and devours people, I wouldn't classify this book as 'horror' necessarily. I suppose it is somewhat in the same vein as The Salt Grows Heavy, though Shesheshen and the mermaid are very different. I actually thought some of the scenes of Shesheshen eating were funny at times, she has an interesting outlook to things that can be humorous.

Shesheshen herself is the only one of her kind that she knows. Her mother was killed when she was young and she devoured her siblings before they could devour her and has lived in monster solitude ever since. It's clear that her early life has a great impact on her since she wants to find someone to build a nest in who will be a better parent than her father was (and whom she views as just a setting, albeit a nice nest), how she wants to be able to be there for her offspring, and how she questions some things about her own existence since she had no one to teach her otherwise. I found Shesheshen to be interesting, particularly in the way that she can absorb items around her and utilize them to build her body's structure.

Despite being a 'monster,' Shesheshen clearly has empathy and feelings. Her best friend is a blue bear named Blueberry and the two are obviously close and Shesheshen definitely loves her. Likewise, she's able to recognize the hypocrisy of humans calling her a monster while killing what- and whoever they feel and being mean to one another. Shesheshen is also drawn to Homily's kindness and it quickly becomes clear that she has a strong protective streak when it comes to the people and things she cares about.

Homily is depicted as kindhearted and even expresses similar sentiments about hunting animals and monsters that Shesheshen does. These two are two of the things that most strongly draw Shesheshen to her. But Homily has also been through some shit and has a hard time around people as well as the tendency to let people hurt her, either in a "go along to get along" kind of way or because she thinks she deserves it. Despite this, Homily also has a strong protective streak and protects Shesheshen and others on multiple occasions.

While not a main character, I have to give a shoutout to Laurent, whom I find hilarious. May he be happily terrorized for the rest of his days.

I enjoyed reading about Shesheshen's attempts to stay close to Homily, and confess that she's the 'monster' who Homily thinks cursed her family (but definitely didn't), and how major hijinks ensue as a result of this decision. Shesheshen definitely has gotten herself into a situation here and it was funny to read her desperately attempting to outmaneuver the humans trying to hunt her down. She shows some remarkable cunning, and it's clear she has a good mind for strategy. But I did find her attempts to get out of the situation without devouring the whole hunting party to be quite hilarious.

While this is ostensibly a humorous story about a queer monster falling in love with a human, this book also tackles themes like abuse and the cycle of abuse. Shesheshen has suffered at the hands of humans who have come to kill her, which is one kind of abuse, but Homily has suffered through having a truly demonic set of family members who seem to delight in harming her, both physically and emotionally. A large part of this story is about healing from that and not falling into the same cycles, wittingly or unwittingly.

Overall I enjoyed this book and found it to be fairly light-hearted, despite its contents. There is some gore, but it's not too bad, and Shesheshen's 'monster' shenanigans are done very matter-of-factly and with a great deal of attention paid toward whether Homily would think it too weird.

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edgeofn1ght · 1 year

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Dough or Doughnut, There is No Rye

Obi-Wan stops in a local bakery on his way to work for some fresh-baked bread and walks out in love with a very talented baker.

Very excited to fill another square on my @obikin-events bingo card: bakery au! All the time spent watching the Great British Baking Show has finally paid off.

Shoutout to my hilarious sister for the amazing pun that I used for the title. I will never stop laughing about it.

—

getting together • obikin • 4k words • read on ao3 instead

Obi-Wan passed many, many storefronts on his path to his new job, but none were so enchanting or delectable as the bakery two blocks from his office building. The wide display window of Ryes & Shine took up 90 percent of the store’s front, and good thing, too, because they needed the space to show off the dozens of delicious items they baked fresh daily. Baguettes, bagels, focaccia, and loaves of sourdough, brioche, rye, wheat, and multigrains were arranged pleasingly on display shelves next to containers of jams and spread sitting off to the side. The icing on the cake was the anthropomorphic slice of bread giving a thumbs up painted in the center of the glass. It always made Obi-Wan smile.

Each morning as he passed, the window was full and more than half the items were gone each evening. The place was always bustling, too, with lines sometimes out the door. And when the door was open, he could inhale the amazing scent of fresh-baked bread as he walked by. He had been working nearby for two weeks, and just barely making it on time, so he hadn’t yet had a chance to stop; otherwise, he would have stood in line with everyone else every day.

This particular morning, he left his apartment early with the intent to stop by on the way to work – he would finally make it happen.

The winter morning was brisk and cold, but as he opened the door, the heat of the shop hit him, warming him instantly. Behind the counter was an older woman with greying brown hair pulled into a bun at her nape and a younger girl with blue hair with streaks of white. They bustled around behind the counter filling orders with a smile, moving customers through quickly and efficiently. The inventory from the window and the glass case next to the counter dwindled just while Obi-Wan waited.

