#I did the galaxy brain idea of starting another fic and that one has taken a lot of my attention lmfaooo

[whattheskyknows]

Oh yeah I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for getting 13 Students to 1000 kudos!!!!

[battlekilt]

Hi there!

So I just read the second chapter of your fic: Aay'han—Mournful celebration: How ARC Troopers saved the galaxy

And I have some questions!

What are the reasons you like this specific ship? How did you start shipping it? (Story time? 🥹)

Which moment inspired you for this ship from canon? Are there any, and if so, which one is your favorite?

Oh boy, the question every shipper dreads and loves to get: Explain to someone how I came to ship this ship, and why I love it.

There is a bit of a backstory, and though I will gloss over some details it summarizes as this: I had a friend at the time who explained to me things they liked about another ship, and I began to ruminate on how there could be commonalities between that ship and if Rex was with Obi-Wan. Then my brain went into new things I felt Obi-Wan/Rex could bring to the table. Though, admittedly, what did I know? I didn't read anything with that ship.

It began to draw on my ideas of exploring how the two characters are held up as the pinnacles of their respective "character class"—Jedi and Clone Trooper respectively, and yet the two have so much potential for strife in their backgrounds.

Admittedly, some of this is all the product of conjecture and headcanon built to fill in gaps, so that will have to be taken into mind.

I'm a big proponent of "Rex is a natural blonde, and because he is a Gen 1 Clone, that caused him Problems(TM) when he was young." Like, I am VERY invested in this headcanon.

It is the idea that these two men, who are well-respected by their peers and outsiders, both surpass their expectations, yet are also aware that they may have barely skirted past failure. The Legends Lore behind Obi-Wan almost aging out of the Order feels as close to a parallel for Rex possibly struggling to be recognized for his accomplishments because of prejudice based on his errant mismatch with the base Fett-clone Genetic Template.

Both men see themselves as what they have been seen in the past: flawed potentials, who persevered through sheer determination and will. For Obi-Wan, it was his ginger-stubbornness. For Rex, it was his Fett-titude.

One of my favorite aspects of Rex as a character is how universally respected he is by vod'e of all ranks and classes, and by natborns—in "No Prisoners," Rex is one of the few Clones that warms natborns up to him because of his humor.

Humor—that's another thing I feel they share, but they also used to hide their hidden struggles and pain behind. The idea that Rex endured his own brand of misery as a child/Cadet, and somehow he became the "funny Clone," in comparison to Mr. Perfect Clone Vanilla Cody, who is seen as quiet and dire by most, just strikes me as a delicious irony that many people with past pain show. Humor is a great way to warm people up to you, to deflect from being targeted with unwanted attention. Obi-Wan uses his humor to disarm and deflect, just as Rex does.

There is also the appeal that Rex, a moderately ranked officer who is the recipient of far more duty, prestige, and respect than his simple rank of 'Captain' should bestow on him, being placed in a position to observe a High Jedi General with fresh eyes.

Based on Legends, Cody takes great pride in being a near perfect product of the Fett template. He has little patience with Clones who show signs of disloyalty; Commander Wolffe is the one who steps in to try and help some wayward vod'e achieve their redemption because Commander Cody doesn't care to bother. Cody is the gifted child who never burnt out, never faltered, always succeeded to meet expectations. He also works closely with Kenobi, and obviously holds him in high esteem—the proper respect and regard a Clone Commander should give. (Though, I do also characterize Cody's dynamic with Obi-Wan to be multifaceted and complicated, which includes a lot of Cody grumblings about his General's shortcomings.)

By comparison, Rex would not only have had his struggles, but he is seen to be around Obi-Wan in periods that would be more different than what Cody may see so often: when Obi-Wan is around Anakin. Anakin and Obi-Wan bring out a lot of dynamism from each other. Despite Obi-Wan's constant attempts to appear to be the perfect Jedi to others, especially Anakin, he also shows that wild-child the best when he is around him. I read that as a chance for Rex to see some perspectives of General Kenobi that others might miss.

Rex is an incredibly intuitive and perceptive character, and I characterize him as more likely to be able to watch others. I just imagine them getting to know each other, learning each other's story—they are the high and the low, the light and the heavy, and they balance each other for it. Rex is more comfortable with honesty than we see Cody is, even though Rex is still shy in that proper way the Clones have.

Early on, I was struck with the image of Rex coming out of nowhere and just... almost calling Obi-Wan out for Obi-Wan's chronic, "I am going to be the perfect Jedi until everyone is convinced it is true, and now I've fooled others into thinking it is... and now I don't know how to stop pretending that's the case."

That Rex is amused by how Obi-Wan embodies the idea and concept the Clones may have had about the Jedi, at least on the surface. But truthfully, Obi-Wan does surpass it—but not by being perfect, but by being flawed, and fighting to overcome that. It is the notion of Rex smirking crookedly at this High Jedi General and saying that what is really impressive about Kenobi isn't the myth of his perfection, but his defiance of his flaws. Though, Rex is also saddened that Obi-Wan wears his mask of a polished Jedi so much, the man has seemed to have forgotten how to take it off, and is afraid of what he'll see in the mirror in return.

Of course, I am intrigued by Obi-Wan being a mechanism of exploring not just Rex's past or the history of the Clones, but their culture. It doesn't take much for me to see Obi-Wan absolutely shocked, enthralled, and genuinely invested in learning so much about these men. That he is eager to be granted any access to dig a little deeper into them, appreciate who they are as men and people. Rex is a genuinely warm character, who I see being more willing to open that up to someone else, whereas I see Cody as more likely to feel it is improper to unload the secrets of the Clones onto a Jedi General.

I am generally disinterested in most Jedi/Clone ships, and even rather leery of most Clone/Natborn ships because I am uneasy with how the non-Clone quickly overshadows the Clones, their struggles, their stories, their identities and culture. Time and time again, the moment I see the natborn character overshadow the Clone in the relationship, I'm forced to go click the back button.

Clone culture is so much more interesting to me than anything else in Star Wars, so much so that I've only begun to explore Jedi Culture solely from the concept of the Jedi and Clones being a balance of each other—one is ancient and the other is short-lived; one uncomfortable with war and the other was made for it; one is multicultural and draws from a long heritage and the other has had to make their own in the absence of progenitor's cultural heritage, after they were rejected by the people of that same culture. The idea that the Jedi and the Clones are two massive groups that are practically soulmates to each other, or one massive dyad, is an idea that just inspires a lot in me. As much as I love the sheer tragedy of their relationship, I also love to explore the capacity for closeness between them. I love the friendship of the Jedi and the Clones, and I still barely trust any Jedi to not overshadow the Clones as the focus of any discussion or conversation.

Obi-Wan is one of the few natborns I feel, with confidence, I can easily conceive of a character who would be respectful and driven to prioritize earning an opportunity to access the "inner secrets of the Clones," over himself.

For me, I simply don't know the other Jedi characters just as well, nor do I easily get interested in other characters enough to become so invested in them; I'm a One True Character person, and Rex is my character. Remove Rex from the equation, and I struggle to maintain interest; he is my hyperfocus, my blorbo, my soldier boy...

Now, as for my favorite moments in the show between them, there is actually a lot. Norcumii documents several hidden nuggets in this post by them.

Throughout the show, when Rex and Obi-Wan are within proximity, even if Cody or Anakin are there, those who elect to be close to each other. It feels like something Cody just accepts.

I also love how on Salucemi, Obi-Wan's very bad and terrible day in pursuit of Grievous just gets worse when he gets word that Rex has been shot. There is something feral how his frustration leaks through.

In Rebels, it breaks my heart how Rex is so confident that if Obi-Wan was alive, that General Kenobi would be there helping him. Personally, selfishly, I love to imagine that maybe Obi-Wan would have wanted to put himself back out there more if he knew that there was any chance that someone like Rex was alive.

The two characters have some strong moments in the show, and in Legends. It starts off with Rex seeing the dour, somber, serious General Kenobi and making a vow that he'll get a laugh out of the man someday, so Obi-Wan and Rex just working together so fluidly.

However, by in large, it is Kadavo that is a single-canon moment that really captures my imagination about them. One of my favorite fics, though incomplete, is Repression, by esama.

The way the two characters work together just makes my heart soar. To have Rex be a witness to one of Obi-Wan's most heartbreaking moments in the show, when Obi-Wan is helpless to help others, which is against everything in the man's nature, and it be Rex who gets to possibly be a comfort... ugh, yes. Of course, as we find out at the end of the episode, we learn that Obi-Wan chose to accept his helplessness, showed the pain it caused, and then with great confidence he slipped off the shackles. The way he smirks at Rex and asks if he is ready, and Rex's reply of, "It's about time!"—delicious! The way the two fought side by side, and the way Rex comes to be the one to make the killing blow, so Obi-Wan doesn't have to—and that devious, quite un-Jedi-like smirk on Obi-Wan's face when he once again knows he can count on Rex to come through.

Add in the idea of Cody being a grumbly "Not my Vod'ika" older brother who kicks up a fuss about them, stomps his foot, mutters remarks about their age difference (which in, is conveniently purely chronological at this point—Obi-Wan is in his mid-thirties, and Rex isn't even a teenager)... In one hand, Cody has a shotgun meant to remind Obi-Wan that Cody still has Mandalorian blood and instincts in him. In the other hand? A shovel. However, if someone comes up and tries to tear Rex and Obi-Wan's happiness asunder, Cody will only complains louder about those two behind their back, while he whacks the threat to their relationship over the head and drag their dead body away. The idea that he doesn't trust anyone else with either of them but the other. On paper, Cody seems to be the most disapproving, but in practicality, he is their biggest supporter because he puts those two di'kute before him. Honestly, Cody is a BIG reason why I ship Obi-Wan and Rex because it just provides so many opportunities and means to show Cody's character.

An extra bonus? For the AUs where the two can have children together, Benji (and later, Annika) is good enough a sell for me. Just a little half-Clone running around with strawberry-blonde hair, bold freckles against his skin, and far too many high-ranking Clones wrapped around his little fingers... Sighhhh. The thought of Cody holding that child for the first time and informing Rex that he, his Vod'ika, has just been dethroned as Cody's biggest inspiration to burn the whole galaxy down for this small person. Benji's wits and smarts are from both his parents, and Cody is truly in love in that special way good Uncles are—their world and identity has been rewritten for this little person, who they just met, who they can't wait to get to know, and have rewritten their entire concept of loyalty and priorities for.

There are so many AU ideas that run in my head, but I should cut this ask short.

Overall, it is a lot of things, some of it explicit or hidden in the folds of canon or legends, and other parts is just personal headcanon and fanon running amok. It is my favorite Jedi blorbo and my favorite Clone boy.

ObiRex is an entirely underrated ship, IMHO, that has a lot of potential that gets easily overshadows, and I appreciate any and all opportunities to see it be given half a chance.

PS. None of this is to shame other ships, especially not Cody*wan. It is simply my preferred Jedi/Clone ship for both characters, well, my only ship I ship for Obi-Wan at all.

[gdcee]

Old Friends

Summary: Loki doesn't meet his three counterparts in the TVA's garbage dump at the end of time but someone else entirely.

Warnings: Some sexual innuendo. Troubling possessive childhood behaviour. Mention of unwanted sexual advances (not perpetrated by either of the main characters in the fic).

==============

Loki considers the words neatly painted in bright red letters on the large signpost.

NO LOKIS (except for the kid and alligator they're cool)

He squints, wondering if his earlier rough landing has jumbled some connections in the language processing bits of his brain. He shakes his head and reads again.

Nope, he evidently did not misread the bit about the alligator.

"What in the name of Buri's wrinkly left-"

Before Loki can finish uttering the obscenity, an overwhelming aura of powerful magic smothers him. He barely has a chance to retaliate before he's swept away like a pebble in a fluvial flood.

He finds himself lying on the half-withered gray-green grass, staring incredulously at the softly glowing incorporeal fetters wrapped about his chest and ankles.

There's only one person he knows with this particular type of binding magic.

But no, no it couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be-

"You have a lot of nerve," her achingly familiar voice rings out in the desolate silence. Her equally familiar face comes into view as she leans over his prone form, "Coming here."

"Sigyn," he can only manage a hoarse whisper at first, but giddy elation soon overtakes shock, and his mouth widens in a cheeky grin, "Oh, I'm certainly not doing that at present but since you've already skipped past dinner to the bonda-"

Sigyn whacks him sharply on the head with her staff. Not hard enough to cause any pain, but hard enough to startle him into silence.

"Brazen," she sighs, sounding more exasperated than offended, "Every single one of you."

"I prefer cockyyy-" Loki trails off at the unamused glare she shoots him, "-shutting up now."

"Good choice."

Sigyn shakes her head and dispels the fetters that hold him. Though familiar, in truth, Loki hasn't felt her magic so close to him in centuries. Not since they were children and he was showing her how to conjure fireworks in her hands.

He wonders briefly if her hair still smells like apple blossoms.

"Come on," she reaches for his hand and pulls him to his feet without waiting for his assent, "Time to go. You know the rules."

"I don't actually," Loki tries not to look upset when she lets go of his hand (pathetic, Norns, he is pathetic), "I don't even know where...what this place is." He frowns, considering. "Probably not Hel since you're here."

Sigyn coughs a short, sharp bark of a laugh. There's no humour in it.

"This is Hel," she says, "In all but name."

"So...I'm dead?"

Sigyn sighs again, closes her eyes and blows at the loose strand of hair hanging in her face.

"Wonderful. You're a new one then. You remember being pruned, yes?"

"Yes. Not very pleasant."

"Quite. Well, this-" she moves one arm in a fluid, graceful arc, gesturing in grandiose fashion at the depressing panorama of refuse and ruined buildings littered about the grey landscape. "-is where the TVA sends their rubbish. Everyone they prune, any physical material from a reset timeline - it ends up here."

"Everything?" Loki quirks an eyebrow, "Seems a little empty of clutter if the refuse of millions of dead timelines is being dumped here."

"Ah. Yes, that would be the work of the giant purple cloud monster of eternal, ceaseless hunger that devours all within its path."

An ominous sounding growl underlaid with the rumble of thunder sounds faintly in the distance.

Loki looks towards the distant horizon and sees a large dark, purplish smear like a fresh bruise in the grey sunless sky. Light flares and something that vaguely resembles a galaxy-class battlecruiser falls from the heavens. Immediately, the great bruised mass is upon the hulking remains.

He is uncomfortably reminded of that ridiculous nightmare he used to have about being phagocytosed by a giant amoeba (he longs for such innocent days, when his bad dreams were the result of his overactive imagination processing tedious microbiology lessons and not recollections of the various horrors he has experienced).

"That would be Alioth. The giant purple cloud monster. Don't ask me who came up with that name. Now if you'll excuse me-" Sigyn turns briskly on her heel and heads off in the direction beyond the NO LOKIS sign.

"Wha- hold on! You're just going to leave?You're leaving me to that thing??"

"Oh please, you'll have plenty of time before it gets here. Besides," she mutters, "You're a Loki. There's a thousand of you in this Norns forsaken wasteland. Trust me, if there's one thing you all do very well, it's survive."

Her words hurt more than he wants to admit. That bad memory loop with Sif had been more painful for obvious reasons, but...he knew what Sif thought of him. Even back then, those words she'd thrown at him had not surprised him.

As a child, he'd always felt special to Sigyn. She'd wanted to be his friend, his own true friend and not just Thor's friend who didn't mind having Loki along for the ride. She'd liked the same things he did. She'd always laughed at his jokes and pranks.

He'd felt like he mattered to her.

Of course that had only made him abominably possessive. He just couldn't abide any other child having her attention. The fear of an insecure wretch - so terrified that if Sigyn looked away even for a moment, she would see something better, that she would find him wanting.

He shouldn't have been surprised when Sigyn did not protest at her father sending her to live with her late mother's relatives on Alfheim when her true powers manifested on the cusp of puberty.

He'd...he'd said such awful things to her before she'd gone. When two people have been friends for centuries, they know exactly what to say to make it hurt. Sigyn had given back as good as she got, but instead of petty childish insults, her accusations had rung with truth.

She'd known why no one wanted to be her friend, she'd known exactly what he'd been doing behind her back - all the tricks, all the schemes, everything he'd done to ensure that none would take his friend from him.

As a parting shot she'd declared that even though he'd been horrid, she had stayed his friend because she had cared about him. That he had been special to her and she hadn't wanted to lose him either.

It was one thing to lose his only friend besides his brother - it was another to know that all his fears had been naught but smoke and mirrors. That he had been awful, that he'd made Sigyn sad and disappointed for absolutely nothing.

She had returned to Asgard.

Eventually.

Týr could only use the excuse of his daughter's magical education for so long. Someone of her abilities was too important an asset for the Allfather to ignore.

In the end, they had come to a reconciliation (of sorts) because they were tired of avoiding each other.

Or perhaps, the more simple truth (that neither would have admitted to) was that they missed each other.

They were never again as close as they'd been as children, but they'd stayed friends (or friendly at least). On good enough terms that the Warriors Four had not sought her out to spin their tale of treachery and magical incursion (Sigyn certainly would have been the ideal person to subdue a treacherous, power-mad and magically gifted regent). But not on good enough terms that he would have approached her for help in his ill-conceived scheme to delay Thor's coronation (perhaps events would have played out more favourably if he'd had someone to bounce ideas off).

That had been his Sigyn anyway. The one who didn't even exist now. Reset into non-existence by the TVA along with everything else on the timeline he'd been taken from.

Did you mourn, he'd asked his brother.

We all did.

He wonders if the Sigyn he'd known had mourned him.

The Sigyn briskly walking away now seems ill-inclined to mourn any Loki. What had the Loki of her timeline done to make her want to have nothing to do with him? He isn't sure if he wants to know.

He is tired. So very, very tired. Tired of feeling responsible for things he has not done (yet? is it really destiny if your life is just a series of bullet points on a checklist created and enforced by a totalitarian bureaucratic organization built by person or persons unknown?). Tired of not being able to do anything to make amends for the things that he actually is responsible for.

Except...he can.

Sigyn isn't a memory construct, she is real, she is here.

It's just one thing, one little thing and it is paltry compared to the other ill-deeds he has committed (and the ones he is fated to commit)-

But it's something at least.

Loki catches up to her easily (being roughly a head taller has its advantages) and grabs the end of her staff.

"Sigyn-"

She fixes him with those sharp, dark eyes and he realises he doesn't know how he's supposed to start this. He swallows past the lump in his throat and says the first word that comes to mind.

"Please."

Her eyes soften just a little, but her mouth remains set in a firm, hard line, and she tries to tug the staff out of his grasp.

He doesn't let go.

"Stop trying to stall me."

"I'm not-" Loki bites back the instinctive protestation and soldiers on. "I need to tell you I'm sorry about what I said before Alfheim and for everything I did before that. I'm sorry that I was selfish, I'm sorry that I didn't trust you, I'm sorry I made you cry and...I'm sorry I wasn't a worthy friend to you."

"...Loki," her voice is soft, "That happened centuries ago. I'm not...I'm not even the Sigyn you need to apologize to."

"You're still Sigyn. You deserve one regardless."

Sigyn has that look on her face. That gentle, pensive consideration tinged with something soft and tender that he can't quite name. She used to look at him like that whenever he did something nice (whether unprompted or as an apology for something not so nice he'd done earlier).

Norns. This is getting awkward. Existential fear at the potential cessation of his existence and his childhood night terrors featuring improbably large unicellular organisms notwitstanding, Loki thinks he might not mind if that giant purple cloud trundled in right now and swallowed him up.

"Well, I'd best get on, hadn't I? Surviving and all that?" He coughs, "I...I'm...it was good to see you again. Thank you for not kneeing me in the crotch mid-apology. I appreciate it."

He turns to leave. He doesn't have a clue where to go, but the opposite direction from the purple cloud monster seems like a good start.

Maybe he'll survive long enough to come across Mobius. Half of him wants to find the man as soon as possible (perhaps also be complimented on his intelligence and the betterment of his moral condition). The other half hopes that he never sees him again (because brainwashed amnesiac variant or not, Mobius has subjected him to very unpleasant situations designed to psychologically shatter him. Loki is the last person in the universe who would hold someone entirely responsible for actions undertaken after their minds have been tampered with, but still. Just because he understands doesn't mean he can forget.)

As for Sylvie...Loki doesn't want to think about it, but if the TVA is smart, they wouldn't prune her. They wouldn't risk a repeat of whatever had happened on Lamentis-1, and since he is already here...

"Catch."

The improbable sound of Sigyn's voice startles him from his ruminations and without thinking his hand shoots up to intercept the small rectangular object wrapped in plastic and foil before it hits his face.

Loki stares at the granola bar (expiry date 12/12/2075) incredulously and then at Sigyn, walking briskly at his side and keeping pace with his long strides.

"I thought you-"

"You looked hungry."

"Sigyn, I believe this is what the Midgardians call 'giving mixed signals'."

"Look," she sighs, "I've been looking for...someone very dear to me for a very long time. I can't deny I feel some resentment for everyone I meet wearing his face. My baggage isn't an excuse for my rough treatment of you. It was unfair of me, and I apologise."

He blinks, not quite sure what to make of what she's telling him. Sigyn had never been one to mince words, she either said exactly what was on her mind or nothing at all.

That she is being deliberately vague and yet throwing up strong implications with her choice of words means that she does not want to lie but believes the truth is not something that he will be happy to hear.

Well, by now he's had a lot of experience dealing with unpleasant truths. Another one added to the pile is hardly going to hurt.

Sigyn has just started drinking from a battered metal canteen when he voices his suspicions.

"It's Theoric, isn't it?"

She chokes and spits out half of her drink.

"What?!" She wheezes, "What in Ymir's hoary arse gave you that idea?!"

"Didn't you fancy him back in-" Loki grimaces, snapping his fingers as he tries to pinpoint the date in question, "That year when burgundy was all the rage. Burgundy, scandalously low necklines and uncomfortably tight trousers."

"I went on a date with him because he was handsome, he was annoying me and I was young and stupid," she sneers, "He tried to put his hand up my skirts an hour into the picnic so trust me, after that I wanted nothing to do with the louse."

Something a little too much like that old familiar selfish anger bubbles up in his chest.

"He dared," he growls, "He dared to put his hands on you. He should have had his filthy paws struck off at the wrist for the insult to your dignity."

"Eat your granola, don't crush it," Sigyn says calmly, "In any case, I resolved the situation quite easily and without bloodshed."

"Shame," Loki mutters. He takes a bite of the now somewhat crumbly Midgardian snack and wrinkles his nose at the taste. "So how did you handle that son of a bitch?"

"I rendered him impotent for a year. I would have kept it permanent but he came crawling on his hands and knees begging for my forgiveness, swearing on the souls of his ancestors never to trouble me again, vowing to gift me his firstborn as my thrall etcetera etcetera..." she shrugs, "What can I say? I'm soft."

Loki doesn't remember the last time he's laughed this hard.

[icefire149]

27

Hey there anon! 

SPN ASK GAME:

27. Make up an episode of spn and give specifics

[You either were galaxy brain for picking this at random or you’ve been reading my tags where I go off on fanfic ideas /spn takes in general / my tags referencing the season 16 fic I’m working on]

Okay so I decided on an episode that would have taken place during the Mark of Cain arc when we had the Cas - Dean - Crowley shenanigans at play. I think I’m gonna place this after Dean gives the first blade to Cas over Crowley. So this is a last hurrah of Crowley being mad at not being Dean’s pick.

This ended up being ridiculously long so....enjoy~

///

It’s day, and the episode opens with Cas leaning against his car. It’s pulled off to the side of an old country road. Eyes narrowing, Cas crosses his arms. “This better be important.”

