out af, simultaneously trying to calculate connecting flight times while on the phone with the airline about bambam’s missing luggage. More than once
yells, “everyone quiet, I just need a second to think!!”
headphones but he’s not actually listening to music. Bought a pretzel at an
airport-only food chain. Tries to pretend like he’s not on vacation with the
fam, until Jaebum snaps at him to plz just help out and take the younger ones to the
Jinyoung: has an
excel spreadsheet of everything he needs for the flight. Stands in a twenty
minute long Starbucks line ~because~. Ignores a call from
Yugyeom asking for a frappucino. Buys three books at an airport store and
falls asleep halfway through the first one.
through security screaming, “VACTION!” Forgets his phone on the conveyor belt. Purchases
ten bags of chocolate because it’s “duty free” and eats five before he takes-off.
Somehow manages to board with the priority group because he made a friend in
line at the bathroom.
Bambam: Is held
up by security for ten minutes because of all the mini bottles of shampoo he
brought. Finds that one outlet by the gate and uses it until the last second
before boarding. Sprays himself with cologne from the airport shops. Finds
yugyeom when he gets lost from the group. Brought ten suitcases, checked nine
the tram to the gate bc he’s watching a dance compilation on his phone. Ten
minutes later he’s still working up the courage to ask a girl for
directions when bambam finds him. Has
one backpack he packed his stuff in, is planning on stealing Jinyoung’s shampoo
at the hotel later.
Jaebum around saying, “CHECK” whenever something gets accomplished. Watches planes landing and announces whenever an incoming flight is delayed. Insists
on the middle seat, even though no one asked. Does the sign of the cross before
Hey guys - if you don’t wanna read it just scroll past it but here is a fic i did after trials of the darksaber, and I hope you enjoy it! Happy Valentine’s Day!
Sabine sat on the edge of the Ghost’s ramp, trying not to process what had happened that day. But it had happened. She broke down and let everything, everything go. She had sobbed till she couldn’t hear herself think. It wasn’t often that her guard broke down like that; in fact, it never happened. She pushed everyone away, and it hurt. And now that it was out, it still hurt like hell, viciously tormenting her. The look on Kanan’s face when she exploded, disarming him with her raw emotion. The look on Ezra’s face when she finally admitted what he had been pressing her about for so long. Her mother. Her father. Her brother. Betraying her and leaving her to rot, as if family didn’t matter. It was too much to bear.
Oh gods, Ezra. She didn’t mean to lash out at Kanan like that. And to be reminded that Ezra was an orphan… It wasn’t their fault. Her demons still plagued her after 4 long years, and it ate at her to know that she could have hurt them. She apologised profusely to Kanan, but Ezra was still busy with… whatever he was doing. He probably thought to left her alone for once. And this time, she wished he hadn’t.
She held her head in her hands, and decided she had 5 more minutes of weakness and then would get on with her life. She would paint, and then… Well, she would decide that later. Sabine Wren didn’t do crying unless it was in the dead of the night, where no one would see or hear. The night was often a sea of comfort in which she could wash away her nightmares and pain. But her emotions got the best of her, and she was determined it wouldn’t happen again.
Then a slight cough and some whistling of a familiar tune woke her out of her stupor. There was Ezra, walking along in that easy-going lope of his towards her. It reminded her of how he seemed to sway with the wind on the fields of Lothal. Their eyes met, and Ezra gave her a soft smile.
“Hey there. You… uhm, okay?” he asked. She folded her arms and nodded. “Fine.”
He shook his head. “No you’re not. And that’s why you’re coming with me.”
Sabine snorted. “Going where, exactly?” He shrugged. “Offworld. It’s time we caused some bucketheads a little more trouble, don’t ya think?”
She stared at him. “Are you for real, Bridger? Hera’s going to kick both of our butts worse than I kicked yours today.”
Ezra grinned and leaned down. “Why don’t you ask her, then? Oh, and I kicked your butt first. Rookie.” Sabine elbowed him. “Call me rookie one more time, I dare you.”
Ezra’s gaze turned mischievous. “C'mon. Where’s your sense of adventure, ‘Bine? Its been a while since we did anything… fun.” She snorted. “Right. Fun. No time for fun in a rebellion.”
He scoffed. “Oh, come on! Let’s face it, you’ve probably had the roughest day, like, ever. You need to de-stress. Oh, and Kanan’s cool with it. Just so you know.”