He was still four people back when a third worker came out from the back room carrying a large tray of baguettes and headed for the window. It was a younger man, tall with wavy, golden brown hair, and a scar which bisected his right eyebrow and ended on his cheek. He wore a serious expression, almost a scowl really, which contrasted hilariously with the white t-shirt he wore (which showed off his biceps unfairly). The front was covered by a cream-colored apron, but on the back was a cartoonish loaf of bread with a happy face and the phrase ‘Have a Loafly Day!’ Obi-Wan chuckled to himself. He really appreciated their dedication to puns.

But mostly he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beautiful baker. Was he crazy to be smitten already? Probably yes.

His phone buzzed in his pocket which distracted him so he’d stop staring for a second at least. It was nearly his turn to order.

“What would you like?”

Obi-Wan startled when he realized it was indeed his turn and the younger girl was finally addressing him.

He looked up to find her watching him. “Oh, very sorry… I guess I should have been ready.” He cut his gaze over to the man who was still stocking the window then back to the girl. It was not lost on her and she grinned slightly.

“A blueberry muffin and uhh… a baguette?” He nodded towards the window. At least he knew it was the freshest thing the bakery had to offer.

“Anakin! A baguette!” The young girl called to the young man. Anakin. Somehow the name suited him. The man walked over, slipping the bread into a paper sleeve then laid it on the counter with a grunt. The young girl chuckled. “Thanks, Anakin!”

Obi-Wan sensed there was some kind of inside joke going on that he wasn’t privy to. But he was too busy watching the man, who was even more handsome up close, to care.

“That it?” the girl asked. Obi-Wan turned back to her and found her still watching him with a smile.

“Oh, yes,” he replied.

“That’ll be 3.75.” Obi-Wan got out his wallet hoping he had cash. He didn’t expect it to be so cheap. “His name is Anakin,” she added.

He looked up, confused. Of course he knew that already, she had called him the name twice as he stood there. Obi-Wan was just more confused why she was telling him. “He’s 24 years old, an amazing baker, and an owner of the shop here with his mom.”

Obi-Wan handed her a $5 bill. “Uh… well, that’s… well, good for him?” The man was 16 years younger than he was, so that was that.

“My name is Ahsoka and I'm pretty much his best friend,” she continued to chatter as she finished the transaction. “Like, anything you want to know about him, I could tell you. Even things you don’t think of! Like how he’s single and really loves–”

“Snips!” Anakin had appeared next to Ahsoka behind the counter, his hands on his hips. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile to himself – the boy was pretty when he was angry, too.

Ahsoka giggled as she handed Obi-Wan back his change. Anakin spared a single glance for Obi-Wan then walked away, disappearing back into what was presumably the kitchen. The brief eye contact was enough to see his eyes were a steely blue. It was enough.

“Anyway, like I was saying,” Ahsoka said as she bagged up Obi-Wan’s muffin. “He basically works here every day. Like, he’s always here. And we close daily at 2.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, still wondering why she was telling him all this. Surely she couldn’t be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting…

"Well, I don't work far from here, I'm sure I'll be back." Why did he even say that?

Ahsoka grinned, "Be sure you do. Everything is baked fresh daily! And we have so much different stuff so you have to try it all!"

For some reason, he just couldn't show his face for at least another week. He only bought bread! He hadn’t asked for Anakin's name or his number or anything else about him – nothing so embarrassing that should keep Obi-Wan away. Ahsoka had volunteered all that other information about him quite freely. However, Obi-Wan was a bit abashed that any sort of interest had been so clearly on his face – why else would she have mentioned it?

Anyway, he was merely looking. He could appreciate a pretty face and still never see it again.

But he couldn’t stay away forever. The next time he stopped in, he was on a lunch break. The baguette had been so wonderfully fresh he was hoping they'd have more for his dinner that evening. But coming in so late, he knew he was taking a risk in them being all gone.

"It's the baguette guy!" Ahsoka shouted as Obi-Wan stepped inside. He froze just three steps inside the door. Luckily and surprisingly, they were alone. The older woman stepped out of the kitchen, but there was no sign of Anakin.

But 'baguette guy'? Really? "I've only bought a baguette once," he said out loud.

"You're here to buy another one though," Ahsoka grinned. "I can tell."

Obi-Wan shook his head as he walked further in. "How could you possibly know that? How do you know I'm not here for one of those amazing-looking sundried tomato focaccia?" He did like her already regardless.

"I just know." She said it so confidently Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay, well yes, if you must know," he replied. "It was so delicious, I had to have one for the meal I was cooking tonight."

The older woman stopped what she was doing just to listen to their conversation. She looked kind and pleasant. Based on what Ahsoka said, she could only be Anakin's mother. And while he did favor her, their dispositions seemed nothing alike.

"This is Anakin's mom!" Ahsoka said as she went to get Obi-Wan’s bread. He turned to her and smiled.

"Well, hello there."