“Always good to see you too, angel.” It’s Crowley. He comes walking up, hands in his jacket pockets. A devilish smile pulls at his lips. “I wouldn’t have called you out here if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.”

///

Cut to Sam and Dean walking back to the impala. It’s night and they’re both exhausted and nursing bruises. They’re both holding machetes, which they deposit into the trunk.

Sam watches Dean like a hawk. His eyes keep trailing to the mark. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Sammy. A little vampire blood isn’t going to push me over the edge.”

“Okay, fine.”

They drive back to the motel to clean up. Some time has passed. Dean starts pounding on the bathroom door. “I’d like to get dinner this century.”

We move to Dean walking in the parking lot, mumbling his annoyance at Sam for taking so long. Just as he get to the car, he’s jumped by a group of people. Bag over his head, tied up, dragged away. He end up at an abandoned warehouse. 

Luckily Sam caught the last bit of that kidnapping and he gets in the car, speeding after them. 

They pull the bag off of Dean’s head. The mark is screaming at him. It’s the rest of the nest of vampires. Turns out the nest was bigger than him and Sam thought. Their plan was to divide and conquer making the boys suffer long, agonizing deaths for revenge. They didn’t expect Sam to burst right in. He passes Dean a machete during the fighting.

Still, they’re horribly outnumbered and they’re getting their asses kicked. Dean gets knocked back onto the floor. His machete gets tossed another direction. Sam takes out the last vamp in his reach. Dean is fumbling for a gun or knife, anything he might have on his person. The vampire gets closer, about to lunge. Sam yells. And then the vampire’s severed head hits the floor. 

“I don’t know what you boys would do without me.”

Dean blinks and stares up. “Cas?”

Dean gets up and Sam jogs over. They’re both staring oddly at Cas. “What happened to you?”

 “I went shopping.”  Cas shrugged. “What? I’m not allowed to update my wardrobe?”

“No..uh..” Through Dean’s perspective we get a good look at Cas’ new look. He’s wearing a new black suit. Finely tailored. Blue gem encrusted cuff links. Hair trimmed and styled in a purposely messy look. Dean’s eyes close in the tiny hoop earring. “Dude, did you pierce your ear?!”

“What!” Sam steps between them and bobs his head around looking at Cas. “Holy shit.” 

“Are we done yet?” Cas rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize this was going to be such a big deal.”

Sam steps back to stand by Dean. 

Dean started stuttering. “No, uh, it’s fine. You look.....uh, you’re looking real good.”

“Smooth,” Sam leans in and teases. Dean shoves him a bit.

Cas takes a step forward towards Dean. “Thanks.” He winks.

Dean gets massively flustered. 

///

Cut to Dean, Cas, and Sam at dinner. It’s a sports bar location; busy Friday night crowd. They were lucky to snag a table. The waitress is taking their food and drink orders. 

Cas takes one look at the drink menu and tosses it aside. “Just get me what I normally order.” He rubs at his eye.

Sam shot him a weird look.

“What?”

“You don’t normally order anything,” Dean said leaning in close. “You okay? Did some rogue angel scramble your brains while you were gone?”

“Ah, yes. I’m just always as interesting as a wet paper towel I see,” Cas grumbled. “I don’t always order nothing.” He looked at the waitress. “Just get me something sweet. Anything, really.”

She nodded and took off away from the table.

Dean turned to completely to Cas, who was sitting next to him. He studied him. His gut was telling him something had to be off.

Cas meanwhile leaned an elbow on the table, and rested the side of his face in his hand. “What is it?”

“There’s something going on.”

The look in Cas’ eyes brightened. “Oh, you like what you see?”

Dean gets flustered and trips over his tongue again. He turns away when Sam coughs loudly.

///

Cut to Jody’s house. It’s earlier that same day. Claire’s bedroom. She sitting in the middle of her bed with piles of books and papers scattered around her. The lights start flickering. She looks at it sternly and jumps to her feet. The flickering gets worse, and then her expression softens. Then it looks confused. “Cas?”

They have a conversation, but we can only hear Claire’s end of it. 

“Slow down, I’m listening. Okay hold on. Let tell Jody so she doesn’t have a stroke.”

Claire finds Jody in the kitchen getting some pans washed. “Hey, I’m gonna need a rain check on dinner.”

“Why?” Jody turns around to see Claire with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. “Where are you going?”

Before she can answer, the lights start flickering. 

“Damn it,” Jody mumbles.

“We gotta go! The king of hell took my dad’s body.”

“What?”

The flickering gets worse and Jody puts a hand on her head like it hurts.

“Back off!” Claire yells up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to think with all your worrying. I get it.”

The flickering stops. Jody looks at Claire like she has three heads. “Wanna explain what’s going on.”

“It’s Castiel.”

“Dean’s guardian angel friend?”

Claire laughed at that.  “Yeah. The lights, that’s him. And he’s pissed.”

“Why is he here?”

“He needs to borrow me to get his...my dad....remember he’s wearing my dad as a vessel? The king of hell blasted him out and took his body.”

Jody crossed her arms. “And where do you come into play here?”

“Angel vessels are specific. He took my dad for a reason. I apparently work as a substitute.”

“So you’re gonna let an angel go joyriding with your body?”

“Yes.”

“While he goes to get his revenge on the king of hell?”

“Yeah.”

Sighing, Jody glares up at the ceiling. “I swear to God you better bring her back safely.”

Claire winced. “He says if anything happens he’ll give you an angel blade to finish him, yourself.” Claire looked up at the ceiling. “You’re insane. Don’t be so dramatic.”

///

Move to Claire outside her car. She goes to get in, but then she stops. “Fine I’ll let you drive.”

That’s when we see the angel glow and burst of light. She let Cas in. The light dims and Claire’s expression and posture changes. Cas gets behind the wheel of the car and floors it.

///

“I’ll go get us another round,” Crowley said getting up. Sliding past Dean, he ran a hand lightly across Dean’s shoulder.

Dean grinned and watched with puppy eyes. Not that he’d admit it, but he was enjoying the view.

“Dude,” Sam leaned in. “Seriously, what’s going on with Cas? Did he snap? Witches?”

Dean shook off the feelings he had moments ago. He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. He’s been through a lot lately.”

“Yeah, we all have. I don’t see anyone else changing their whole...persona.”

“Fine. We’ll just have to keep an eye on him.” Dean turns and stares for too long at Crowley talking to the bartender. 

Sam sighs.

///

It cuts to the three of them getting back to the bunker. Dean keeps eyeing Crowley, who keeps taking every opportunity to wink or smile when he catches Dean looking. Sam gives up and goes off elsewhere. 

Dean trails off to the kitchen and soon enough realizes that Crowley is following him. “Need something?”

Crowley shrugs. “Nope. Just figuring out how I should be spending my time until morning.”

A shiver shot down Dean’s spine. He quickly opened the fridge and guzzled a bottle of water.

“Thirsty?”

Dean held up the bottle. “A bit.”

Crowley leaned back against the counter. He was fiddling with his cufflinks. “Are you sure that’s enough to satisfy you?”

Dean choked on his next sip of water. He started coughing like crazy. 

“Dean!” It was Sam’s voice from somewhere down the hall.

“Cas, what is up with you? What are you talking about?” Dean stepped closer, ignoring Sam’s calls.

Crowley took a step forward. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Dean! Where are you!” Sam’s voice got closer. “THAT’S NOT CAS!”

“What.”

The kitchen door slammed shut and Dean flew backwards, back against the fridge. 

Crowley laughed. “Oh, that was fun while it lasted. Dean you are way too easy.”

“Who are you?” Dean snarled.

Cas’ blue eyes were obscured with a smoky, demon red. “Miss me, darling?”

“Crowley.”

“Yes,” he gestured down his body with a hand. “Like my new look? I think I’m starting to see the appeal.”

“Get out of him,” Dean lunged forward. 

“Oh, are you sure? You seemed quite pleased all night. You can’t tease and not follow through. That’s just rude.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. He didn’t have any weapons besides basic cutlery. He could try an exorcism, but Crowley would shut him up before he could get anywhere.

Crowley laughed again and took a few steps around the kitchen. “It’s such a shame Cassie doesn’t know how to use his assets. He could have had you tied down in bed ages ago.”

And just then the door flew open. Both Dean and Crowley turned to look, but then Crowley was slammed into the floor.”

“Cl-claire?”

Cas turned to look at him. “Hello, Dean.” His eyes glowed a brilliantly, grace fueled blue.

“Cas!”

He nodded and then turned back to Crowley. “You abomination, what did you do to my body?”

Cas kicked him several times, despite that he was damaging his own vessel. He then threw Crowley into the wall and shoved him in hard. The wall was damaged and cracked. Cas groaned internally knowing that Dean was going to make a fuss about it later.

“I gave you a few upgrades.”

“He pierced your ear,” Sam called standing next to Dean now.

“Among other things. How did you get that other tattoo to stick? I couldn’t get the new one to stay.”

Cas slapped him. “Get out of my body.”

“Oh piss off and make me.”

Sam started the exorcism, and Crowley shrugged under Cas’ force. 

“Whatever, I had my fun. Tested a theory. See you all soon.” And Crowley swirled out of Cas’ body and left. 

Cas laid the body carefully on the floor. He turned to Sam and Dean. “Close your eyes.”

They did, and in a brilliant light Cas left Claire’s body for his own. His vessel was healed of all the injuries he had caused moments ago. 

Claire, a bit woozy, stumbled a bit. “Hey guys.” She looked at Cas. “You should have kicked his butt harder.”

He was busy looking down at his new outfit. “Don’t worry, I’m planning on tearing him into tiny strips of flesh.” He looked up. “It was just...a bit awkward while he was in....”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to damage you either.”

Cas looked at Dean. “What did he mean about, testing a theory?”

Dean averted his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, Claire,” Sam cut in, changing topics. “Does Jody know you’re here?”

“Yeah, I should call her now though.” Claire went to dig for her phone. It wasn’t there. “Must be in the car.”

“I’ll get a room ready for you to stay the night,” Sam said leading her out of the kitchen.

They leave Dean and Cas alone in the kitchen. They sit at the table. Cas scowls, lost in thought. 

“Are you okay?”

Cas sighs. He looks at Dean. “Yeah.”

“You sure? How did this even happen?”

“He jumped me with a banishing sigil. I’d never seen it before, but it tore me right out of my vessel. He jumped right in before I could do anything.”

Cas’ frowned. “I feel disgusting. Who knows what else he did.”

Dean got up and stretched. “Come on. I’ll show you where Sam hides the good stuff.”

“Dean, I don’t see how alcohol is going to make me feel better.”

Dean laughed. “No. The good body soaps. So you can scrub until you feel like you again.”

“Oh.” Cas got up and followed Dean out. He looked down at the clothes again. “How stupid did he make me look?”

Dean stopped dead in the hallway. Cas collided into his shoulder.

“He didn’t make you look stupid.” Dean’s eyes trailed over Cas again. The knot in his gut was gone. He looked even better than earlier, because he was Cas. “It’s a nice suit.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I miss my coat.”

Dean slapped a hand onto Cas’ shoulder. “No matter how you’re dressed, you look nice. You look like you and that’s what matters.”

Cas nodded and followed Dean down the hallway.

end~

[idkwriteshitdown]

Do You Know What a Thousand Years Does to a Person?

Trying my hand at a Doctor Who fanfic, featuring old companions and a slightly dark Doctor.

Some race has taken a bunch of The Doctors previous companions from their respective timelines. The thirteenth Doctor rescues them all. The past companions are reminded of how scary The Doctor can be.

This fic starts right after she breaks them out.

Word Count: 2109

(ao3 link)

---

Jack slowed down as they entered the main chamber. They had passed tapestries in the passageways as they made their way through the castle. None of them compared to what they saw hanging in the open area. Large woven tapestries were stretched horizontally over the length of the walls. They were periodically broken up by long banners that stretched down from the ceiling. The companions spread out as they looked upon the artwork in awe. The Doctor, Jack noticed, stood her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels as she watched them roam around the room.

He turned back to examine the work on the wall. It looked to be depicting several of their accomplishments throughout time. He saw their space travel. He saw their interactions with other planets. He saw their scientific achievements. He felt eyes on him

He turned to see The Doctor staring at him with a slight frown on her face. When she saw him looking, her face brightened and she gave a small wave. The smile didn't reach her eyes.

He turned back to look at the tapestries again. Something about them seemed familiar. He looked over them once more, but instead of admiring them for their beauty he racked his brain for answers. He stopped short when he came to the last one. It was unfinished, that was clear. The last thing shown was a group of beings, hands raised as they surrounded a hole in the tapestry. He reached out and touched it. A rift. His eyes widened and he slowly stepped back, taking in the whole work. He knows where he's seen this.

He plastered a fake smile on his face. "Doctor," he called out. The others glanced up at the call but turned back to the artwork, chatting among themselves. The Doctor stood still, regarding him wearily. He swallowed thickly and motioned for her to come over to him. She did so. Slowly.

He waited until she got within earshot before speaking again. "This artwork is very impressive," he said, turning back to face the wall. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. He saw her relax a little and reached out to run a finger over the rough fabric.

"It really is. It's a fine piece of craftsmanship that was put into this," she said. She looked up at the other pieces hanging higher up on the wall. "This whole room contains the most important parts of their history. Every time they add a new tapestry they shift everything over."

The others had wandered closer as she explained the history behind the area. Jack nodded and thought about how to approach his next question. "Doctor," he said, keeping his tone light. "Where are we?"

She hummed, but did not answer. She stayed quiet for a while and Jack thought she wasn't going to speak until she did. She spoke, but did not look at him. "Nowhere important," she said lightly.

The smile fell off his face. Slowly he counted to ten before turning to face The Doctor. "Look at me," he said gruffly. She didn't move and instead continued to look ahead. He grabbed The Doctor roughly and turned her around to face him.

"Doctor," he said again.  "Where are we?"

"Jack," she said softly. She looked at him with those big doe eyes, and he cursed under his breath before asking again desperation leaking into his voice.

"When are we?"

"Jack…" she didn't say more.

He turned around taking deep breaths. He ran his hands roughly through his hair and tried to count to ten. Dimly he registered that the others had stopped talking, instead paying attention to the two of them. He ignored them, instead focusing on his counting. He made it to five before swinging back around to The Doctor. He saw her flinch and knew that he must look furious.

"Doctor," he said. His voice cracked on the word. She didn't answer, instead took a step back, retreating from his approaching form. She continued stepping back as he advanced until she tripped, stumbling. Jack's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, hauling her back up before she could fall. He looked into her eyes. He didn't see fear. He only saw guilt, and acceptance. His grip tightened.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed. Quiet enough that only he could hear.

"No," he whispered. He could barely hear himself over the roaring in his ears. The Doctor didn't respond, only looked at him sadly. He raised his free hand. He didn't know why. He didn't know what he was going to do. The Doctor didn't move, didn't even try to pull away. He felt hands on him. Grabbing him, pulling him away. He released her and stumbled back.

"What the hell was that about mate?" Graham said angrily.

They were divided. Mickey and Martha stood behind Jack, holding him back. Graham hovered protectively over The Doctor while Yaz and Ryan stood in front of her glaring angrily at Jack. The others stood in between not sure where they should stand. The Doctor herself stood cowed, curled slightly in on herself, holding her wrist tightly to her chest. She didn't look away from him. She looked small and innocent and Jack didn't even think she knew how she looked to the others right now.

"Jack," she said softly. She didn't elaborate.

Jack roughly shook off Mickey and Martha and flexed his fingers. "It's nothing," he ground out. He turned and started walking towards the entrance. "Let's just keep going."

"Keep going?" He heard Yaz shout from behind him. "You just –". She was cut off by The Doctor.

