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#sorry this post was lower effort than the previous ones ive been putting it off too long
subconwoods · 11 months
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Hat Game Shipping Bracket
Round 2 Results
Match 1: Hat Kid/Mustache Girl vs Crow Date
Our first perfect 50/50 tie (of 84 votes.) As is our convention, the two pairings will be combined. Moving into the semi-finals is...
Hat Chick and Mustache Bird.
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Match 2: Conductor's Divorce vs Subcon Wizard Money Gang
With a moderate lead of 55% (or 55 of 100 votes), something that isn't actually a ship takes yet another round. With this, the Snatcher has exited the tournament entirely. (Spoiler: Conductor is now represented in 50% of the bracket.)
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Match 3: Badge Seller/Twilight Goat vs Queen Vanessa/Ms. Pauling from Team Fortress 2
With 57.8% (or 37 of 64 votes), Paulessa wins the round! Badge/Twigoat performed honorably, but could not stand against the rising tide.
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Match 4: Cooking Cat/Empress vs Conductor/DJ Grooves
This poll's lead shifted throughout its duration more times than any other so far. I can't help but wonder if the result might have been different if the duration was longer, but for a long time it really looked like Subway Sandwich was going to win! That would have been an interesting upset, but ultimately, DiscoTrain did prevail, by a higher lead (54.6%, or 59 of 108 votes) than would have permitted me to merge them as FurFest 2023.
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See you next round!
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The Couple Next Door IV (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)
Find Part III Here
A/N: Happy Early Valentine’s Day, Y’all! I wrote a lot for the next part of this series, so I decided to split them up in two chapters. I’m posting this one tonight, and the other will be up at some point tomorrow afternoon.
This chapter is in 3rd Person Omniscient for Rogie like the previous one, and the reader will not be in this chapter but the next one, so I apologize if it’s not that good.
Don’t forget to show your support and enjoyment for the fic by leaving likes, comments, and reblogging!
Summary: Roger has a chat with the band, and does some more thinking.
(Roger can be Ben Hardy!Rog or Real!Rog. Whatever stirs your soup.)
WARNINGS: Swearing, s l o w  b u r n, Mentions of sex (BuT nO sMuT [yet(?)]), no revision and editing bc I’m lazy, I think that’s it.
This one is leaning more towards an M rating than a T, so read at your own risk.
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“Eh… no no no. Take it from the top. Roger?”
 The blond looked through the window to Freddie, who just made it to the practice. 
 He was wearing some ridiculous flashy outfit as usual, a pair of massive white sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose while an equally distracting burgundy coat made its presence known on the singer’s shoulders. Whether he wore a shirt underneath is still a mystery.
 In his right hand, Freddie held a steaming hot cup of tea, gripped tight by his long fingers, each nail painted black. From the waist down, although he couldn’t see, Roger wouldn’t be surprised if Freddie was wearing booty shorts.
 "You okay, Love?“ 
 He only responded with a simple thumbs up, and an unenthusiastic look on his face; and although Fred didn’t seem too convinced, the music started playing, and Roger tried his part again.
 "Been out of the flow all morning,” Brian informed the frontman, biting his thumbnail and crossing his legs from the wall he leaned against. “He got here, and didn’t count us in the first few times we played. Figured he needed some time to play for himself.”
 "Hm,“ Freddie acknowledged, taking a peek at some loose papers scattered around the control desk and taking a sip of his tea.
 "And how long ago did you two decide this?“ 
 "Forty five minutes ago,” John grumbled at his spot at the control desk, legs crossed, and head propped up with his hand in bore. 
 "We tried confronting him and he’s not speaking,“ Brian explained. “Gave you a call and no one answered the phone. We assumed you were on your way.”
 Freddie looked around the room, and he pointed at the second, empty seat at the control desk. “Where’s–”
 After another timing mistake, Roger flung his drumstick towards the window, shouting profanities when the stick just riccoched and hit him right back, and startling the other three men in the process. 
 "… Y/n,“ Freddie finished carefully, eyes wide and focused on Roger’s movements. 
 "We both assume she’s got somethin’ to do with it. He won’t say anything.” John mumbled with a shrug. 
 Freddie pursed his lips, and sighed, scanning the control desk for the PA system’s button. 
 "Rog, my Love. Just… put the drumsticks down.“
 Roger, who was about to send his second drumstick against the wall to meet the fate his first one did, lowered his arm slowly to his side, eyeing his band’s frontman in the window, who was twiddling his fingers at him. 