"I'm Shmi, the owner," she walked over and held out her hand which Obi-Wan gladly took.

"I'm Obi-Wan," he replied. "This is a fantastic place you have here."

"Are you new to the area? I don't recall ever seeing your face. And I remember everyone." Her tone didn't sound threatening but Obi-Wan felt heat under his collar anyway. Was he being watched? He was, after all, already the 'baguette guy.'

"Ah well, yes, technically," he explained. "I've lived in the area for a little while but I recently got a new job close by which put me on your path."

"In Anakin's path!" Ahsoka added. Obi-Wan had almost forgotten she was even there. She'd slipped away then gone quiet.

Shmi smiled to herself, which was interesting. Their attention was diverted when the door opened and more people came inside.

Ahsoka jumped to the register where she rang up Obi-Wan again. "That's 4.50!" She had grabbed a focaccia, too, even though Obi-Wan had been joking about it. Well, he'd take it. Support local family businesses and all that. Plus, it did look delicious.

He dug out his money once again and the whole experience was over. And not an Anakin in sight. He found himself slightly disappointed.

"Lovely to meet you, ma'am," Obi-Wan said before turning to head out.

"Please call me Shmi," she said.

He left the two of them standing there grinning. And he was still just as confused as ever.

The weekend rolled around and Obi-Wan decided he wanted some fresh brioche to make French toast with. Just for himself. No special reason except it just sounded good. At least that's what he told himself.

It wasn't just an excuse to visit the bakery again. And maybe catch a glimpse of Anakin.

It was early but they were very busy. Which he should have guessed especially with it being the weekend. But it was alright that he was last in line, right up against the door, because it afforded him a lovely view of Anakin behind the counter making bread. He was delighted to actually finally see a master at work.

The long marble counter between the window and register that was usually covered with more bread was now a mess of flour and lumps of dough. Anakin was kneading one large lump and it was hypnotizing. The muscles in his arms flexed beautifully as he worked the dough back and forth. Obi-Wan stood staring, even when the line moved, and the woman behind him had to point it out.

Anakin then looked up and actually grinned, and Obi-Wan felt so caught. Yet he still couldn't look away. Anakin's cheeks were flushed from the heat of the shop and there was a streak of flour along his jaw and another in the curls that fell across his forehead. Obi-Wan wanted to clean it. Damn, he had it bad.

Obi-Wan stepped forward quickly to lessen the gap he'd created in the line. He tried not to stare anymore but it was really difficult. Not only did he just want to look at Anakin, he was interested in the process as well. It only helped that Anakin was so handsome.

"Baguette guy!" Ahsoka called when Obi-Wan stepped to the counter.

He chuckled, "I guess that's my name now, is it?"

"Those are the rules," she smiled. "You are what you eat. Hey, how'd you like that focaccia?"

"It was amazing, actually."

"That's Skyguy's own recipe!" She looked very pleased.

"Skyguy?" Obi-Wan looked to Anakin for an explanation.

She hooked her thumb in Anakin's direction, "Skyguy is Skywalker over here."

"Skywalker…"

Anakin finally looked up again. "That's me." Somehow in the short time since he last looked, Anakin had gotten more flour on his face.

"Did you know you've got…" Obi-Wan gestured at his own face. "A bit of flour just there?" Anakin's gloved hand flew up to his face, rubbing at his jaw, but on the wrong side.

"No, other side… there, no…" Obi-Wan tried to help but it wasn't working well. Ahsoka seemed to be enjoying the whole pantomime.

"Ahsoka, help a bestie out here," Anakin finally whined. She laughed with a little roll of her eyes, then licked her thumb and rubbed it on his jaw.

"Ew, Snips!" He pulled back. "Don't put your spit on me!"

Ahsoka smirked, "I bet you wouldn't say that to Obi-Wan." Then something interesting happened – Anakin blushed. "Anyway, what can I get for you?" Ahsoka turned her attention back to a stunned Obi-Wan.

"Oh right, yes, the reason for my visit…" he said. "Still have any brioche?"

"You're in luck," Anakin said as he went to the window. "Last loaf."

"Wonderful."

"You better use some of this to make French toast," Ahsoka added. "I'm telling you, best stuff you'll ever have in your life. Unless you somehow manage to screw it up.”

Obi-Wan chuckled as he once again got out his wallet. "Well, I certainly hope not. But that's good to hear because that was my intention. Going home to make it right now."

Ahsoka smiled and clapped her hands, "Excellent." She started to ring Obi-Wan up and Anakin got back to kneading. A few seconds went by and she spoke again, "You know, Anakin lives upstairs over the shop."

"Snips!" Anakin stopped and glared at her. Obi-Wan tried hard to suppress a snort of laughter.

"What? You do!" She cried.

"Yeah but you don't have to tell… strangers where I live!" Then he looked at Obi-Wan. "No offense."

Obi-Wan shook his head, "None taken, I assure you."