"Leave him be," he heard her say. "He's just stressed out." He shook his head in annoyance and walked away so he didn't have to hear her pacify her new companions.  

~~~

The atmosphere in the room was tense. The Doctor had long since left, whisking her three companions off on another adventure. "To make up for them being kidnapped," She had said. She extended the offer to all of them. Jack declined immediately. The others, after looking at Jack and the worried look on The Doctor's face, had also declined, citing various reasons as to why they shouldn't. They couldn't help but note the look of relief that crossed her face when they said they wouldn't come.

Instead they all chose to convene at Martha and Mickey's house. They had sat together in silence for the better part of the hour; sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits. Jack could feel their eyes on him as they tried their best to not watch him as he methodically crushed the biscuits in his hand. It was Mickey who spoke first.

"Alright Jack mate, speak. What the hell happened back there?"

He flinched at the sound of Mickey's voice but didn't answer. He reached for another biscuit and got his hand slapped. He pulled back and scowled looking at the offender.

"Don't give me that look." Martha said unapologetically. "I'm not going to have you waste all my biscuits. And you're definitely going to be cleaning up the mess before you leave."

"Jack," Sarah Jane reached out and touched him on the knee. "What happened?"

He leaned back and ran his hand through his hair trying to think of the best way to explain things. "Lamenskins," he said finally.

The others exchanged confused looks. "Mate, I've got no idea what that is." Bill said. The others nodded in agreement.

"You probably wouldn't," he said. "It was after your time. It was before mine. By a couple of centuries."

"Is that where we were?" Clara asked.

He nodded. "The castle, the area, the group of people. That was Lamenskin. At least I think" He paused. Everyone settled down and leaned in. He looked around at each of them in turn. He opened his mouth and began to speak.

"It’s a bit fuzzy and I didn’t know for sure until I saw the tapestries.” When I grew up the Lamenskins were just a chapter in our history books, but before that they were kinda like a myth. There were all these stories of this amazing race that had pushed the bounds of science and medicine. A race that had single handedly advanced our section of the galaxy far beyond that of other areas. There were so many stories across so many planets of this group whose only goal seemed to be helping others. But one day they just disappeared.

“Over time they sort of became an urban legend. It was only a century or so before I was born that some archeologists stumbled upon their planet. They found technology far beyond anything that we had even seen. But there was no trace of the Lamenskins.”

"You think The Doctor caused their disappearance." Martha said.

"We know what length The Doctor would go to protect us." He said. "We may pretend not to but we're not like the others. We've seen what he, no she, no they. We've seen what they can do."

"The Oncoming Storm," Mickey said softly.

"The Destroyer of Worlds,"

"Time-Lord Victorious,"

They sat in silence, each one trying to digest the information that was told to them.

"We didn't see any bodies." Bill said hopefully. "Could be that she just magicked them away?" Even as she spoke Jack could tell she didn't believe it.

They sat in silence. Nibbling biscuits, sipping tea, avoiding thinking about the obvious fact of what happened to their captors. Jack reached for another biscuit, examining it. Custard Cream. That was The Doctor’s favorite if he remembered right. He closed his hand and watched it crumble to the floor.

"Have you noticed how much this new doctor talks?" Bill asked. It was an obvious attempt to clear the awkward air that had settled around the room, but the others leapt at it like a lifeline. "It’s a big change from grumbly old eyebrows."

Clara nodded laughing. "It really is. I swear she jumped to three separate topics in one minute. I don't know how the others keep up with her."

"They probably just learned to nod at the right places," Mickey said. "I know I did with our Doctor." He nudged his wife.

She rolled her eyes. "It was practically a requirement. I’m glad to see that the tendency to talk indef about things nobody cares to understand still remains." The others chuckled in agreement. "I saw their faces when we first got out. Their eyes practically glazed over the moment she started talking. They are definitely used to that."

"But she is kinda cute tho." Bill said. "What?” She said defending herself. “We were all thinking about it."

Mickey raised his hand. "I wasn't. I'm married.”

They all laughed, and just like that the mood in the room lightened.

"But seriously though," Bill said. "You all knew The Doctor as a man right? It’s so weird."

“I know.”Mickey said, “I can’t imagine her gettin’ out half the trouble she’d get into as a woman.” At the looks he received he added, “not that being a girl has anything to do with it.”

“You’re outnumbered my friend.” Jack said with a smile. “I can’t decide if this new regeneration puts her in more or less trouble. She’s so trusting and excitable. You can see it on her face, she shows every emotion. She’s impulsive-  ” He cut himself off in frustration, hands raking roughly through his hair. He liked The Doctor. Honestly, he did, but sometimes she scared him. “It’s what makes her dangerous.”

“You think she could’ve found another way.” Clara said flatly.

“I don’t think she wanted to.” He replied. He slumped, feeling all his years hit him at once. “You guys don’t understand. She’s lived for thousands of years, born to a race that thought themselves superior to everything else. It gets difficult to keep things in perspective. Hell, I’m only human, and have been around just for a fraction of the time she has. It gets hard. When you outlive so many people. It gets hard to keep things in perspective. Sacrificing a whole civilization to save her friends?” He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. “I know she did what she thought she had to do but…” He trailed off and looked at his friends. Friends he knew he was going to outlive.

"It still hurts.  To be reminded of what she's done. What she will do. What she can do. And to know that no matter how many thousands of years will pass, she'll never forget." Jack looked down at his hands. "I know I won't."

[adelcrait-old-account]

Lost and Found— Chapter 15: The Boss

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522103/chapters/64196512

After discovering a security breach, Vader sends Luke and Piett undercover to a bar frequented by criminals, hoping to run into the woman that is planning to defeat the Empire. 

Meme spoilers and a rant under the cut:

Hello! 

This chapter was a long time coming thing. I wanted to change the scenario and get them all to an actual planet with real air. Luke’s been up in space for weeks, but Piett must have been there for a few months, if not a year. I’m sending him on a vacation, he deserves it.

July me also thought it was the funniest idea to write Piett, unmasked Vader and Luke in a bar talking about Vader. Luke would introduce unmasked Vader as “his mortal enemy”, and Piett would believe it. I also find it incredibly amusing (to me) that Vader refuses to act as another person because: a) *dramatic spotlight* He is Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, current temporary Emperor, Leader of the Imperial Security Bureau, Leader of the not-so-secret Investigation against the Galactical Insurrection....He will not do something as foolish as acting. Do you even know who he is? He is Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith- b) He refuses to act as Agent Broly because he just doesn’t care. In the end he did reveal his identity to Piett, and he knew it was a risk coming there unmasked, but there is trust between them, and so Vader doesn’t see the point of acting as this Agent Broly.

For some reason when I first started writing Agent Broly I imagined a tall surfer himbo of some sort. Do with this information whatever you want.

1. The Boss

Now onto the star of the night, Anak- sorry. *coughs* the spotlight please? Thank you. nOW ONTO THE STAR OF THE CHAPTER: Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, current temporary Emperor, Leader of the Imperial Security Bureau, Leader of the not-so-secret Investigation against the Galactical Insurrection... My mans a bit out of character, but hey! This is an Alternate Universe where Vader when stressed acts like clone wars Anakin because there is enough love in my heart for all versions of this character. 

The real boss of the chapter is Miss Celissa Vanis, finally making an appearance after Chapter 6, when Luke and Vader just found her in the Coruscant rebel base. Remember those times? Feels like ages ago. Where has she been? What is she doing? Does anyone know what she’s doing? Do I know what she’s doing? What is her Modus Operandi? Does she have one?

Listen.......She’s out there getting stuff done. It took her less than six months to scare The Darth Vader, kidnap Palpatine and Mothma and start a very organised clandestine riot. SHE’S GETTING SHIT DONE.

I really like her. She is the antagonist of the story, yes, but hey! She’s charming and makes some very good points even if the execution of her ideas is....well, bad. People are dying. But she makes sense, even if I, as a person that is also reading the story and has opinions, disagree with her.

Celissa had a dramatic entrance, and she also got a dramatic exit. It has taken me over 70,000 words, but I finally decided to include something about...you know. That guy. 

Celissa stared at the ship. Her people looked at her for guidance, but she didn't have any. She was already planning to get rid of Darth Vader's new Sith apprentice. "You! Pick up the blasters and let's go. The Emperor has some questions to answer." 

Palpatine, answering questions? Celissa, teach me your ways. 

2. ‘The Skywalkers: I am The Last Skywalker Left, both Skywalkers say’ A STAR WARS STORY

These two... I know they’re related, you know they’re related, everyone knows they’re related, and I know that they will know that they’re related (I’m not telling you the How yet ;D) but...they share one brain cell, and in this chapter Luke has it. Which is understandable, because Vader is out of his comfort zone and has a lot on his plate. He probably hasn’t been to a space!bar since that time Hondo kidnapped Obi-Wan and him...about twenty-five years ago.

Luke, on the other hand, spent most of his life on Tatooine. He probably befriended ‘cool looking people’ in Mos Eisley when he was five and his Uncle had to drag him away because those people were dangerous. Luke in a bar filled with dangerous people is like a fish in the sea.  But I think that the fact that Luke and Vader are related by blood will just be a major Plus when the truth is revealed, because I already see that they’re vibing as friends. Hell, they even argue like children through the Force because Vader’s being snarky (because he’s out of his comfort zone) and Luke is just not letting him get away with things Vader usually did.

Hey, and I love them for that.

3. ‘The not-a  Commander, Someone Help Him’

I would quote Rickey Thompson’s you are my ride or die video, but I want you to watch it. This is me talking about Luke in this fic.  The Commander, Ben Starkiller. As I said before, Luke is more comfortable in the ground with the normal people because he spent most of his life on Tatooine with his Aunt and Uncle, moisture farmers. He understands people, he understands crime, he has seen people being wrongly accused of crimes they did not commit. So when Darth Vader starts talking about criminals, Luke steps in. He said this in Chapter 3, and his position still stands. He might not officially be a rebel anymore, but his morality hasn’t shifted:

Vader continued staring at him. “Why did you join [The Rebellion] ?” Luke clenched his jaw. “The Empire is a rotten, corrupt fascist state that supports slavery and massive genocide,” he said calmly with a shrug, “I have witnessed enough to see that something must be done against it.” “That is all theory, Commander. I am asking what caused you personally to be against it.” “I won't watch how innocent people are killed because the Emperor threw a tantrum.” Vader wanted to say that his Master never lost his composure: out of both of them he was the most likely to throw tantrums. Sidious was more strategic in his murders. “The Empire took the life of someone you knew.” Luke clenched his jaw. “A great deal of many people, sir. This is a war.” He would never reveal what the Empire did to his aunt and uncle, he wouldn't give Vader that pleasure. "No one cares about murders on Tatooine."

4. Hondo Ohnaka, Forever Young

I loved him in the Clone Wars and in Rebels. This is the man that when confronted by Darth Maul and Savage Opress, said the following:

Darth Maul: "Filth, you will pay for your insolence." Hondo Ohnaka: "Insolence! We are pirates! We don't even know what that means. Open fire!" 

I can only imagine the kind of stories there are about this man in the galaxy, and Luke has heard them all, so when he heard that Hondo said Vader tried to kill him, I just imagined this:

Imagine sending this without context to someone that hasn’t read my fic but knows the star wars lore....I would be very confused. It could also be an AU where Hondo finds baby!Luke and raises him as a pirate, and then Vader comes for his child and finds Luke Ohnaka speaking fluent pirate slang with the man that raised him. 

In case you didn’t know, Hondo kidnapped Anakin and Obi-Wan for ‘business’ in the clone wars TV show. After that, Anakin was too distracted with the war to go find Hondo again, so they left on neutral-to-bad terms.  On the long list of people that Vader wouldn’t want to see him unmasked, Hondo is at the bottom, because Vader doesn’t even remember he exists. Imagine you’re Vader (I know, I know), you’re approximately forty-five years old, drowning in work, undercover in a mission, arguing with this boy who is accusing you of being “impossible”, and then he goes very quiet and says “That’s Hondo Ohnaka.” The name is oddly familiar, and you turn around and you see him. That dude that kidnapped you when you were only twenty years old. This was over 25 YEARS AGO, surely he won’t remember you, right? 

Right?

5. Captain Kathmir, who?

Captain to Darth Vader at the start of the Empire, led the 501st to battles, a very well known figure in the Imperial Fleet...so why doesn’t Vader want to talk about her?

Piett spoke. "Yes, precisely. [...] Everyone knows what happened to Captain Kathmir."

The Force stopped ticking.

Luke frowned. "Who?"

"Nobody," said Vader urgently, "Drop the topic, now."

She disappeared after failing him. What happened? 

The Force became cold, and Luke shivered when Vader spoke. "The story is a lie built on childish rumours." he spat quietly. 

In case that you’re thinking Vader might have had something with this Captain, the answer is No. In my humble opinion, in canon, I don’t see Vader having anything with anyone that wasn’t Padmé, and this extends to all my fics. There are enough headcanons for everyone.

And to conclude, a wholesome one: 

Thank you for sticking with my nocturnal ramblings about this story! I’m posting another chapter in a few days, where they will do Force magic in the snow. 

[greencrusader13]

All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 12 - The Job

This chapter is one in which Cirak’s...tendencies come a bit more out to play, and as such I tweaked the chapter a bit for my audience on FF.net compared to my audience on AO3, since the former has the fic at a rating of T while the other has an M rating. Please keep that in mind when clicking a link to follow. The chapter below is the T-version, so if you want the more risque version go to the story on AO3.

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13118981/12/All-Were-Innocent-Once

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043032/chapters/66526336

Summary: having now been assisted by the bounty hunter Braden and his associate - a Mandalorian by the name of Dekon Arrun - Cirak listens to their proposition, one that might entail a payday unlike any he’s earned before.

“So let me get this straight,” Cirak said, watching the swirling ice cubes in his glass like racers around a track as he flicked his wrist. “You want our help tracking down an infamous criminal who - supposedly - has near unlimited resources, his own private army of paid mercenaries, and is known for being able to vanish without a trace the moment anyone shows up on his doorstep.” He leveled Braden with an inquisitive look as he downed the remainder of his alcohol. “Sounds easy enough. Why can’t you and the wonder-Mando do it?”

Cirak shot a glance towards the Mandalorian as he mentioned him, Braden’s answer fading into the background as he searched. He’d taken to a booth alone at the far side of the cantina, back turned to the ambience it so welcomingly provided. It felt like a small slice of Nar Shaddaa jam-packed into a desert hovel, unclean to the point of pungency and so loud he could barely hear either of his companions when they spoke, not that he paid them much attention anyways. Mere feet away from their table a green-skinned twi’lek woman made her way around center-stage as violet light illuminated her aggressively-sensuous movements. On occasion she’d shed another article of what little clothing she already wore, eliciting a whoop or holler from the patrons, Cirak himself included.

The dancer drew closer, and for the briefest of moments they locked eyes.  “You come here often?” she asked in Huttese, her voice barely audible over the din of the music.

“Not often enough,” he responded in kind. “Maybe I should start, if the desert really holds such beauty.” Cirak flashed a rakish smile and raised his glass to her.

She winked, and then returned to her dance.

Grinning, Cirak turned his gaze back to Dekon, who had now taken apart his blaster on the table, either oblivious or - worse - disinterested by the life around them. Stupid Mando doesn’t know how to have fun, Cirak thought, watching the dancer’s body move around the shimmering pole.

Taelros snapped his fingers in front of Cirak’s face, breaking him from the trance. “Kid, when you ask for clarification, don’t let your ears wander with your eyes. These gals aren’t anything you wouldn’t find anywhere else in the galaxy, and with the right job you could buy yourself a hundred dances. Now pay attention: there’s credits to be earned.”

“It’s alright Tael,” Braden said, raising a calming hand. “We’ve all been young before. Although-” he leveled a stern look at Cirak- “Bounty hunters who let themselves think with anything other than their heads tend to not last very long in the business. Keep that in mind.”

“Braden, you have no idea how often this kid thinks with just his blaster, if you follow my understanding. A few years back on Onderon-”

“Stars not this again.”

Taelros took a drink and waved Cirak off. “It’s a fun story, but we shouldn’t get sidetracked any longer. Not when there’s credits to be earned. To save Braden the time of recapping, in short, Cirak, too many hostiles for a two man job, too closely guarded for something requiring precision. And we have more resources than them, what with Meruna and Deim making up for what they lack in specialized roles. We’ll hit hard and hit fast before he can flee and vanish again.”

“Rell Syrn rarely ever sticks around for very long in one place for very long,” Braden continued, “He tends to avoid drawing attention to himself. Keeps away from personally conducting business on overly-populated planets like Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa and sends agents whenever he can. Has a pleasure yacht that nobody ever boards and that he very rarely ever leaves, which he keeps floating around various moons around the galaxy for short spans of time. Never the same one twice. Has a hobby for trophy hunting large game, which is when we’re gonna hit him.” He reached into his pocket and produced a holomap, which he displayed on the table. “He’ll be heading to Cholganna next.”

Cirak leaned in closer, studying the forest planet. “So...what, he’s gonna hunt Nexu? Hardly a unique hobby.”

Braden shook his head. “Cholganna has an indigineous population that’s not yet achieved spaceflight. Separate tribes and whatnot. Hardly capable of resisting blasterfire or more advanced toys.” He pursed his lips, allowing his expression to tell the rest.

“Ah. So he’s scum.”

“Pretty much, but that’s not why we’re getting paid to take him down,” Taelros said. 

“Last week some corsairs under his employ struck an Imperial stealth cruiser. Usual raid and whatnot, except they found something on there that the Imps want back. Badly. Some sort of information they were carrying really wasn’t supposed to fall into anyone else’s hands. And he recognizes it too; supposedly he killed all the corsairs who were on the raid just to keep it from leaking out. They don’t want him alive. Dead only, six million credits.”

Cirak’s eyes bulged at the bounty value, and he gagged on his drink. He wiped the spillage from his lips with the back of his hand. “I’m kriffing sorry, how much?”

“Six million, kid. Split six ways is a million for each of us.” Taelros smirked. “Now aren’t you glad you’re listening to me and not oogling some dancer?”

“Don’t blame me for knowing how to spend a good time, unlike Mando-boy over there.” Cirak pointed back at the Mandalorian’s booth with his thumb.

Braden’s gaze drifted over to where Dekon sat. “You ever heard of the Great Hunt, Kiht?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“It started out as a Mandalorian tradition out on Dxun, but has since opened up to any interested bounty hunters in the galaxy. You’re given the hardest contracts, the most dangerous of the dangerous, and have to hunt them down. At the end a Grand Champion is determined the winner. Rumor has it that Mandalore is considering holding another one soon.” Braden pointed at Dekon, who was just finishing loading a blaster pistol. “That man right there is the next Grand Champion, I guarantee it.”

Cirak shrugged, grimacing. “He doesn’t seem like all that to me.”

“He has hunter’s instincts like nothing I’ve ever seen. Brains just as much as brawn. I’d bet credits on him to take down a rancor with just his fists if the wager came up.”

“Then why doesn’t he just do this himself?”

Braden took a drink. “Like I said, this job has accentuated circumstances.”

“You sure it isn’t a trap? This job I mean. If the Imps want this data so badly, and it’s this valuable, what’s stopping them from just offing us once it’s done?”

Taelros shrugged. “We can burn that bridge when we get to it. Meanwhile, if we get this done right, and if we don’t get double-crossed, we’ll have good friends in the Galactic Empire, plus some cash for spending.”

Cash for spending felt almost like an insulting understatement. During all his years since joining Taelros’ crew, he’d never been a part of a job that held such a vast reward. Most of their contractors were petty crime lords wanting a rival dealt with, or some local government putting a warrant out on someone too dangerous for their own people to handle. On a rare occasion they’d get a contract from a Hutt, but those situations were far and few between. Even then, most of their earnings just went right back to The Reaper’s Prophet for upkeep, or towards their own resupplying for future jobs. By the time things were said and done, he had little money of his own for spending. When he did…

Cirak nodded towards Taelros. “Was the contact at the spaceport, the one for Woth?”

“Yeah, he was, and I’ve forwarded your credits to your account. Already did the deductions for you this time. Go do your thing.”

“What’s this?” asked Braden.

“It’s nothing. Not worth-”

Before he could finish speaking, cheers erupted from across the cantina again. He looked up in time to see the dancer twirl one final time in a rush of silver and scarlet cloth. She bowed, and then strode confidently back behind a curtain on the stage’s end.

Cirak smirked. “I’ll be outside. As wonderful as the sights are in here, I think I might get too distracted when the next one hits the stage.”

“You do that kid,” Taelros said, rising to his feet simultaneously with Cirak. “Braden and I will finish loading up the ship, get her spaceworthy by tomorrow. Might even try to pick up a few more bounties while we’re here.” He shoved a stern-yet-playful finger into Cirak’s chest. “Have your fun, but make sure you’re aboard before we take off. I don’t want a repeat of Chandrila.”

“For the record Tael, you’re the one who took off without checking if I was on board.” Cirak yelled back as he turned, waving a playful farewell as he moved across the cantina. “And it was worth it! You wouldn’t have wanted that noise on the ship!” From the corner of his eye he saw the Mando turn towards the noise, his unseen eyes watching Cirak from beneath the helmet. He could only imagine the glare the armored mercenary was shooting at him. Cirak felt his own mood sour at the sight, even amid the music and lights. He pressed on.

Once outside, Cirak stopped and looked around. Mos Ila had grown quieter as dusk approached. Earlier the streets had been filled with an eclectic mix of all the strange species the galaxy had to offer, bartering and browsing and aimlessly wandering about. Most had returned to their homes; only a small collection of three Jawas remained visible on the block, poking away at some dysfunctional droid they would later take and scrap for parts; it sat there lethargically, seemingly oblivious to its inevitable fate. 

Off in the distance a binary sunset colored the sky in hues of orange and violet. It had a sort of contemplative calm to it. Such natural beauty was uncommon on typical adventures, and for a moment it took Cirak by surprise. He could only stare in silence, watching enraptured as they inched closer to the horizon line. Something stirred in his chest, a longing he hadn’t felt for several years

Cirak shook his head and returned to his task, removing his personal holopad from his pack and logging onto the holonet. The banner at the top of the familiar website read “Coruscant Horizons Mutual: Your #1 provider for all your banking needs” in thick black lettering, the skyline of the planet clear in the background. A mixed family stood in the foreground, the human mother holding up her daughter while a Mirialan father stood beside them with his hand on his wife’s shoulder. Typical image crap, meant to deceive the average person into unearned trust, true of any bank. In reality any banker would set fire to that little family if it meant turning more of a profit. He may be the one killing people for money, but at least he was honest about it.

Sure enough, just as Taelros had said, the earnings from their most recent hunt had been transferred into his account, all eight thousand credits-worth. At least a thousand of that would go to armor maintenance, and another thousand for his blaster pack refills. He frowned, staring at his current balance of fourteen thousand credits, soon to be even less. The swoop bike he’d seen on the holonet had been twelve thousand. If he withheld his normal plans he could afford it, barely. The thought egged him on, the bike’s roar calling him like a siren’s song. 

He blocked it out with a sigh, and continued on with his usual routine. It would have to be some other time. Cirak tapped the link that read “transfer” and selected the alternate account with the new funds.

“Are you sure you would like to transfer four thousand credits to the account “Tyar’s Savings” Mr. Kiht?”

Cirak tapped “confirm” and leaned back. He wasn’t even sure if Jedi were allowed banking accounts, or if their life of monasticism prevented them from having any personal belongings. They already lead such a restricted life, one that Cirak himself couldn’t imagine living. Perhaps they’d brainwashed him into all of their tenets, maybe he didn’t even remember his own brother, but either way the money would be there for him when he came of age.

He glanced back down at the screen. “Would you like to include a message for this transaction?”

Cirak tensed, then leaned back over his holopad. “Hey kid, hope Jedi training is going well-”

He immediately backspaced. The message sounded dumb, especially for having no contact for the past several years.

“Brother, I hope this message finds you wel-”

Backspace.

“Tyar, I’m sorry I haven’t reached o-”

Backspace.

“Take this kriffing money.”

Backspace.

Cirak sighed, refreshed the page, and then declined to send a message. If Tyar wanted to make contact another time it would be his decision, not Cirak’s. The best he could hope for was that the kid would seek him out when the time came, and that both would still be alive for that reunion.

While his holopad remained open, Cirak decided to check his mail. There was already a confirmation regarding his transfer, complete with a hackneyed thank you message from the bank, which he promptly checked for deletion. He scrolled down, deleting as he went. Most of the messages were junk anyways: advertisements for various weaponry he could find at suppliers around the galaxy, new starfighter models worth checking out, possible clients reaching out to him not realizing that he wasn’t the one who handled the new jobs, etc. One message caught Cirak’s eye, though, from a Zeltron man he’d spent time with on Manaan. The message was flirtatious in nature, requesting that Cirak look him up again if he should even be on that side of the planet again. As sweet as it was that this paramour had taken the time to look him up, Cirak only remembered parts of that night, even if those parts were good and involved drinks and dancing. He deleted that piece of mail too.

