#and you can rebel without so much as a shot fired

[archmage-of-tomatoes]

The saddest thing of all time is to see someone post about anti-violence, whether it's police or homelessness or war or any number of other things that are fucked up about the modern world, and see someone in the comments say some shit like,

"So true, I acknowledge that this violence is fucked up! We should kill/harm/disable or otherwise harass this group"

And honestly

What a way to inform the world that you missed the point.

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at flying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[marta-bee]

Original source here; I saw it via @liberalsarecol here. I went a bit off and didn't want to piggyback on their post. (What is the etiquette in these situations? I'm never quite sure.)

They said "Walking away from Trump is healthy." To which I can only respond it's not only healthy, it's damned heroic. Star Trek and US politics thoughts below the cut.

I've been thinking about Damar (from DS9)'s character arc in the final season, and how it to relates to the people swept up in Trumpism. Liz Cheney, Gov. Mike Milley, but also just run of the mill conservatives. They all went along with this cult that is MAGA because it worked for them at some level, because it claimed to give power and voice to something they actually believed in (conservative principles of independence and freedom, an economy that let them support their families, being told who they were was something to be proud of). Not the values that resonate most with me, but I can see someone believing them and acting based on it.

Then came something that should be the bridge too far. The thing they couldn't support. Maybe it affected them personally, maybe it was just extremism beyond what they could swallow. Most people caught up in this movement have a point like that, but not all are brave enough to turn aside. Even if it means admitting they were wrong. Even if that leaves them without a party that represents their view. Even if they have to set aside their own policy preferences and vote for a Democrat because there's more important things at stake.

Which, as I said reminds me of Damar. If you don't know the show, it's built around a war between the various species of the Alpha Quadrant and the Dominion, a fascist regime from the other side of the galaxy. The Cardassians are a militaristic, duty-to-the-state heavy species that makes an alliance with them as a way to get military strength and influence. It doesn't work out so well for them. As Damar, a Cardassian military leader turned rebel terrorist, says:

Seven million of our brave soldiers have given their lives to fulfill our part of the agreement, and what has the Dominion done in return? Nothing. We've gained no new territories. In fact, our influence throughout the quadrant has diminished. And to make matters worse, we are no longer masters in our own home. Travel anywhere on Cardassia and what do you find? Jem'Hadar, Vorta, and now Breen. Instead of the invaders, we have become the invaded. Our 'allies' have conquered us without firing a single shot. Well, no longer.

The thing about Damar is he's no flower child or unblemished angel of a character. I can't remember offhand if he was involved in the occupation of Bajor, but given his background it's hard to imagine he wasn't involved in the occupation of somewhere. He shot Ziyal. it's his personal humiliation more than some grand moral awakening that ultimately drives him to rebel. And probably billions died because of how he tried to pursue power and gave the Dominion an Alpha Quadrant foothold. But when it came down to it he said no more, he gave up his pride and the way he'd woven his pride and position and future in with the Dominion, and he changed course.

I mean, I never thought I'd be cheering on a Cheney either. What a world.

My point is, it's hard to take that leap -- much more challenging than being on the right side of things from the beginning. And while it doesn't wipe away getting it wrong to begin with and all you did because of that, the changing course is still pretty heroic in my book.

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

Rebel Yell -D.R.W

Author's Note: I am so happy to finally be able to put this out, this story took me ages but I am so very proud of it. Am I projecting here? Maybe. But hey, I too am living for the single life.

Synopsis: A shitty party gets turned around after a playful game of spin the bottle.

Word Count: 8.5k (you asked for it!)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS NEED NOT INTERACT. Alcohol, mild violence, foul language, rough sex, choking, spanking, slight domination, oral, fingering, raw doggin’ (wrap it before you tap the hottest guy at the party.) Smut but make it Danny with eyeliner. 

Pairing: Tattoo!Danny x Female Reader

Have you ever even been to a party where you had a genuinely good time? One without awkward conversations with people you hardly know, one that matches the high expectations for a night that only happens in movies, or one where you have a few drinks and don't feel like vomiting all over the friend's car that drives you home? Well, this is worse than any party you've been to so far. Mainly because you're fucking ex and his friends are here. 

You pound the rest of your drink from the plastic red solo cup of Malibu and coke, who fucking made that anyway? It'll have to do until you can get a baker's dozen of shots poured for you to even think about being in the same room as him. The music is loud and obnoxious and the tile of the kitchen is sticking to the bottom of your Docs, but, at least you're in the clear. Looking around for a familiar face you find one of your girl friends you came here with, Summer. She's walking with your other friend who looks like she's had way too much to drink and is making a b-line to the bathroom. You do not envy them in the least, you would go and help but the anxiety building inside of your chest needs to be dampened with more liquor. 

Pouring yourself a more than hefty amount of tequila in your cup, you slam the whole double (most likely double and a half) shot down. You cringe and squeeze your eyes closed as you take a breath. You groan as the alcohol burns down your throat when you meet eyes with a guy across the room, some very tall drink of water with long dark curly hair, you saw him earlier in the backyard puffing on a joint with some long haired hippie wannabe looking friend with a stoner laugh to match.

You hold his gaze a moment in the crowded room, you think you saw smudged eyeliner on him earlier and had to keep yourself from nearly falling instantly head over heels for the bad boy in the black leather jacket and Church of Rock N Roll muscle tank. The combat boots and ripped black jeans with the chain hanging off his belt wasn't helping your cause either. He sends a small nod your way along with a subtle yet confident smirk that lights you on fire. You can't help but smile back, you can feel your heart race in your chest as you look away, keeping your cool as best as you can. You've been told before that people can read your mind based on the faces you make, subtlety not being your best quality. 

At least you have positive qualities, unlike your ex, Ryan. You had been dating for about two years, your longest relationship to date and your first real boyfriend. It started out great, he was super sweet and funny, gentle and interesting. But he got distant, so distant in fact that he would almost never reply to your messages or calls until it was too late and you started seeing each other less and less. It wasn't until you were out with friends to dinner one night when you saw him there with another girl. Long story short, they had been talking for a while and hooked up a few times, poor girl had no idea you even existed. So yeah, the lying dick head was here and grinding on every girl in sight. 

Being single again after so long has been feeling so foreign to you, almost like you were doing something you shouldn't, forgetting you have no loyalties to anyone anymore. So fuck it. Tonight, you were gonna have fun and flirt your ass off. Why shouldn't you?! It's been almost seven months since your messy breakup with Ryan, might as well have some fucking fun for the first time in a while. And hey, if you end up having some stupid one night stand, who cares? You're owed at least one good orgasm that's not by your own hand. 

The music is thumping through the house and you've had enough to really feel the music and let your body talk for you. You make your way over to the makeshift dance floor and sway to beat. Closing your eyes and just allowing yourself to let go of the anxieties you were holding on to. You meet eyes again with that curly haired guy again through the crowded floor, damn he's good looking. He takes a sip of his drink, eyes not tearing away from you as you sway your hips up against some girl behind you. She laughs and begins dancing with you, she spins you around and you get lost in the song, your eyes only flitting away to the guy leaning up against the wall who keeps meeting your eyes, his conversation with the three other guys he's with be damned. 

The crowd moves to the kitchen as someone brings up the idea of playing spin the bottle. It seems like the whole party has decided to gather in the kitchen, to play or just spectate around the round dining room table. You stand at the table and your stomach drops into your shoes when your ex is almost directly across from you. You move to leave when the hot guy you've been eyeing all night stands right beside you. 

"Hey." The tall drink of water says accompanied with a smile that makes you mirror his expression. "Hi." You reply almost shyly, he's quite intimidating to be honest, maybe it's the bone structure or his clothes but something about his warm brown eyes that makes you feel safe to talk to. "Big fan of spin the bottle?" He asks. "I've never played." You answer, fiddling with your rings, your eyes take in his appearance now that he's right in front of you, his smudged eyeliner making your heart skip a beat, fuck he's hot. 

"The rules aren't very difficult, I'm sure you'll be a natural at it." He teases, a smile pulling at your lips as he gets a chuckle out of you. "Well, if anything, I think it's a great way to make friends." You counter flirtatiously that makes the man smirk. "I'm Danny, by the way." He says introducing himself, finally giving a name to the gorgeous face, you extend your own introduction when all of a sudden a voice rings out, "Alright, fuckers listen up!" A guy begins to shout, holding up an empty beer bottle. "I don't care if you're gay, straight or anything in between! A spin is a spin! So either play or don't." The guy finishes before spinning the bottle, starting the game. You exchange a look to Danny who keeps his ground, ready to play, come what may.

The bottle spins several times with no real wild kisses exchanged. You're nervous for when it will land on you. The empty Dos Equis bottle is spun and the girl on the other side of you gets a kiss, prompting your turn to spin. You take a deep breath before and your bottle is spinning rapidly, you're practically sweating as the bottle begins to slow, coming to a stop on the long haired stoner guy Danny was talking to earlier. He's cute, tall, tan, with a sweet disposition, why not? The crowd around the table "oohs" as the stoner walks over to you. 