"This isn't a stranger! It's Obi-Wan, baguette guy!" Ahsoka cried.

It was odd how comfortable he felt in their presence, almost like he'd known them for years and not just a couple of weeks. He was already very fond of them.

"Anyway, that'll be 3.75. And Anakin loves French toast," she added in a stage whisper as she leaned over the counter.

Obi-Wan’s thoughts immediately, unhelpfully, drifted to serving Anakin breakfast in bed. The thought shocked him. Well, at least he didn't say it out loud and they couldn't read his thoughts.

"Uh, well, thanks," he replied, otherwise not knowing what to say. He paid and left, an idea forming in his head.

Several more days passed by before Obi-Wan visited again. Ahsoka and Anakin both had acted strangely, and Obi-Wan himself needed more time to not think about serving Anakin breakfast in bed. He felt like putting distance between himself and the younger man would maybe help. (It didn't.)

At least Shmi was working the next time he went in. "Hello Obi-Wan," she smiled politely.

"Shmi," he said, just barely forgoing calling her Ms Skywalker. "Lovely to see you, is Ahsoka off today?" He could play it cool and not ask about Anakin.

"Oh, she and Anakin are in the kitchen laminating."

'"Laminating?"

"It's what gives the croissants their flaky layers," Shmi smiled. "Ahsoka is something of an apprentice to my son."

"Ah…"

"Would you like to see?"

He very much would. "Let me just…" he pulled out his phone and quickly texted his boss. He could be a little late to work one day – especially if it involved watching Anakin bake. "Ok, yes, I’d love to."

Shmi waved her arm to get Obi-Wan to follow her into the kitchen.

"Baguette guy!"

"Obi-Wan!" Ahsoka and Anakin said in unison as they walked inside.

The two younger workers stood around a large metal table standing in the center of a decent-sized kitchen. Tall carts with racks of baked goods sat against the far wall, and the smell was even more mouth-watering and potent in the hub where all the magic happened. The heat of the ovens warmed the kitchen so thoroughly, he found himself no longer needing his coat and scarf either. Both Anakin and Ahsoka were wearing aprons and their ‘loafly day’ t-shirts, and they were both surprisingly mostly flour-free, all things considered.

A rectangle of dough sat on the table in front of Anakin and he held a rolling pin, like they had walked in and caught him mid-roll.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan said with a small wave.

“Hello,” Anakin said, then turned back to his task quickly, almost as if he was avoiding Obi-Wan’s gaze.

"You get to see us in action!" Ahsoka smiled. Well at least one of them seemed happy to have Obi-Wan there.

"He asked what laminating was, so I brought him here to see," Shmi said as she headed back out front. "It doesn't hurt to show him!"

Anakin got back to his rolling and Ahsoka grinned as she waved Obi-Wan over.

"So you see, Anakin put a large slab of butter in there then folded the dough over it then rolled it again," she explained as Anakin did just that. "You do this numerous times, turning the dough and folding it and chilling it, and you're incorporating the butter each time and that's what gives the croissants their many buttery layers!"

"Ah," Obi-Wan nodded. "I never knew that's how they did that. I never looked it up." He never had any need to. Ahsoka seemed more than happy to share her knowledge.

"You were meant to find us so we could tell you," Ahsoka said as she folded the edges of her own rectangle of dough. Obi-Wan thought the sentiment was sweet.

"Did you like the brioche?" Anakin asked not looking away from his task. How did they all remember everything he bought?

"Oh yes, it made a wonderful French toast. Just like you said, Ahsoka," he smiled at the girl.

"I'm always right," she said. Well, she was certainly confident. "Just like how I'm right about you and Anak–"

"Snips!" Anakin shouted suddenly, startling them both. "I hear mom calling for you."

She furrowed her brow. "I didn't…" She paused and her expression changed immediately into one of smugness. "Oh yes, I see."

Anakin narrowed his eyes, "You see nothing, now don't keep her waiting."

"Whatever you say, Skyguy! I'll leave you and Obi-Wan alone," she said very pointedly.

Oh.

Well.

Ahsoka practically skipped out of the kitchen, leaving them very alone.

"Don't mind–"

"Would you like–"

They both started their next sentence at the same time then laughed at their gaffe.

"Apologies, you first," Obi-Wan said as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

"No, actually, you first," Anakin said as he put down the rolling pin and leaned against the table. "What were you going to ask?"

"Oh," he chuckled weakly. "It's not important."

Anakin arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure that's not true. What were you going to ask?"

Of course it was important! Obi-Wan had finally worked up the nerve to ask him out then it was gone in an instant. He still couldn't really be sure Anakin would be interested, but Ahsoka had dropped so many hints by now, he surely would have to be daft to not pick them up.

"Well…" Obi-Wan stammered. He hated being so tongue tied. It was so unlike him. "I was just… well I was just wondering if you'd–"

"Yes!" Anakin said quickly, interrupting his train of thought.