She considered what he was saying a little less disbelievingly. “Are you sure you’re not just lying your butt off to take me out somewhere and disobey orders 'cause you’re in this whole rebelling phase again?” Ezra’s eyes widened and he raised his hands in a who, me? gesture.
“Ye of little faith. I promise you we got permission from both Hera and Kanan. And Chopper is coming with us. It’s all for you - no selfishness included. So whaddaya say? Wanna cause some trouble with me?”
She laughed a little. Okay, maybe she did need some kind of break. From… everything.
“You had this whole thing organised, didn’t you?” she asked, while Ezra shrugged sheepishly. “Alright, Bridger. Let’s go somewhere.”
Ezra pumped his fist in the air and whooped, while Sabine shushed him - “You’ll wake up Zeb!” They walked over to the Phantom, where Chopper and Hera were waiting for them. Hera had warmth in her eyes when she said, “All right, I had to tweak a few things to get you two out of here. As far as anyone knows, this is a recon mission as well as getting those DLT-19’s out of the system - so I want at least two bags of joguns, waffles, chili dumplings, dried kelp strips for Kanan and yes, Ezra, you can get a Bantha burger. ”
The padawan jumped up in the air and hugged the twilek. “You’re the best, Hera!”
Hera smiled. “Don’t get caught by the Empire. That’s all I’m gonna say - this is a one off for you two!” Ezra mock-whispered, “Meh, she’ll cave in next time.”
Hera gave Ezra a steely look. “Don’t wreck the Phantom, hotshot.” While Ezra protested, Sabine smirked. “He won’t. I’m flying.” Ezra wheeled around.
“Oh no you aren’t. You don’t even know where we’re going!” he retorted.
Sabine raised an eyebrow. “So where are we going, oh Master Tracker?”
Ezra wiggled his brows. “You’ll see. Time to fly, boys and girls - uh, should I say, droids and girls. This pilot’s got a few tricks up his sleeve."
Sabine rolled her eyes as she entered the Phantom, while Hera watched on amusedly.
Garel’s city lights twinkled and glowed lilac, while the sea was a wash of black and blue. Since the Ghost crew and Phoenix Squadron had left, the number of Star Destroyers had lessened quite a bit, though Imperial presence was still notable. Sabine looked over to Ezra, who was humming to himself. "By the way, Chopper got your sprays on board - just thought you’d want to know.”
Sabine turned to Chopper. “What the - Chopper! You know no one is allowed to touch those!” Chopper warbled his reply, and the Mandalorian wrinkled her brow, and then burst into laughter.
“Ezra, is that what you were getting at this whole time? Seriously?!” Ezra grinned modestly. “What can I say? It’s been a while since we defaced some Imperial property. I also brought some explosives - y'know, just in case we need them.”
Sabine felt something a lot like joy creep into her heart and swell up inside. Before she realised what she was doing, she ran up to Ezra as they landed and wrapped him in a fierce hug. “Woah there!” he laughed, and something warm and gushing filled his eyes as he embraced her back.
She quickly broke away, slightly embarrassed and said, “I can’t believe - I mean - ” Ezra stopped her, his mouth twisting into a lopsided grin. “You can thank me later. Chopper, let’s roll!”
They jumped out of the Phantom, and put on their helmets, Ezra’s the scout trooper helm Sabine painted for him, and Sabine her Mandalorian helmet. They grabbed 3 detonators each, and Sabine got her paint canisters out along with her sprayer. “Oh, it feels GOOD being able to use these babies properly again!” she exclaimed, and Ezra’s eyes sparkled. He loved making her feel better; so often she’d comforted him when he was down, so what better to help her than by doing what she loved best - mixing art and explosions.
“Remember the old days when we were tagging and blowing up crates on Lothal?” Ezra asked as they snuck around the backstreets. Sabine gave a breathy laugh. “Those were the days. Small rebellion, huh?”
“It’s a big one now,” Ezra replied. “But, we can always revert juuust a little bit.” With that, he leaped up into the air and onto the roof of a building. “Show off,” Sabine said, and climbed up the stalls to join him. They spotted their loot, and got going.