He gives you a small but gentle kiss, his hand on your cheek, he tastes like tequila and weed, he smells like cologne and his lips are a little dry, probably cottonmouth. The kiss doesn't last long but the excitement from the kiss makes you buzz with confidence. The guy gives you a wink before walking silently back to his side of the table. You take your place back next to Danny, he whispers in your ear, "I see you've met Sam." He jokes, "Well Sam's a pretty decent kisser." You smile back, Danny gives you a chuckle before he looks back at the game unraveling ahead. 

The bottle spins and spins for a few turns, you and Danny quip back and forth, passing the time and flirting a bit as the game rolls on. Danny even gets landed on by a friend of his, some shorter long haired guy who joined him by the wall near the living room dance floor. It's short but kinda cute to see two guys kiss without making a big deal about it, but instead joking about, "Who hasn't kissed their friends before?!" The friend laughs before going back to his spot, saying something in a very drunk and very fake accent. 

The bottle takes a few more spins, you watch uncomfortably as your ex kisses some red headed girl for a little too long and gets a little too handsy, only egging on the crowd. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and standing awkwardly. Danny gives you a look, tearing his eyes away from the scene ahead. "Will these two just get a room already?" He whispers to you. You can't help but show an uneasy expression, Danny must sense your discomfort because he asks you very gently, "Hey, you okay?" You nod quickly in silence, offering no reply. You look over at him, almost ashamed, "That's my ex." You say with a bitter taste left on your tongue. "Oh. Well he seems like a real stand up guy." Danny comments with a sneer, watching as Ryan practically sticks his entire tongue in the girl's mouth. It's like a train wreck, it's awful but you can't look away. A red solo cup is held in front of your face, "Here. You need it more than I do." He hands you the rest of his drink. From the smell of it, coke and fireball, which you happily sink the rest down, you sigh with a slight cringe as the drink slides down your throat. Danny brings his hand to your back comfortingly, "Good girl." He praises. That phrase shouldn't affect you the way it does but holy hell do you feel like a whole new woman. The pair finally disconnects and the game continues on. 

Your friend Summer appears behind you tapping your shoulder. "Oh there you are! Danny! This is my friend Summer!" You can already hear the semi drunkenness in your voice as you're introducing her to Danny. He smiles charmingly, "Hi, it's good to meet you." He introduces himself, "Oh, hi." She smiles, but you notice she's got her purse and your other drunk friend in tow. 

"We're leaving, Mari is a mess and I'm tired. Are you coming?" She asks, her keys jingling in her hand. They are your ride, but your night just got interesting. Fucking carpooling. You look back at the table and roll your eyes as you come to the realization that the party for you is probably over. "I mean, um, I guess-" "If you want, I can take you?" Danny interrupts, "If you don't wanna go, I can drive you later if you like?" His offer hangs in the air for a moment as you look at your friend, speaking practically telepathically with the other if that all sounds okay to the other. "Yeah. That would be great actually. Only if you don't mind, I don't wanna put you out-" "It's really no big deal." Danny assures you with a smile. Your friend shrugs, "Alright then. Just text me when you get home, okay?" Summer smiles at you knowingly. You widen your eyes at her turning your head so Danny doesn't see your obvious smile as she walks away. 

"You really don't have to do all that for me, I can take an uber or something later." "It's really no bother. Besides, I'd hate for you to miss out on having a good time. I think you deserve it, especially since that asshole gets to, I think it's only fair that you do too." Danny smirks as he motions to Ryan. You smile, your heart thumping in your chest with excitement at the idea of Danny driving you home. 

The game continues on and the guy next to Danny gets a kiss from some girl and it's Danny's turn to spin. You make accidental eye contact with your ex who just chugged the rest of his drink while his buddies laugh about something. It makes you practically freeze in an almost anxious fear until you hear the spinning glass begin to slow on the wooden table. The last rotations make its way around until the end of the bottle is pointed at you. 

You take a moment to even realize it's pointing at you, you look up at Danny, he wears a face of 'I'm down if you are.' A small smile pulls at your lips, this was exactly what you were hoping for when you joined the game. You step forward shyly, Danny brings a hand gently to your chin, "Let's give 'em a show, huh?" He rasps against your lips, only quiet enough for you to hear. You nod before bringing your own hands to his chest, letting him take you to his lips. His lips slot gently against your own, you move in time with his lips. His hands venture down to your waist, pulling you close to his body, he's so tall it makes you feel like swooning here in his arms. The crowd hoops and hollers loudly as you let him slip his tongue in your mouth, your nails come to his back, clawing into the back of his leather jacket. He smirks against your lips, his hands wander down toward your ass, but stays respectfully on your lower back. You bite his bottom lip, grinning as you meet his eyes again, they're darker than before and you want nothing more than to keep kissing him. 

You almost completely tuned out the woo’s of the party goers around you until now. You smirk at Danny, knowing damn well you put on a good show, and knowing even more that he's a great fucking kisser. 

"Fuckin' slut." A scoff sounds across the room. You turn your head fast to the voice the comment came from. Ryan rolls his eyes as he toys with his empty red cup. Before you can say a word, Danny stands up straight, "What the fuck did you just say?" He asks, his voice is deep, completely sincere in his question and it commands the room in a way that makes Ryan look in his direction. He scoffs again, the crowd hums with whispered excitement, "Just funny is all, a little desperate I think." Ryan says. "It's just part of the game, dude." Danny laughs. “Danny, really, it’s fine.” You say quietly, you gain his attention and he looks upset. “No, I think he’s a fuckin’ asshole.” Danny says to Ryan and the rest of the party. Ryan steps closer, his gaggle of idiot friends behind him making their way through to the side of the table by you and Danny. Sam comes up silently behind you and Danny, getting ready to jump in if the situation calls for it. 

“I just think maybe she and I broke up too soon, especially because she was never that freaky with me.” Ryan smirks at you, his friends laugh at his statement. Danny bows out his chest and looks down at Ryan who is only a few inches from meeting Danny’s eyeline. “Maybe you should learn to shut your mouth before it really gets you in trouble.” Danny threatens, his jaw is clenched as he stares Ryan down. “I’m not talking to you anymore, I’m talking to her.” Ryan says as he tries to walk past Danny and toward you, you take a step back, Sam places a hand on your shoulder to help guide you away from your ex while Danny puts an arm out, keeping you out of Ryan's reach. “I have nothing left to say to you.” You say, anger and anxiety adding a tremble to your voice. “We don’t have to talk, baby, what I have in mind doesn't require much talking.” He quips, your stomach churning at his words. “That’s enough.” Danny says firmly, putting a hand on Ryan’s chest, keeping him in his place. 

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of me.” Ryan shouts as he pushes Danny but he hardly even moves. “Then leave her alone.” Danny’s voice is deep and threateningly quieter as he steps even closer to Ryan. He smirks over Danny’s shoulder to you, "Oh come on sweetheart, just one last kiss, huh?" Ryan shouts at you. Danny shoves Ryan backward, he falls back into his friends. Ryan’s face twists into a furious scowl as he lunges towards Danny with his fist, but he’s too fast. Danny dodges the hit and swings, punching Ryan right in the nose. It spews blood as Ryan falls flat on his back onto the sticky kitchen floor, his hand comes to his face and his friends are too frozen in shock to do or say anything. A harang of people gasping and shouting and cheering echoes through the kitchen and it feels like time stands still until Ryan shouts, “You broke my nose?! You broke my goddamn nose!” 

“Then get the fuck outta here before I break your fucking legs!” Danny bellows at Ryan, his stance is intimidating and large as he leans over Ryan. Scrambling to his feet, Ryan stumbles as he gets up and to his buddies and begins heading for the front door. “Have fun with my left overs, asshole!” Ryan shouts over his shoulder. “You son of a bitch!” Danny shouts as he lunges forward, making a run for Ryan but Sam’s long arms grab a hold of his friend’s large frame first before he can even make it out of the kitchen, allowing Ryan and his posse of douchebags to run out the door. 

“Hey man, chill out okay. Just let it go.” Sam says, calming Danny down before letting go of him. Danny turns to look at you, his intense glare of anger in his eyes softening as they settle on you before him. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft as his hands hold your arms gently, bending a bit to speak to you. 

You blink rapidly as you try not to let the tears in your eyes fall. “Yeah, I’m uh, I just need some air.” Your voice cracks before you turn and walk out the back door to the backyard, letting the cool breeze of the night wind calm the heat of your embarrassed face. You look up and stare at the crescent moon in the sky, taking in a deep, yet shaky, breath and you can’t help but feel absolutely mortified by the scene that just transpired. 

Fuck Ryan. 

Fuck parties. 

Fuck this. 