Obi-Wan laughed, "You don't even know what I wanted to ask!" His eyes tracked Anakin as he came around the table to where Obi-Wan stood, wiping his hands on his apron as he went.

Anakin stopped three feet in front of him and leaned against the table. He was so seemingly effortlessly handsome. Even with flour on his face.

"Then if I am so mistaken, ask what you wanted to ask," Anakin folded his arms across his chest and looked at Obi-Wan challengingly.

There was nothing for it. "Would you like to go out to dinner sometime?"

Anakin grinned a grin that only the Cheshire cat could rival. "Like I said… yes." Obi-Wan smiled but then both of them were startled quickly when Ahsoka and Shmi flew in the room.

"Finally!!" Ahsoka sighed with a very dramatic eye roll. Shmi stood behind her smiling.

"Can't I have one moment alone!?" Anakin huffed as he threw up his hands. Obi-Wan smiled as he looked between the two of them. There was so much affection there, there was no mistaking it.

"You can have a whole night alone," Ahsoka said as she waggled her eyebrows and elbowed Anakin in the side. "With Obi-Wan!" Obi-Wan sputtered then tried to pass it off as clearing his throat. Even Shmi (thankfully) laughed.

"Well, then," Obi-Wan said as he began to put his scarf back on. "Can I come pick you up at say, 7pm? I know where you live." He hoped Anakin remembered Ahsoka telling him.

Anakin reached out and helped rearrange Obi-Wan’s scarf which surprised him. "Yes, you can," he smiled, smoothing down the knitted wool.

Obi-Wan reached up and wiped away a bit of flour from Anakin's chin. He could really get lost in those dark blue eyes if he let himself.

"Did you two already forget we were in here?" Ahsoka asked. In truth, Obi-Wan had forgotten.

"Why are you still in here? Aren't there customers or something?" Anakin waved his hands dismissively.

Even Shmi chuckled as she and Ahsoka left the kitchen leaving the two boys alone again.

"So…" Obi-Wan started with a small grin. "How long?"

"How long?"

"How long have you been sitting on 'yes'?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin sighed, "Since the first time I saw you." Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"When I came in for the baguette?"

"No, the first time I saw you," Anakin said as he took a step closer. He reached out and grabbed the lapels of Obi-Wan’s coat, rubbing his fingers along the heavy wool. "I guess you were on your way to work, but you stopped – just for a minute. You stood there and just stared at the window, like you were enchanted by whatever you saw," Anakin chuckled.

Obi-Wan thought back to when that could have been. Most days he glanced in when he couldn't come in, he rarely had time to stop, except… "Anakin, that was the very first day I came by this shop." Anakin just grinned and finally looked up again. "That's been weeks!"

Anakin shrugged a single shoulder. "You didn't stop. Then suddenly you did."

"Oh, Anakin…" He said, shaking his head.

"Anyway, I'd very much like to kiss you now," Anakin grinned.

Obi-Wan felt his heart thumping in his chest. "Before our first date?"

"Before our first date," Anakin said as he tugged on Obi-Wan’s coat, pulling him closer.

There wasn't a single universe where he could have refused. Their lips met in a tender kiss as Obi-Wan slipped his arms around Anakin's waist. It was even better than he imagined – and he had imagined it quite a bit. He very much looked forward to more in the near future.

When they broke apart, Anakin started to laugh as he brushed at Obi-Wan’s torso. "Oops…"

Obi-Wan looked down and found flour dusting his entire coat front from where he pulled Anakin close. "I can't really walk into work like this. They'll be able to guess immediately why I'm late."

"Don't go in at all!" Anakin said as he continued to brush down Obi-Wan’s coat. "Stay here and let us teach you how to make some bread."

Obi-Wan wasn't sure it was such a good idea where his job was concerned… but he was otherwise most definitely interested. Well, what could one day hurt? "I guess that sounds… loafly to me." Obi-Wan winked.

Anakin groaned as he dropped his head back, "Don't make me rethink this date already."

Obi-Wan chuckled as he began to remove his coat and scarf once again. "I thought you'd like that."

Anakin walked across the room and found another apron then came back to tie it on Obi-Wan. His cheeks were tinged pink – but whether it was from a blush or the heat of the kitchen, Obi-Wan couldn't be sure. "Ok, fine, I loved it…" he smiled as he tied the string around Obi-Wan’s waist.

Obi-Wan couldn't stop smiling. This day was going nothing like he expected and was oh-so-much better.

"Ok, well, get those cute buns over here and let's make loaf," Anakin said as he made his way back to his side of the table. Obi-Wan was sure he loved him already.