Two heads hung upside down off the roof of a building. Quietly, Sabine crept down and dropped, light as a feather on the ground. Ezra followed, only missing his step slightly and almost doing the splits. Before he could cry out in pain, Sabine pulled him into a side street, trying not to laugh. “ I see you’ve still got your clumsy face on,” she teased. “Oh, shuddup,” he grumbled good-naturedly, and Sabine got to work.
The quiet sound of paint swishing across the crates of DLT-19 guns alerted three troopers to her whereabouts. When they saw her, one gave an audible gasp, and Ezra swore he could see the wide grin beneath Sabine’s helmet. They recognised her, alright - or at least knew of her. 'The Artist’.
“Hey boys. Did ya miss me?” she asked, cockily, in a way that Ezra absolutely loved. The troopers took a step back, and the tallest stated, “Call for back up. One Mando female - it’s the Artist!”
Sabine felt her smile grow wider. “Ah, good to know my rep still stands. And you’ll be glad to hear I’ve brought back-up of my own.” She pressed a switch and somersaulted out of the way, as the first detonator went off, blasting the crates sky high. Ezra dropped like a stone from the roof and landed splat on one of the troopers, successfully drop kicking him. “Hah! Made it!” He exclaimed triumphantly.
The Mandalorian tilted her head. “A bit sloppy, but that was a first. Now come on!” She grabbed his hand and spun him around as they ran towards the bay parallel to where the Phantom was. The thrill of the chase rushed over them, and Sabine found that she was laughing when the second crate blew up, and Ezra bowled her out of the way. “Oh, oh, we should do that again - over there!” Ezra raised his eyebrows.
“Well you’re having a good time now, aren’t you?”
She let out a wild laugh. “Are you kidding? This is the best I’ve felt in ages - oh, don’t let it get to your head, blasterbrain.” Ezra flashed her his best grin. “You know you love me.”
She pressed the button a third time and Ezra swung his arm, using the Force and letting the blaster jelly go flying into the air; landing on an oncoming tie.
It spontaneously combusted in colours of orange, purple and bright pink, flashing across the sky, as if the stars were setting alight. Both of them paused in their run, letting out a sigh of pleasure as they saw just how beautiful Sabine’s creation really was. The padawan noticed how the orange reflected off her eyes and danced between them. He was more than glad to see her like this, to be doing something that she really loved. He snapped out of it when Chopper arrived in the Phantom, ready to pick them up and go.
Sabine’s eyes twinkled even more as she replied, “Do I know that? Maybe I do.” She danced into the Phantom, and Ezra shook his head, gazing up, his heart feeling as though it were going to shoot into the sky amidst the explosion. Chopper’s grumpy beeps urged him up, and they were soon off and being chased.
“Ready for the last one?” Sabine asked, and Ezra gave her another of his lopsided smiles. “Ohhh yeah. Hit 'em with it 'Bine.” She paused. Her eyes seemed to give him a look of, thank you, and she leaned out of the Phantom. “Hey bucketheads! Eat THIS!”
The final explosion was the brightest Ezra had seen in that entire time, and he watched as the Imperial compound flashed blue and gold. The Ties kept chasing, and the pair high-fived before buckling in as Chopper went to hyperspace.
“So… I never got to say thank you,” Sabine began, mid-hyperspace. Ezra turned round from the pilot’s seat and folded his arms. Amusement danced in his eyes, as well as that strange fondness that seemed to glitter whenever they spoke. “For what?”
She raised her eyes to the sky. “For - you know… teaching me how to use a stick.”
Ezra raised both eyebrows. “A stick? Just a stick?” Sabine huffed good-naturedly.
“Not just a stick. The lightsaber forms. Even for a person who isn’t a Force-User. Also… for this. It actually felt really, really good to be messing with troopers and helping put an end to those shipments. Also, tagging my art again.”
Ezra’s eyes twinkled even more. “Anything for you, 'Bine. Maybe it was just an excuse to hang with you.” She rolled her eyes as he flicked her on the shoulder. “Although we still need a round two of the sticks. Gadgets or no gadgets, you know I’m gonna beat ya.”
“Oh yeah? You’ll be begging for mercy before YOU know it, Bridger.”
After she graduates from Samwell, Alicia moves to New York.
She’s got a modelling contract, she’s going to be in Vogue, she’s going to be
on Broadway – she’s going to be all these huge things according to her agent.
