EmmiJade

"Kenobi!" His feet throb. His skin burns. He has lived on Tatooine almost four decades now, and never in all that time have the suns seemed so close to the surface. The sand glitters, and he mops sweat from his mouth and pounds on the door again with his good foot. The other one has developed a raw, festering blister. He has just crossed the Dune Sea on foot. "Kenobi!" he shouts, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. Owen Lars is a proud man – he has never begged for anything in his life, but he has ever been close to it, it is today. "Open the damn door!" Of course, Kenobi has his own vaporators to tend. There are any numbe

Smoke curled around their heads in lazy halos, and the not-unpleasant smell of spice and frying food wafted through the air. Mara leaned against the bar, took a sip of her ale, and surveyed their surroundings as she listened to her crewmates propose a drinking contest that would almost certainly end in disaster. "Hey, Mara," says Ghent, who'd had a quarter of a lomin and was swaying unsteadily. "Isn't that Skywalker?" Out of reflex she blunted her presence in the Force. Yep. Skywalker. Unshaven, bags under his eyes, slumped over a heavy wooden table in the dark, back corner of the cantina. No wonder he hadn't been recognized. He looked as t

The smell of roast waterfowl was thick in the air, and somewhere, nearby, someone was making flatcakes. The smell of frying dough thick with oil and sugar wafted across the field that usually belonged to the Earl of Reddingate, along with many other tempting smells - baking apples, meat pies, roasting potatoes and vegetables on skewers, and someone was even roasting a pig. "And to think," Colin said aloud. "Someone is roasting a pig. All for me. Oh goody." As they past by the skewered animal rotating on a stick, Heinrich tore off a limb and took a bloody great chunk out of it's leg. The juices ran down his face and neck, seeping into his be

Remus Lupin is a nancified, conniving git who deserves to spend the rest of his life in the company of Moaning Myrtle. The aforementioned nancified, conniving git stood back from the wall of the Gryffindor common room and began to chuckle. Where there had once been a portrait of Wendelin the Weird, there was now a copius amount of graffiti glowing blue in the low light. It was scrawled very precisely, as if someone with very messy, very familiar handwriting had tried painstakingly to make himself legible. This was, Remus supposed, their reward for Vanishing Sirius' clothes after Quidditch practice, leaving him to walk up to the castle in his

On the morning after she gave birth, Amarie Minette Beanique rose before the sun, took a long, warm bath, and put her baby in a straw-woven basket. She covered the child, sleeping, oddly quiet, with the dirty sheets still messy from afterbirth, and then topped that with a clean dress that she took from her closet and rumpled herself. After pulling her walking-boots on over stiff, sore legs, she picked up the basket, donned a long, black cloak, and started down the old, creaky stairs of the manor where she lived with her mother and father. Her father was nowhere to be seen, though as Amarie was trying to heave the large, wooden door open, she

“You’re kidding me.” Sam Winchester was one breath away from a heart attack. It was about four-thirty in the afternoon. Both Dean and the Impala were headed somewhere towards Indiana and Sam was with Sadie for the weekend – not-so-funny jokes about babysitting aside, he and Sadie were in a crowded movie rental store. Stuffed full of Chinese food and all the trappings for chocolate cake and ice cream in the back seat, they’d ducked inside to complete the evening with some entertainment. They’d been wandering the aisles for a few minutes when Sam stopped – and with good reason – to pay homage to a part

Jysella's knees knock against the side of the bathtub as she leans over, resting her head on the plasteel edge. Her arms, clamped tightly around the knees drawn against her chest, are white, and there are small red marks developing on the underside of her legs where the fingernails have clamped into flesh. The air tastes like steam, and the only noise in the room is the tumbling rush of water from the spigot into the tub. *** "I don't understand." Lightning splits a tree down the middle in the distance. Jacen watches as it divides and falls, jagged pieces tumbling over grass and leaves and animals. He winces, and turns back to his uncle, f

"Skywalker," Mara growled. "Kindly hand me my lightsaber. If you do not, I will kill you with my bare hands simply because you are standing in my way." Luke was standing in front of the door to his apartment. In one hand, he had her secondary weapon - a small blaster pistol that nevertheless carried a nasty bit of firepower - and in the other hand he had tight hold of his father's lightsaber. "Mara," he began, his voice taking on the soothing, warm tone that always meant he was about to start Jedi-speeching at her. She made a low warning noise deep in her throat. "I know, I know," Luke sighed. "It's embarassing. I'm not too thrilled about

He was married, once. She has known since almost the very beginning, since after that fateful meeting with Blevins, but before her first trip to the basement. Blevins' unspoken ultimatum made her nervous, and drove her to seek out his personnel file. What was it about this man that made the upper echlons of the FBI hierarchy so nervous that he had to be shut down? She found nothing extraordinary about him; contrary to popular belief, Dana Scully's first impression of her eccentric partner was not one of mad attraction. His official photo was unflattering at best, and as she methodically skimmed through his file, she giggled to herself at he

He cupped her cheek with his hand before he left for work, and drew her close; his armor was cold and the hilt of his sword dug into her side as he held her close. She kissed his cheek but not his lips, and he patted her shoulder. "Don't forget to be home before dark," he said gently as he left. "I know you forget, and I worry." She smiles tight against her teeth at the reminder. "Go on," she says. "You'll be late." *** The sole of her well-worn boot is pulling away from the rest of it, just a little. There's a small crack in the leather at the arch of her foot, where snow seeps in and melts from the heat of her foot, soaking her down thr