#obikinbingo23 #my writing #obikin #obikin bingo #obi-wan x anakin #alternate universe #modern au #fluff #and bad bread puns #one shot

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shock-micro · 5 months

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okay SERIOUSLY fucking shoutout to all the folks who make music for celeste mods some of that shit is on another level and it is CRIMINAL it hasn't reached a wider audience

here's some of my favorite tracks from strawberry jam! i haven't finished it yet so if i missed any good ones please tell me!! and if there's any from other mods i would love to hear!!

Blueberry Bay by Ceph going on a walk to take my mind off things for a bit by BeanJammin Forest Path by catapillie Low-G Botany by Gix Raspberry Roots - Tree of Life Mix by BeanJammin Dusk City by MooseSR Madeline is Jump by Chepaki Starfruit Supernova by catapillie

some of these are just good songs and others of these get me genuinely emotional and that's not even all of the ones i liked!! and there's more in other mods like spring collab or standalone mods like glyph!! the collab mods are especially treasure troves because you get so many different genres all packed into a few albums of music ranging from ambient to emotional to just straight bops to what i can only describe as baba-core?? go give these soundtracks a listen if you at all like video game music or music in general, i beg you

#celeste game #celeste strawberry jam #music #slight rant but oh my god i cannot stop thinking about how much good MUSIC there is in there collabs

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alienboijishua · 8 months

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Got some new tats :]

1. Franklin from the Infinity on High album cover from Fall Out Boy :]

2. A peach, I was raised in a town where there was a lot of peach trees, and I have an inner joke with my partner about this which I'm not going to explain here SJFJWKFKRJ

3. A Blåhaj Ikea plush holding an iPad and a pencil, it me because you know he's a trans icon

4. A crying blueberry, my partner got a crying strawberry hehe

5. Tails from Sonic! My beloved

All the tattoos I have are made in my style, I love them all they're my little kids 🤲🏻 shoutout to my partner to help me with tails, the blåhaj and the blueberry <3

I have like 19 tattoos already? I got so many only this year 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

#artists on tumblr #tattoos #tattoo #art #tattoo artwork #tattoo art #tails #sonic #fall out boy #fob

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tiktaalic · 1 year

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Different anon but i agree Lover good (mostly). When it came out I clearly remember everyone talking about how much it sucked and meanwhile I’m listening to it and for the first time going huh. Maybe I like her music actually. Shoutout to archer which sped up my realizing I’m trans by at least a month.

Side note I got into her music initially by pretending all her songs were secretly gay (though tbh I don’t have an Opinion on the matter) which I think works really well bec. her #normalgirl.algorithm vibes really lend themselves to *touches songs* something happened here. Then you ask yourself okay but what happened here and blink for a while at the white rich girl problems in the text and go. I guess I’ll just have to make some up for her

i did the same thing with lover where i saw it getting panned. heard nice to have a friend. and went oh is taylor swift music good? AND YEAH. shes. expresso with one blueberry shot type of girl . extremely normal with something deeply wrong with her. she is doing femininity so hard that (for the viewer) it circles back around to a conscious over the top performance devoid of consideration for men in a. well it smacks of femme lesbian (NOTE: I AM NOT SAYING TAYLOR SWIFT IS A LESBIAN). i'm in a ball gown. i'm in a floor length summer dress. i'm in a skintight latex suit . i am average all american girl i work 8 hours in the love story song mines to buy one album about how i'm a girlboss. not all of her songs are about being in love with women but . that post that goes. every taylor swift song is like we are hunted down and persecuted for our love we have to go through so much to keep our relationship private. all for a blonde man. and then. there are the ones that are straigh t up pov you are in love with a woman. which aremy favorite because she loves to go ummmm so what i was doing for this song was writing from the perspective of a man. in love with a woman. as sort of a creative writing exercise you know.

#ask #anonymous #t swift #she's the silliest creature alive. im obsessedwith her

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canyouhearthelight · 1 year

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The Miys, Ch. 218

Eeep, my buffer of chapters is dwindling, and it’s a bit scary. Kind of like 2022 has been, if we are being honest. Major life goals to get that built back up, at least until the end of the story.

Major spoilers are laced throughout this entire chapter... but not for this story. Cue eerie mystery musiiiiic!

Props go out to @baelpenrose and @werewolf2578 on this chapter. I triple pinky promise to catch up on reader shoutouts next Tuesday. I just need to wade through the army of bots that recently decided to follow me (I even accidentally reported a new follower as spam in the bot-weeding, and genuinely cannot apologize to @thornsilver enough for any trouble that has caused them).

In my office two days later, no amount of blueberry corn muffins could completely lift the solemn mood. I had finally managed to sum up the communication between Charly and the S’crirs, and the summary had been released to the entire population of the Ark midway through Gamma shift. Already, I had received just under three thousand requests to release the full audio, and more were piling in as Alpha shift got under way.

“It isn’t anything new,” Tyche scolded gently to the somber room. “She literally just asked Ix’al and Brol to do exactly what she said in the Council meeting: destroy at least a big chunk of the Eko’mari fleet.”