“Hey.” A voice says gently, almost nervously behind you. You turn to find Danny coming out towards you. You turn back around and quickly wipe your eyes as you keep your arms crossed and your eyes trained up at the sky, dark clouds moving over the night sky and through the light of the moon. "I'm really sorry about all of that." Danny's voice is soft as he comes to your side. The thumping music from the party inside only makes you feel like curling up into a ball, never to be seen again. "It's fine. He's uh, yeah, he's not nice." Your voice is like a whisper, trying not to let it break as you hold back the tears that threaten to pull you down with them. "No, no he's not. I'm sorry." Danny apologizes again. "No I should be sorry, I feel like that was all my fault in there." You say, shaking your head. Danny's hand comes to your back, prompting you to look at him, "None of that was your fault-" "I should've just left when Summer said so. I knew he was here, him and his fucking friends. I hate that you got dragged into any of that. You don’t even fucking know me!" You say with a bewildered laugh as a tear rolls down your cheek. Your words hang in the cool autumn air for a moment before Danny speaks. "I think I know you enough to know that you're a really great kisser." He says with a smile, knowing that would make you forget about the whole Ryan thing, if only for just a second. You chuckle as you dry your eyes, "Oh my God, how could I forget." You smile at him, you can see his features perk up as you finally meet his eyes. "Besides, Ryan just seems like the kind of guy who deserves a punch in the face." He smirks pridefully as he thinks back to replay the look of shock on Ryan's face when he hit the floor. 

"It was kinda cathartic to watch the hottest guy at the party deck my ex in the nose." You smile playfully, turning to take in all of Danny's gorgeous face. He smiles charmingly, "Well, I'm just glad I got to kiss the hottest girl at the party." He muses before giving you a look that only makes you want to kiss him again, and again and again. You move to step forward but let your eyes wander to the house, a handful of prying eyes from the fight in the kitchen looking intently at you and Danny's conversation, only reminding you of how you wish you could be somewhere more private. 

"If the offer still stands, do you mind taking me home? I think I've had about enough of this party." You ask, crossing your arms to warm yourself from the evening breeze that seems to blow right through you. A smile pulls at Danny's lips, "Yeah I think I'm ready to go too, I'd say we made quite the impression though." He jokes before turning to leave, you walk along with him and head to his car. 

Your hands run up and down your arms, trying to preserve whatever heat you can keep from escaping your thin long sleeve shirt. Before you even really notice, Danny pulls his large leather jacket off and places it over your own shoulders. "There." He simply says. You smile to yourself before turning to him as you both walk, the whole thing feels like it swallows you up, the sleeves so long your hands aren't even poking through. "Fits you better than me." He jests with an endearingly sweet look, his smile is contagious and you can feel your cold cheeks warming from the blush on your face. You bury your burning face into the collar of his coat, relishing in the mix of musk and cologne of the well loved jacket. 

The ride to your place isn't too long, the conversation is easy and soon you're pulling up to your apartment. The silence in the car is heavy as you think of what to say next. "So-" "Do you wanna come inside?" You beat Danny to the punch, interrupting him. He meets your eyes with a look of subtle surprise, "I'd love to." He says, his voice low and soft in the confines of the car in a way that makes the butterflies in your chest explode. 

You show Danny up to your apartment, you close the door and take off his jacket, "Thanks for letting me wear your coat." You say before handing it to him, "What kind of man would I be if I let you freeze to death in the cold?" He jokes before taking it from you, hanging it on your coat rack as you both take off your shoes. You laugh before walking off to the living room, sitting on the couch, Danny follows suit and sits beside you. You both smile fondly and comfortably at each other, unsure of what step comes next. A familiar anxious feeling in your stomach begins to stir, one that could be described as really overactive butterflies when in such close and intimate proximity with a hot guy alone with you in your apartment. 

You cut through the silence with a scoff. "For the record, I just wanna say, you're a much better kisser than Ryan." You smirk, Danny chuckles, "I'm sure Ryan lacked in several departments." He smiles to himself, crossing his arms in pride. You stare up at the ceiling and huff a sigh. "Ugh, you have no idea." You wish you could say you had been in more of a slut era than you really were since your breakup, but honestly, it's been dry as hell. "That bad?" He cringes, bracing himself. "He was fine, just, I don't know, kinda… boring?" You reply, shrugging as you try and gently explain how your sex life for the last two years was less than satisfying.

"How bad was it?" Danny asks, you search the ceiling for a moment, Danny stirs next to you, sitting up straight, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry-" "No no it's fine! He just, uh, he just wasn't very um, creative?" You explain vaguely. Danny chuckles, "Creative?" He repeats with a smile, "Just that it was very vanilla I guess? He never really wanted to try anything new or different." "Sounds like he was pretty selfish." Danny extrapolates. "Oh absolutely. If it didn't end with him cumming first, he wasn't super interested." You explain irritatedly. 

"He's an asshole." Danny snarks, you just chuckle a knowing laugh. "Most times I had to use my vibrator later when I got home." You cringe with a chuckle as you recount the many nights you spent with a toy between your legs. "What would you think of?" Danny asks softly, "Oh." You pause a moment in anxiety at the idea of having to speak your innermost fantasies to this gorgeous man before you. 

Here.

Alone.

On your couch. 

You could feel the blush creeping in on your cheeks. "I uh, I liked to think about… ya know, getting tossed around, someone being rough with me." You confess, unable to meet Danny's eyes as you mess with the rings on your fingers. "Mmm, I see now. He was too soft? Too boring?" Danny speaks with a smirk that lights you on fire. "Y-Yeah, I uh, I'd bring up the idea but, he never really did anything new, maybe he thought it was weird?" You shift in your seat, ready to hear the judgment in Danny's voice. To hear the same put off tone like Ryan had. Instead, he places his hand on your knee, you turn to finally look at him. 

"I don't think it's weird at all. I like being rough." Danny smiles, you can feel the wave of relief washing over you. "Yeah?" You ask. "Mhm, to take control, to have a pretty little thing under me, letting me touch her all over, kiss her wherever, grab her however I want. Hear how good she feels." His voice feels like silk as he speaks, warming you all over. You can't think of a single thing that isn't a kin to 'fuck me', so you stay silent. You look over Danny's lips, he smirks at you as he moves closer. 

"Tell me what you've been dreaming of, angel, because I know I am a much better listener than that prick ever was." Danny grins, you can't help the hitch in your throat at the nickname. "Lots of things." You whisper. Danny smiles, his hand runs up your knee to your thigh, his large hand radiates warmth through your jeans to your skin beneath, fuck his hands are big. 

He leans in close, his cologne flooding your senses, his breath fanning gently over your lips as he brings his other hand to your chin, his eyes holding yours. "Did he never pull you onto his lap? Spank you over his knee? Squeeze his hand around your throat a little?" Danny asks, his finger under your chin holds you gently, your face is flushed as he tilts his head awaiting your answer. "Never." You whisper, your eyes practically begging his lips to yours, instead he runs his hand against your cheek, his thumb softly moves along your cheekbone. "Would you like that? If I did?" Danny asks softly, a rasp in his words sends a delicious chill down your neck. You nod embarrassingly quickly but it makes Danny chuckle at your eagerness. "Words, angel." He smiles. 

"Yes, I'd like that very much." You say, a slight shake in your voice, you almost don't even sound like yourself, you're so desperate. "Good. Because I think you deserve a good fuck." Danny pulls you in, a soft kiss at first, softer than the one at the party but it doesn't stay sweet. 

Your hands come to his face, to his hair, wanting to touch him where you've been dying to. Your kiss becomes more desperate, his tongue enters your mouth, your hands tug at his hair, he groans at the pull, smirking as he breaks the kiss, “Oh angel, that’s my job.” He teases before kissing you again, his hands on the small of your back brings you closer to him, bringing you on to his lap, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth making you moan. He pulls away, allowing you to grind down to feel his already hardening cock in his pants, you whimper out a pathetic sound at just the feeling of him near you. 

“You sure?” Danny asks, breaking the bad boy persona a moment as he reads your face, “Take me to my bedroom.” You sigh as you roll your hips against his. Danny sighs at the feeling of your movements before he huffs a small laugh, “Where is your bedroom?” He asks, you laugh, “Down the hall to the left.” You smile. With no hesitation, Danny stands from the couch, you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to your room, his hands holding you close to him as he makes his way down the hall. 

Your room is warmly lit, a gentle glow from your fairy lights and salt lamp you left on, Danny sets you down on your bed before looking around the room, “Cute.” He simply states, making you roll your eyes. 

You go to take your top off, “Wait.” Danny interrupts, you stop your hands, dropping the material of your sweater. “Come here.” He says, you smile in response as you make your way over to him, clambering off the bed and standing in front of him. Danny brings his hands to the hem of your sweater, pulling the material over your head and off to be discarded to the floor. “Pretty girl.” He smiles, a rasp to his voice makes you blush as you stand before him in your bra. He undoes the button of your jeans, pulling them down your legs until you stand before him in just your underwear. 