 "Good. Now, come on in here. We’re all gonna sit down. Have a chat.“ 
 Roger’s shoulders slumped, and he left the recording room so he could regroup with his three other bandmates. Roger just frowned. Just as he suspected, Freddie was sporting a pair of body shorts. 
 Freddie moved his eyes from Roger to the empty seat next to John. 
 The drummer dropped into the chair, letting it roll him a little bit away from the staring eyes of the others. 
 "The others here tell me you’ve been a little… upset, since you’ve been here this morning." 
 Roger scoffed, and tried to stand from his chair, but Freddie dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. 
 "I know there’s something wrong,” Freddie quietly mumbled. “We just wanna help you. Tell us what’s wrong, and you’re helping us, too.”
 Roger chewed the inside of his cheek, looking guiltily towards John and Brian. “… Hope you know I didn’t mean to shout earlier, yeah?" 
 "Kind of assumed so, yeah,” John offered a kind smile, to which Roger tried to return, but he just looked uncomfortable. 
 "It’s uh… it’s just, um…“
 "Is… y'know… is y/n okay?”
 Roger’s smile fell. “Wait, why? Why would she not be okay? Did you get a phone call from her?!” Roger stood up, “oh my God, is she okay?!”
 "Hey, hey, hey, calm down, calm down!“ Brian intervened, hands up. "She’s fine. We’ve heard nothing from her. We were just asking you.”
 Roger sat back down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sighing deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. Yes. Yeah, it is her. She’s… Driving me nuts right now.”
 "Why now? You two were perfectly fine last week.“
 "It’s been the interactions with the neighbours,” Roger complained. “do you know how hard it is not to start sweating every time we hold hands in public now?”
 John frowned. “But… You hold other girls’ hands all the time. Why would y/n be different?”
 "I don’t know! I don’t know and that’s why I’m like this!“
 Freddie smirked, and Roger could sense the glint in his eyes despite them still being covered by his sunglasses.
 "Seems to me,” Freddie popped his lips. “Roger’s in love with y/n.”
 John smirked at the thought, and Brian had this wide grin on his face Roger really wanted to slap off.
 "Fred, I really don’t think that’s the problem here–“ 
 ”‘Ts weird. I’ve always had a thing for y/n, maybe I’m in love with her.“ 
 "Seeing a girl naked by accident doesn’t mean you’re in love with her, John.” Roger snapped back nearly immediately, to which Brian chimed in: 
 "Funny how you’re the one telling John that when I had to say the same thing to you in high school.“
 Roger was mad, but he was even more embarrassed. His face was a deep scarlet, and Freddie wasn’t sure if the colour of Roger’s cheeks were because of his fury, or because he knew Brian was right. 
 "Come talk to me, Roger. Talk to the King of Love,” Freddie coaxed Roger with his index finger as he fell back dramatically on the sofa against the wall opposite the control table. 
 Roger simply rolled his eyes and relocated to the empty seat on the sofa by Freddie’s feet. The frontman kicked his bare legs out and crossed them over Roger’s lap while stretching this thin arms and placing them behind his head.
 "When’d this all start happening, Rog? I mean the weird feelings.“ 
 To this, the drummer simply shrugged. "Last week we had dinner at the neighbours’. The husband was talking about children, and marriage, and it was like…" 
 Brian and John raised their eyebrows expectantly. 
 "It was like I wasn’t acting anymore.”
 Freddie gave a knowing smile, and hummed gently. “Did you feel comfortable? Being domestic and romantic with her?" 
 "Fred, I’ve lived with those two for three years, and they have zero personal space.” Brian’s eyes moved from his reflection in Freddie’s sunglasses to the stressful gaze in Roger’s. “… is it different?”
 "Bri, I had women over all the time when we lived with you. I had no reason to have a girlfriend. I slept around, got the physical affection I needed, and she was just a friend…“
 John pursed his lips. ”Was,“
 Roger nodded a little, his eyes casting downward and burning holes into his already torn jeans. "Yeah. Was." 
 The blond suddenly looked up at his other bandmates. "We’re pretending to be a couple in a conservative, strict neighbourhood. It’s not like y/n would allow me to invite groupies home with us while catty neighbours spy on us from across the way. I’m not getting the physical attention I used to have, especially since sleeping around is impossible now." 