“By killing them,” Parvati reminded. Her tone wasn’t quite judgemental, but there was a definite undercurrent of nausea.

Tapping the top of my muffin, appetite wholly gone, I nodded. “An explosion big enough to scare off the GeeCee is inevitably going to have some casualties.”

“Innocent casualties, that’s what we’re okay with?” she argued. “I get that they are assholes, but their plan was to play the long game. We’re wily, persistent creatures - we can take the time to out play them.”

Tyche glowered from beneath her brows, biting her lips in the distinct way that told me she was keeping quiet for someone else’s benefit.

Hannah spoke, her voice barely audible. “They were planning to actively suppress our self-development. Did we really have time to find another way? How long would we give them: years? A generation or three? We have evidence in our own history that two generations is enough to cause a century or more of cultural decline. Especially when you have the threat of a definitely-not-hypothetical outside force working against us.”

“They wouldn’t even need to be as overt as they’re being now,” Tyche pointed out. “Change a few facts here or there, just enough to be misleading instead of outright wrong. Misinformation grows faster than any weed, and it’s even harder to get rid of.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Alistair beat me to it. “This is all academic,” he stated loudly.

“There’s nothing academic about it!” Parvati cried. “We’re talking about killing a fleet of living beings who, albeit obnoxious, pose no violent threat to us! We know they are there and what they plan to do, we can take measures to combat it.”

“You say that on the supposition that these beings are innocent,” he responded. A part of my mind took note of how clear but unemotional his statement was. He wasn’t guessing, he knew. “They are not.”

“They aren’t violent - “

“They are military, Miss Fletcher. Enlisted, voluntarily. Councilor Kalloe, along with thousands upon thousands of others on this vessel can confirm that enlisting in a military organization immediately removes your status as ‘innocent’ when it comes to acts of war. Especially among Terrans.”

A loud click accompanied Parvati’s jaw snapping immediately closed. She blinked a couple times before turning towards me. “They’re military? You didn’t include that in the communication.”

“It was a judgment call,” I sighed, forcing myself to sit up straight. “The fact that the Eko’mari fleet is military is public and known information, always has been. We even included it in the first twenty or so communications to the Ark, remember?”

She glanced at Hannah, who nodded.

I continued. “Given every other reason that everyone has to be afraid, angry, and stressed right now, I didn’t think it was a great idea to give anyone the idea that the Eko’mari could possibly attack us at any second. The FAQ that we’re going to put together this week and triple check to confirm we didn’t miss anything will start out with a reminder, including necessary file directories to all those early communications.”

She nodded, clearly still objecting but accepting that her arguments had been addressed.

That meant it was Alistair’s turn. “The funny thing is,” I drew out questioningly, “You just repeated nearly verbatim what Ix’al said, Alistair. I can believe that you remembered that the Eko’mari are military. I can even believe that you did enough research on them to know that the Eko’mari do not accept conscript soldiers and are therefore volunteer only.” Gently, I tapped the top of my yet-uneaten muffin. “But nothing you say is going to convince me that your thought patterns worked the same way as a twenty-five foot fanged squid who also happens to be a pirate queen.”

Irritatingly, he shrugged in response. “Miss Harper contacted Farro for assurance that she had made the right call. She knew you would support her, no matter what, but also that he would suggest any ideas she had missed. She sent him her recording of the conversation, which he later allowed me to listen to with her permission. Provided I do not speak on it until the official briefing was sent to the Ark, of course.”

UGH, I groaned internally. I couldn’t even be mad at him, since I had done the exact same thing with Conor and Maverick. “Did he at least agree with her recommendation?”

Parvati snorted. “Of course he did. I am certain that Xiomara does as well.”

I held up a finger and raised an eyebrow. “You would be surprised. Arthur’s pragmatic enough to agree with it, but Charly asked him because he thinks strategically. What’s most pragmatic isn’t always the best strategy.”

Alistair nodded towards me. “Thank you, Sophia. As a matter of fact, he did not entirely agree with Miss Harper.”

Parvati and stared at each other while Hannah sputtered. “He what? I would think he would be all for it.”

“Oh, he quite agrees with the no-survivors-no-prisoners approach,” he waved off. “The concern was rather more in regard to the timing of the act.”

Tensions were already high, and Alistair’s tendency to use as many words as possible when he was stressed wasn’t helping matters. I was clenching my teeth to keep from snapping at him, but Parvati clearly had fewer compunctions. “Oh, just spit it out, Alistair! We’re all friends here, even if we don’t agree about this!”

“He advised we should be planetside before the fleet is destroyed,” he glared back at her. “Otherwise it could be interpreted as the same pirate activity that they are citing to justify their request.”

“I mean….” Tyche drew out. “That wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Unfortunately,” I groaned. “Which means Arthur is right, and therefore will be impossible to live with for the next two weeks.”

She rocked her head side to side. “You could take one for the team and break his jaw again?”