You stand before him, his eyes scanning your half naked figure, he gives you a ‘come hither’ motion with his finger, you walk up to him, your doe eyes looking up at him as his hands come to rest warmly on your sides. “So pretty.” He whispers, his voice bringing goosebumps to your skin. His hand trails down to your panties, his fingers running over the already dampened material. You sigh at the touch, “Mmm, already so wet for me. Aren’t you such a good girl?” Danny praises, his lips right against your ear as he speaks, your heart nearly jumps out of your rib cage at his words. “Just for you.” You breathe, Danny smiles, kissing your neck.

He pulls away, his hands come to his own shirt, pulling his church of rock ‘n roll tank top off, tossing it alongside your own discarded clothes. You watch astounded at the beauty of his body, the dark ink of the tattoos you never saw are revealed as he peels the tight black jeans from his body, leaving him clad only in a tight pair of black briefs, the outline of his dick takes your breath away. 

Danny pulls you to him in a gentle kiss, he pulls away after a moment, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, he pulls you on to his leg, you sigh at the contact. “Wanna watch you ride my thigh, show me how bad you want it.” He says, his hands on your hips, pulling you down onto his muscular thigh, making you whine. 

You roll your hips down against him, a moan rolls out of your throat as you grind down, you place your hands on his shoulders as you move, his hands come down to your ass, dull nails digging into the softness of your muscle. “That feel good, angel?” Danny asks teasingly, you offer a hum as you chase the feeling building up in your lower stomach, “Tell me baby, tell me how you feel.” He smirks, his grip tightening and pulling you to rock against him harder and faster, “Ah, fuck, so good.” You whine. “Yeah?” Danny asks, his hand coming down hard on your ass, you yelp out in shock, the stinging a delicious blend of pain and a euphoric sensation that only makes you wetter. “How good?” He asks, looking at the way your eyes have widened and the way your mouth hangs open, his hands gripping tightly, “So fucking good, oh god.” You cry out.

Danny brings his hand behind your back, unclipping your bra and pulling you closer to him, his lips latching around one of your nipples. You moan as you rock back and forth on his thigh, his teeth grazing your nipple, his other hand gripping the small of your back, encouraging you to move. The wetness in your panties and the friction on your clit against Danny's muscular thigh, feels like nothing you've ever felt before. He pulls away from your chest, his hands pull you to him as he flips you onto the bed and lies you on your back, manhandling you and laying between your legs. He kisses you hard before sitting back on his heels, a shining wet spot on his thigh tattoo catches your eye, making you blush. “You need it bad, huh, baby?” He teases, grinning at the wetness on his thigh. 

"God yes." You sigh. He looks so dreamy under the lights like this, like an angel with his curly hair catching the warm lighting from the salt lamp. The golden hue makes his skin look so soft and warm and you cannot wait to feel him. "Then let me give it to you." He smirks, his hands come down to your panties, he gives you one last look for permission that you immediately grant him before pulling them down.

You can’t stop the instinct of closing your legs out of shyness as Danny tosses your panties to the side, Danny laughs a moment at your coyness. “Oh, baby, don't act shy now. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl, show me what a good girl you are.” Danny’s voice makes you sigh, no one has ever talked this way to you before, you keep your eyes on him as you slowly open your legs. Danny’s eyes travel down to your glistening core and subtly palms himself over his briefs, only making you wetter at the sight. “Fuck angel, you are dripping.” His voice laced in seduction as his hands come to your thighs, spreading you wider. 

“So fucking gorgeous, all laid out for me. I want a taste.” His proposition makes your eyes widen. “Fuck yes please. I haven’t…” Your voice trails off making Danny look at you with an air of confusion, “Haven’t what?” Danny’s voice in that perfect mocking tone that makes your brain hazy. You can’t help but blush and look away before answering him. 

“I um, I’ve never really cum from… oral before.” You confess. Danny almost looks pained by your statement. “Never?” he asks as his hands softly wander up and down your thighs. “My ex didn’t do that much.” You say nervously, Danny brings his hand closer to your core making your breath hitch, he leans in close to you, his face inches away from your own, eyes boring into yours. “With a pussy as perfect as yours, I don’t see how he wasn’t between your legs all hours of the day.” Danny whispers as his hand slowly glides down to your center, you sigh as his fingers bring your wetness up and around your clit, making you moan. Danny smiles as he watches your expression change as his fingers roll slow wide circles over your clit, your mouth hanging open. 

“Let me take care of you, pretty girl.” He says softly before kissing your neck, down your chest, your stomach, kissing his way down all the while his fingers play with your clit. Danny lays down on the bed, he watches as his fingers make a mess of you. “If it ever becomes too much, just say Metallica, that’s the safeword.” He explains, you simply nod. “No angel, I need to hear it. Be a good girl and repeat it so I know you understand.” “M-Metallica, yes, I-I understand.” You stammer out, “Good girl.” Danny grins before kissing your inner thigh, heading closer until he removes his hand from your clit. You take a deep shaky breath as Danny’s breath warms over your folds, his warm tongue licking languidly up to your clit. You sigh a moan as he takes his time, licking slowly along the sensitive bud, your hands clawing at the duvet beneath you. 

Danny’s mouth moves faster, lapping up at your soaking wet pussy. He moans against your core, making your back arch, “Fuck, Danny.” You moan, Danny brings his hands to wrap tightly at your thighs, gripping you to him, holding you in place as he eats your pussy. The delicious sounds of Danny’s mouth makes you whimper at the beautiful lewdness of it all. “So fucking sweet,” it was muffled but you just barely registered it from Danny, like it was never even meant for you to hear but you did and fuck that was hot. “Oh fuck, holy fuck.” You cry out, your eyes rolling back in your head as you clutch tighter at the balled up comforter beneath your writhing body.

Watching as Danny’s mouth works over you, the way his large hands hold you open for him and the way his nose nudges against your clit as he tongue fucks your weeping pussy has you moaning and your legs shaking uncontrollably. The prideful smirk you catch on Danny’s features makes your breathing more uneven than before, because he is so fucking good at this and the way you’re moaning is making him want you to cum even more. “Oh god Danny. Fuck, I’m gonna-oh fuck I’m cumming, oh fuck.” You moan out as Danny latches his lips around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves that has you clawing onto anything that can hold you as your orgasm takes root in you. Your hands come to Danny’s hair as your hips attempt to buck, but the firm grip he has on your thighs, move to your hips, pinning you down as his tongue fucks you hard and fast into the most intense orgasm of your life.

Danny’s name and a string of other expletives fill the air until you’re hit with a wave of pleasure so hard you can’t make a sound. Your body goes rigid, your grip in Danny’s curls is tight and rough, only making him groan against your core which feels like it's sparking like a live wire. Then something inside of you snaps and you can breathe again, uneven and labored breaths as you try to make sense of the bliss you just felt from this man you’ve only know for a matter of hours could make you feel like this, a million times better than a guy you were dating for two years could have ever dreamed.

His tongue slows to a stop as you come down from your climax, “H-Holy shit.” You huff out, you're in awe and just staring at your ceiling. If that’s what he can do with just his mouth, then you have to know what else he can do. 

You sit up and look at him with a look of insatiable lust. He smirks as he sits up and wipes the shine of wetness from his lips and chin with the back of his hand. “Oh angel, you look like you need more.” He teases as he sits up on his knees, the very prominent outline in his briefs pulls your attention away. “Please.” Is all you’re able to say. “I saw you sizing me up earlier, baby. I know you’re not as innocent as your boy toy thought you were.” Danny grins as he moves closer to you, his hand resting on the thigh of your spread legs. He moves to take his briefs off, you’re practically drooling as he pulls them off. His cock springs up and slaps against his stomach, “Fuck.” You whisper, a thought that wasn’t meant to come out. 

Danny moves closer to you, his fingers coming to your core, you almost jump from the enhanced sensation from between your legs. His fingers dip inside you a moment, you sigh out, your breath making Danny’s curls sway against his face from your proximity. “Show me what a good girl you are.” He whispers before pulling his fingers away and bringing them up to your lips. “Taste how sweet you are.” His voice sends chills across your body. Your eyes don’t leave his as you present your open mouth to him, sucking on his slender fingers. You hum against them, tasting your own arousal from his fingers. You open your mouth again, allowing him to pull away, but he doesn’t. 

His fingers rest on your tongue, “Such a good girl.” Danny whispers, he experimentally pushes his fingers back in your mouth, further back. You don’t dare break eye contact as he slowly runs his fingers in and out of your mouth. “Pretty little slut.” He smirks as you gag around his fingers, your eyes water, but you don’t retreat. “Suck.” He commands. You do as you're told and suck on his middle and index fingers, he sighs at the feeling. You release them with a ‘pop’, Danny smiles as he watches your face when he brings his fingers back down to your pussy, teasing your clit before pressing back inside of you.