Tucking his holopad away, Cirak made his way back to the cantina. A new dancer - some human woman with blonde hair and tanned skin - had taken the stage while a fresh series of beats accentuated her steps. Tael and Braden were both gone, their seats taken by a pair of faces Cirak had seen earlier at the bar who now had their holopads out, burning credits that flickered onto the stage and floated down around the dancer as they were spent. Some thugs pushed each other in front of the bar, attracting the attention of a weequay bouncer, whose approach turned them docile once more and retreated back to their seats.

And still the Mandalorian sat in his corner booth with his back to the action, the contents of his own pack strewn out on the table.

Cirak took a seat across from him, waving down a waitress as he did. The Mandalorian didn’t even bother to look up from his assortment of junk, instead continuing to wipe at his rifle with unwavering devotion. There were at least five blaster rifle packs on the table, along with three hunting vibroblades, a thermal detonator, and various blaster parts.

“You know, in most cantinas you can get thrown out for this kind of weaponry being out in the open,” Cirak said. The Mandalorian said nothing in response, not even so much as an acknowledging grunt. “Come on, you can do maintenance when you’re on the ship. You’re missing out on the fun right now.”

The Mandalorian looked up for a moment, then turned his head back towards the dancer. “Not my idea of fun.”

“Of course it isn’t. You Mandos don’t have a concept of fun.”

“I’m focused on what’s ahead of me. The hunt. The fact that I’m focusing on that instead of skirt-chasing is what’s going to keep me around much longer than you.” He slammed a pack into his rifle and then set it on the table.

Cirak rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Doesn’t matter how much focus you have when things can go kriffing sideways on any given job. Might as well enjoy life while you’re living it, or else when will you?”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “Mir’osik. Short-sighted.”

“I don’t speak Mando’a, so don’t bother.”

“That you don’t speak it is the point.”

“Look,” Cirak said, leaning over the table, “I’m not any happier about working with you on this than you are, but it looks like we’re going to be stuck together for awhile, so can you cool it before I feel like putting a blaster bolt through your skull? After this job’s done we can go our separate ways, forget the other exists, and maybe, if we’re lucky, we can wind up shooting at each other on some later job when we’re on opposite sides. Okay?”

The crimson helmet twitched, and Cirak could feel the heat of the Mandalorian’s glare from underneath it. “Let’s not forget that you insulted me first when you insulted my people,” his voice crackled.

“And your people massacred mine generations ago.”

“You see history only through the lens supplied by the Republic and the remnants of your species. That you are descended from people who survived mine should fill you with pride. It speaks that you have a survivor’s soul.”

Cirak opened his mouth to speak, but found himself without words. While he found the words themselves insensitive, there was resembling complete sincerity in Dekon’s words. Without the genocidal context, it bordered on being a compliment, however harsh the tone might’ve been.

He shook his head. “Look, I didn’t want to spend my evening arguing with a warmonger. I-”

Sounds of conflict drew his attention away from his soon-to-be associate and towards the bar. The previous dancer - now clad in a more modest lounge robe - stood across from a group of three armored humans, her arms folded with a drink in hand. From the appearance of their scrappier designs and cavalcade of scars across their face, it was clear that these three were outlaws of some kind, or at least individuals as used to braving the dangers of the galaxy as Cirak was himself. Their leader wore a coy expression as he spoke to the dancer, though there was no amusement in her face, but rather one of annoyance-bordering-contempt. One partner kept a stern eye on the bouncer and a hand on his blaster, while the other seemed equally amused as the ringleader.

“I’ll be back,” Cirak said, rising.

Their words became clearer as Cirak approached. “For the last time that’s not the kind of work I do,” the dancer said, still speaking Huttese.

“Come on baby, just think of it like a different kind of pole, different kind of dance,” the man said, albeit in Basic. “Don’t be such a tease. I’ve been throwing credits at you all night. Isn’t that a good enough deed for some time with you?”

“I said no. I dance, that’s it, and I don’t spend time with people just because they think their credits mean something. Go away and let me enjoy my break in peace.”

He lunged for her wrist. “Aw you don’t have to-”

His sentence ended prematurely as the contents of the dancer’s drink found his face. “Don’t touch me!” she seethed, backing away.

The bouncer started forward, causing the one minion to start for his blaster. Cirak found his own first - his father’s holdout - unholstering it and shooting the thug’s right out of his hand. All eyes in the cantina turned towards him, the atmosphere now tense from the sound of blaster fire. Despite the blasting beats from the speakers around him, the cantina felt dead quiet.

Meanwhile the bouncer searched himself for a blaster wound with apparent wonder that he hadn’t just been shot.

“Now that I have your attention,” Cirak said, “I think you owe this lady an apology. She’s been working hard all night up on that stage, so when she says for you to leave her alone, you do what she says.” He leveled the blaster at the leader as he stepped between them and the dancer, lining the sights right up with the man’s eyes.

The leader looked to his crew, then back to Cirak with a cocked eyebrow. “Do you have any idea who it is you’re talking to? We’re the-”

“Yeah yeah, some idiots who’re feared around these parts. Take what you want, want what you take. Heard it before. Shot them too.”

“We have you three-to-one.”

Cirak glanced between the three men. “I like those odds,” he growled, “I’ll have you all dropped before your buddy there pulls out that other blaster from the back of his pants.”

The group’s leader scoffed and looked back at his men as though this were the most ludicrous thing they’d encountered together. They chuckled along with him and shrugged. Then, at once, they drew. 

It all happened in seconds. Cirak brought his blaster down hard on the leader’s nose, shattering it. The man crumpled with a pained grunt, dropping his own weapon in the process, and as he fell Cirak turned his attention to the pair behind him. They couldn’t react fast enough to their leader falling out of the way of their aim, and it took them a moment too long to readjust. Cirak’s first shot found the leftmost one right square in the forehead. He made no sound as he fell, dead instantaneously. 

Just as he was taking aim on the third the man another shot rang out, striking the thug in the chest, the force of which sent him careening over the bar counter. Cirak turned. There, still in the booth, sat Dekon of Clan Arrun, still looking through the scope of his blaster rifle. Without a word or even a gesture he set the rifle back down on the table and began cleaning it once more.

The rush of gratitude faded quickly, however, as Cirak turned his attention to the groaning man at his feet. Blood streaked down the thug’s nose and mouth as he looked up with hatred and fear in his eyes. “My men! You shot my men!”

“Career hazard. They should’ve known better.”

“You kriffing alien!”

“You really should know better than to insult a man who’s got a blaster aimed at your brain,” Cirak said. He pulled out his holopad and opened it to the Bounty Hunters’ Guild database. “What’s your name there handsome?”

“I ain’t telling you nothing.”

Cirak pushed his blaster to the man’s forehead. “I can just shoot you now if you’d prefer.”

The man was silent for a few moments longer. “Antelv. Antelv Langot.”

He entered the name into the database and scanned Antelv’s face. Several long seconds passed as it searched for anyone in the trillions of the galactic population who may have angered someone enough to place a bounty on their head, and which planets they were known for frequenting. 

No results.

“Well Antelv, seems no one has any strong preference for whether or not you live or die in this unforgiving existence, so I’m gonna let the lady decide.” Cirak looked over to the dancer. “What do you say,” he asked in Huttese, “Lives, or dies?”

“I’m sorry,” Antelv croaked, sending bloody spittle across the cantina floor. “I’m sorry!”

The dancer gave a cursory glance over the pathetic man bleeding in front of her, then nodded to Cirak. “Let him live with the humiliation you’ve shown him.”

Cirak shrugged. “Well, her decision’s final.” Just as a weary smile crept onto Antelv’s face, Cirak brought his blaster down once more on his skull, knocking him out cold. His unconscious form sprawled out onto the floor, and around them people began turning their heads away from the scene. Music took their focus once more, and life returned to the cantina. The bouncer approached, threw Antelv over his shoulder, and then vanished outside.

The dancer took a seat at the bar, draping one of her green lekku over her shoulder. “Thanks for the help,” she said, “Not often we see patrons here who are brave and handsome.”

“Not a problem.” Cirak twirled his blaster, holstering it. “Ordinarily I’d ask if I could take the seat next to you, but given the circumstances…” He glanced down to the bloody puddle by his feet.

“His problem was thinking that credits could control me,” she said, “I dance because it’s fun and I choose who I spend time with because I want to, not because I’m paid.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides he was quite rude, and you’re quite cute. So by all means, take a seat.”

Cirak smirked, taking the stool next to her while looking her over. “Seems he spilled your drink. How about I buy you a new one? The name’s Cirak, Cirak Kiht, and I’d love to get your name too.”

[bellamyblake]

major whump prompt if you're still taking. clarke finding out what happened in the cave in 3x10 and taking care of bellamy (soft bellarke is galaxy heart)

Okay, this got kind of long (3k) and I am not sure it’s as soft as it is…painful. But I hope also a little soft? Also it got very anti O.ctavia so please if you don’t want to read about that, don’t even start this.

Also I later realized this could be seen as a ‘before’ fic to the one I posted recently about him being punished from the council after the whole Pike thing.

Hope you won’t hate it, nonnie.

She finds them all back in the cave after Pike had been already arrested and taken by the grounders. 

They were taking a day to regroup and gather their strength before returning to camp when she stumbles upon them using the radio that her mom gave her back at Polis as a precaution and Kane miraculously answers her, directing her towards the right place.

She’s surprised to find Bellamy there too but what takes her aback even more is that he’s chained and his face is beaten to a pulp. 

There are cuts oozing from every part of him-his cheeks, his chin, his nose was certainly broken judging by the way it was so awfully crooked, there was even a gash on his forehead and his entire face was swollen and bruised.

It took her a minute outside with Miller to find out what has happened-the gruesome way Lincoln was killed by Pike and how when they came back with Octavia, Kane and Sinclair she beat the shit out of Bellamy.

And he let her.

“You didn’t stop her?” Clarke snaps at him “You didn’t think she’s only doing this to pour her anger out at him even though from what you’re telling me, he tried to help her before head and she chained him in a fucking cave?”

“We did try to stop her! You don’t understand, she pushed us away-”

“You outnumber her, you could’ve easily overpowered her.”

“Kane tried, so did I, but Bellamy, he wouldn’t let us help. He told us this is between them and we should just let her….do it.”

“Of course he’d tell you that, can’t you see what happened? He wanted her to take it out on him because he felt guilty.”

“Yeah and I know you care about him Clarke, but he is.” Kane joins in on their conversation probably upon hearing the commotion outside. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s staring ahead angrily. 

“But he is guilty.” she shivers at that and throws her arms in the air frustrated “If he hadn’t helped Pike-”

“He did it because he believed it was the right thing. That doesn’t mean you could let his sister beat the crap out of him while you idly stand by and watch her!”

“We couldn’t stop her, she’s strong, you know that.”

“Bullshit! You’re telling me you, Sinclair, Miller and Harper, who are guards by the way couldn’t overpower one girl?” she stands before him and comes so close they are breathing in each other’s faces. 

Kane’s face falls with guilt if even for a moment. Maybe she should take that as a win but she’s just so pissed off that she can’t. 

“Or maybe that’s just it…you didn’t want to stop her. You wanted to punish him.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why is he still chained?”

“Because he is the enemy!” Kane yells back and that makes her laugh bitterly.

“To who? Pike’s gone, the camp is back in your and mom’s hands. You can become a chancellor now legally if we count all the votes from the last election, so what can one broken beaten up to a pulp boy with PTSD do?” she corners him.

“You haven’t been here, Clarke. You don’t know who he is.” Miller adds in a weak attempt to back Kane who opens his mouth to add something else but Clarke interrupts him

“That’s not true. I’m the only one who ever knew the kind of man Bellamy is and who he can be.”

“Clarke-”

“And that’s not the monster you’re making him out to be. Yes, he made a mistake but did he try to save Lincoln? Was he not the person who helped you catch Pike?”

Kane runs his hand through his curls and sighs.

“He is.”

“Then untie him.”

“No!” the older man cuts her off and by the way he says it she knows he won’t cave now “He might’ve tried to redeem himself but he still supported Pike’s coup and he still went out there and massacred an army. He has to pay for what he’s done.”

“So what? You’ll drag him back to camp and put him in a cell until you figure out what to do with him.”

“I think judging by his condition and his sister’s behavior that would be the best for us all.”

“You mean so you don’t have to feel guilty if she beats the shit out of him again while you stand by and watch.”

“Clarke-”

“I’m through with you, Kane.” she huffs out “If you won’t untie him, let me at least treat his wounds.”

Kane sighs but relents and gives her a light nod. She’s about to move away and head to the cave when he grabs her elbow and pulls her back.

“Don’t spend all our bandages on him. We don’t have enough as it is.” that gets her even more angry. 

Apparently, they may have left the Ark, but the Ark’s rules haven’t abandoned them and their way of behaving. 

One life still mattered more than another and Bellamy’s hasn’t mean much to the council back in the sky either. 

Obviously, no matter what he’s done to save the kids or help the camp, wasn’t enough to make him worth fighting for.

Well, not to her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use my things.”

“And, Clarke-” Kane tightly wraps his fingers around her arm once more, as if desperate to reiterate his thoughts “He’s dangerous, so be careful.”

“No, he’s not!” she pulls her hand away “You are.”

With that she rushes back in and looks for her bags, searching for the clean patch of bandages she had and the satchels of herbs and seaweed paste that she’ll need. 

Octavia’s by the fire, angrily staring at it while dragging her knife through a stick, trying to sharpen it for whatever reason, probably just to find something to pour some of her desperation onto. 

Clarke wants to feel bad for her, she does, but one glance at Bellamy who stood curled up on his own in the corner with his back to them, made her fume with anger.

“You don’t care to check how your brother is?” Clarke can’t help but ask. That makes Octavia tense if just for a second before she spits out.

“What brother?” loud enough so that Bellamy can hear her. 

Clarke sees him shivering when she approaches him far away from the others so that they have some privacy but still not really separated from them.

She circles around and kneels beside him putting out her things.

“Hey.” she greets him and when he looks up from where his head is buried in his knees and meets her eyes, she wants to cry.

She’s seen him in pain before.

But she’s never seen him that broken. 

Not back in the forest during their day trip, not even after the mountain. 

There was nothing but sadness and complete and utter devastation but also…guilt. 

There was this glimmer of self-hatred that burned brighter than the fire his sister was sitting by, stronger than her own anger.

He’s shivering and badly, she has no idea how long they’ve left him out here for but he must’ve slept curled up on his own and away from the fire for more than one day if what Miller told her was true.

“I need to clean your face, okay?”

“Why?” he asks after a beat when she’s dabbing some clean rags in water, deciding to start wiping the blood away first so she could deal with all the cuts.

“Because they’ll get infected if they aren’t already.”

He reaches to touch her hand but something makes him change his mind and all he ends up doing is let his fingers graze hers for a brief moment that feel like shock lashes against her skin.

“Why?” he asks once more, this time eyebrows furrowed in confusion, lips tightly pressed against one another. 

She notices some bruises around his neck too. 

Did she try to choke him as well or was that a result of another injury?

Clarke reaches out and takes his hand in hers.

“Because it’s you and me.” she says fervently “Always.” his eyes fill with tears and he looks away, ashamed of having been offered something he doesn’t think he deserves. 

If he wasn’t that hurt, she’d kick his ass and force him to say that he matters despite what the world thinks, but maybe in another time, a few weeks or months down the road, she can convince him of it. 

“Now please sit back and lean on the rock so I can take a look at your face.”

He complies. It’s a little hard with his hands chained to the right, he can’t fully turn over so she can use the light of the fire to inspect the wounds because the chains are twisting his hands back in another direction.

Still he manages somehow and she asks him to close his eyes which proves to be the right move when he has to suck in her own breath and try to keep it together once she starts cleaning all the blood and grime away from him. 

Once she has, she can’t tell what is where-his cheeks are maimed by long crescent cuts, his freckles that she used to get lost into, can’t be made out between all the bruises and the blood. 

Some of them are already infected, oozing yellow. Some start to bleed again when she tries cleaning them and ends up staining his face again which frustrates her. 

She’s so lost in her work and anger that she misses the fact that he’s scared shitless of having her there. 

It takes her a moment to realize his breaths come out short and panicked that he’s basically heaving and he’s bawled his chained hands into fists to try and keep it together.

He’s scared of her touch because the last time someone touched him, they beat the crap out of him and it wasn’t someone he didn’t know, it wasn’t a grounder who wanted revenge or a soldier he had to fight….it was his own sister. 

Someone he trusted and loved.

Clarke was someone he trusted too.

But that didn’t mean he was safe. Or so his brain told him.

Fuck, Clarke thought, stopping her actions for a moment and dropping the rag she was holding to cup his cheek.

“Hey.” she calls him again but he doesn’t open his eyes at that, on the contrary, he just squeezes them harder. “Bellamy, look at me.”

“I…can’t.”

“It’s me. I won’t do anything to you okay? I just want to help. You don’t have to be scared.”

He shakes his head in her hands and she relents as her own tears gather in her eyes.

He must be reliving it all, that exact moment where Octavia rushed in here and started beating him.

“I can’t.” he utters through teeth and she rubs her thumbs under his eyes soothingly just when another cut decides to reopen and stain her fingers and his cheek red.

It’s like whenever you touched him, he bled pain and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop it. 

She couldn’t prevent the sadness from spilling out of him, covering every inch of his body.

“That’s okay. It’s fine, just breathe with me alright? Let’s do it together.” she asks and he tries to comply but she notices that when he tries to take a deep breath…he literally can’t. 

His chest heaves, as if it jumps with pain and he sucks in a short one before letting out, all the while wincing at the motion.

“It hurts.” he manages in a whisper and she realizes why it does.

Her hand falls to the hem of his shirt and pulls it up only to reveal his blue and purple ribs.

Octavia didn’t just hit his face.

She kicked him too.

Damn it.

He shivers when her fingers graze over the tender spot and she finds his skin ice cold.

So he wasn’t shivering just because he was having a panic attack then. He was literally freezing.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I know it hurts, I just need to find out how bad it is, okay?” he nods, eyes still closed as she treads her fingers over his strong but really bruised side.  

“I need you to take a few deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah…yeah.” he promises with a weak smile and complies. When she’s done she drops his shirt back and pulls his jacket tightly around him though it’d do nothing to warm him up.

“You have one broken rib. The others are bruised.” she informs him as she goes back to fixing his face trying to tame her anger from finding how wrecked his body really was after Octavia raised her hand on him.

He opens his eyes to meet hers when she gets back on cleaning them up and when he does, there are still tears there though she doesn’t know if it’s from the physical or emotional pain.

At some point after she fixes his broken nose as best as she can, she notices him swallowing painfully and opening his mouth to help his breathing but not before leaning back on the wall. 

She decides to give him a moment of rest before she resumes her work.

“Are you thirsty?” he looks down at the ground and doesn’t say anything but gives her a simple shrug. 

She reaches for her water satchel and helps him move his head up and take a few sips eagerly. 

“When was the last time they gave you water?”

He shrugs again and stares at her hands before she moves to give him some more. He drowns it down eagerly and stops himself before he finishes it off, probably worried she’ll need it too.

She presses it back to his lips.

“I have enough, I promise.”

“It’s okay” he mumbles and she doesn’t want to fight him on it so she just kneels and picks up some dry apples and fruit from her bag.

“Have you eaten anything?” he shakes his head at that, still staring at his hands.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Have they not given you food?” she raises her voice and the talk around the fire where everyone else have gathered again quiets down at her anger. 

Clarke ignores them but he doesn’t-his eyes slide to the place where his sister sits, now half turned to him, eyes shooting daggers. 

He looks away before meeting Clarke’s eyes once more.

“Clarke…don’t.” he begs and she sighs realizing that this is only making it worse for him so instead she moves to his left, so that her back is shielding him from other prying eyes and pushes some apple in his hands.

“Eat.” she orders.

“You won’t let me get away with it, will you?” he asks quietly and its her turn to shake her head.

“No.” he smiles sadly and brings his tied hands up to his mouth, munching down on the pieces she gave him while she takes out more bandages to use later to wrap around his ribs as well as some sea weed paste. 

After, she digs out a small piece of bread and he tries to fight her on taking it so to make him eat even a bit, she splits it in two and they share it.

“Why are you helping me?” he asks again “I killed Lincoln.”

“No you didn’t.” she cuts him off “And I told you why already.”

“Not directly but I-” he continues ignoring the last part of her statement.

“I don’t give a damn what you did, Bellamy, you shouldn’t be tied to a cave and beaten up like a pulp no matter what happened. You made a mistake and you tried to fix it, you helped us catch Pike, you tried to save Lincoln. What your sister did is not what you deserve.”

“But it is.” he says sadly.

“He’s right.” Octavia chimes in from the fire obviously having been eavesdropping on their conversation “In fact, he deserves to die. It’s too bad I can’t kill him.”

Clarke turns back to her, moving closer to Bellamy so that she keeps shielding him from the others.

“Shut up, Octavia.”

“He doesn’t get to play the martyr, not after what he did.” she raises her voice and when Clarke looks back at him, she can see he’s squeezing his eyes again and shivering badly.

Another attack.

Clarke reaches for his face again, cupping his cheeks as painful as that might’ve been for him.

“Don’t listen to her. Focus on me, okay?” she begs of him and he tries to control his breathing while Octavia keeps raging behind them, chopping branches and throwing them in the fire with fever. 

Clarke wondered what would happen if she wasn’t there.

Would she beat him up again?

A beat. And then another thought shakes her to the core.

Had she laid her hand on him after that first fight?

“Hey, here, you can help me-” she decides to give him something to do and what better way to make him focus on something that convince him it could help someone else. “Hold the clean bandages for me alright? You’ll assist me.”

He nods but his eyes keep moving somewhere behind her, watching his sister. He shivers whenever she picks a branch.

“Look at me, Bellamy. Me, okay?” she says, taking his chin and forcing his eyes back on her. “You and I, we’re the only people in this cave, okay? There’s no one else.”

With trembling fingers he helps her pass over the things she needs to finish cleaning his cuts all the while Octavia doesn’t shut up behind them and no one else says anything.

Suddenly, Clarke can so clearly picture them all standing quietly behind while she beat him up to a pulp.

“The one good thing I had going and you had to go out there and fuck it up. You just couldn’t take it, could you? But then again you’ve always been selfish, ever since you were a kid.” 

That’s the tip of the glass for her and Clarke drops the gauze she’s holding before turning around and striding to Octavia.

She grabs her by the collar and fists her jacket in her hands. Octavia tries to fight her, push her away but Clarke’s strong and the others, Miller, Kane, Harper, they all jump from their seats.

“Now they do.” Clarke thinks and it makes her even more angry.

She shakes Octavia a bit before speaking up slowly and quietly.

“I’ve had enough of you. You either shut up right now and take your anger outside or-”

“Or what?” Octavia smiles at her “What will you do, Wanheda?”

“Don’t tempt me!” she hisses in her face and makes sure Octavia looks into her eyes and sees exactly how much she means what she just said.

 “You beat your own brother up, I won’t hesitate to bring it to justice.”

She lets go of her and thinks that Octavia will actually try and fight her but instead she just stands there and breathes heavily, contemplating on what to do.

“She’s right, Octavia. Take a walk.” Kane joins in but it’s another minute before the younger Blake finally huffs annoyed and strides outside with her sword strapped to her back.

Clarke turns around and throws them all a look of disgust.

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” and that makes them all look down ashamed.

Good, Clarke thinks. They should be ashamed.

She goes back to Bellamy who’s started shivering worse since she left him but she simply cups his cheek and gives him a soft smile.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m almost done and then you can rest, okay?” he doesn’t nod or say anything back but he calms down when she goes back to patching up his cuts.

After, she moves to his ribs which are a little harder to fix when his wrists are tied up together. 

She tries to make Kane take them off but he won’t hear a word about it, so she works around that as best as she can. 

Finally, she moves to his wrists that are also bleeding from him struggling against the chains for so long. 

They’re ugly and infected and he tries very hard not to cry out when she cleans them up. 

She can sense it’s a lot for him but he takes it, he takes on the pain because he thinks he deserves it.

She can’t wrap them up, not with the chains still there, but at least she cleans them. 

When she’s done, she takes out the two blankets she was carrying with herself and throws one over his back before sitting next to him and putting the other over their legs.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a whisper. “You’ll freeze out here. Go back to the fire.”

“No.”

“Clarke-”

“I said no, Bellamy, so don’t even try it.” she presses her arm against his and adjusts the blanket. 