 The room then fell silent, and no one exactly made an immediate effort to say anything. 
 And then John gave a half-shrug. 
 "Why don’t you ask y/n?" 
 "Ask her what?”
 "Ask her to give you that attention,“ Freddie finished John’s point in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 ”No,“ Roger gasped. "No. No no no!" 
 "What? It’s a great idea,” Brian tried to reason. 
 "It’s bloody suicide! What would she think of me?! A sex-addict? A creep? A waste of time?“
 ”Roger,“ Brian stopped Roger’s listing. "She’s a single, gorgeous woman who loves you with all her heart, romantically-speaking, or not. You two already have this sort of secret commitment thing happening anyways but with housing rather than physical affection.”
 "And your point is…?“ 
 Freddie took over for Brian then with a sigh. "She has nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose. Why would adding onto your deal be a bad thing?" 
 To this, Roger didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer. Freddie continued. "You sleep with women with no strings attached all the time. Living with your best friend while also bedding her doesn’t seem like a bad idea. What are you gonna do, catch feelings for her? You’re just horny.”
 "… Do you really think that’s all that’s wrong?“ 
 "That you’re stressed and just need a good lay?” John clarified.
 "Absolutely.“
 It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off Roger’s shoulders. All of his past issues were gone, out of his mind. 
He had nothing to worry about. 
 "There’s that smile we all needed,” Freddie gushed at Roger, who lowered his head in mild embarrassment. 
 "C'mon Rog. Let’s get to work.“ Freddie jumped up to stand before the control table, and Brian took a seat next to John. Roger returned to his drum kit inside the recording room, and after a count-in, Roger started drumming. 
 Needless to say, practice was flawless for the rest of the day.
_______________________________
A/A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember, new chapter up tomorrow!
@culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap @amy-brooklyn99 @scarsout @kimmietea @ohtheseboysilove @demo-wise @suavishowell @bohemianahoy @pippin248
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ailinaline · 4 years
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The Untamed: unsorted
Well... I am nothing, if not eccentric, after all. Why not publish a huge post all of a sudden? :)
The Untamed (СQL) is an abyss, and I am still falling, grasping at some scattered thoughts... that tend to arrange themselves in equally chaotic blocks of thoughts, which, in turn, multiply questions successfully.
Spoilers ahead, I guess...
I.
The timeline of СQL is more than a little blurry, and when I try to calculate, how old Wei Ying was, when he died, I come up with the sorrowful conclusion he couldn’t be more that 21, probably younger. Which, in turn, means that the post-time-skip Sizhui is, actually, of the same age or even older than Wei Ying and Lan Wangji were, when they did a lot of things I honestly can’t imagine the new generation pulling off, even physically/magically, let alone psychologically (although I wouldn’t go as far as to call young LWJ and WWX mature - they clearly were not, and that was a huge part of the tragedy foundation, in my opinion). The young disciples are referred to as ‘children’, and they truly are. Compared to 16-17 year old LWJ and WWX, they are very, very young, inexperienced and not especially capable – while still being quite skilled and smart. And it’s both fabulous and painful to watch. Fabulous because it’s a very vivid and authentic demonstration of how exceptionally gifted LWJ and WWX are (and were); and painful because, unfortunately, not all of their greatness comes just from inborn talents.
II.
I am easily charmed by languages, but СQL, being the third Chinese dorama I have ever watched, is still the first one to so profusely tempt me to learn Chinese – in order to translate the songs and to understand the subtleties of the dialogues.
III.
I can’t get rid of the impression that the concept of rules/order breaking and punishment/atonement is fundamental for СQL (and its world). As far as I am aware, the Chinese culture does tend to be quite severe in this regard, but right now I am considering the symbolic layer of the process rather than the harm/good/efficiency of any particular method.  And I wonder, whether I am imagining things or Wangji’s history of ‘transgressions’ and punishments within his sect is really openly symbolic and not merely coincidental.
My interpretation certainly lacks some special cultural insight because I can’t help being of European origin, so I read all the codes as a European would, first, and only then make an attempt to switch lenses and decipher the message, taking into account my scarce knowledge of the Chinese (and Asian) culture.
And yet...