You can’t help the moan that rolls out of your throat at the feeling of him filling you up. “Mmm, you are so tight.” Danny rasps, he moves closer to you, prompting you to lay back, his fingers slowly pushing in and out of you. He envelops you into a kiss as he makes work of you. You moan against his lips, grinding down on his fingers, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of him grazing your g-spot. “I know baby, I know.” He teases you as he continues finger fucking you, his pace speeding up a tad. His hardened cock lays against your thigh, you whimper as his fingers move faster. “You need it so bad, huh, baby?” Danny’s voice sends a chill over you, “Mhm.” You can’t even speak it feels so good, playing your body like he’s done it so many times before, so intune with you for absolutely no reason, it makes your head spin. 

“I wanna hear you say it.” He says, your eyes look at him, almost shyly. “Yeah, I wanna hear you say it. Hear that innocent little voice of yours ask for what you want me to do to you.” He smiles devilishly, the sound of your wetness all over his fingers fills the room, making you want him even more. You move to speak, but his fingers curl up inside of you making you moan, “Oh fuck,” You whisper to yourself, trying to get yourself under control. “I-I want you.” You say, Danny just chuckles, “Oh sweet girl, you’re gonna have to ask a lot prettier than that.” He teases, he adds his thumb to the mix, rolling over your clit as he finger fucks you. 

“Mmm, fuck. I-I want you to fuck me.” 

“Not even a please?” 

“P-Please, Danny. Please, I wanna feel it. N-Need to feel it, fuck me.”

Danny thinks for a minute to himself, a smug smirk on his face, “Yeah, that’ll do.” He grins before kissing you, his fingers pulling away as he puts himself between your open legs. You hum against his kiss as you feel his hardened cock resting against your warm core, begging for more. You buck your hips against him, hoping and praying he'd understand how much you need it. He smiles against your lips, "Oh yeah? That bad, huh?" He teases. You open your mouth to protest but whimper as he slowly taps the head of his cock against your needy clit. You look at him with eyes of dismay, shocked how your body reacts with a jump with every touch like this. "Like that, baby?" Danny speaks in a way that makes you practically buzz with excitement. "So much." You whisper. 

Slowly he presses inside of you, both of you moaning at the stretch. It feels like a wave flowing through you, from your scalp down to your toes. All you need in this moment is him. "Fuuuck." Danny's voice waivers as his eyes close, "So fucking wet for me." "Fuck baby, just for you." Your voice breathy and small sounding as you rake your nails down his back, making Danny sigh in your ear. His hand comes down to your thigh, pulling it over his hip, gripping so tight you pray it leaves bruises, wanting some sort of proof that this pleasure wasn't some fleeting dream. 

The angle is so deep and you can't help the way he's making you sound. Your nails gripping into his back and pulling him closer to you. It's all so fuckin perfect, you've never felt this good, so all consumed by desire and a euphoric pleasure that takes you under like the wave of tsunami. His breath cascades over your cheek and you can't help the way you wish you were the only oxygen in his lungs. "Fuck, Danny." You moan out as he speeds up his pace, the head of his cock grazing against your g-spot in a way that has your legs spread even wider for him. "So good angel, so fuckin good." He practically growls as he moves faster. 

A moan rips through you and you're clawing at the sheets beneath you, your hands detach from the linen and take root in Danny's curly hair. He groans at the pull, the way your nails scrape through his scalp. You're so close to the edge, the way he's pounding inside of you and the way the bedframe slams against the wall of your bedroom makes your eyes roll back in ecstasy. 

Your eyes slam open as the presence of a large hand presses against your throat just right. "Look at me baby. Want you to look at me when I make you cum." Danny's voice is so raspy and commanding you can't help but say, "Yes, sir." It must have sparked something in Danny because the way his eyes glint in the golden light of your bedroom leads you to believe you must have stumbled upon something. His pace quickens and his hand on your throat closes tighter, your eyes roll back and a devilish smile pulls at your lips as you completely surrender yourself to Danny. 

The building pressure inside of you has you moaning against Danny's strong hand surrounding your throat, making only a weak and broken whimper come awkwardly tumbling from your mouth. Danny releases his grip on your throat and instead holds your wrists down to the bed as he fucks you. "Let me hear it baby. Come on, angel. Be a good girl and cum for me." He whispers, his own voice shakes as he's barely holding on to his own climax. Your moans are so loud and Danny's name falls so easily from your lips, crying out for more and for him. He watches intently in your eyes, feeling the way your pussy flutters around him, and the way you can barely keep yourself from moaning as you cum hard around him.

Your climax makes Danny practically collapse against you, letting go of your wrists and opting instead to hold you close to him, both of his arms encircling your waist, hands grasping to your back. His nose presses against your neck as he groans, your name like silk on his lips as his hips stutter and slam back inside of you, cumming so deep. 

The two of you lay this way for a moment, both panting and searching for something to say, but you're both practically fucked so stupid you can't form any notable shit to say. Your pussy flutters around him, both of you moan exhausted at the intense shock waves that course through you and to him. Slowly and gently Danny pulls out of you, you whine at the loss of him and the way you can feel his cum leaking out of you so deliciously. "Uh where's your bathroom?" He blushes as if he weren't just choking you and fucking you senseless. "Uh, yeah, uh right down there." You chuckle as you point to the door that leads to your en suite bathroom. He returns with a clean washcloth and helps clean you up, a thing your ex never once cared to do for you. Your heart swells at his tenderness with you. He returns to your bed, motioning you to come closer. 

You waste no time as you rest your head on his chest, looking at the tattoos that intricately swirl in dark ink over his body. His warm hands hold you close, your leg over his, soft fingertips run over his ribs. "That was…" You trail off, blushing as the words evade you. "Yeah, that was everything." Danny smiles, hands gently caressing your back. 

"I've never felt that good before." You confess. "Never?" Danny asks surprised, you shake your head. "I could've guessed, you really weren't lying." Danny smirks. "Can we, um, do this whole thing again sometime?" You ask looking nervously up at his big brown eyes. His eyes light up innocently, "I don't think I could make this a one time thing if I tried." He smiles, his arms subtly hold you tighter. 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

"Baby, I'll never leave if you keep holding me this way."

My faithful tag list (pls update me if you changed your user)

@tripthelight-fanfic @emsgvf @ageofstardust @dakotadovato @screechesincoherently @gretavankleep37 @strangeh0rizons @capturethechaos @kiszkathecook @jakeslovehandles @depressingdarlin @gretavanfleas @samsurfgreenbass @prophetofthedune

@josiee-gvf @doodle417 @readthinkbeme @katie-gvf @lallisonl @toxbexannouncedx @kdarling1 @theweightofjake @greatervanfleet @foxylotus @highladyofasgard @joshkiszkas @badgvf @greta-van-simp

[shituationist]

... A RAND Corporation analysis found that available evidence supported the hypothesis that concealed-carry laws may increase total homicides, and found some, albeit limited, evidence for concealed carry laws increasing violent crime in general. Likewise, researcher Stephen B. Billings found that gun ownership has a link to crime victimization: not only are people who have been victimized more likely to buy a gun to protect themselves, but they are more likely to be victimized again and have their gun stolen from them in turn. Billings found a vicious cycle of victimization leading to gun ownership, leading to theft, leading to victimization, as guns that are bought in response to victimization are then stolen, sold on the black market, and used to create new victims. This is what makes it very odd that concealed carry is touted by conservatives as a mechanism for improving public safety. So-called “constitutional carry” is more likely to make Louisiana’s streets more dangerous, and to lead to the proliferation of firearms on the black market as gun theft becomes more commonplace.