He’s breathing heavily next to her, his arms tied up between his hands. He could never lay down and actually sleep, the chains prevented him from that, but she’d make sure he wasn’t going to die out of exposure. 

It takes them a moment to find the most comfortable position and they slump against each other before Clarke closes her eyes and drifts off.

She wakes up hours later from his shaking and his quiet frantic mumbling. 

It takes her a moment to realize he’s having a nightmare, begging his sister for forgiveness. 

She touches his face and finds it burning, curses quietly and tries to wake him but even when his eyes snap open, there’s no recognition in them.

She moves closer to him and pulls his head to her chest so that he’s half lying on her chest while his arms were being pulled in the opposite direction. 

It wasn’t comfortable but it seemed to somewhat help him.

Her hands roam all over his face and hair. She swipes the curls away from his sweaty burning forehead and helps him take a few sips of water while he keeps shivering in her arms.

At some point he looks up at her and mumbles through trembling lips.

“What…happened to us…Clarke?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know, Bell.”

“Why is there so much pain?”

The tears gather in her eyes and spill before she can stop them. 

“I don’t know.” her own voice breaks as she repeats her previous answer and leans closer to his face, kissing his forehead gently.

He finds her hand with his tied ones and holds it between his big cold fingers, squeezing it tight for a brief moment.

Bellamy never used to be cold.

“Want to know a secret?” he asks looking up at her “Sometimes I wish I died in that mountain.”

She runs his fingers through his curls and closes her eyes as she feels her own tears spill down her cheeks before she speaks up her own honest truth.

“So do I.”

In the morning when the others wake her up with their chatter, she looks down and finds her hands still cupping his cheeks, except now they’re covered in blood from all the cuts he reopened when he tossed and turned in his sleep and she has to bite her lips to prevent herself from crying again.

She picks up another clean rag and dabs it in water and moonshine, cleaning up her fingers and then pressing it to his face.

No matter what, she decides, she’ll never get tired of doing that.

[theoriginalsuki]

Because if you like what I write, we probably have the same taste!

There’s a glut of well-written, well-crafted post-TROS Star Wars fanfiction out there, from fix-it to AU’s – not that I’m complaining! – but I’m-a just throw out some of the ones that have hit my sweet spot.  Please reblog!  It keeps the fic life cycle going.

Complete

The Ocean: A TFA Divergence by Journeying_Jane

I’m a die-hard TFA Kylo Ren fangirl (it’s my favourite of the trilogy, I know), and this divergence tugs the threads unravelled in the interrogation scene to a very satisfying conclusion, re: Rey and Kylo see their shared future a lot sooner, before the elevator scene in TLJ, and start to understand what they mean to one another.  Soooooo good.  (Rated G)

Air and Water by Flaignhan

The tender and thorough examination of Ben and Rey’s relationship, what it is, how it completes her, and their wholesome being-together that we ache for across three films.  Better than cozying up with a hot cup of cocoa on a rainy day.  (Rated G)

What She’s Worth by g_girl143

If Rey had been taken in by the Jedi Academy as a child and basically raised by Ben Solo.  Hear me out.  This love story is innocent and organic and is so well navigated that by the end you’re just like, yeah, of course, there was no other way that could have happened.  The *potential* is what it gives us.  I need to read it again, slowly and to savour, and happily await the sequel!  (Rated T)

Dead Space by Solia

Kylo Ren sacrifices himself to save Rey when they are stranded in a malfunctioning ship.  If you’re like me, and you like angsty grand gestures of love more than sexy times, this one is gourmet Reylo.  I’m so into the not-looking-directly at their feelings and extending that sweet pain for as looooong as possible.  Because, one brain cell!  (Rated G)

Paradise by englishable

Post-TROS, the only epilogue I will accept (except for Cleave, also by englishable).  Ben is brought to trial; Rey stands by him throughout; they figure out how to go on together.  It’s so wholesome and satisfying.  Let the healing begin!  (Rated M)

Near Kinsman by englishable

In post-Civil War America, Rey answers a bachelor ad and the most classically romantic love story since the Brownings unfolds.  (Rated T)

Delicious Ambiguity by Juulna

Some people like smut.  I like dangerous male-types harnessing their aggression toward protecting women and their unborn children.  That’s hot.  Some good TFA Kylo Ren being inexplicably soft with Rey and her Force-conceived twins.  Both of them have issues.  Both of them really, really love those babies.  It earns the happily ever after, which you know I appreciate so much in a fic.  (Rated M)

until you return to me by lovefrompluto

Rey accesses the WBW and looks in on every incarnation of Ben, all the lives they live together.  Such a cool meta on fanfics with a satisfying ending, giving Rey the agency she was denied in TROS.  (Rated M)

Killing Me Softly by AlbaStarGazer

I’m not a big AU person but the premise of this is so good and works really well with the characters as we know them in canon.  I also really appreciate a fic that isn’t afraid to look at the work of love.  

Ben and Rey, childhood sweethearts, married, are put to the test for three years after Ben gets in a terrible accident and forgets Rey.  She’s won’t give up on him, but she’s too hung up on the past.  He’s in love with her but afraid that all she sees is a memory, and not the person he is now.  Some really good character study and hurt/comfort with a happy ending.

WIP’s

The Argent Coda by BetweenTownleys

A deeply involved and well thought-out fix-it that makes me soft.  It’s not happily ever after (yet) and I am 100 percent okay with that.  The Force bond intimacy between Ben and Rey hurts soooooo good!  (Not Rated)

Conversations by acowlorsomething (suchlostcreatures)

Takes place after TLJ and moves effortlessly into the kind of interaction we want to see between Maybe-Ben and Rey.  Okay, what *I* want.  Nothing too easy, nothing too sexy, more of the same of the tender conflict we got from The Last Jedi, playing out in a believable way.  (Not Rated)

Bride of Fortune by SharKohen

Cute arranged marriage AU.  Rey is supposed to be a lucky bride.  So Leia Organa-Solo brings her into the household as her son’s wife.  They’re only young, so will they have time to chose one another before the age of consummation?  (Rated T)

Chains by Veggieheist

Rey is a slave on Jakku.  Kylo Ren picks up on her Force sensitivity and “buys” her.  Cue side comments from everyone that he just wants to sleep with her,  to which he is bewildered and frustrated.  Kylo doesn’t understand why someone so powerful would act so lowly, but when he pushes Rey hard, he finds out there’s more to her than he bargained for.  Or did he see it all along?  (Rated M)

hear my plea (and come save my life) by nouveaulove

Rey finds Ben alive but with amnesia.  I’m so soft for pining and protective Rey having to woo back Ben.  (Rated M)

Halfway, Between The Black and Grey. by PunkForTheMoment

Anakin helps Rey go back in time to the interrogation scene in TFA and she is anything but smooth.  Inspired by that meme.  Very promising!

My Fic

Epilogues by TheOriginalSuki

My initial self-help fic in the wake of The Rise of Skywalker.  Kinda dream-like with a hazy plot that is basically me just making myself feel better.  Maybe you too?  Some mature content, I don’t think it’s smutty, though.  (Rated M)

Rey goes into self-imposed exile on Tatooine.  After refusing to let Ben go, they break the laws of physics to be the family to one another they never had.  Healing can at last begin.

Battlefield by TheOriginalSuki

After The Rise of Sywalker I could see things getting worse before they got better.  If Kylo Ren had buckled down on the darkness after soul-crushing rejection from Rey and the trauma of seeing Luke again, how in the world would he walk back from that?  I’ve got it tagged “dominant Kylo Ren” but I’m not into abusive stuff, so don’t expect that!  I do however love the angst.  (Rated T)

Kylo Ren took the galaxy, and Kylo Ren takes Rey.  There’s nothing left for him to accomplish, Vader’s vision is complete – only he’s still in pain.  And no matter how he manoeuvres around the scavenger girl, it’s not easing up.

what stars are made of by TheOriginalSuki

Me trying to make a place to dump one-shots and dead-end ideas and probably failing.  Every time I pull a thread of “how things could have gone” in this universe, a whole world unravels!  Oops!  The tone of this one is completely different, inspired by the adorkable Ben Solo we got a glimpse of in TROS, and how he and Rey’s relationship plays out afterward.  (Not Rated)

Rey has a minor objection to being abducted.  Good thing Ben didn’t ask her, then!

The Stray by TheOriginalSuki for itsinthestars

Written for the RFFA fic exchange.  A modern AU!  (Rated T)

Rey moves in across the hall from Ben; a former foster kid alone in the city, aspiring to be an actress. Ben is a ladder-climbing white collar businessman with a horrible boss and zero social life. Which is just the way he likes it. So why in the world has this insufferable creature made it her life’s work to adopt him? From sharing her dinner to doing his laundry, she seems determined to make a connection. In the end, it’s easier for Ben to just let her. But opening up means letting your heart be vulnerable.

Hiraeth by TheOriginalSuki

A passion project.  I even have a plan!  Bonus – there’s Tai!  (Rated M)

Rey crosses over the World Between Worlds and finds herself in a time before Kylo Ren.  it’s been twelve years since her Ben dies, and she’s achingly in love.  But he has no idea who she is.

Beatrice by TheOriginalSuki for englishable

Illustrates the principle that good art generates good art.  Rinse.  Repeat.  (Raged G)

A brief character study from Ben Solo’s point of view, encompassing the three films and then a positive resolution.

[rushmanatalie]

and we’ll watch the world crumble (watch the world burn)

Summary: In a galaxy falling apart at its seams, two broken souls find solace in their forbidden connection. But when darkness threatens to destroy everything they know, Rey finds herself forced to choose between what can, and what could have been.

Chapter One

A/N: Of all the things I thought I would be doing this quarantine, I really didn’t expect writing my first reylo fic to be part of it but I guess here we are! Please be gentle, I’m still trying to get all my Star Wars lore correct :) 

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Rey couldn’t sleep.

But then again, after everything that had happened since leaving Jakku, sleepless nights weren’t uncommon for her. Even in the comfort of a sizable cot in her own section of the cave, safe in the Resistance base on Ajan Kloss, Rey felt uneasy giving in to the vulnerability of sleep. As exhausted as she was, falling asleep meant putting her walls down and letting the nightmares and monsters in.

Monsters like him.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his. Warm brown irises flooded with desperation, looking at her, no, into her, as the world around them crashed and burned. In that moment, she saw him clearer than he would ever see himself: a terrified boy, pleading for acceptance and understanding, from a scavenger, nonetheless. She couldn’t help but wonder if he saw her too. Did he see how much she had wanted to take his hand? If only for some form of purpose and clarity, for a chance to no longer feel achingly lonely. Or had he seen the moment she made her decision? The moment she went for the saber.

Luke’s saber. Rey eyed the broken weapon sitting on a bench across from her bed. She had felt wrong in keeping it, knowing it was all the legendary Skywalker had left behind, but Leia’s insistence helped assuage her guilt.

“It’s what he would have wanted,” the general said softly, gently wrapping Rey’s fingers around the saber’s cracked hilt. “You might not think you’re the last Jedi, Rey. But you are the last hope.”

And what a burden it proved to be. Since her floating rock stunt saved the Resistance on Crait, everyone seemed to be constantly staring at her, almost eerily wary of her every move. For a girl who spent most of her life alone in a desert, Rey wasn’t used to being the center of so much attention. But what scared her the most was her inability to discern whether people were looking at her with curiosity or fear. Or, as Poe would put it, a healthy combination of both.

Getting to know Poe was, in many ways, like getting to know a droid. It was very clear from the start that the man was programmed for war. More than once, Rey has caught herself overhearing Poe and Leia discussing weaponry, strategies, treaties, and negotiations, all of which sound like another language to Rey. But Rey soon learned that Poe’s skills as commander were equally matched with his penchant for sarcasm and light-hearted jokes as he and Finn constantly bickered during meal breaks.

Finn, Rey was thrilled to see, had made a full recovery since she had last seen him wounded after the battle on Starkiller base. As her first, and now best friend, Finn shared Rey’s anxieties about fitting in with the Resistance. A turned stormtrooper wasn’t exactly a leading example of a light-side warrior, and though he never voiced his concerns to Rey, Rey could tell Finn was trying to prove his place among the Resistance ranks through his enthusiasm in volunteering for even the simplest of missions.

His new friend, Rose, however, was exactly what Rey imagined Resistance members were like. Of course, it didn’t take much for Rey to like Rose given that she had saved Finn’s life, but Rose was truly sunshine personified. Despite the recent loss of her sister, Rose never ceased to smile. Her kindness toward Rey was more than welcome amidst the wordless stares from most others, and for the first time in her life, Rey found herself glad to be in the company of a woman closer to her age.

Rey huffed a sigh at the thought. It felt so strange that almost a year ago she was alone on Jakku, barely getting by on the meager portions she was able to receive, waiting for a family that would never return. Now she’s a force-sensitive fighting a war, no longer hungry, no longer chained by her past. No longer alone.

She tossed around in her bed, her blankets every bit too warm, but the room too cold all at once. Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, letting her mind drift ever so slightly, but to no avail.

Of course, the recent onslaught of piercing headaches didn’t help either. For the past couple weeks, Rey had been experiencing strange migraines. They all start with a slight disturbance in the force, an unexplainable shift that never fails to give Rey goosebumps. Then waves of pain crash through her mind without any more of a warning, as if her brain is being torn to shreds. Luckily for her, they often leave as suddenly as they come, but they’re never any less painful. Unable to do anything about it, the medical droids left Rey to wonder when the next headache would hit, and which one would ultimately kill her in the end.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

The familiar presence slipped so suddenly into Rey’s mind, she sprang up from her sheets. How much had he just heard?

“Get out!”

Kylo Ren sat across from her on the bench, next to the broken shards of his uncle’s parting gift. She couldn’t tell where he was, and for her sake and the Resistance’s, she hoped he couldn’t either.

Rey allowed her eyes to roam over the Supreme Leader, a self defense tactic, she decided, to see if he appeared as a threat. She quickly noted the absence of his lightsaber and stopped herself from reaching for her blaster. Even though she knew from their previous encounters that the weapons didn’t work through their connection, it never hurt to be safe. He donned his usual black tunic and trousers, with heavy duty boots to match, but seemed to forego the formalities of his cape and cowl. The wide belt at his waist emphasized the broadness of his chest and shoulders. His folded hands remained gloved as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.

And yet, the one thing that caught her attention the most was the lack of his mask.

Something about his face felt alluring to Rey, and not just in its undeniable vanity. Ever since he had first taken off his mask in front of her, Rey was aware of the vulnerability he allowed himself in her presence. As if she was the only person who could still see the slivers of Ben Solo behind his hardened facade.

Only there was no facade. Not this time. Kylo’s eyes were dark, red-rimmed with sleeplessness and—oh.

Sadness. No, this wasn’t just sadness. This was deeper than that. This was the kind of sadness that eats at the soul, even when there is nothing left but emptiness and a deep, dark ache, and Rey knew the feeling well. But she wasn’t easily fooled.

“I said, get out!”

“You know I would if I could.” He spoke calmly, with little to no antagonization, to Rey’s surprise. If anything, all she could detect was a hint of dejection in his tone.

Rey shook her head in denial. “I don’t understand. Why is this still happening? Snoke’s...”

Kylo’s eye twitched at the mention of his deceased master. “I’m sure you can put it together yourself.”

“He lied,” she finished, more for herself than for him. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised given how the Sith usually deal with manipulation.” She looked at him to see if the jab had struck a nerve, but was disappointed when he remained passive to her comment.

He stood from his seat and walked to the door-like opening where Rey’s little nook met the larger portion of the cave. Avoiding her glare, he stared out the entrance with a pensiveness that reminded Rey of Leia and Rey couldn’t help but wonder what he was looking at in his perspective.

After a moment’s silence, she added, “So how do we end this?”

He heaved a sigh, his gaze falling down to his feet. Rey tried not to notice the way one of his obsidian locks fell over his face. “I don’t know.” The words sounded foreign and almost disturbing coming from him, but Rey hid her discomfort behind knit brows and a tight scowl.

“You don’t know? You’re the Supreme Leader, aren’t you supposed to know about these things? Or were Force Bonds not covered in the murderer handbook?”

“Not one like this.” There was an edge to his voice now that he was growing more and more impatient, but she wasn’t fazed.

“Fine then, I’ll figure out a way to get rid of it since you won’t, you coward.” She let the insult roll off her tongue and watched as it washed over him.

It was as if she had finally pulled the right trigger because all of Kylo’s anger came bubbling up to the surface as he turned to face her. “You don’t think I want to?” He took a step closer and Rey felt herself backing up against the head of her bed as he neared her. Suddenly, reaching for her blaster seemed like a good idea. “I’ve spent the past three weeks trying to sever you from my mind, but each time I do—” He stops, as if trying to put his thoughts into words. “It feels like I’m tearing my own brain apart.”

That explained the headaches. “So that was you. I felt it too.” A chill ran down Rey’s spine as she came to the ugly conclusion, the one neither wanted to acknowledge. “Does that mean...”

The frustration in his eyes turned into an acceptance as his expression hardened. “That’s the only way it ends.”

A month ago, Rey wouldn’t have thought twice about killing Kylo Ren. Hell, she even had a fair try at it, the jagged scar across his face serving as a constant reminder of his close defeat. But after they had touched hands on Ahch To, things were...different. Somehow, the thought of him dead now made her stomach churn and her eyes burn, and yet she couldn’t figure out why.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be. Not if…if...” she trailed off.

“If what?” he challenged.

“You know what.”

“Say it, Rey.” She shivered at her name, spoken like a curse. “I want you to say it.”

It would be so easy to continue fighting him, but she didn’t see the point. Reluctantly, she said what he wanted to hear. “If you turned. Joined the Resistance.” Joined me. “Why didn’t you?”

This was the first time she had really asked him sincerely, the question that had been plaguing her mind. He turned away from her again, and for a second, Rey didn’t think he was going to respond, but his low voice broke the silence. “The same reason why you didn’t accept my offer.” He squared his shoulders, back still to her, and though his mask was nowhere to be seen, Rey felt as if he had just put it back on. “We are who we are. What’s the use in fighting it if it’s what we’re destined to be?”

She let the question fall from her lips before she could stop herself. “What do you think we’re destined to be?”

The connection cut out before she could get an answer.

[reylo-trash-4ever]

HELLO REYLO FAM!!!

Wow... I am incredibly nervous about posting this because I haven’t shared my writing in years, but the incredible @lana-n95 gave me the idea when I made my prompts post, and I just rolled with it and made it an entire fic. SO HERE YA GO! 

Shout out to @scav-eng-er for being my Reylo Soul Mate and literally giving me the courage to do this!! I couldn’t ask for a better support group in @mojona1999 and @firethebluesky as well! You lovely people are who keep me going and I promise I’m working on getting us all a group chat so we can be friends for life.

This will be updated fairly regularly, but please do not expect a lot yet. I’m working towards bi-weekly, but for right now, this is all I have. I hope you enjoy! EEK!!

“The Game” - a Reylo AU

Universe: AU/Modern day New York

Rating: M (this chapter only has some mild language and sexual themes)

Word Count: 3629

Pairing: Rey and Ben Solo

PART ONE:

The New York winds were especially biting that December morning as Rey made her way through the bustling streets of the city. She wove in and out of passersby as everyone went about their day, each individual having separate lives, separate troubles, and separate dreams.

Rey had quite a few dreams of her own, but they were sometimes hard to make into reality. She had worked her ass off to get to where she was today, though. It was a great and classic story; a ‘nobody’ girl who came from the rural countryside making it big in the city. She’d always been passionate about helping people and doing what she could for the underdog, probably because she had felt like one all her life. Nobody thought she could do it, but she graduated at the top of her class in almost every subject, excelled in sports, and even dabbled in the theatrical arts when she had time. Her determination and hard work didn’t leave room for many friendships, but she didn’t mind putting all of that behind her when she moved to the city to study law.

College was good to her. She finally met some people she would call lifelong friends. She studied hard, and she learned harder. She was still kind of a ‘loner’ at heart, never really being the person to be seen out at parties, bars, or clubs. Every once in awhile she let herself go crazy, but it was rare. So much so that her friends started calling her “The Black Cat” because it was such a shock, and slightly unnerving, whenever she actually showed up to events. She knew the superstitions and implications surrounding a black cat, and she easily could have taken offense at the nickname, but Rey secretly liked it. Let her be known for her sly, hard work and mystery, not how well liked and popular she was or wasn’t.

It was this mentality that ultimately landed her a job as an intern at Skywalker and Associates straight out of college. It was a miracle from the stars that she got accepted into one of the top law firms in the state so soon after graduating. She didn’t really believe in a “higher power”, but something up there in the infinite galaxies must have been on her side. She knew she was good, and had the potential to be the best, but she had never before had the resources due to her upbringing. The opportunity was something she would never be ungrateful for.

It had been almost eight months since she started interning, and already she was making her way up in the company. Her dedication to cases and her keen eye for detail had gained her the attention of some of the more prominent names in the office and she hoped it was enough to be the next Jr. Partner.

Rey pulled off the street to step into a small coffee shop. A little bell chimed as she pushed open the door and the wondrous smells filled her nose as she took a deep breath in. The warmth filled her body and was almost a shock coming from such a drastic difference only seconds before, but she welcomed the comfort.

She stepped in line and perused the menu, even though she already knew what she wanted. It was the same thing she always got - a french press, dark roast with just a little bit of half and half - as she was a woman of pattern and repetition. Getting the same thing day in and day out had never bothered her. It was safe, it was what she knew. Why risk something that would rock the boat? Even though she didn’t normally believe in “luck”, she didn’t want to risk it today. This was her chance to finally start doing real cases and to work on projects that would make a difference.

“Would you like to round up your order and donate to the Children’s Hospital for the holidays?”

The barista’s voice took her out of her own head after she had apparently told them her order without thinking. Rey smiled and nodded her head quickly in response. She felt in a ‘giving mood’ that morning. Send as much “good karma” out into the universe as she could.

“Thank you so much, and have a nice day!”

The words faded into the hustle and bustle of the crowd as Rey stepped away and waited for her drink. She dug her phone out of her pocket and soon got lost in social media, scrolling mindlessly. Friends and distant family passed her screen, seeming to all be living happy and comfortable lives with their loved ones.

Rey had always wished for that kind of security and ‘home’. It was one of the reasons she worked as hard as she did, so she could hopefully someday give that life to herself. The one she never had, but always wanted. Her mother passed away when she was in grade school and her father left before she was even born. Being an only child, her uncle had offered to take her in, but he was a bachelor with a demanding job and very little time for another human being besides himself. He wasn’t the worst person in the world and they got along well enough, he was just never really much of a ‘parental figure’. She learned early on that she would have to find her own place in the world, and her fierce determination was set from that moment on.

She didn’t know why this was the morning of reminiscing, but something about the possibility of change must have had her brain in that mode. Rey brushed off the weirdness as she got up out of her seat after hearing her name being called. She made her way through the crowded cafe and grabbed her coffee.

She turned to leave, thanking the employee behind the counter again over her shoulder, when suddenly, she was almost knocked off her feet by an incoming stranger. She caught herself and her coffee, thankful for the lid stuck solidly to the cup, and turned around with a glare.

A tall man with broad shoulders and dark, shoulder length hair had been the culprit. His tall frame towered over her, but he seemed intent on barely even acknowledging her in his attempt to rush past. She caught his attention though, and he turned to look back at her over his shoulder. Rey, astounded by the audacity of the stranger, continued to glare and silently dared him to apologize for the discrepancy.

The man simply blinked at her for the briefest of moments, a glint in his dark eyes as they gazed back at her with an air of pride and so little remorse that it sent a shiver down her spine. Then, without a word, he continued on his way as if he had never hit her at all.

Rey scoffed angrily and whipped around on her heels as quickly as she could to get out of the coffee shop, now with a sour taste in her mouth. Some people are just assholes, she concluded as she once again walked out the door. A gust of blistering cold air hit her face and she closed her eyes. She tightened her scarf around her neck and pulled it up so that it was covering her nose, trying to shelter as much of her face as she could. God, she hated the cold...

***

It was as busy as always at the office. Rey quickly got lost in her work, and she didn’t realize how much time had passed before she heard her co-worker, Rose, calling her name.

“Do you ever take a break?”

The short cropped, black haired girl crossed her arms over the top of Rey’s desktop computer, forcing her to break from her work. She couldn’t help but smile when looking up into her ever cheerful, grinning face.

“I don’t have time for a break,” Rey said, trying to see past the distraction.

“I admire your dedication,” Rose stood on her tiptoes to lean over and look at Rey’s computer upside down. She was one of Rey’s favorite coworkers. Unlike the other women, she didn’t sit around the office and gossip all day, but had just about as much dedication to her job as Rey did. Well, almost as much.

“Did you hear about Rex and Ava?”

“Oh my God, no! Did they hook up?”