The first time (drinking) Wangji is not only completely innocent, but also a ‘victim’ of Wei Ying’s careless (and questionable) mischief. They share the punishment (and we encounter the number 300, by the way), but Wangji is obviously (and rather fiercely) on his own here, and evidently by choice, despite Wei Ying’s sincere efforts first to exclude and then to include him. Wangji, just as obviously, truly believes he deserves the punishment – not for drinking as such, I think, but for lowering his guard and being not attentive enough: internally, he substitutes one transgression with another, and the equation works for him (actually, it might be unfair, but quite fortunate for their future relationship that Wangji blames himself or, at least, blames himself more than Wei Ying). To put it in a nutshell, for Wangji, the system and order are intact and non-contradictory: he is understandably upset, even angry, but hardly shaken, and simply intends to do better than that in the future, so to say. It’s hard to speculate, if this is Wangji’s most unpleasant experience so far or not, but in any case, the psychological pressure is minimal and reproach is rather mild (and I am really surprised, Lan Xichen didn’t find all that story highly suspicious… or was it his indirect method of showing WWX that he hadn’t been told on?..)
The copying of the rules happens after a considerable amount of… experience, if not time. And the transgression is not specified, but hinted at very heavily. I also wonder, if Lan Qiren realized an additional message he conveyed through his choice as well as through his general treatment of his nephew during that meeting: a strict reminder that, a war hero or not, LWJ is still too young to have an opinion. Wangji accepts the book of rules reverently, accepts the punishment… the word, that springs to mind is ‘habitually’: he doesn’t disregard it, per se, he doesn’t devalue the fact his uncle is not happy with him, he still wants to do better, but… there are things of greater importance to him now, and LWJ is so focused on them that he makes the request about the restricted books at the least suitable moment, really. (And I believe this dismissal does cut him rather deep.) The system still works, but the seed of the conflict is already planted.
The third episode seems pivotal in itself: we actually don’t know, what the punishment for letting WWX and the Wens go was, except for having to kneel, while being lectured, but this time this is a result of a conscious choice to do something that definitely wouldn’t be approved. And I can’t remember a single second of the screen-time, when Wangji would look repentant: conflicted, upset, slapped (when Lan Qiren mentions his mother), stressed (his uncle uses some pretty cruel techniques that border on manipulation, to my mind), but not sorry at all – not for letting the fugitives go, at least.  And comparing the shades of Wangji’s silence here and on the previous occasion, this one seems somehow more determined. And closed-off. And there is no intention to do better, in regard to this transgression: the alternative he is being pushed to is unacceptable.
Kneeling again, for the whole day, in the cold, lifting a… what is it, as a matter of fact? It does look like a slightly smaller version of ‘the discipline whip’ we’ll see later, and if it is really so, then it’s beyond prophetic symbolic – it looks more like a promise on Lan Qiren’s part. :/ Anyway, my impression is that, for the first time in the series, LWJ is actively absent from the scene of his own punishment: he doesn’t reflect on it (I think he expected something like that), he also doesn’t mentally substitute one transgression with another to restore the balance (his inability to help Wei Ying is not something to atone for by kneeling). He simply endures. And thinks. And feels. Just not what he is expected and obliged to be thinking and feeling at the moment. And through all of this, Wangji is utterly, hopelessly and stoically alone and unaccepted. His concerns have been dismissed and care rejected by Wei Ying. His actions and decisions have been castigated by a significant authority figure (whom he loves and respects). If I am not mistaken, in the special edition Wangji’s loss-and-loneliness are somewhat artificially heightened through the pseudo-contrast because his moments are mixed with the moments of Wei Ying’s drinking with his new family, who values and appreciates him. (In reality their situations are just the same: they are both in anguish and feel helpless to change things they wish to change.) And, a cherry on top: we don’t know, what has been said initially, and by whom, however, we see that Wangji is released not by his uncle, but by some adept (or disciple). It might be a normal procedure, but it completes the picture of being unequivocally separated from any supportive figure and hints at a lack of closure, in a way, as there was no forgivenes-and-reconnection after the punishment.  
I am struggling to verbalize, why exactly, but to me, this scene is, in a sense, more bitter than the next one, despite the circumstances.
During the next punishment Wangji is as actively present as he was absent during the previous one. And if then he was frozen in sadness, now he is all fire (fueled by grief, and guilt, and fury, and despair, yes, but fire, nonetheless). And the system and order get burned down: what Wangji re-builds during his seclusion is his very own set of rules. They do coincide with the Gusu Lan set, but not fully. And this is a point of no return because, filtered through Wangji’s own system of values, now they are more than just the elders’ lessons learned and tested – they are the only valid reference point for recognizing transgressions and ‘living with no regrets’.