It’s not that she doesn’t want them, necessarily, it’s that…it’s that she’s
twenty-three and she’s from Chatham, Massachusetts and she somehow thought she
was going to be married well before she had a career. But, it’s fine. She’s got
an apartment in Manhattan and
everything is exciting and gorgeous and all the people she meets are dull and
gorgeous and after only a month, she’s tired of it.
She’s theoretically dating a Broadway producer at that
point. He has a higher opinion of himself and his tastes than anyone she’s ever
in her life met, but she doesn’t really want to turn him down because this is
how people get parts in things. But when he shows up with some tickets for a
new experimental performance of Swan Lake set to the Beatles, she draws the
“What if we did something a little more…fun,” she suggests.
“Like what?” the producer asks, clearly bewildered.
“Well I think the Pens are going to be in town playing the
Rangers on Saturday,” she says. “Can you get tickets to that?”
He clearly doesn’t know what the Pens or the Rangers are, but
he goes away and comes back with tickets. Alicia’s just so damn relieved to be
going to a perfectly normal hockey game that she can’t contain her excitement.
The seats the producer got them are good. They’re just
behind the boards, liable to get sprayed with ice if anyone makes a serious
turn too close by.
“Does – does the guy in jersey 11 have the same name as
you?” the producer asks, glowering at the ice while the players skate by.
Alicia doesn’t have to look to know who he’s talking about.
“That’s Bad Bob Zimmermann,” she says. She’s having fun
explaining hockey to him in a condescending tone, since it was how all of their
previous dates had been, just in reverse. “His name’s got two Ns at the end of
She doesn’t mention that part of the reason she’s laughing
is because back in Samwell, she and her roommates had gotten silly drunk one
night and started evaluating the prospects of each of the hockey players Alicia
had taped to her walls, and they’d decided that it was Bad Bob who she ought to
marry because then she wouldn’t have to change her last name.
“No, but I would,” she insisted at the time. “I’d have to
add an N.”
“And forever make copy editors cry,” her friend had replied.
The producer shakes his head in confusion at this whole
sport, when suddenly three hockey players slam into the boards right in front
of them. Alicia finds herself face to face with Bob Zimmermann himself and for
some reason he’s looking at her, his brow furrowed just slightly in confusion.
“I’m telling you, it was Alicia Zimmerman,” Bob says,
smacking away the towel someone’s trying to snap him with.
“I don’t know, man, that’s the most starry eyed I’ve ever
seen you over a girl,” the goalie says.
“Of course I was starry eyed, she’s the new face of
Valentino,” Bob says. This is going to be a problem. That’s not something he’s
supposed to know off the top of his head. He has to cover. His team can’t know
he’s been more or less fanboying over this girl for the better part of three
months. “And she was in that play we saw the last time we were in New York.”
The goalie considers. “Who was she?”
“She was the girl,” Bob says. “You know, the really good one
who could act.”
“Blonde?” the goalie asks. Bob nods. “Those blue eyes you
could see even across the theatre?”
“Yeah,” Bob agrees.
“Why are you still in here then?” the goalie demands. “She’s
probably still out there. Go ask her on a date.”
Bob shakes his head, but the goalie, Johnson, grabs him by
“Bob,” he says. “This is crucial. Go ask Alicia Zimmerman
out on a date.”
“Merde, okay,” Bob
says, recoiling from Johnson’s intensity. It’s not actually that bad an idea,
he thinks, as he walks back towards the stands. Alicia hadn’t looked overly
enthusiastic about the man she was sitting next to, so maybe he’s got a chance.
He happens to catch her and the guy in the suit just before
they leave the rink.
“Sorry, you’re Alicia Zimmerman right?” Bob asks.
Her smile could power all of New York it’s so bright.
“You’re Bad Bob,” she says, completely ignoring the man next
to her. He looks miffed, Bob thinks, but he’s also about half the size Bob is
so he’s not worried. “I mean, you’re Bob Zimmermann. With two Ns.”
Bob laughs and Alicia keeps smiling, and the Broadway
producer disappears in a snit.
Alicia never does get around to changing her last name.
I’ve been listening to hiphop and punk since ‘Tony Hawk’s Underground’ came out on the Gamecube. These influences have shaped me today as a person and an artist. It lead me to discover so many different things. I clocked last night I’d hardly done any music inspired artwork, so here’s a MF Doom illustration on wooden board. It’s for sale for £40, if interested please drop me a message or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org