The chatter of the women standing behind them was too much for Rey. The office was notorious for rumors, especially of the romantic kind. Apparently, the people who worked there were infatuated with who was dating who, who had an affair with who, and who slept with who. Personally, Rey wanted nothing to do with it and couldn’t care less about the love lives of her coworkers. Unless it was Rose, but one of the things Rey liked about her was that she was pretty private and kept her personal life separate from her work life.

“I heard they got lunch yesterday and-”

“That’s crazy! I thought she was seeing that Lando guy from Brooklyn-”

“Look,” Rose said, “you eventually have to take a break. You know that, right? It��s bad for your mental health to be so busy all the time. And it’s kind of required by law.”

Rey smiled at her friend. “I know,” she said, placing her palm on Rose’s head and softly pushed it back so that she had to move off of her computer, “and thank you for caring, but I’m alright.”

“You would let me know if you weren’t, right?”

“I heard that the CEO’s son was going to start here in the new year.”

“No way! That arrogant jerk wants nothing to do with his father’s company. And he’s supposedly a real ‘ladies man’.”

“But I heard he’s super attractive and has that ‘rich bad boy’ vibe. Wouldn’t that be so hot?”

“Well, I have to admit, that would be a welcome change around here.”

Rey tried to drown out the distractions of the noises and she managed to plaster another reassuring smile on her face. “Of course I would.”

“It’s a long shot, but we’re all getting drinks at Naboo’s, that new cocktail bar down the street, if you’d like to join us?” Rose asked, motioning to a few of the other women who were all filing behind her and collecting their coats and respective purses. Her dark eyes begged Rey to come along, and she hated to disappoint, but she knew she didn’t want to go.

“I wish I could,” Rey said with a hint of genuine sadness in her voice, “but I just have so much work to do. I was planning on staying a little late tonight anyway.”

“Well, you can’t blame me for trying,” Rose chuckled with a shrug. She turned to leave and gave Rey a little wave over her shoulder.

“Have fun without me,” Rey called after her as she walked away, grabbing her own coat as she passed by the coat rack.

“Would be more fun with you,” Rose teased. There was a small ding and the now collective group of men and women who were leaving for the day clamored into the elevator.

Rey watched as the doors slid shut and just like that, it was silent in the office. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and sighed with relief. It was always nice when she could be here by herself. She found that she got more work done with less distractions. She wouldn’t be there that late anyway and her bosses didn’t mind as long as it helped further the business. Some of them were still working in their own offices, so she wasn’t completely alone.

She grabbed her laptop to take to the conference room and finish some paperwork on a particularly difficult case. Although, she quickly discovered that maybe not taking a single break that day, even to eat, was probably an issue. Her stomach growled and at first she tried to ignore it, but when her hunger headache began, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for too much longer.

With a long sigh, Rey stood and made her way to the break room. Taking a peek through the floor to ceiling windows, she could see the city all lit up for the evening. There was something special about New York at night, but especially around the holidays. People had candles in their windows and hung colorful lights on balconies and railings and really wherever they could find space. She loved upstate, and not just because of the expensive look of her surroundings and the other rich things it had to offer, but because the city really did look stunning at night. Like a million, twinkling stars, but unlike the unreachable night sky above, if you reached out to touch them, they were almost in your grasp.

***

After making a quick protein filled smoothie, Rey went back to the empty room to finish her work. Only, when she got there, she discovered that she was not alone.

A man lounged in her chair, his back towards her. Without even seeing him standing, she could tell how tall he was just by how far his legs extended out from under him. He was sitting with his feet propped up on another chair close to him, one leg crossed over the other, and he was staring at her open laptop. The light from the screen illuminated his frame and she couldn’t see past his thick shoulders and broad upper torso. Something about him was so familiar to her, but she didn’t care enough to think too deeply on it as her focus was more caught on how he was snooping in on her personal case.

“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She said sharply, expecting to see him jump in surprise at being caught, but he didn’t move a muscle. Instead, she heard a calm, deep voice come from the opposite side of his large body.

“I’m reading.”

The response was simple, but the tone of it made her feel like she was the stupid one for even having asked the question in the first place.

“That’s my laptop,” she said plainly, taken off guard and not knowing how else to react.

“Is it? That’s interesting,” the man sounded bored and Rey thought for a second that he didn’t even seem to be listening to her at all.

“I’m sorry, but can I have my seat back? I was working on an important case.” Rey took a few defiant steps closer, trying to be as brave as she could. Something about this man unnerved her and she was suddenly very aware that she was alone with a stranger in an almost completely empty and dark room.

“I can see that,” he said, reaching a hand up to his face and rubbing his chin, “you’ve missed something important in your report though.” He still didn’t turn to her, but his other hand appeared beside him and he wiggled two fingers, motioning for her to come over to him. Rey felt her face heat with anger and embarrassment. How dare this strange man try to correct her on her case. Who did he think he was, anyway?!

Against her better judgement, Rey couldn’t suppress her pride and she realized she had to know what he was talking about. She’d looked over this case for almost an entire week now, and she was sure there was no way she could have missed a thing. It was a pretty cut and dry case, anyway. A man cheated on his fiance and she was suing him, hoping to make him pay for all the money her and her family had already spent on the upcoming wedding.

“What are you talking about?” Rey asked bluntly as she stepped over to the man. She leaned over his shoulder and squinted her eyes in the laptop light, trying to find the discrepancy she was sure was nowhere to be found.

“Right here,” the man’s deep voice was directly in her ear and she could feel his hot breath on her neck, instantly sending shivers down her spine, “the report says that your client’s ex-fiance cheated on her with another woman. That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not, the evidence proved that he was seeing another woman while they were together, and one of the witnesses all but admitted to being his mistress. It’s a cut and dry case.”

“Except that he wasn’t seeing another woman. He was seeing three.”

“Excuse me?!” The accusation was so outrageous that Rey had to turn and give the man the most incredulous look, and when their eyes met, she suddenly remembered where she had seen him before. The scene from that morning in the coffee shop played in her mind like a rerun of a bad TV show. Her breath hitched in her throat as he stared back at her with a wry smile on his lips.

“The sample of hair they found on his suit coat the night of the supposed affair is blonde. The color of your witnesses hair is a muted brunette,” he began to explain his reasonings, never breaking eye contact with Rey while she stared dumbfoundedly back at him.

“That’s only two women. You said there were three.” She stood up straight and looked down on the dark haired man who leaned back further into his seat to keep her gaze. She knew her response was weak, suddenly doubting everything she thought she knew about this case and hating herself for missing something so obvious as that. But she was still determined not to let this stranger get the better of her.

The man’s smile faded and he moved from his seat, slowly getting up. It seemed to take him an impossibly long time to rise, but when he stretched to his full height, he towered at least a good foot above her. He looked down at her with little interest in his eyes, as if he had just gotten bored of their conversation and was bothered by her presence.

Suddenly, he was leaning in towards her and Rey’s hand instinctively grabbed the pepper spray she carried in her jacket, but the man reached past her and pulled over a plastic baggy full of evidence. Rey’s breathing was heavy with a mixture of fury and fear as he grabbed the bag and pulled it towards him.

“The perfume found in his car is an original vintage bottle of Versace made in 1983. There are only a few of these rare finds left and their price runs around one thousand dollars a pop. Judging from the size of the pocket books on both of the ladies he was seeing, neither of them could afford such a luxury. Which of course suggests that he had another, more prominent and wealthy woman on his hands.”

Rey swallowed hard and tried to keep her expression as blank as she could, but he was making too much and too little sense at the same time, and her head was spinning with confusion. Who did this arrogant bastard think he was to come in here and completely destroy her work like this?

“Not to mention, I happen to know the lovely lady who owns this particular bottle,” his fingers traced the side of the bag and he looked at it with such a perverse smile that it made Rey’s stomach turn, “She can be very… persuasive when she wants something. Her father, who owns a tenth of the real estate in upper Manhattan, will do everything he can to fight the scandal. Which means new, expensive lawyers on the defendants side and probably a lot of shaddy underground work to get him out scotch free. I have a feeling your client isn’t going to get the money, if anything, as easily as she thought.”

The silence that followed was excruciating. Rey was shocked by the revelation and the ridiculous outcome of this case she had been working her life away on. There was no way that they could have hidden this from her, was there? Her mind raced with all the possibilities that this could mean and she scrambled to find a way, any way, to turn this back in her client's favor. Could she beg for a settlement and at least get some money to the poor, mistreated woman? Or maybe she could convince the judge that this was a gross misuse of trust and blame emotional manipulation? There had to be something, anything...

“Or,” the low drawl of the man’s voice as he drew out the word snapped Rey out of her spiral. His black eyes glittered once again with something she couldn’t place and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a cocky smile as he wiggled the evidence in his hand, “this could just be a regular old department store perfume bottle and I was simply fucking with you.”

Another silence filled the room and Rey found she couldn’t breathe again. What… the… hell had he just said?

“I-I’m sorry, what?” She hissed her question and the smile on the man’s face grew wider.

“That was fun, sweetheart,” his condescending words made Rey’s blood boil, “let’s do this again sometime. When I need comic relief in this shithole of a job, I’ll look for you.” He stretched his arms behind his neck and sauntered around her, making his way out of the room. He stopped in the doorway and turned over his shoulder to give her a taunting wink.

“See you around.”

*to be continued*

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score Chapter 8 Realizations

You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

But now it's just another show

You leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

---

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

-Joni Mitchell - Both Sides Now

Gamora huffed, rolling and felt the vibration of her blade against Drax’s collide with a cutting force.

“You’re using too much force,” she instructed, doding another blow and swinging her sword around hitting the tattooed man with the blunt edge of the blade across his side. He grunted and rushed at her once more, one knife arching upward, the other coming around the left in what would’ve been a deadly motion had she not had the time to backstep, blocking the descending blade with the protective metal guards affixed to each forearm. Out of the corner of her eye, Peter sat watching the two of them, captivated.

“I thought you were a destroyer man,” he muttered between bites of chips. “But Gamora is really kicking your butt here.”

Drax frowned and made another attempt to swipe at her from behind but she ducked, grabbing his wrist and twisting it, just enough to surprise him. He dropped the knife on reflex and snatched it before it hit the ground.

“I am not surprised,” Drax responded unphased. He jerked his arm out of her grip in one practiced move. “She is a most noble fighter. Perhaps better than I and certainly better then you Quill.”

The human in question nodded, rifling through the crumbs of the chip bag. Gamora watched him with a small smile, he’s so goofy. So….

Something hard knocked against her hip. She reacted instantly, arching her sword above her head and bringing it down upon Drax, blunt end facing his neck. In the hold she used his own mass against him, sending him sprawling on the cold deck of the ship and kept a foot on his shoulder blades, the end of her sword poised just above the nape of his neck.

Go on, the fight’s not over until she begs for mercy. Nebula.

“Don’t….please...Gamora…,” those black eyes staring into her. Thano’s surveying the two of them like toys.

“Go on Gamora,.”

“Gamora….” a nervous glance towards their father. “Please ...you know what he’ll do to me.”

“Gamora! I said, I yield!” Drax laughs while he rolls over and only then does she remove the blade from his neck, her boot from his back. She eased up, coming out of a daze, shivering. But Drax’s large wide smile fills her narrow vision, extending a large rough hand. “That was a good match daughter of…..Gamora. I look forward to the day when I might best you.” She studied hand in front of her. Open and welcoming, ready to be held. Companionable. Trusting.

It was a good fight. A fair fight. Take his hand. She sheathed her sword, Nebula’s pleas echoing in her head. Thano’s gaze tearing into her.

“Y..you’re welcome Drax. Good match.”

He keeps his head open, expectant but Gamora settles for crossing her arms and nodding to him in what she hopes is a friendly enough gesture. The destroyer thankfully gets the hint and closes his palm into a fist. Sour shame wells in her stomach.

“Gggggrrt!” Groot shrieks from his pot, wiggling madly trying to dislodge himself from the soil. Gamora can’t help but grin and pats the little flora on the top of his head affectionately. Groot is safe. He's  little, he can’t hurt me…..for now. Small wooden hands grasped her wrist so delicately she is afraid that if she moves, the little fingers will crack and snap. “Grrrttt!” He chirped, content.

“You and Drax should practice together more often,” Peter’s voice so close to her makes the hairs on the back of her neck raise in apprehension. She forces herself not to reach for her sword. But him standing behind her like that, in her blind spot. He could attack at any moment. Stop it, he will not attack you.

“He is too reckless, there is no deliberateness to his movements. Just reckless bloodlust.”

Peter only shrugged. She flinched, feeling the lightness of his fingers playing against her elbow.

“Sorry, I...I didn’t mean.”

“It’s alright,” Gamora reassured. The shame welling inside of her again. “I didn’t mean to,”

“You don’t have to apologize Gamora,” his warm eyes looked at her with possibility. He has a strange innocence about him.  

“I am Groot!”

Gamora and Peter turned towards Groot in unified surprise. Peter was at the sapling’s side in an instant, picking up his pot with glee.

“Groot! Buddy you did it,” he beamed, “you talked!”

“I am Grooot!”

“Was that Groot?”

Drax popped his head into the room and bounded over Peter and the flora, wrapping his muscular arms around the two of them.

“At last! I knew you would soon begin your annoying phrase! Though your limited vocabulary is irritating, I am glad you are able to speak again!”

“I am Groot!”

“Someone get Rocket!”

Gamora’s lighted heart instantly plummeted,

“Peter I don’t think that’s a good….”

As if on cue the raccoonoid dove into the room.

Enhanced hearing, Gamora momentarily grumbled.

“Groot!” Drax let go just in time for the raccoonoid to vault up on the table and snatch Groot’s pot from Peter’s hands. “What did he say?!”

“What did he say?” Peter gauffed, “I’ll give you one guess.”

“Shut up Star-Shit,”

Rocket’s red eyes instantly went back to Groot, who babbled incoherently again.

Tell him, he has a right to know. Gamora bit her lip watching Rocket’s elated face beaming at Groot.  She sucked a breath, searching uncomfortably for the words. It was a rare time when she did not know what to say, considering that her words had been a means of survival just as well as her weapons.

“Rocket,”

“I am Groot!” Groot shouted happily. The raccoonoid looked up at her with ….trepidation?

“What did he say?”  Drax demanded.

“I am Groot, I am Groot!” The little flora tried to twist around, pointing with tiny fingers at the green woman.

“He….he said Gamora,” Rocket explained, confused. “Groot! Groot buddy, look at me! What’s my name?”

Gamora watched Groot ignore him and instead stare upward at her and Peter. “Groot!” Rocket barked, “man what’s my name?”

Groot’s silence held Gamora in a constricting hold, I should have told him sooner. He’d be better prepared.

“Groot!” Rockets claws twisted the pot around, his voice cracking in increasing desperation. “Groot! What is my name?”

Gamora’s heart raced, as Groot cocked his head to the side in blank confusion. Rocket’s ears flicked downward, chest deflating. She could not see his pupils for he had none, but she didn’t need to. The raccoonoid’s eyes widened, mouth agape. She looked away at the sight of his implants, sagging with his shoulders.

“Groot…..” begging. “Come on bud, please! Xandar remember?! The orb, that collector guy who was gonna turn you into a chair!” Rocket was trembling now, searching the flora’s face for any sign of recognition. She could feel Peter’s eyes on her.

“What’s going on?” He asked gently, though something in his tone told Gamora he already knew.

“Groot!” Rocket tried again, tears rimmed his eyes. “Halfworld!” He choked out, “getting free? That bounty on G’rva! The Lazy Rsket!”  Pretty sure that’s a bar, Gamora remembered from researching her targets. Rocket shook the pot now, sending Groot swooshing along with it, Drax stepped forward only to be cut off by Peter’s warning hand. “The bounty of Zarflaktn! Groot! The...the labs...that prison break on Harmut!” Groot, giggled with the to and throw motion of the pot, waving his arms playfully in stark contrast to Rocket’s mounting fury.  He’s barely holding it together. He’s going to snap. “You remember don’t you?! That...that time on Parnas…”

Gamora had not the slightest idea as to what “that time on Parnas,” was referring to, but whatever it was it was enough that Groot’s lack of acknowledgement was a devastating blow. Rocket drew backward, chest heaving.

“Rocket,” Peter dared step forward, “it’s it’s gonna be okay man. Groot’s just excited is all! It’s okay.” But the raccoonoid only stared at Groot, frozen. Breath rapidly accelerating to the point where Gamora wondered if he was in danger of passing out.

“Furry one, what is the matter?”

“G….groot…?” The tears behind Rocket’s leaked forward, his gaze unfocused. “Groot…”

“Rocket,” Gamora found her voice though it shook. “Breathe...Peter’s right. It will be alright, Groot’s just getting his words back.” The raccoonoid shook his head, fists clenched, body as tight as a bow string. She knew the posture. He was either going to snap and attack them or run. The raccoonoid glared at her through tears, for the second time. She realized with a start.

“Groot’s probably just tired,” Peter tried again with an heir of assurance that did nothing to assure.  Rocket only shook his head, cybernetic bolts going up and down, pulling against his skin with a taunt cruelty Gamora knew too well. He let out a hiss at Groot’s attempts to reach for him, and took off out of the room, dashing on all fours.

“I ammm Grooo!”

Drax picked the little flora up, restraining him from his attempts to crawl after the raccoonoid.

Gamora planted her hands on her hips, turning from them back to the flight deck.

Beep beep beep, beep, beep, beep.

“Nebula’s ship,” Gamora raced to the cockpit, frantically looking through the windows up into the blackness beyond. Of course there was no actual telling if it was her ship. The tracker had fallen off, but she’d set up alerts for any ships that came within the radius of Rocket’s calculations.

“Is that ...?” Peter followed her gaze towards the small ship off the starboard side. Gamora swallowed, eyes feverishly scrutinizing the object as critically as she could. I thought I’d have more time ...a million thoughts raced through her mind.

“That’s her,” Gamora spun on her heel, sword in hand as she made a B-line for one of the escape pods.

“Wait, Gamora!” The grip on her hand made her stop, eyes bulging in predetermined fury.

“What?”

“We’ll come with you!”

“Absolutely not,” she shook off his grip in an instant. “It’s too dangerous.”  

“We just saved Xandar!”

“Nebula’s worse,” Gamora glared, punching open the codes to the hatch that led to the pod.

“Just, gimme a second we’ll get trail her for awhile to make sure she doesn’t have backup and then fly the ship right up close in her blindspot as far as we can. We’ll disable her engines and force her to come out.”

“I appreciate it Peter, but I can’t risk that.”

He sighed, conceding to her without further argument.

“We’ll follow close behind, take a com control in case you need anything.”

She hopped into the pod, snatching one of the portable com controls and punched the release.

“Thank you.”  She watched Peter’s face as the roof of the ship came sliding down, watching his careful eyes for as long as she could.

“Wait!” Peter dove, one arm grabbing the descending roof with a metallic groan.

“What?!”

“Just...be careful okay?”

Gamora sighed, touching his hand gently.

“I will,” she pried his grip off the ship. “Now let go.”

He relented and stepped back as the door shut, the pod released, shooting out after Nebula. Peter’s face looming in her mind. She tightened her grip around the steering grips, the stolen Xandarian ship still drifting slowly through the cosmos. As she neared, a smug smile lit her face.

Nebula, I never thought you’d be so foolish. You stole a courier ship. It bore no external weaponry. No cannons, no guns. Nothing. For now her sister was defenseless. I will not kill her. I’ll...I’ll make her see reason, take her back to our ship. I’ll talk to her. Just talk. She thrust the pod forward, glancing at the sword on her hip.  Gamora swallowed the impulsive bloodlust, shame stirring in her gut.

[aces-to-apples]

halo, spartans, and rvb deep lore

so

you wanna incorporate spartan lore into your rvb fic

okay then, first thing’s first: what you have to know, first and foremost, about the spartans (beyond a genuinely stupid amount of backstory) is that everything about the SPARTAN-II Program (not to be confused with the original ORION Project, or the subsequent SPARTAN-III or SPARTAN-IV Programs) from start to finish is fucking buckwild

tw: child abuse, kidnapping, mental abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, human experimentation, human rights violations, medical experimentation, child soldiers, slavery, murder, torture, ptsd, war, genocide, psychosis, non-consensual body modification, suicide (i missed that one, sorry), let me know if i missed anything

ORION Project (retroactively termed “SPARTAN-I Program”)

okay so picture this, it’s 2494. humans have been out there, colonizing space for a good couple hundred years. there’s a Unified Earth Government. there’s a United Nations Space Command. everything still runs on capitalism, and the military is basically the government. now up until now, because Capitalism, earth and its closest neighbors (the Inner Colonies) have been demanding more and more from the poorer and sparser working class Outer Colonies with diminishing returns for the Outer Colonies because space capitalism, and it’s been getting progressively worse and worse for decades. it’s very star wars, slow decay of the republic, because CAPITALISM IN SPACE, folks! so, 2494, after decades of trying to negotiate better conditions and compromises with a government that doesn’t listen and doesn’t care, finally the demands for independence start pouring in in earnest. these demands are, of course, denied, with prejudice. fighting breaks out; it’s unofficial war. the Insurrection. unbeknownst to you, humble average joe trying to live your life without GODDAMN SPACE CAPITALISM, the unsc (specifically ONI, the office of naval intelligence, which is basically the space CIA, who does all the really shady shit) saw the writing on the wall a few years before and put restarted the efforts to biochemically augment regular soldiers for more effective use. super soldiers, ya dig?

(full disclosure: they’ve been trying this for years, decades, like a century and a half or some shit but it never really worked out and last time they tried it, in like 2321 or some shit, they scrapped it and shove the initial volunteers back into regular duty and they all ended up mysteriously dying.)

so, super soldiers. stronger, faster, enhanced sight and hearing, enhanced brain function, the works. and work it does, sort of. the first 65 test subjects are a success, and deployed in 2496 because the Insurrection is picking up steam and actually winning battles and taking control of new territory and using spies and just basically freaking the shit out of the military. another batch goes into the works. things get worse. bombings continue, insurrectionists grow bolder, spies become harder to root out, civilians get caught in the crossfire, hatred for the unsc continues to grow. at its height, there are 300 active duty ORIONs, and they’re good at what they do, but it’s not enough. because of War and also Science, the ORIONs also become a game of diminishing returns, most of them growing too traumatized, too jaded, too sympathetic to the insurrection, or too sick (physically, mentally, and even genetically) to continue. 2502: the leader of the Secessionist Union is assassinated by the ORIONs, the Union falls apart but the Insurrection only gains strength from a martyr, and honestly when does any military actually stay smart and efficient? the ORION Project is quietly retired in 2506 and the remaining 165 active duty ORIONs reintegrated back into regular unsc.

(another quick aside here: the Insurrection refers less to any specific group of insurgents and more of the overall cause of independence from earth imperialism. the Secessionist Union was the most visible, organized, and effective of the bunch, having gather about a dozen world initially to all petition for sovereignty from the Unified Earth Government.)

(fun fact: ODSTs (Orbital Drop Shock Troopers) were modeled off of the ORIONs and became the most badass and effective soldiers in the UNSC, barring SPARTANs themselves.)

(another one: due to all the biochemical and genetic fuckery, the ORIONs who didn’t develop ridiculous scary physical/genetic health problems, or completely understand mental health problems, really did kind of end up like captain america-y super soldiers and continued serving well past when a baseline human would have retired or just gotten Too Old For This Shit. Avery Johnson, a notable and dare i say Iconic character from the Halo franchise, was an ORION and that led him to surviving: all of the ORION Project fuckery missions, the Harvest incident AKA: When Humans Met Covenant And It Went Poorly, the Fall of Reach AKA: When The Covenant After 20 Years Of War Found And Glassed Earth’s Next-Door Neighbor Signalling The Beginning Of The End Cuz When They Found Earth It Was All Gonna Be Fucking Over, the Battle of Installation 04 AKA: Halo 1, and the first Battle of Earth and the Battle of Installation 05 AKA: Halo 2. he was a key leader in the Human-Covenant Alliance following the Great Schism and participated in the Battles for the Ark and Installation 08 AKA: When The Elites Realized Their Religious Leaders Were Full Of Shit And Started Their Own Rebellion And Teamed Up With Humanity To Stop The Flood From Spreading Or The Halo Installations From Firing And Wiping Out All Sentient Life In The Galaxy AKA: Halo 3. also, the biochemical fuckery kept the flood, aka: space zombies via spores, from infecting him. the monitor, also known as epsilon’s ball-form, shot and killed johnson with his lazer face at the end of halo 3. i cried. this badass motherfucker survived like legit 55 years of war to be taken out by an a.i. who can’t wear pants having an existential crisis.)

SPARTAN-II Program (spiritual successor to ORION Project)