(On another level, I am more than a little puzzled by several details here:
1) linguistics: do they really call this thing a discipline ‘whip’ in Chinese?
2) cultural message: as literally nothing could get in the way of filming a beating with an actual whip, the type of instrument has to make some sense, doesn’t it? (For now, I can’t think of any reason to choose this tool, though. Except the number 300 as 300 lashes are hardly survivable, even with a golden core.)
3) application: I can understand, why Wangji has his shirt on (although this is a more dangerous and torturous option: such a thin layer is no protection at all, but it will be hell to clean the wounds afterwards), but why is his hair down his back like that?..
4) consequences: the scarring looks rather odd, considering. (And again: it was definitely not a problem to paint whatever they had to, so – why?)
The only (and vague) explanation I can come up with is that the type and form of the tool is not important at all: it’s the intent and sentence that count, so the wounds and pain would be the same, even if the instrument looked like a rod or a cane. (Still doesn’t explain the hair, though.) And as for the scars, perhaps, not all of them have to stay forever, especially if the cultivator is very strong.
Well, no: unsatisfactory...)
IV.
I wonder... My first impression after watching the scene, where Lan Wangji cuts off Jin Guangyao’s  arm, was that he was actually saving him from Baxia, separating Guangyao from the mark on his hand. And the only reason, why the spirit of the sword attacks Jin Ling next, are the drops of the bad/damned blood on the boy’s shoulder. But after the special edition I am not so sure.
V.
Lacunae and plotholes (or what I subjectively perceive as such) are extremely challenging and thought-provoking in this series. Right now, I wonder about the Wens: Wen Qing clearly stated she had asked one of the clansmen to look after WWX, so not all of them were going to surrender. Could it be that they were attacked at the Burial Mounds, when seeing the siblings off, and taken away by force?
...Enough. For now.
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totallyrhettro · 7 years
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The Lone Jedi, Chapter 19
Word Count: 2090 Rating: This chapter: G. Overall story: explicit Warnings: None Summary: Jedi Knight Rhett McLaughlin managed to escape the purge of the Emperor to become one of the last of his celibate order. After years of a solitary life, he finds himself with a former slave for a friend. Despite his efforts to maintain anonymity and the jedi code, he starts to realize that doing either is easier said than done. Notes: Star Wars AU; Events take place between episodes III and IV
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
*See the end of each chapter for additional notes on star wars terms*
Link POV
All of the refugees were separated into three encampments, basically more crowded versions of the rebel’s barracks. Rows and rows of bunk beds flanked long halls of grey, green and brown, each with a set of blankets and a small trunk, though none of the former slaves had any belongings to speak of. Link expected no special treatment and he didn’t want any. The other men and women had been through worse in their lives as slaves. They needed a new chance at life more than most and Link wasn’t about to argue with that. He was more than willing to use whatever bed was offered to him. He was more worried about where Rhett was right now.
All the rebels could tell him was that he’d left in hurry, taking nothing but what had been on his person. He didn’t even have his robe, having left it with Link who now held onto it tighter than even he was aware. Colonel Ida’s assistant, Lieutenant Berger, tried to reassure him that everything would be alright, but no kind words could bring comfort.
“Can’t you contact him somehow?” Link asked. Berger just shook his head.
“Our communication systems are second hand, some parts even third,” he explained, showing Link the com station. “We can barely get messages from ships in orbit right now. You have to understand, this base may look like it’s been here for years, but that’s just because all our stuff was scavenged or stolen.” Berger sighed. “The Empire doesn’t leave us much to work with.”
“But you can track him, right? You know where he is?” The holomap wasn’t exactly easy to read. Link gazed over the illuminated star charts, at a loss of finding anything he recognized. Berger pointed at one of the many dots scattered about.
“This one’s us, Svivren.” His finger slid over to another, larger dot. “This one’s Andasala, where McLaughlin is. Sensors are sketchy, but we think he’s back at his old haunt.”
“Haunt?”
“Ah, the ruins. It’s just… never mind.” Looking over the charts, Lieutenant Berger made a few quick reads before his face went pale.
“What?” Link’s eyes swarmed over the map, trying to figure out what Berger was seeing, but it was all nonsense. “What is it?” Instead of answering, Berger didn’t even turn his head as he raised his voice.