** Another argument for gun ownership comes from the far left as frequently as it does the far right, and has to do with gun ownership being a means for the preservation of liberty; that’s where the “constitutional” part of “constitutional carry” is supposed to lead you to in your head. Putting aside left-wing questions of revolutionary strategy, this law is also weaker constitutionally than its proponents let on. The second amendment does not specify concealed carry. It authorizes “the right to bear arms”, and to “bear arms” for the writers of the Constitution explicitly entailed visibly carrying a firearm in a public setting, or open carry. So-called “constitutional carry” also does nothing to restore the constitutional right to bear arms of individuals who have been felonized by the state; the abrogation of such right being one of the major contributors to mass incarceration, which, alongside mass surveillance, is possibly the greatest threat to liberty today. If the defense of liberty is what matters to someone in their defense of the right to bear arms, “constitutional carry” makes zero difference. Revolutions, anyway, aren’t made from concealed handguns, but from political parties dedicated to revolutionary struggle, and the paramilitaries attached to these parties, which are usually armed illegally (one must be armed illegally to have an arsenal that is a threat to the government), and which operate underground (sometimes literally). The provisional IRA, for example, smuggled weapons in from abroad, evading Irish and British gun control laws. While armalite rifles were sourced from North America, much more powerful weapons were sourced from elsewhere, including surface-to-air missiles provided by Gaddafi’s Libya. The Palestinian resistance depends entirely on smuggled and plundered weaponry, as well as domestically produced rockets using whatever scrap material the resistance can get its hands on. The Zapatista rebellion has maintained rebel-administered zones in the Mexican state of Chiapas for over thirty years with smuggled and sparsely used rifles, owing much of the persistence and longevity of their rebellion to their non-violent posture and reluctance to use firearms. For example, protesters loyal to the EZLN in 2001 occupied a military base in Chiapas without firing a shot or brandishing a weapon. The action resulted in the closure of the base and the re-opening of peace talks with Mexican president Vincente Fox. This is not to say that firearms are useless in the struggle or that the revolutionary left should support firearms restrictions. The best way to reduce crime would not be to arm everyone or to take everyone’s guns away, but to address the social forces that push people into lives of crime. A basic social democratic policy slate - universal healthcare, guaranteed housing, unionization of the workforce, and a robust welfare system - would go much further towards reducing crime rates than giving would-be vigilantes the go ahead to shoot first and ask questions later. There is an obvious reason why the Nordic social democracies produce fewer homicides annually than the city of New Orleans does alone. We know why the Louisiana GOP won’t go for such policies: high crime rates scare the populace into voting for policies that send taxpayer money, instead, into the pockets of politically powerful and well-connected sheriffs and their buddies in the private sector who have been enriched by mass incarceration, the Gerald Juneaus of the world who charge exorbitant rates for phone calls to and from parish jails, and who excise enormous profits from running jailhouse commissaries where they jack up the prices on goods sold to inmates; not to mention the private businesses who exploit contracted inmate labor for pennies on the dollar. Mass incarceration is big business, and high crime rates help that business grow.

[enkisstories]

The wrecking of the Steadfast

General Hux finally has what he always wanted! Well, not the Emperor's throne... or the title of Grand-Marshall... or Kylo Ren dead... But he has that mouthy, enervating Poe Dameron helpless at his mercy, and that's a fortune not to scoff at. However, the General needs the little nusiance and his friends alive to escape from captivity, if he doesn't want get executed for treason by his former comrades. And someone really should do something about that badly damaged star destroyer in orbit, that's generating debris left and right, each piece of space trash threatening to crash into the colony the fugitives are hiding in. Worst trouble a single destroyer has ever given Poe! Over the course of their escape, the unlikely allies Dameron and Hux turn scarily human in each other's eyes. Is there a chance for their growing bond to survive those few days of having a shared goal?

Read here.

Excerpt:

A few paces to the side Hux sat with his back to the wall. He repeatedly tossed a small rubber ball against a board saying “No Vacancy” (apparently the safe house was officially registered as a vacation home for visitors from the countryside) and caught it again when it rebounded. The pace was much slower than if Poe had played the same game, but even so it was fast enough to make the pilot’s only so recently injured head spin.

“Sit”, Hux said without looking at the arrival.

Poe slid down the wall next to him. When Hux tossed the ball the next time, Poe snatched it on its return.

“Can we talk? In earnest, I mean.”

“I won't try to talk you out of flying tomorrow, but do not expect encouragement from me, either. You know the risks. Do what you want… as you always do.”

“I wanted to talk about Crait.”

Now Poe had the mole’s full attention.

“Crait?! What would there to be discuss about Crait between us?”

“Kylo Ren. You had him out in the open and at point blank range. Why didn’t you order your crew to fire? Why didn’t you remove the one obstacle between you and the throne right there?”

“And they say I’m bad at making friends…”

“Look, Hux, I still haven’t fully recovered, but me and my friends are expected to sleep under the same roof as you tonight. We discussed taking shifts standing watch or locking you up in the broom cabinet to minimize the risk of getting assassinated."

"Oh, did you?"

Acid would have been gentler than the General’s voice in this moment, but Poe had to admit that he wouldn’t have taken this revelation any kinder. His reply would have been more creative, but stung no less.

"Help me understand you! There seems to have been a line you were not willing to cross. That’s quite out of character for you.”

[...]

Now Poe threw himself around with a speed that had to be even less healthy for him than the emotions. He balled his fists and advanced, but stopped short of hitting the enemy officer.

“No way you could have known that!” Poe shouted. “Not that! This song is about the polar opposite of what the First Order stands for!”

How could it be possible that the enemy took everything the rebels held dear, but twisted it? That was worse than destroying something, this claiming of something good for themselves, putting it through the wringer and spitting it out desecrated.

“I sang this song to Ren, in my head, when he waltzed into a council session with a new mask on”, Hux said calmly, with just a hint of glee. “Because, see? He’s worshipping the ashes, Vader’s ashes, and he’s not going anywhere doing so. Whereas I preserve the flame. Four. Beams. In. A. Single. Shot. The sun resulting from the Hosnian cataclysm will still be burning when nobody remembers us anymore.”

“You… bastard…”

Hux’ eyes bore into Poe’s. They were pure ice, despite all the talk of fire, cold, but not uncaring. To the contrary, the icicle’s sharpness cared a lot, but what it cared about was to cause pain.

“Finally woken up, little pilot?” Hux barked. “Good for you. Who do you think you are to "test" me for indoor privileges?! I’m not you guys’ pet, not the tamed danger! A war trophy, maybe, but even that remains to be seen. You can’t decide what to do with me, as if I were a frog your kid has brought into the house! I sleep where I decide to…”

There was a short, uncomfortable pause, uncomfortable for the General, that was, seeing what had briefly flashed through his mind. But then he decided to just run with it and shouted:

“…and if that’s YOUR bed, you’ll shut up and like it!”

And with these words he rose and strode into the house. As confidently as his still not fully healed leg would allow, anyway.

In the common room BB-8 turned his head away from a holographic game he had been playing with [an OC]. He now fixed his gaze on Hux and, as the droid assumed, Poe entering the house behind him. Since BB-8 was the one projecting the gaming field, it now fell over Hux. White and black dots on a grid obscured his sight and in a reflex he tried to wave them away. Suddenly realizing that Hux had come in alone, that there was no Poe anywhere in sight, BB-8 deactivated the game and rolled towards the door at top-speed, deliberately tripping the General. Whatever had occurred between him and Poe, it was painfully obvious that they hadn’t parted as friends.

Second time flat on my belly in as many days. And again in full sight of the rebels….

[...]

Hux hadn’t expected to fall to sleep this fast. As a result he woke up so early that it was still night. In the bed standing at a right angle with his, Poe’s hand had slipped free from under the covers and was dangling over the edge. How typical! The little barbarian didn’t care one bit about how he was presenting himself to the world. Not that it would have mattered in any way, shape or form, normally. But in his current condition sleeping like a heap of droids in the Lost and Found office could be detrimental to Poe’s recovery.

Giving in to an impulse, Hux reached out, intent on putting the hand back where it belonged. He wasn’t prepared for it to twitch and the fingers to curl as if to clamp the attacker down. Since it was too late to retract his own hand, Hux went for the only option left to him: at least squeeze the other’s hand instead of letting it capture him.

Poe blinked. “Huh?”

“Don’t ask. Just. Don’t ask. So tired of your shit…”

“Yeah, same here!”

As if it wasn’t him, who had to clean up after every mess Snoke, Ren and Hux had caused to the galaxy for years now! Poe had entered his thirties and imagined his life differently, but here they were, fighting a war same as their parents before them had done, yet the First Order General had the nerve to complain to HIM? Sure, you have it so hard…

But then again, locked in each other’s grasp now they were just two people who had woken up in the middle of the night, and in this state pretty much every hand felt the same. This hand Poe was holding had killed and tortured, but it wasn’t  incapable of caressing and comforting, too. There just had never been any reason to for it.

“Is there a chance you might let go?” Hux asked, albeit without making any effort to wiggle free.

“Not even if you directly asked me to, no.”

Back to sleep Poe’s mind went. And so they lay, holding hands. After a while Hux had fallen asleep again, too.

By morning both their hands hang over the edge. They must have let go of each other, but they couldn’t remember when that had happened, so they pretended it had never been a thing in the first place. For what was there to their “bond”, viewed rationally? Poe Dameron had hit his head, he wasn’t thinking clearly. And Armitage Hux was alone in unfamiliar territory, a situation that left a member of the incredibly social species that was humankind no choice but to attach themselves, even if that meant fraternizing with the enemy. There was nothing surprising here, or particularly deep and especially nothing lasting.

[...]

Hux shook Poe by the shoulder.

“Waky-waky, rebel scum!”

“Uh… Is it morning already?”

“Uh-huh. How are you in the spot where other people have their brains?”

“Fine, I think. Your leg?”

“The injury is still noticeable, but not what I’d call painful. A bit annoying.”

“That does translate into lowered reaction speed, though.”

“You tell me!” A frown, quickly followed by a smile. “So, General Dameron, do you want to sit this mission out and play Pazaak together in the infirmary?”

My new rank… Quick, translate Hux to human speech, what does he mean to convey? Ah, right. Acknowledging the rank granted to me by the military of a political body he doesn’t recognize as legit is like offering first name terms. And actually better than if he had done that. I certainly don’t respect this man as a person, but he really is a competent strategist.