2510. shit’s been fucked for awhile. the Unified Earth Government and the United Nations Space Command have been fighting an unofficial civil war for like 15 years. people are Tired, they want the war to end, but they don’t want to admit that they’re in the wrong, so they decide to throw more firepower at the problem. enter Dr. Catherine Halsey, a motherfucking 18 year old civilian child prodigy scientist, I DIDN’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW THAT SHE WAS THAT FUCKING YOUNG WHAT THE F U C K, walks up to the Vice Admiral of ONI (remember, Space CIA, alllll the shady shit) and says “hey i got an idea let’s try super soldiers again but this time it’s Worse” and ONI fucking agree because ONI is Fucked Up and i fucking Hate them, fuck ONI. anyway, it’s “spartan episode 2: attack of the clones” up in here. oh, you think i’m kidding? you think i jest?

“the first problem is,” says arrogant petulant 18 year old catherine halsey who’s never been told no a day in her life because she’s just So Smart, she’s Emily Grey up in this bitch but without the perky attitude or respect for people’s wishes when they say they don’t want a robot arm, “the problem with the orions was that the genetic fuckery y’all did was done all willy-nilly, y’all didn’t even make sure the soldiers would be compatible. now you’re got avery johnson, real like Captain America, running around but also orions who retired and had children need to give their kids special injections on the regular to keep their genes where and doing what they’re supposed to be. so you gotta genetically test all your subjects before you fuck with their dna.”

“okay, that makes sense,” says oni, “go on.”

“right so the second problem is,” says halsey, who will eventually become pretty much the worst that Humanity has to offer to the Universe, in my opinion, “that some of your knock-off super soldiers developed a little touch of the ol’ ptsd, or caught some Feelings about the insurrection maybe being Not Wrong, so we gotta make sure to brainwash—i’m sorry, did i say brainwash, i meant indoctrinate—all your slaves—i mean subjects!—in Military Values and Warfare because who wants super soldiers with empathy. so they’ve gotta be pretty young, which ties in nicely with the genetic component which requires they be prepubescent. neat, right?”

“brainwash children,” oni replies, nodding and making notes, “got it. anything else?”

“ah ha!” says halsey, whom i hate possibly more than any other fictional character across the board. “so! after we find these really genetically specific children who are all in the single digits, all possessing not only genetic but superior physical and mental capabilities, and after we kidnap them and replace them with flash clones—which, i’ll remind you, are illegal to create because flash-cloning speeds up the development of the cloned fetus to such degrees that they almost unfailingly develop compounding biological and congenital defects that cannot be corrected us thus almost all of them end up dying awful painful deaths—so we abduct the children and replace them with clones almost guaranteed to die quickly, ruining untold hundreds of lives in the process, we’ll physically, mentally, and emotionally abuse them into compliance and ruin any chance of them functioning in society by turning them into child soldiers. and then! and this is the really fun part, and then when they’re fourteen we’ll subject them to the most despicable violations of their body that i can possibly concoct using chemical, biological, and physical let’s call them ‘augmentations’ to make them grow obscenely large and strong without their consent because they’re slaves—soldiers!—and really who needs consent or ethics or basic human rights, amirite?”

“entirely,” oni says, nodding in agreement. “so what’s the survival rate on that, by the by?”

“hmm?” asks halsey, distracted by her own fucking evil brilliance, “oh right yeah well you originally okayed that i steal 150 kids from their parents but then i added in that whole flash-clone bullshit to soothe my own almost non-existent conscience so you bumped it down to 75 and then, like, 30 of them won’t survive the augmentation process at all, and then like a dozen of them will become so painfully and tortuously disabled that we’ll just kick them out of the project—you guys can find a use for those wash-outs, right?—and like a couple of them will probably kill themselves so like…” halsey trails off, counting her fingers silently. “33, maybe? did i count that right? yeah so like between thirty and thirty-five i’d say. less than half, to be sure! that’s cool right?”

“…….sounds good to me!” oni agrees enthusiastically, because they’re irredeemable pieces of shit. “what happens next?”

what happens next, dear readers, is that after all the children are kidnapped when they’re six years old in 2517, they’re treated like *waves hand in above direction* THAT, until 2525, when the planet of Harvest was discovered by the Covenant. you know, that alien coalition that decides to wipe humanity out of existence for Religious Reasons. i won’t get into the politics of the covenant because even after all of this i think that’s Too Much, but suffice it to say that the leaders of the Covenant were Full of Shit and They Knew It Too. so, harvest happens, and Covies go on a decades long rampage, and the insurrection doesn’t so much die as it gets sort of pushed to the side because Genocidal Aliens. so the Covies are glassing planets left and right—despite the Cole Protocol which states that any UNSC or civilian ship must not make any direct slipspace jumps from Covie engagements to any human populated planet because they can track slipspace vectors and calculate where you’ll come out, and also if you have to evacuate then you damn well wipe all your data and activate the ship’s self-destruct so they can’t find more humans to mercilessly murder—and with the addition of Genocidal Aliens to the mix, the SPARTAN-II Program speeds the fuck up and introduces Project MJOLNIR.

MJOLNIR Power Assault Armor, a high-powered 1000 lb. combat exoskeleton system designed not just to protect, but to enhance the already substantial physical capabilities of the spartans (all now somewhere in the upper six-foot range, to my memory) and to house fully-formed smart a.i.

(a.i… are a whole ‘nother deal. quick an dirty version: a ‘dumb’ a.i. is programmed like any other and can continue on as it is pretty much as long as its physical contain can. a ‘smart’ a.i., on the other hand, is based on an actual human brain but due to the limited nature of its processing matrix, the longer it operates, the less ‘space’ it has in its ‘brain’. a smart a.i. times out around seven years, sometimes before, because it literally thinks itself to death. once it times out, they call it rampancy. remember that term? yeah, it’s cuz season 10 talked about the four stages of rampancy, which can be compared to human psychosis, at which point the a.i., having been gathering incomprehensible amounts of data for seven years, begins to break down and dip into, kind of, debilitating amounts of emotion. sigma wanted to achieve the meta phase because it was the closest he could find to being human again, but he needed all of the fragments collected again because merging together might make them a full a.i. and thus closer to achieving, or i suppose, regaining full personhood.)

right anyway mjolnir armor, the distinctive halo armor, makes spartans absurdly strong and difficult to kill. not invincible, but damn fucking good. the spartans, along with the ODSTs, run of the mill marines, the cole protocol, and human refusal to just lay down and die pretty much holds the line against total annihilation by the Covenant for *checks watch* twenty-seven goddamn years. for twenty-seven years the Covenant sprinted around the galaxy squashing every human colony and settlement they could find but couldn’t find earth or much of the inner colonies. two, three generations of people who never knew anything but war in some form or another is pretty fucked up, guys.

anyway so, fast forward through, Yikes, All Of That to 2552. 2552 was a big year yall. ngl, like twelve huge battles all happened pretty much concurrently right now, but wrt the spartans: the Covenant found Reach, which was pretty much Earth’s next-door neighbor (and, incidentally, where all the spartan ii’s were “trained”) and they found it right when all of the spartans had been recalled back to it for a super secret mission. most of them died. john-117, master chief, and his buddy (i……wanna say linda?) made it off the planet with cortana the a.i., kickstarting the first halo game, while a little group got up to their own crazy space-magic shenanigans that i……i honestly can’t even get into right now, i just can’t, it’s all so fuckin weird and spans like seven books and i honestly don’t remember most of it. so, master chief and cortana the a.i. who is based on halsey’s brain because jen taylor is a hell of a voice actress, go to halo and meet the space zombies and stop halo from firing and killing everyone by blowing it up and that’s basically halo 1 for you. same thing happens in halo 2, except now there’s alien politics and you also get to play as a sangheili soldier who comes to the startling realization that his religious leaders are Full of Shit and starts a civil war. halo 3 is all the crazy shit happening on earth and also more alien politics and honestly i enjoyed that game least so i don’t remember much of it tbh. like i said, most of the spartans die on reach, but john and his buddy who might be linda live, as well as a little handful, one of whom is definitely named fred.

SPARTAN-III Program (AKA: "Make the units better with new technology. Make more of them. And make them cheaper.“) (god everything about this universe is so fucking buckwild)

the spartan ii’s were a resounding success but there literally being less than three-dozen kinda cut down on their usefulness, and also halsey refused to train a second batch of spartans because of her goddamn “age requirement” and like i’m not complaining that more children weren’t abducted and experimented on but halsey really was a fucking moron really just out here to stroke her own damn ego, jesus fucking christ. not, of course, that the spartan iii’s were MUCH better, mind you. so, 2531, six years into the war with the covenant and an equal amount of time without a second batch of spartan ii’s, this asshole called ackerson goes, “pfft, i can make more of these fuckers and i can make them cheaper and i won’t have to kidnap kids, who’s with me?”

and ONI said, “wait we’re not kidnapping anymore?” and it looks kinda put out cuz it likes that shady shit.

“nah,” says ackerson, waving a hand, “we’ll just recruit orphans from glassed planets who have a grudge against the covenant. like, ya know, eight and nine years olds and shit. it’ll be fine.”

so the first batch of spartan iii’s was produced in 2531: alpha company, 300 strong, all of whom survived the augmentation process at the age of twelve because it, like, got refined and dulled down a little or something, it’s been awhile. so alpha company is doing good, real good, trained by a the guy who trained the spartan ii’s and even one of the spartan ii’s themself.

(kurt-051, also known as kurt ambrose, real name kurt trevelyan because the spartan program literally fucked him up so bad he couldn’t remember his family name so ackerson just fucking gave him one, oh my gooood. anyway, so kurt was the leader of green team and they were sent on a mission but ONI fucking, they fuckin sabotaged his jetpack so that it malfunctions while in space so that he’s presumed dead but actually ONI just abducted him so he could train the spartan iii’s without halsey knowing about it because MILITARY POLITICS I GUESS?)

right anyway so alpha company, they do good, they do good, and then nine months after deployment in 2537 all of them (with a few exceptions who got pulled out to do other shit in other branches) get wiped out in Operation: PROMETHEUS, a mission to destroy a Covie shipyard or whatever. ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT CASUALTY RATE. okay, so, this is fine, we’ll try again. 2539, beta company, 300 strong, we’ll train them even harsher than the spartan ii’s were, drill them even more on unit cohesion. what happens, can you fucking guess? 2545, DING DONG, YOU ARE WRONG, same thing fucking happens in Operation: TORPEDO. only two survivors of that massacre, and the handfuls who weren’t sent on the suicide mission en masse.

in halo: reach, the game that bridge halos 3 and 4, carter, emile, jun, and thom (who was the original noble six, whom you, the player, replace in-game after he dies) are spartan iii’s from alpha company. kat and the player’s character, spartan-b312, are from beta company. jorge is an og spartan ii. there were also rumors of a couple different teams of iii’s helping evacuate civilians from reach at the same time. the LONEWOLF Headhunters were also spartan iii’s: basically two-person assassin teams.

(also, just to clarify, because the appeal of spartan iii was that it was cheaper, not all, and not even many, of the spartan iii’s were issued mjolnir armor, because making a single suit cost as much as making a full battleship. because space capitalism.)

alright, so, gamma company, third time’s the charm. 330, average age of six years old, all of them survived augmentation in 2551 and were shipped out only a few weeks after the fall of reach, so around december of 2552/january of 2553, maybe. NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT PROJECT CHRYSANTHEMUM! Project CHRYSANTHEMUM was the name given to the NEW AND IMPROVED biological augmentations given to gamma company. you wanna know what makes them new and improved? why, fucking up your brain to make it wayyyyyy more aggressive, resistant to shock, and more able to access the “animal part of the brain in times of shock”! i mean, when you hear “depresses higher reason centers of the brain over time; requires regular doses of [special meds] to be taken to avoid uncontrollable aggression” doesn’t that just fill you with confidence and positivity and something that isn’t homicidal rage?? so yeah in addition to having the body of an adult olympic athlete at fucking twelve years old and stupid fast and three times as strong as a normal soldier, now your brain can’t regulate itself! isn’t that fucking dandy! take your smoothers kids or you might just murder everyone in sight!

delta company was scheduled to be a thing but was likely never put into practice. why they went out of order on the naming i’m not sure.

the spartan-iii program was disbanded after the end of the human-covenant war in 2553 and the remaining spartan ii’s and iii’s were folded into Spartan Operations, which was a brand-spanking new military branch designed specifically for oversight of spartans because…

SPARTAN-IV PROGRAM (AKA: And Look At That, We’re Back To Consenting Adults)

2550. listen yall. shit. shit’s fucked aight? has been for awhile. and like maybe, maybe super soldiers in walking tanks is too much to ask for? maybe just regular super soldiers, but ones that are already full-grown? yeah let’s go back to the drawing board on that one. yeah let’s just do some unauthorized testing—whoops! 10% survival rate, that bites. let’s just, uh, not tell anyone about that—

“hey there,” says lieutenant commander musa, former spartan ii candidate who was tortuously disabled by the augmentation process and carries a grudge the size of pluto against catherine halsey.

“we weren’t doing anything!” shouts oni, because fuck you, oni.

“i wanna help make more spartans,” says musa. “i hate halsey with every fiber of my being but spartans are doing good work, important work, and i wanna help them do it but only if they’re consenting adults.”

oni looks at that latest batch of spartan iii’s who, due to circumstances, had to go off their smoothers during a planetary battle and freaked out everyone and their mother. “yeah good call.”

so with ackerson dead and halsey fucking finally arrested for war crimes, musa and jun (spartan iii and only survivor of noble team from halo: reach) take the lead on the spartan iv’s, the candidates of which are pooled from fully-grown human adults in a variety of military branches, from grizzled veterans to promising young soldiers with experience under their belts.

2553, the first batch of 145 iv’s is live, include My Girl Commander Sarah Palmer who kicks ass and takes names. 2554, second class is initiated. SPARTAN-IV Program is headquartered in a dedicated facility on Mars; spartan iv’s are trained in a top-secret facility orbiting an unnamed dwarf planet.

as previously mentioned, spartans gain their own military branch, Spartan Operations, and remaining ii’s and iii’s are offered to be folded into the new branch. many accept, but some decline in favor of non-combat roles. hundreds of spartans are assigned to the UNSC Infinity, literally the biggest fucking ship in human history, i love it so much it’s great. in halo: 4, a big part of the plot is that john was missing for like four years and when he’s found again there’s this fuck-off big ship filled with people calling themselves spartans who are also fuck-off big but also Strangers. anyway i love the spartan iv’s and anyone who didn’t like spartan ops or halo: infinity are cordially invited to me in the fucking pit.

SO! i’ve been at this for literal hours and am going to bed now! hope you learned something helpful, i’m sure i forgot a lot of shit, not even including all the shit that i left out on purpose because it’s two in the goddamn morning.

[maplecatra]

Blue Eyes

Hey! Kit Kat here! I just wanted to say thank you all! I’m so happy I made it to 100! I’m hoping I’ll keep producing content that everyone enjoys!

I first started writing this fic for @paladinofredlion and ended up finishing it for @bluebeargurl

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Keith looked out his window, bored. It was another Saturday afternoon and, with nothing to do and his brother out on a job, he was actually considering making new friends. Then, thankfully before he could entertain the thought for long, he heard a familiar humming. Keith perked up as the fluffy haired boy came into view of the window. Now, Keith would attest that he did NOT look forward to this boy’s occasion visits, and would also (lie) say that he was most definitely NOT checking the other man out. I mean, with those looks? He had to be straight and Keith refuses to play with a straight boy after Jonny broke his heart. Sure they were in third grade at the time, but man could Keith hold a grudge.

Keith, like usually, looked out his window and stared at the other boy’s *ahem* assets as they bent down and picked another flower from his garden. And just like that, an idea popped into Keith’s head. It may have not been the best one, but hey, it was an idea and those were rare enough. So he strolled out side and tapped the boy on his shoulder, the one he had been pining after for weeks without even knowing is name, the one his brother had teased him about for ages.

And the boy, in response, turned slowly. Keith had a smug grin on his face as the look of guilt at being caught grew on the others face. A single blue forget-me-not was held gently in the flower thefts hands.

���Now tell me, why have you been taking my flowers?,” Keith said teasingly. The boy’s eyes just widened and he sputtered in response.

“Well then, if you won’t tell me who she is I’m coming with you to see if the girls actually pretty enough to warrant flower theft once a week,” Keith said with a grin on his face, even though he was inwardly wilting at the idea that this boy already had a girlfriend. The blue eyed boys -god those blue eyes were hypnotic- face turned from guilt to confusion as he stared into the much darker eyes of the other.

“What?,” said the skinny jean clad boy with the best ass Keith had ever seen. There was no way this pretty boy wasn’t taken, or else everyone in this word was blind.

“I’m coming with you. I need to see who’s getting my forget-me-nots every morning.”

But the look of confusion on the boy’s face only grew more. “A girl?,” he asked stupidly. Lance did not know who this boy was or why they were talking to him.

“Anyways, what’s your name? We have quite a walk ahead,” Keith said and then mentally smacked himself. He sounded like a fucking stalker. He wouldn’t be surprised if his crush bolted right there and then. And right there and then Keith would swear the gods descended onto heaven for the smile the other boy shot him.

“Lance, pleased to meet you! Sorry but I’m not actually-,” but before Lance could finish his sentence a car pulled into the driveway. A pure white with black highlights car to be exact, one that had Shirogane in bold stylized lettering. His brother was always one for dramatics.

“Hey bro! Oh, who’s this? Has my little antisocial Keith finally met a friend?,” Shiro said, fully aware that he was embarrassing his brother half to death. Keith blushed and whipped his head around to the boy in front of him, Lance.

“Let’s go!,” he said a little to enthusiastically as he dragged Lance by the wrist. He could hear Shiro calling after him but he refused to listen. You’ve stopped me from getting a hot date for the last time he thought to himself.

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5 minutes later and he was sorely regretting his decision, Lance was nervous and fidgety beside him.

“So hehe,” he blurted out nervously “what’s she like?”

“What?”

“The girl! C’mon she must at least be interesting to catch the attention of a young stud like yourself,” and he winked. He winked at the boy next to him. Why did he do that? He might as well commit suicide.

But the blue eyed Lance smiled and laughed in response, his eyes filling out with a warm kind of love. “Yeah, she’s pretty special. She was strong too. A gymnast actually, she taught me some moves,” he said, fondness and emotions Keith couldn’t quite place growing in his eyes.

O O F, he was falling hard and fast. Fuck! He already had a girl! Hey brain, could you, I don’t know, may sTOP?! He thought to himself. And then he realized the boy next to him was using past tense. Maybe he thought hopefully maybe they fell out and I still have a chance? All he said aloud though was “Tell me more about her!,” he asked, hoping to bring forward all the bad things.

“She was graceful and yet gentle. She was the one who first got me started in astronomy actually. Everyone back in Cuba used to say that I would be a swimmer, but ever since she took me out to the Sea at night I’ve fallen in love. What about you? Do you love the stars?,” Lance asked innocently. Keith was caught off guard because he had been staring at those deep blue eyes, totally enraptured.

“Who, me?,” he said a little too loudly as he chuckled nervously. Thankfully Lance must not have noticed the little slip up since all the brown haired boy did was giggle. “Yes you silly! Who else is here?,” Lance said in a cute voice that Keith cOULD NOT HANDLE BECAUSE FUCK HE WAS SO GAY.

But all he ended up saying was “Yup, I love the stars! I’m actually studying them for school soon after summer ends!,” he said, fidgeting with the small handheld knife in his pocket.

Lance spoke up again enthusiastically “Oh cool! Maybe we’ll be in the same class!”

“Yeah, maybe” Keith forlornly responded. “Anyway, tell me more about yourself.” And now he sounded like a fucking stalker. Great. Thankfully Lance didnt take it that way.

“Well, I lived in Cuba... umm, I met Hunk in high school where we eventually figured out we both got into Galaxy Highs Garrison program,” Keith cut Lance off

“Hey, I was kicked outta that program for taking Iversons eye out!”

“That was you?!? Man you’re a living legend! Iverson was a stiff ass though. Anyway I met Pidge when we were in the same star group test to get our second stripe.”

“The star grouping tests fucking sucked, I was lucky to get partnered will Marry.”

“Who’s - ohh right Marry. She was cute, I guess...”

“But she was such a bitch!”

“I know right?!? She got even bitchier after you left!”

“But really, the star maps were a pain in the ass,”

“I actually thought they were really fun since Pidge couldn’t for the life of them figure out where the Hydrus star was. Enough of me though, what got you interested it astrology?,”

“Ahh, it’s stupider than yours,” Lance giggled. “I won’t judge you, don’t worry”

“Well, my bro always was into the stars and ended up being the golden boy. He was my mentor and ended up bringing me out of the system to put me in the Galaxy program.”

◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊-◊

They ended up talking more and more, becoming more comfortable with each other. Before you knew it Keith had forgotten all about the girl Lance was visiting. But after a lengthy discussion on Pluto, Keiths eyes drifted down to the forget-me-nots in Lances hand. Lance continued to speak avidly about Pluto being a planet when he suddenly stopped walking and, in a gentle voice said “We’re here.”

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh no. That’s all Keith thought as he stared up at the curved letters on the hand painted sign Garrison Cemetery: Your Loved Ones May Rest. Why did I push him? Why did I do this? He thought as he frowned. He screwed up again. All the pieces were starting to come together as he stared at Lance. Lances face held no resentment however.

“They really were an amazing family. My sisters the only one buried close to me, but its nice leaving forget-me-nots by her body. They were her favorite.” Lance said, a forlorn smile covering his face, blue eyes that Keith loved so much cast downward. Keith walked with Lance, not saying a word. He could at least offer some support.

“Thanks, if you want we can grab some coffee and talk more?” Lance said. The blue blossoms on the grave marked Rest In Piece Veronica Mclain, she was a wonderful daughter, sister, and woman were left behind as the couple exited the cemetery.

“I’d love that,” Keith responded, a warm feeling climbing into his gut. He felt at piece, like those blue eyes could fix everything.

[thievinghippo]

Fic Update: Pragmatic Dreams (26/28)

Fandom: swtor

Chapter Title: A Plan Appears (Read on Ao3!)

Pairing: Lana Beniko/female Jedi Knight

Rating: Teen

Summary: When Darth Marr’s flagship is destroyed, the galaxy mourns the loss of a leader of the Jedi Order. And Lana Beniko mourns the loss of her lover. But when secrets are uncovered, Lana realizes that the only way to save the galaxy might just be to tear it apart, all for the woman she loves.

#

“So what if I said I had an idea?” Theron asked, leaning back in his chair at the conference table.

“It would truly depend on the sort of idea we’re talking about,” Lana said. Theron’s ideas tended to either be quite good or completely unfeasible. Somehow, after all of this time, he had yet to figure out how to find a balance of any sort.

“We talked about finding someone to bring on board to lead the tech division, right?”

Lana could hear the eagerness in his voice and hoped she wouldn’t have to dismiss his idea right away. “I do recall, yes,” she said. Ideally they would get someone in place as quickly as possible. She had tried a few contacts within the Empire, but none were willing to pick up and move to Odessen for the duration of the war, however long that lasted.

And that was part of the problem. Lana had absolutely no idea just how long this war could last. She had entered in scenario after scenario into her database, changing variables each time. Her results were laughable. One scenario showed the Alliance being crushed within a month after Maebry’s rescue. Another showed the downfall of the Zakuulan Empire within two years. The worst was the one predicted the war lasting forty years, with close to half the galaxy’s population being killed, before Zakuul triumphing in the end. Lana would do whatever she needed to do to make sure that specific scenario never came to light.

When her contacts asked how long Lana truly didn’t even know what to tell them any more. The base, at least, was specifically being planned with the long-term in mind. Plenty of space for ships and for soldiers and workers. Though those berths and bunks went empty for now. But only for now.

“Okay, just hear me out,” Theron said. “You heard about Makeb and some of the drama there, right?”

Lana nodded. “Of course. I might not have been Minister of Sith Intelligence back then, but what happened was well known. My personal shuttle is retro-fitted with an Isotope-5 engine.”

“Wait, I thought the Republic had all of the Isotope-5,” he said, looking somewhat offended. He glanced down at teeseven, who was right next to Lana. The astromech had become her shadow since its arrival on Odessen and she could admit she didn’t quite mind. Having a physical connection to Maebry again, strengthened her, she found. “Did Master Maebry-”

T7 = surprised as well // Lana = knew of supply?

“Oh don’t act so surprised that the Empire was able to get their hands on some of the Isotope,” Lana said, holding back an annoyed sigh. Why did they need to look so disappointed? They both understoodd how the Empire worked. “The Empire is usually quite good at what it does, you know.”

“I’ll give you that one,” Theron said. “So there was this scientist there, Doctor Oggurobb. He might be the guy we’re looking for.”

In her head, she flipped through her various contacts, but found she couldn’t place the name. “That name almost sounds Huttish,” Lana said.

“Because he is.”

Praven, also sitting at the table, cleared his throat. “I’m afraid we don’t have the proper facilities for a Hutt,” he said, sounding almost apologetic.

Lana reached out her hand to Theron, who handed over his holopad without a word. She quickly scrolled through his credentials, which she could admit were quite impressive. Theron did his homework, including testimonials from projects the Hutt had managed, and even some results from non-classified projects. Of course, there was the biggest selling point, that she didn’t have a candidate of her own.

“Praven,” Lana said. “If the Alliance considered bringing a Hutt to Odessen, how much additional work would need to be done?”