“Colonel!” Across the room, Colonel Ida looked up. “Colonel, I think we have a problem.” Immediately Ida strolled over to view the map himself. Berger pointed at a large red dot that Link had mistaken for a star. It was moving right towards the first two dots.
“Have all the pilots from Andasala checked in?”
“Yes, sir.” Berger pointed at various other point on the map, presumably places where the rebels who helped free the refugees were hiding out. “Hex and his men have all reached their temporary posts.”
“Shut down the generators, we’re going dark.” The reaction was immediate as everyone in the command center began scurrying about, some to report to various stations, others to begin turning off all the equipment.
“What… what’s happening?” Link could feet his heartbeat accelerate sharply as the people around him burst into action. The Colonel had disappeared in the mix, no doubt taking control of the apparent chaos, but Berger took Link by the arm and started escorting him outside.
“We have to turn everything off, reduce our heat signatures, essentially hiding from the Empire’s scanners.”
“Will you still be able to keep track of R-, uh, McLaughlin?”
“We’ll have minimal scanners, to keep track of the Empire’s ships, but…” Berger stopped himself, clearly regretting even starting to continue, but it was too late. Link pulled out of his grasp and look him dead in his eye.
“What? Tell me, please.”
“That… that’s not the problem.” With a deep sigh, Berger couldn't look up at Link as he explained. “We’ll have to turn off our homing beacon until the imperial troops leave the area. Even our own ships won't be able to find us without it. Trying to get back will be like taking a shot in the dark.” Link wasn’t stupid, far from it despite his lack of education, but he needed clarification. He needed to hear the truth clear and simple, though he feared he already knew it.
“What happens if he tries to land with the beacon turned off?”
“He can land just fine, but he won’t know where to land. He’ll have to search the planet visually, and if the Empire is on his tail-”
“We have to warn him. You have to get a message to him, or… or leave the beacon on. Something!”
“Even if we could reach him with our comms, we can’t risk sending out anything right now. I’m sorry, Link.” The shorter man patted Link on his shoulder, stepping away. “McLaughlin’s on his own.”
Link didn’t accept that. He couldn’t. There had to be some way to reach his friend, or at least make sure he was alright. With the imperial ships closing in, and Rhett in the midst of it, there was a very real chance that he was going to be captured, or worse. No way was Link going to just sit idly by and let that happen. He had to do something.
He didn’t know how to fly a spacecraft himself, but luckily, he knew someone else who did.
~
“Now remember, if anyone asks, just tell them I’m sleeping.” Rudy shook his head at Kavra, but smiled all the same as he followed him onto the tarmac.
“Sure. I’ll just say you’re hungover again,” he teased, patting the man’s back. Kavra shot him a look, but chuckled all the same.
“Don’t tell ‘em anything that’ll get me marked for scrub duty again.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you don’t want to get in more trouble than stealing a starfighter.” Kavra grinned with pride, walking backwards the last few feet to the ship in question.
“At least I’m doing it sober this time.” Link, glumly wearing a green jacket to match his ugly pants, followed behind the two bantering men, constantly looking around to see if anyone was paying close attention. If asked he genuinely couldn’t answer whose idea this had been, and now that it was going to happen he wasn’t sure if it had been a good one.
“Yeah, well, make it a clean run this time,” Rudy was adding. “If those imps get ya, you’ll wish you were back here scrubbing toilets than whatever they got planned.” Turning to Link, he looked him over. “You sure you wanna do this?”
“I’ve got to find him,” Link insisted. “Make sure he’s alright.”
“McLaughlin can handle himself, no doubt,” Kavra was saying, climbing into the driver’s seat of the ship. “I just want to make sure he doesn’t go back into hiding.” With a bit of help from Rudy, Link clambered into the back seat, the gunner position. The plan was simple recon and recovery, no fighting involved. Link was a bit scared to touch anything around him; it all looked so complicated. Once he was buckled in, Rudy helped him get his helmet on.
“Remember to stay low ‘til you’re out of line of sight,” Rudy reminded his pilot friend. “Go easy on the accelerator. I doubt Link will be able to handle anything past three G’s.”
“Don’t worry, Ma’am. I’ll have your son home before supper.” With a final wink, Kavra hit the switch to lower the canopy. Rudy stepped back, taking the step ladder with him and hurried away as the Y-wing fighter revved up.
“I’m not coming back without Rhett,” Link insisted, not even caring to stick to his friend’s last name. He wasn’t playing around.