“Tempting, Grand-Marshal", Poe returned the offer. "But seeing how we fared last time we entered one, I have to pass.”

[...]

“Ready to go?” Finn asked.

Rose, Poe and the droids replied affirmative, then five sets of sensors focused on the defector. Having a second engineer next to Rose and a sixths body overall with them would be helpful, of course, but bringing Hux along was still a risk.

Hux swallowed the last of his tea. He understood that acting naturally was his best bet now, if he didn’t want to get left behind tied up (and probably having killed one of the rebels before they overpowered him). Unfortunately “acting naturally” for Armitage Hux boiled down to striking a pose and giving a speech:

“Recently I found myself thinking that with you by my side I’d made it to the top, after all. The way you reacted to each of my leaks, putting your expanded knowledge to the best effect, was a joy to watch. Very different from how one imagines disorganized anarchists. It’s not the compliment you want to hear, I’m sure, but I look forward to our mission together. At the very least it should be interesting.”

It seemed to have worked, because the next moment they were sitting in a speeder and were on their way to the space port.

[pigtailedgirl]

#to make it make sense that he leaves after that to never return#i have to headcanon that seeing ray take yet another bullet meant for him was too much for fraser#he had to walk away to make sure it never happened again#of course after some time has passed he realizes he can't live without ray and reaches out to him and it all works out#because i'm a sucker for a happy ending

@gayvecchio stole the tags to expand because, yes this!

100% makes sense with everything Fraser is and has arc-ed up to for like the drama moment of him.

Fraser, who has spent his whole life lost to connection because of Bob and duty, who got Ray's support and it opened him up and like Ray is the only other person in his life I think who hit that I admit I needed in my life level for Fraser besides his Dad. Then their whole relationship tension is a fight and undercurrent of do you or can you admit to it though? And the dangers of going bad or duty, swing that emotional spectrum, overriding your love or friendship and break up and shooting angst part 1. Which they get through but don't talk about. Then suddenly Ray's gone, and Fraser just has to deal for their mutual survival. Undercover indeed or what? And so he hits the point of inverse, of hi Ray K who is like me, we really need to communicate for partners and stuff huh, and THEN surprise Ray's back and the specter of the why was Bob Fraser like that same time, with an answer and suddenly the narrative for like the 1000th time, makes the clear despite Fraser's very odd fire-side speech in COTW post disaster and that one friendship set up in Manhunt, that once again Ray V is paralleled to Caroline Fraser. Caroline Fraser, who was Bob's love and rock. Who teased the hell out of him by committing traffic violations and followed him all over creation while he was Mountie-ing to live with, grumbling about accommodations the whole way, and must have taken him out of his shell a bit cause they were married and were a family. Yeah. Caroline Fraser, who got shot dead cause of a case of Bob's and who's loss broke Bob Fraser expressing love there-after.

Fraser has always known his Dad's and his relationship hardship has been shadowed by his mom's loss. We see this in their profound conversation in Victoria's Secret in the canteen. He's unforgiving. Of if Bob Fraser really loved Caroline, if he was never there, if he never saw her. I get chills at that every damn time, Paul Gross and Gordon Pinsent you were so awesome. He lays into his Dad, actually holding him to account as a person, not a paragon, for failure. Rightfully so in my opinion. Here we see, his rebel against, at the same time we know he's always wanted to be like his Dad. Cause it's Dad should have loved her aka. me better. He won't relate. Until, suddenly COTW and Ray, and Fraser 180s to be I understand you now Dad.

Again, I CANT with this.

Every point in the series of he's like his dad, and reckons with the wall of it, applies especially to even in the relationships and emotions. But he wants to change and be no, dad I loved you, dad you should have been there for me, dad you were a great Mountie, but there was more. Their whole ghost thing is contending with what example of you I know and embrace and overcome.

Every point of Fraser's romantic relationships potential, the dark ex, or all the past ladies or himbo friends (Hi Mark!) being a blaring sign of Fraser wants connection and someone to just love him, cherishes or hoards the idea of, and is also unable, unwilling and so damn terrified of failure or loss of it he hides himself or he runs if it's too much.

Every point of the seasons and Chicago being a metaphorical seal clubbing of showing people need trust and help, and you are good at it in abstract and ideals, but they also need their loved ones and to embrace the damn honest truth of themselves, and you need that and want it and now you learn to know and say it. That the sad and bad in relationships and plot happen because of those who don't. Don't loose out. Learn from the new wild world re-framed instead of staying in the expansive and cold and alone North.

And so he came of the trail of the killers of his father, and yes, actually the reason he stayed does need exploring at this juncture. He "bonded" with Ray Vecchio.

And that bond, someone reaching out to him and wanting him, is how he said ok I want to stay and came back. I just had the image of, what would have become of Fraser emotionally, if he choose closer to Russia sir than Chicago and the people who want you? AAAAHHH.

Platonic or not, that's what brought solid support and connection to Fraser's life. All the people. Vecchio family. 27th. Neighborhood. Consulate.

I kinda grew to love the idea of Fraser's adventure with Ray K over the years. How wilderness and North Canada is freeing in it's solitude time, like a sabbatical or refresh away from your stresses. So I get it. But I have never got the fan idea they stay there. That they belong there. Or importantly that Fraser belongs there or in Canada now.

I've always been after, they, very much he, need to go home. The open ends of previous seasons was the connections of Due South on the daily life constants on. I've always loved the fanfic or open ends head canons of Ray, Ray, and Fraser working together, or the homecoming and reuniting possibilities ones for various pairs. But not living in the North. Because it's lonely up here I tell ya for personal experience.

Cause for Fraser, home shouldn't be isolation and Artic anymore. His home is his people. His people are in Chicago. His people started with finding Ray V and I'll be damned if that doesn't book-end to have Fraser pick that over what his father did and lost when he didn't pick his wife, or love, and ran from his son seeing and getting it from him. Seeing himself and his dad through to happy ending, should be Fraser breaking the cycle. Just like that break, coming back, rewards Ray V's boatload of issues being the unwanted and do good, get appreciated too.

And Ray K...I want him to find himself. You go baby! There's a great big world to do it with all the people you've connected with through Fraser. With what you learned about yourself working with and for seeing the importance of yourself as yourself now not as Stella's Ray or Fraser's buddy or "Ray Vecchio" or stuck out in the ice. Come on home too.

So, Wonder Twins or throuple unite. I have just rambled myself into I don't know what.

[rebelrebelwrites]

Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel's Weekly Fic Recs

This week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

+++

The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: That Which Lies Across the Sea by EisforEverything

What you need to know going in:

Mmm, this fic. Part of a larger series called Use Well the Days (also primarily all WIP) that follows Mairon's story from his fall to his days with Galadriel and beyond, this fic is the last in the series, and it sees Sauron following Galadriel to Valinor after the end of LOTR. Humbling himself before the Valar, he seeks something if not true redemption. Meanwhile, the rest of Valinor chafes at his return, and without saying too much, there are repercussions to his—and everyone's—actions in Middle-earth. This ruminative, spellbinding story is rich with lore and just rich in general; a sumptuous feast of a fic you can sink your teeth into. Galadriel and Mairon's moments together are potent, but it's not just them. Prepare for heady altercations with many of your Tolkien favorites here.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on AO3.

+++

The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: A Stressed Tiding by @formerlyir

What you need to know going in:

-fans self- THIS FIC, let me tell you... was one of the first I read in this fandom, and hot damn, what a way to dive into Saurondriel/Haladriel. I've recommended @formerlyir's fics before, and will again because they're stupendously written and well-realized, but this one holds a special place in my heart for its steamy-as-all-hell premise and smut. A one-shot, post-S1 in which Galadriel offers Sauron a tantalizing deal: one night and one day together if they both don't participate in their impending battle—to help her turn the tide of the war, of course. 👀 This is seriously Saurondriel at my absolute favorite: brimming with angst and enemies-to-lovers-but-basically-still-enemies and 🔥🔥🔥 smut? Burning hot.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Twitter, Instagram, and on AO3.

+++

The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: Through Peril and Fire by @yletylyf

What you need to know going in:

I struggled between picking between this fic and another I'm reading of @yletylyf's as they're both wonderful, but decided I should start with this completed fic! Post-S1, Galadriel follows Sauron to Mt. Doom, and facing a threat larger than their current conflict with each other, they team up (with help from some of our other Tolkien favorites) to save Middle-earth together. What struck me most about this fic is just how damn delightful it is. Don't get me wrong, it has its moments of angst and inner turmoil for our two lovebirds, but it's also so witty, so winsome in its banter and characterization and fine-tuned plot, you can just gobble it up for hours. A damn delight, indeed.