“A fair amount, to be perfectly blunt. It would have been a great deal easier if we had planned for a Hutt from the very beginning. We’ll have to widen hallways and change our service elevators,” Praven said as he picked up his holopad. As he started making notes, he added, “A challenge, certainly, but my team will be up to the task. It will however, set back the base’s completion date.”

“Sounds like an okay price to pay for the right guy,” Theron said, taking back his holopad. “Lana?”

Her mind wandered a bit as she worked out a decision. Strange to think that at this moment, Theron and Praven and all the other department heads looked to her as the defacto leader of the Alliance. If things went as planned and they finally had the chance to rescue Maebry from carbonite, Lana would place Maebry in that role. Lana liked to think she wasn’t a jealous or selfish person, but a very tiny part of her brain wondered if she would resent Maebry down the road. She couldn’t ever imagine actually being upset with her lover, especially over something like this, but stranger things have happened.

The feelings simply made no sense. Lana’s never sought the spotlight. Ever. She would be much more confident as Maebry’s advisor. Yet Lana had her pride, which had been one of her main faults since she discovered the Force. Would anyone currently in the Alliance think less of her if she stepped aside to make room for Maebry? In the end, it didn’t matter. Lana’s job was to have the foundation of the Alliance ready for Maebry. And truth be told, the galaxy wouldn’t unite to follow Lana Beniko. They would unite for Master Maebry of the Jedi Order.

“I agree,” Lana said, keeping her voice crisp. “Surely a bit of a setback won’t be too much of a hardship on the crew.”

“Indeed not,” Praven said, not looking up from his holopad. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

Hylo Visz, Bey’wan Aygo, Sana Rae, and now Doctor Oggurobb. Lana and Theron would keep up with their own spy networks. Once the building was complete, Praven would act as quartermaster and facilities manager. And Maebry would lead them all.

Someday.

Soon.

#

Lana?

“I’m here, Senya,” Lana said, keeping her voice low.

Enough progress had been made on Odessen that she now had a room to herself, off of the barracks. It was small and cramped but it had a door that closed and when she ran her privacy programs, Lana actually felt secure. Her room was tiny, though, compared to the room that Praven wanted to build for the head of the Alliance. Which one day would hopefully be Maebry.

She still hadn’t told anyone about having Senya as a contact. Impractical, no doubt, but truth be told, Lana worried about the reception. Whenever the truth did come out, Koth would be undoubtedly upset. Knowing Koth as she did, if she let it drop that Senya actually had taken it easy on him and his crew over the past few months, he would be even more angry. Some people weren’t born to be practical and Koth was one of them.

Do remember last year, when there was to be a celebration of Arcann’s reign?

“I do, yes,” Lana said, thinking back to that first night she and Senya shared a bottle of wine. They’ve shared several bottles since, when meeting on Asylum. Senya was always discreet at those meetings, wearing down trodden clothes and a hood to obscure her face. It was practical. Asylum would be in chaos if they thought the Knights had found them. “Nothing ever came from that.”

 Disappointing, as it could have been an excellent cover to rescue Maebry. However, Lana knew they weren’t ready then. The work on Odessen’s base had hardly begun and she had been still feeling out potential allies.

Word’s been officially given. They’ve decided to celebrate the fifth year anniversary. About four months from now. Planning has already very much begun.

Lana still, folding her hands in her lap and forced herself to take even breaths. The Alliance wasn’t quite ready, but give them four months? They could have a plan. They could have a solid plan. Hylo already was starting to look for contacts in the Zakuulan underworld. With enough planning, she and a small strike team could get Maebry out of her carbonite prison and have her join the galaxy again.

And then…

Lana pushed that thought away, the thought of what might become of the two of them after Maebry had her freedom. That would be for the two of them to decide. After they were safe

“Please,” Lana said, hoping her voice didn’t sound too desperate. Just the fact that she said the word please should give Senya a clue at how badly Lana wanted the information. “Forward anything you can to me. Details, dates, plans. This could truly be our chance.”

I’ll send everything I can, Senya said with a curt nod. I’m trusting you, Lana. If this doesn’t work…

“It will,” Lana said at once. “I have the right people and the right resources. More importantly, we know what to do when the Outlander is free.”

Then the Alliance truly would begin. Lana closed her eyes, just for a moment, enough to remember that hint of a future the planet showed her the first time she stepped on Odessen. Maebry would walk in these halls. And hopefully Lana would walk right besides her.

Very well, Senya said. Expect the first data burst this evening, Spire time.

Lana checked her holopad. It was ten in the morning in the Spire. After all this time with Senya as a contact, Lana had learned that evening for the Knight was after nine at night. Potentially twelve hours from now, which would be in the middle of Lana’s sleep cycle. Well, she had been woken up for information far less important than this.

“Thank you, Senya. Truly,” Lana said, bowing her head slightly. She wondered if Senya would understand the meaning. A Sith bowed their head for no one. Though as Lana has told many people in her life, she was no typical Sith.

Thank me after you rescue the Outlander.

Senya disappeared from the comm and Lana deleted the record of the conversation. No doubt if they were actually able to pull this off and rescue Maebry? Lana would be happy to thank anyone willing to listen.

But first? They needed a plan.

#

At the incoming call, Lana sat up with a quick intake of breath. It was the middle of the night on Odessen and being woken up by a contact was not new to her. Still weary from sleep, she fumbled for her holocom and pressed a button, telling the caller that she would pick up in thirty seconds. If the call was important, the other party would wait. If not, they usually hung up, which wouldn’t bother her in the least.

Lana stood up and quickly put on her thick woolen robe, hoping the annoying chime counting down would end. It didn’t. Looking down at the holocom, she saw the ID, and tried not to go into an internal panic. Why, of all times, would they be calling now?

“Hello, Lana Beniko here,” she said, standing up as straight as possible, her hands behind her back. She had chosen a limited view, so Korin Zelka could only see her torso. There was no need for a member of the International Banking Clan to know that Lana choose to wearing fuzzy socks to bed. The floor was cold.

“I assume it’s the middle of the night?” Zelka asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“It is, yes,” Lana said. The clan had access to the star charts and knew exactly where Odessen was located. What they didn’t know was that the planet had a twenty-two hour day and thanks to the base’s position on the planet, they would have almost exactly eleven hours of day and eleven hours of night year round.

“Hmm. The damn droid told me I would be calling you in the middle of breakfast. I’ll get our conversions updated,” Zelka said. Lana had to hold back a smile. The Ugnaught sounded as if the droid had personally offended her. “Apologies.”

“None needed,” Lana said, holding back a yawn. Just when was the last night she had a full night sleep anyway? Some days it felt like she might never get one again. “Now that I’m up, I’ll be able to get an early start to my day.”

Zelka let out of huff of a laugh. “An optimist?”

Lana shook her head. Being an optimist is hardly something she was ever accused of. “Hardly. Pragmatist.”

“Well, then you’ll understand why I’m calling to check in on you. Some time has passed since our initial investment and we’ve yet to see any returns,” Zelka said. Any warmth from the earlier banter was gone, leaving a woman with only one thing on her mind. Credits.

“I did advise you, when this whole thing began that this would be a slow process in the beginning. We’ve made a great deal of prog-”

“And you just took out a great deal more credits,” Zelka said, holding up her hand. “Explain.”

Trying not to be too annoyed, Lana gave a brief rundown of the need for additional credits to make the base Hutt friendly. It’s something she should have considered from the beginning. What if funding from the Clan dried up and appealing to the Hutt Cartel their only option? Lana didn’t want to think that could actually happen, but better be prepared. If that day did come, they’d have a base they could actually show a Hutt, even lounge chairs in the cantina.

The pinched look on Zelka’s face told Lana the banker wasn’t impressed with the Alliance’s reasoning. Time, perhaps, to try a different tactic. “I can’t provide details at the moment,” she said, keeping her voice low. “But something big is going to happen. And the International Banking Clan will be rewarded for its patience.”

Zelka’s expression did not change one bit. Damnit. Why did warfare have to be so expensive?

“I’ll be expecting weekly reports until the Clan is satisfied with your progress,” she said, sounding sterner than Lana thought an Ugnaught could sound. “Weekly. Understood?”

Lana nodded, ignoring the pressure building up in her chest. The International Banking Clan sat safe in their offices while the rest of the galaxy fought and bled for their freedom. And they wanted to tell Lana, a lord of the Sith, how to do their job? The moment the connection to this holocall ended, she would be letting out a burst of lightning; already she could feel the electricity in the tips of her fingertips. Hopefully the walls Praven built would be up to the challenge.

“Understood,” Lana said, her voice clipped. What was one more report when she already was downing in them?

Zelka disappeared from the comm and without hesitating, Lana threw out her hand, and lightning shot out of her fingertips. She kept the stream going until she felt slightly weakened. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she wanted to be at full strength whenever she walked around the base. More people knew about the base than she liked, at least at this stage. She wouldn’t be surprised if word had gotten out to Sith Intelligence and the SIS. No doubt they would be trying to place their own spies in the Alliance’s ranks. It was what Lana would have done as Minister.

Continued background checks would be essential. If anyone had a remotely suspicious story, they wouldn’t be given Odessen’s location, simple as that. Hopefully that would be enough to protect them. For now, at least.

#

Two months.

Each day, each hour even, brought Lana closer and closer to Maebry. It was maddening to be so close and yet so far. She found herself practically counting the hours until it was time.

“I’d like to go over the plan once more,” Lana said. She purposely made no reaction as the heads of the various departments all seemed to inwardly sigh. Everyone except Sana Rae, of course. The Mystic was damn near unflappable, seemingly settling into her life here on Odessen far better than Lana expected.  

Admiral Aygo spoke first. “Have we gotten any new intel?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. At her shake of the head, he added, “Then I think we’ve got a pretty good idea of our roles.”

“Eh, humor the Sith paying our stipends,” Hylo said with a wink towards Lana. She appreciated the gesture, knowing that she wasn’t completely annoying everyone at the table. Or if she was, Hylo had the good sense not to let her know. “Never hurts to go over a plan. Though you remember the old saying…”

“Plans never survive contact with the enemy, anyway,” Aygo said.

“Exactly,” Hylo said. “So we’ll work on those contingency plans.” She leaned back in her chair, hands behind her head. “I’ve got a forger, working on some new papers for the strike team. I’m not sure if they’ll be needed, but in case orbital security decides to actually do their job because of the celebration, you’ll be ready.”

As of now, the strike team consisted of Lana, teeseven, Theron, and two former imperial block ops agents, chosen because they wouldn’t stand out in the crowd. Senya had sent Zakuulan clothing, baggy enough that light armor could be worn underneath without looking too suspicious.

If everything went according to plan - and Lana hated to admit it, but Aygo was probably right, things never went according to plan - they would make their move the evening after the first day of the celebration. Arcann and his entourage would be in one of the smaller Zakuulan cities on the southern hemisphere. After dark, when there were few guards around, they would make their way to the small shuttle where Maebry would be.

Take out the guards. Steal the shuttle. Then once safely out of orbit and on the way back to Odessen, free Maebry from carbonite.

A simple plan, but simple plans generally worked best. So many things could go wrong, though. Arcann could decide to take Maebry’s carbonite form into the hotel where he would be staying. Or there could be far more guards than the strike team could overcome. But what choice did they have? Storm the facility where Maebry was kept now? That would be suicide.

“Thank you, Hylo,” Lana said. She needed to stop and remember that she hired competent people who could do their jobs. Micromanaging would get her no where. “And thank you, all. I know this has been a stressful time. But truly, we’re close.”

So very close.

[ashaywalker-author]

Natural Instinct - Chapter 8 - FINAL (Poe Dameron/Reader)

SUMMARY: Reader and Poe discover what happened to BB-8 and Finn, and with a great deal of hesitation, the reader attempts to say her goodbyes to Jakku.

WARNINGS: Strong language

PAIRING: Poe Dameron/Reader

A/N: This is the final chapter of this little fic! I'm considering doing a part 2, but I'm not quite sure about it yet considering timelines and my brain. It's a finnicky thing, that brain. I would, however, love to hear your ideas on what you would like to see if I WERE to do a part 2, including but not limited to timeline (as in coinciding with TLJ, TFA, or afterward, etc...), relationship stuff, and whatever you would really be interested in. Getting opinions would really help to formulate a plotline. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the final chapter! I have loved this story and loved the readers who have said so many wonderful things and helped move everything along! Enjoy!

CHAPTER INDEX:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

CHAPTER 8 – FAMILY

It was the most comfortable part of Jakku’s days: early sunrise, when the cold was beginning to abate but the sun’s rays weren’t yet harsh. Everything was as soft as the desert planet could be, a blinking haze that was there and gone too quickly. It was at this time that Poe finished his work on the speeder. Ergel was awake early, as always, preparing for the upcoming customers with the languorous ease of having done the same thing every day for years. When I watched through the door in the back, flipping stools rightside up off the tabletops, it hit me that soon my days would be fresh. I wouldn’t wake up every morning with the same dread of getting my hands dirty, only to be rewarded with nothing.

The goodbye was quick and awkward. I’d never seen Ergel’s emotions roused beyond a goodhearted chuckle, and he didn’t disappoint with our final encounter. Whatever we felt was kept in a quick hug and admonitions of safety; anything else would have been beyond two Jakku residents. Even if it didn’t seem right, and even if we would have liked it to be different, everything came and went with the wind on the sand. It was all we knew. I hoped, while I watched Poe make his final adjustments on my poor excuse of a vehicle, that something might finally be concrete.

Once the sun made its last leg beyond distant dunes, we left Cratertown. I drove the speeder, nagged by the assumption that Poe was holding himself back from correcting my every move. He rode behind, uncharacteristically silent. He was likely just focused on finding BB-8, always scanning the landscape as we went, but I liked to think that he respected my need for quiet. The goodbye with Ergel was a simple thing, easy to comprehend and accomplish. I was afraid that saying goodbye to Jakku would be a far more difficult process.

I wanted to take the lead and feel myself hovering over the plain, undisturbed sands, with my hand urging the machine along and my decision kicking up dirt. I was doing this for myself, and I would leave that knowledge behind, even if the tracks were temporary.

Poe immediately contacted the Resistance base once our comlink connected with the communications tower. He briefly informed them of his situation, of where he would be, and that he was bringing a recruit along. That sent my pulse rocketing against my skin.

I parked the speeder on the outskirts of Niima, hoping that a scavenger wouldn’t pick it out and take it for themselves, before figuring it shouldn’t matter anyhow. Let the scavenger’s pick it apart; hopefully, it would buy someone a good meal or two. We started forward, Poe with a wrapped cloth—courtesy of Ergel—around his head to keep his face partially cloaked. However, once we were amid the settlement, it was obvious The First Order had already come and gone. Scrap-metal—with the charred remnants of Tie Fighter shots blown across the surfaces—skittered around Niima. There were deep craters in the sand from an aerial onslaught. Unkar’s junkyard, a collection of ships, gears, and weapons he inherited or illegially swideled, was an even bigger wreck than I’d heard it to be. One of his best ships was blown to bits, and another had apparently been stolen, according to bits and pieces of gossip.

“I’m grateful for a great many things,” Poe said, blinking around at the wreckage. “But shit am I happy that that comm tower wasn’t shot down.”

I nodded. “We need to drive the speeder to Unkar’s Concession Stand.”

“Alright. Mind explaining why?”

“Because we need to get some information,” I said, looking over at him. “And around here, it doesn’t come cheap.”

“I will never forget what that stupid, ungrateful scavenger girl did to me!”

Unkar was livid, so much so that I nearly regretted bringing the speeder along as payment. He may have offered up his information for free, considering how spurned he was. The Crolute was still behind a barred window, muttering under his breath and screaming over his shoulder every now and again to anyone who would listen.

“First she refuses to sell that droid, like a fool, and then-"

“A droid?” Poe stepped forward, keeping his face within the cloth and a pair of goggles over his eyes. “What kind of droid?”

“The one the fuckin’ First Order would have paid for! That’s what kind!”

“What happened?” I asked. “Where did the droid and your scavenger girl end up?”

“What’s it to you?” Unkar asked, leaning a blobby pink forearm down against the counter. “Why would you care?”

Although the First Order probably thought that Poe and I were dead, along with their defecting stormtrooper, I still stalled. Giving Unkar too much information might bite us in the ass. He was obviously willing to sell anything, if it gave him a shiny credit in return.

“Why we care is none of your concern, pal.” Poe said, folding his arms. “We’re here to buy information; not be scrutinized.”

“Ah, a negotiator,” Unkar grabbed either side of the metal plates lining down his front, stretching to full height. “Who says this speeder is worth what I have to say?”

“You flatter yourself too much,” Poe said lazily, as if he had bartered a thousand times before. “Besides, this speeder has been refitted with a new carburetor, not to mention entirely scanned for product replacement. The engine has been scrubbed, the balance has been perfected, and I can almost guarantee just with a glance that she will run better than anything you have stashed in your junkyard.”

Unkar regarded him heavily, drumming thick, sausage-like fingers against the countertop. I kept my face as impassive as possible. If he was trying to get a read on how desperate we were, I didn’t intend to give anything away.

“I respect your confidence, stranger,” Unkar said finally, slapping a palm on the table with so much ferocity it made me twitch. “A scavenger girl of mine happened across a droid a couple of days ago. I recognized it as the one the First Order was looking for, so I offered to pay her for it. Handsomely.

“Of course, considering the brat she is, she refused to sell. I tried to get it through alternative measures, you understand, but that’s when the kriffing First Order nearly blew up Niima. Girl and the droid got away on one of my ships,” Unkar spit, a low grumble in his throat. “Stole it from me, along with a dark-skinned human in dark clothes I’d never seen before who stumbled in nearly screaming for water not an hour before. Ungrateful! After everything I’ve done for her!”

I turned to Poe. “Do you think…?”

“I do,” he said, nodding. “Finn.”

We turned from Unkar’s Concession Stand without another word, although we heard the questioning calls that followed. As we walked on, we passed scavenger stations, with a few of the poor souls Unkar ruled over scrubbing away at bits of scraps. Just looking at them had me feeling guilty; why did I deserve a ticket out? Yet again, most of them wouldn’t know how to survive outside of this lawless, unforgiving planet. They had built roots here, regardless of how bitter they were.

“BB-8 and Finn are out there somewhere,” Poe said, once we were out of earshot. The sun beat down mercilessly on us without the bit of shade the stand provided. “Hopefully still out of First Order hands.”

“They’ve made it this far,” I said. “It’s miraculous, to be honest with you.”

“I would share the news to have our supporters across the galaxy watch out for them and the ship they stole, but I don’t trust that this communications tower is secure.”

“I can almost guarantee you it’s not.” I swiped a hand across my forehead, wishing I had more water. “What’s the ETA on your rescue party?”

“Our rescue party?” Poe grinned. “They’ll be fast. Jess will be flying point to get us home, I’m sure of it.”

“Jess?”

“A member of my squadron,” he said. “Great friend, better pilot. You’ll get to know everyone soon enough.”

The Resistance was fast, obviously eager to get their best pilot back. When the transport ship landed on the coordinates sent through to the comlink, a starfighter named Jessika Pava came running out the transport as soon as the hatch docked, ran to Poe, and embraced him without thought or hesitation. I was taken aback at first. Firstly, because I didn’t realize the Jess he had been referring to to be a woman, and secondly because it made me feel all the more an outsider, one just trying to fit in and wondering whether or not her efforts would ever come to fruition. I was already raw on the inside. Leaving Jakku meant embracing the hope of a better life, a more purposeful one, but I’d never kept my faith in hope. Trusting Poe was the small push I needed to jump in, but was it enough?

“You must be (Y/N),” Jess said, releasing Poe and holding out a hand for me to shake. She was a petite woman, with deep-set eyes that were as black as Onyx stone and a round face that gave her the look of someone friendly. I took her hand, forcing a small smile.

“That’s me,” I said.

“You’ll have to tell me what happened to you two,” she said, looking up at me with her hands on her hips. “You both look like shit.”

“Look it, feel it,” Poe said, coming to stand beside me. “We’ll spill the details later. But before that, we need to send word to the Resistance; BB-8 is MIA.”

“We’ll get eyes looking out for him,” Jess said. “For now, let’s get out of here.”

They both turned to leave but I felt my boots stick to the sand, unwilling to move. Jakku was sucking me in, refusing to let me leave, even though there were no sinking fields in this area. I can’t do this, was the only thought I had, replayed over and over until the sweat was coming from a heat within my body, a fearful, flaming doubt. Jess turned questioningly when I wouldn’t move, and Poe stopped in his tracks. He said something to her, so softly I couldn’t distinguish the words, and when the woman continued toward the transport, Poe backtracked to me. When he got close enough for me to see his eyes—finally visible without those maddening goggles—I looked away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t do this.”

“Of course you can.”

“No,” I insisted, shaking my head, looking off and back toward Niima. “You don’t understand Poe, I just… I can’t.”

“Okay then help me understand,” I felt his large, calloused hands on my cheeks turning my face toward his. “Tell me why.”

I swallowed, tasting the dirt that coated the insides of my mouth. “I don’t think I can ever be like you, like Jessika. There’s so much history already, so much war and I’ve been nothing but an outsider in it until just a few days ago. Being a survivor is one thing, but a warrior? I’m not like you, Poe.”

Poe shifted his weight, worrying his lower lip again. It went against his usual character, against the emotions he chose to show, but I thought he might be genuinely concerned, maybe even afraid. He wasn’t blinking, just staring at me, whatever wheels that constantly turned in his mind building up steam.

“Who ever said you needed to be like me?” he finally said, offering a small smile, although the worried creases between his eyebrows remained. “It will be a transition, I won’t lie. A huge, life-changing one. Things will be difficult. You’ll be putting your life on the line for something that you haven’t had a stock in until recently; I get it. But I just need you to trust me; I need you to hope.”

I closed my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know how.”

“You’ll learn,” when I didn’t respond immediately, Poe stepped closer, threading his fingers through my hair along the side of my head and interlocking them behind. “Baby I’m not leaving you here.”

“I’ve done fine on my own.”

“You’ve barely lived,” he said, a bit of an edge to his voice that I hadn’t heard since the interrogation with Ren. “We’ve been through hell together, we’ve survived just off one another, and you think I’m just going to leave you behind? The Resistance is a family because when people go through shit together it creates a bond that doesn’t just go away. You are my family now,” he pressed his forehead against mine, digging the pads of his fingers into the base of my skull. “I can’t leave you. You lose so many fucking people in this business; I can’t lose you too.”

If I dug deep enough, if I let go of the restraints, I knew I felt the same. But it would take a while to get there.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, placing a quick peck on my lips.

I did, underneath it all. There was a small enough part of me that wanted to melt into him, to let go of every reserve and leave it behind. The sun hadn’t burned everything away. Somewhere, I was more than just a piece of Jakku.

“Yes,” I said.

He swept me into his arms and before I could squeak in surprise he kissed me. The hands once interlaced behind my head connected at the small of my back, pushing me into him until my hips met his. My grip automatically shifted from the front of his shirt to the back of his neck, aligning our bodies and allowing me to touch the waves of his hair I adored so much. Poe’s tongue was in my mouth, his lips nearly swallowing mine whole and his teeth colliding with mine in a way that was both shocking and pleasurable at the same time. Every bit of me was fire. For the first time in my life I felt truly needed. Poe kissed me like I was a mirage come to life, drinking me up, sucking my tongue into his mouth and sliding his hands down until he could grip my ass.

Poe hummed into my mouth, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and pulling gently before releasing it. “You have no idea how badly I want to get back to base right now.”

I rubbed my nose against his. “Is this your way of trying to convince me to come with you?”

“Maybe a little?”

“You’re terrible.”

He pulled his head away to look at me, and to ensure I could look at the mischievous grin on his face. “No, what’s terrible are the things I’m going to do to you when we get there.”

I didn’t know whether to be panicked or ridiculously turned on; probably, a mixture of both.

“Dameron!” Jess called from the transport. “Stop sucking off the girl’s face and get on the ship!”

Poe’s grin only widened. “She would never do that; she likes me too much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ready?” he asked, gripping my hand.

I looked back, fingers threaded through his, a piece of the future in my hand and a vision of the past in my eyes. The sun’s rays painted quivering waves of heat above the horizon, and the reflections bounced back into the sky. It was strangely beautiful, the violent reds and oranges of a sunset, perhaps the last I would see on Jakku. Poe gripped me tighter, a reminder that he was still there. I was surprised that deep within me I began to feel less turmoil and a little more peace. I had fought so long to stay alive; but the galaxy was bigger than survival, and I wanted to know more than hunger, more than heat, more than just the speck of myself.

And I wanted Poe Dameron.

Within a breath, I squeezed his hand in return and faced him, away from the sun.

“Let’s go home.”