Bracelets clattered as Parvati threw her hands in the air. “More violence! People being a nuisance is not justification for violence!”

“One, when I broke his jaw it was an accident. Two, I am sure that Hannah was joking - “

“Mostly,” my sister grumbled.

“THIRDLY!” I raised my voice in vain hope that Parvati hadn’t heard the comment from directly across the table. “Space. Nazis.”

She stood, resting her fingertips gently on the table. “Sophia, I am begging you - I have seen the results of drastic actions like these. I don’t just mean the End, either. I was there for the NorthAm blackout. I lost friends and family when the global economy went offline. And they were caused by the same thing: people who thought they had the right taking drastic action instead of thinking rationally.”

Hannah gasped and covered her mouth. Tyche stood and started pacing as far away as she could get without leaving the room. It was all I could do repeatedly try closing my jaw while I wrapped my mind around what I was hearing. “Parvati, are you comparing us to Nils Andover? The Meltdown Messiah, King of Nothing?”

A hand flew up to rub her temple. “No. And yes. It’s complicated.”

I leaned back in my hair, resisting the urge to cross my arms defensively. “Complicated is what I do. What we - “ I waved at everyone in my office “do.”

She closed her eyes and whispered. Whatever it was elicited another gasp from Hannah, but no one else could tell what it was. Once she glanced around and realized this, she dropped her hand, grit her teeth, and repeated it.

“I was a Queen’s Pawn when I was thirteen.”

What followed was a three second flurry of action. Hannah flung herself back from the table, while Alistair planted himself between me and Parvati. All I could see over his back were the palms of her hands, both of which were held over her head and open. I was confused until I looked over to Tyche.

She held knives in both hands, the left ready to throw.

“Stop it, everyone,” I stated firmly, doing everything in my power not to yell and set my sister off by accident. “Tyche, put the knives up. This room isn’t large enough to need them, and if Parvati hasn’t poisoned me yet, I doubt she’s going to kill me now that we know exactly who the suspect is.”

No one so much as twitched.

“All of you. Sit. The fuck. Down. Before something horrible happens.” Without even waiting for a response, I did exactly what I asked them to do. “Queen’s Pawns turned on Andover, which I’m sure you were about to explain, Vati?”

“Right.” No fear could be heard in her voice, only a very deep exhaustion and shame. “And no one on this ship is anything like Nils Andover the person, thankfully. But killing everyone on those ships to save our own arses is entirely too close to the ideals he created. We’re talking about destroying them with no chance of defending themselves!”

“I would like to remind you that this, in fact, an unarmed medical vessel,” Alistair pointed out. “And I am not sure how you believe the S’crirs is going to destroy those vessels, but I doubt it involves magically creating antimatter in their drives.”

“Right, it’s got to get there somehow, which means the crew of the S’crirs is taking a huge risk on our behalf,” I added. “Which they are doing because they blame themselves for the fact that the Eko’mari have actual grounds to hang around after we land.”

“That’s idiotic.” Hannah shook her head as she carefully took her seat at the table.

“I agree, but I’m also not suicidal enough to argue with someone who could eat me.”

Tyche kept her knives at hand, but at least shifted to a position that wasn’t as immediately threatening. “The way I see it, we are acting in self defense.” When every eye in the roomed turned toward her, she shrugged. “What they plan to do is effectively an act of war. They want to prevent us from developing our own knowledge and technology, potentially using an infohazard campaign. Misinformation causes scarcity, which causes wars.”

“Alistair?” I asked for confirmation.

“She is quite correct, unfortunately. Scarcity does not bring out the best in humanity, despite what some would try to have us believe.”

He had shifted just enough that I could see Parvati’s face, and the emotional journey it was going through at that moment told me she was rapidly changing her stance. Patiently, I waited her out. “It’s the rich and the Baconists all over again, isn’t it?”

“Possibly,” Alistair confirmed. “Only instead of glittering starships, the ‘haves’ have food, or water.”

I still wanted to reassure her, even though there was only so much I could say. “You don’t have to like it. Hell, I hate the idea. I just go to sleep at night reminding myself that there are no good options, only even worse ones. I’m sure Xiomara knows better than I ever will how to handle that.”

She lifted a shaking hand to her face, shaking her head. “I - I need to take the day. Maybe two. This is… It’s all too much. I feel like it’s happening all over again - “

“Vati,” Hannah murmured, reaching a hand across the table.

“No!” she cried, jerking away. “For the second time in my life, I am listening to my friends talk about sabotaging the FTL drives of over a dozen ships and killing everyone on board. You don’t - none of you know what that’s like! And I’m begging, again, that my friends don’t do this. That you find another way. And now I am realizing that there isn’t - I can’t.”

Before we could say anything, she turned and fled from the room, hand over her mouth to prevent any other sound from coming out.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #tw: violence #tw: trauma #humans are space orcs #haw #original science fiction #original fiction #my writing

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