“I know, Link. We’ll get him.” Kavra flipped a few more switches before adding “the man owes me a beer.”
~
Link felt his heart stop dead in his chest as the star destroyer came into view. Kavra just managed to duck behind Andasala’s giant moon. Sliding into the shadow of the grey rock, he turned off all the systems and held his breath.
“Did they see us?” Link whispered, as if the people on board the other ship could hear him.
“I doubt it,” Kavra reassured him, in an equally quiet voice. “The planets are right in line for us. Andasala’s moon blocked our approach.” Risking a single blip with his scanners, he checked the location of the imperial ship quickly before turning everything off again. “I think we’re in the clear. In a few minutes their orbit will put the planet between them and us. Then we can land on the far side.”
“How close will we be to Rhett?”
“Well, if he’s still at the ruins, we’ll be opposite him as well, but we’ll be a hell of a lot closer than we are now.” It wasn’t as comforting as Link had hoped, but he just bit his lip and stayed silent. He didn’t exactly have a better plan at this point, and Kavra was at least willing to help. Link had to trust him.
“What do we do once we reach the planet?” Link asked, after a few minutes, unable to take the silence anymore.
“We can cruise the outskirts, stay low to the ground and give the settlements a wide berth until we have to land. Then we’ll have to go on foot.” Rubbing his hands together he tried to ignore the cold creeping in. Link felt it too; with everything turned off including the heat, the chill of space was starting to creep in. “If McLaughlin’s alive he’ll be heading for the far side of the planet anyway. Can’t take off with the imp’s looking right at ya.”
“He’s alive.”
“Link…”
“He is,” Link insisted. He had never been so certain of anything in his life. Well, maybe one thing. “I can feel it.” It sounded strange, but deep down he had this sense he couldn’t explain. He knew Rhett was alive, even though he couldn’t know. Kavra didn’t argue but shrugged and checked the scanners again. The star destroyer was just moving into Andasala’s shadow. It was time.
“Let’s go get him then.” The entire cockpit hummed as he turned everything back on. Link definitely appreciated the heat coming back. He hated the cold. Leaning back, he braced himself for the acceleration. Despite Rudy’s warnings, Kavra punched the throttle, sending the Y-wing into a fairly high gear and sped off towards the planet at top sub-light speed. They were there in a few minutes, diving into the lower atmosphere and out of sight.
“Let’s… let’s not... ugh..” He definitely never wanted to do that again.
“You alright back there? I know that’s probably a bit faster than you-” Kavra’s words of concern were interrupted by another dry heave from the back seat. “Hey… Hey, hold your cookies back there. This isn’t my fighter.”
“I… I’m good.” Link closed his eyes and lolled his head back. He hoped that no matter where he ended up after all of this was over, he’d be able to get there at a much more tolerable speed. His pilot, meanwhile, had turned on the radio and was scanning the frequencies.
“This is Cobalt Five to Green Leader. Come in, Green Leader.” Nothing. Kavra tried again. “This is Cobalt Five. Come in, Green Leader.”
“Green Leader?”
“McLaughlin’s call sign. Man’s almost as good a pilot as I am,” he added with a smirk. Link shook his head. He vowed to someday sit Rhett down and make him tell him all about his past. Obviously it had been far more interesting than he had ever led on. “This Cobalt Five to Green Leader. Come in, Green Leader.” For a long time there was nothing but static. Then… a voice.
“Did you lose your way, to Svivren, Kavra?”
“Rhett!” Link exclaimed. Kavra raised a hand to calm him before pushing the button to reply.
“Just making a pit-stop, old man,” he teased. “I got someone here to see you. You in a good place for visitors?” When there wasn’t an immediate answer, Link’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t considered that maybe Rhett wouldn’t be happy to see him, that maybe he was still mad at him for what the harsh words exchanged at the rebel base. The pause lasted only a moment, but to Link felt like an eternity before they got another response. A single word, but the tone was clear. Not anger, but hope. Confusion, yet eager anticipation.
“....Link?”
Next Chapter
Additional Notes-
Imps: Slang for imperial troopers.
Y-wing starfighter: a small and maneuverable spacecraft designed for combat in the atmosphere or space. The specific model used in this story is BTL-S3B. See link for details.
Star destroyer:  a powerful, feared, dagger-shaped line of capital ships that were put into use by both the Galactic Republic and Empire
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