Complete, Teen & Up

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): The Lesser of Two Evils by @thrillofhope

What you need to know going in:

Another post-S1 masterpiece in the making to share! Can I ever get enough of those? Absolutely not, and I'm sure many of you can't either. In this one from @thrillofhope (another writer you'll see repeatedly on this list, I'm sure), Sauron returns to Eregion to strike an alliance with the elves and our dear Galadriel, for fear of a returned Morgoth. Grudgingly, they concoct a plan to work together against the OG Dark Lord, who's still regaining his full strength. One of my favorite things about this fic is simply how much of a smarmy little shit Sauron is—it feels so achingly in character, and makes for a biting interplay between him and Galadriel that's delicious to consume. Characterization is super strong in this fic, and not just for our favorites, but for all Tolkien characters we have the pleasure of seeing in this story. There's still more to go, but I recommend you get caught up immediately... I have a feeling this one is going to be even more of a doozy than it already is.

WIP, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

+++

The Can’t Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den by @demonscantgothere

What you need to know going in:

Another @demonscantgothere classic! I'd be surprised if you haven't read it yet, as I feel like it's very well-known and well-loved (rightly so!), but just in case some of you haven't, the premise sees Galadriel in the First Age, offering herself in place of Finrod when he's trapped in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, BATB-style. This fic evokes feelings of a fairytale, but with a LOT more smut, and it's spicy. All manner of spiciness here, folks. Hot Ones has nothing on Helholden (@demonscantgothere). In addition to the absolutely 🔥🔥🔥 smut, prepare for a very mercurial Mairon—sorry, Halbrand! Couldn't resist the alliteration—a younger, more innocent but no less exacting Galadriel, and other wonderful inclusions from the First Age, including werewolves, Thuringwethil, Morgoth (at least by association, so far), and more. I don't want to spoil anything, so just go read it. 20 chapters in, 80 to go, according to the current count. In other words: hell yes.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and on AO3.

+++

🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

[monako-jinn-stories]

Captain Howzer X Fem! Reader FanFic

Rebels on the Run

If you would like to be added to/removed from the taglist for this story, use this link!

Main Master List

Multi-part Stories Master List

Chapter Two

Chapter One

Ryloth is less than ideal of a place to be stranded, but you don’t exactly have any way off the planet. Your starfighter was destroyed when the men of your battalion fired at you, and ever since you narrowly escaped with your life, you’ve been hiding in the wild of the planet. That’s not to say you haven’t gone to the cities every so often, but you wore layers of cover when you did. Not only do you stick out as a human, you don’t want to be recognized as a Jedi.

It’s been months of hiding, and there’s been no variation in your weeks. Each day starts the same; scouting the perimeter of wherever you’re currently hiding before settling back down to make your meager breakfast. Certain days involve different activities after breakfast.

Primeday is when you would clean up your area, making sure everything is washed and put away, or neatly placed out of the way. Centaxday is when you go to the nearest city for food. Taungsday, you head to the farthest city for other supplies, like toiletries. Zhellday you sneak over to your lookout near the imperial base, spending the day listening in on what you can and observing the work of the empire. Benduday is when you allow yourself to relax, as much as possible given your state of being a fugitive. 

There was one recent Zhellday where some very interesting events went down. First, what appeared to be a batch of rogue clones attacked the imperial refinery, and then a guard was sent to guard Lessu. Imperial forces were deployed from the Capitol building, but another squad had set up a trap at one of the Capitol’s exits, seemingly for the rogue batch of clones. After some happenings inside of the building, one lone clone exited and stated his defiance to the Empire. Then, he was arrested and escorted inside the Capitol building.

Once you’d been sure that nothing else interesting or important was going to happen, you’d decided to head back to your current hiding spot. As you had walked, you’d thought about the events you’d witnessed and how it might change things for you. If there were insurgencies within the Empire, then perhaps you could get to some people who would help you escape without asking too many questions. Not that you could ever trust a clone trooper, not after what happened with your own. 

You can still remember the feeling of panic as your starfighter was shot down, the voices of your beloved friends ordering your death. And then the sound of your commander ordering his brothers to take his life, afterwards.

“Commander Sans, General Jinn’s ship has been shot down. It crashed and exploded on impact. There is no way that she could have survived,” Captain Hex had said over the comms, not knowing that you had in fact survived and could still hear.

“Our job is done then,” Sans replied. “Except, I have one more order for you and Major Steele.”

“Yes, sir. What is it, sir?” Steele asked.

“I have done what I was ordered to do, but I do not wish to live in a world without y/n. I know she was a traitor, yet my heart continues to betray me. My love for her will never overcome any other feeling I feel towards her. I could never hate her, and because of that, I will only ever hate myself for continuing to love her after taking her life.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

“I need you and Captain Hex to kill me.” The words had left Sans so effortlessly, almost matter-of-factly, as if this should have been the most obvious request.

“Sir?” Hex said, stepping closer to him. “I will not kill you, Sans.”

“Hex,” Sans said, and you heard his feet shuffle as he turned to face him, “I am ordering you and Steele to kill me. Shoot me and take my life, for I cannot live in this galaxy without y/n.”

“But Sans-”

“No, Steele. There is no argument. If you will not kill me, then I will take my own life.”

A silence followed these words, and you could only assume Hex and Steele had exchanged glances, a silent conversation playing between the two.

“Alright, Commander,” Hex said, “but we’re coming with you.”

“Then I will be waiting to march on with you,” Sans said before a brief silence followed by two blasters firing, and then both of those blasters firing again. And then endless silence on the comms. 

You still feel guilt for not saying something, for not revealing that you had survived. But you couldn’t, because you would have been hunted down and killed. As much as you wanted more than anything to save their lives, you knew, in the end, it would have only delayed the inevitable. And you perhaps might have condemned Sans to killing you as you faced him, which you’d much rather him not have to bear the weight of. The only consolation is knowing that Sans, Hex, Steele, Aid, Tie, and Bomber are now all together again.

A week had passed, and you’d returned to the imperial base. It had been busier, and you could only assume it was because of the defiant clone and the rogue clones. You had heard whispers in the cities that General Cham Syndulla and his wife Eleni, along with their daughter, had been rescued and taken off planet by the rogue clones. A bitter feeling flooded through you as you’d heard the news. Of course you weren’t lucky enough to also be saved by them. It’s what you get for remaining hidden in the shadows.

As you had watched, your mind kept drifting back to think about the defiant clone and the few followers he had raised. You wondered what the likelihood of him still being on planet is, and the likelihood of you being able to help-

No, you’d told yourself before you could finish the thought, you are not going to risk your life for a clone that will just end up killing you or betraying you.

And yet, a few weeks later, you weren’t given much of a choice in the matter.

It’s earlier than normal when you wake up today, and your body is rigid with tension. Something feels off, it’s what had awoken you early, and you can’t tell whether it’s danger or just cautionary. You don’t give yourself much time to debate it. You crawl out of your make-shift bed, which is in reality just a slab of stone, and put your bounty hunter mask on before grabbing your blaster and heading close to the entrance of your hiding spot. You keep hidden while you listen to their steps, trying to sense their location through the force. They seem to be curious about whether or not this area could provide shelter. 

“Huh, I wonder how easy it would be to carve out a living space in this rock,” the person says, and his voice sends a chill down your spine. “No doubt that it would be hard to find me out here.” Your grip on your blaster tightens, sensing him continuing to look around, getting closer to you. “That’s weird,” he mutters, and you can tell from his force signature that he’s found your secret path, the one that leads directly to your entrance. His footsteps echo down the short, hollowed out corridor, and you let out a steadying breath before you make your move.

In an instant, your blaster muzzle is pressing into the side of the clone trooper’s head, and he’s frozen in place, his hands up in surrender. A silence fills the room, and you fight every instinct that tells you to shoot him now, taking away his chance to shoot you.

“You’ve wandered a long way from your little imperial base,” you say, “what led you all the way out here?”

“I’m wanted by the Empire. I’m trying to escape the planet and join the clones who are rebelling.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Look at me,” he says, beginning to move his hand to gesture at himself. You grab his wrist, fearing him possibly reaching for his blaster. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, I have no reason to hide anything. If you just look at me, you’ll see proof that the Empire was holding me in prison and was trying to torture information from me.”

“Anyone might have tortured you. For all I know, you’re trying to make your way back to the Empire.”

“How can I prove to you that I’m being honest?” You think for a second, trying to decide what could possibly reveal to you that he’s not lying. There is one way, but it’s risky, especially given that he is a clone, but you take the risk anyway.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again? That I’m being honest?”

“No, your claim about fleeing the Empire.” Your grip tightens slightly on him, and your fingers wrap around to feel his pulse. 

“I’m wanted by the Empire. I’m trying to escape the planet and join the clones who are rebelling.” You close your eyes as he speaks and sense his words. Unsurprisingly, he’s telling the truth. You knew his voice had been eerily similar to the defiant clone, and this is all but a direct confirmation of his identity.

“I believe you,” you reply after a minute. You let go of his hand and lower your blaster, motioning for him to sit on your make-shift chair while you sit across from him on your make-shift bed.

“If I may ask,” he says, “how did you know you could trust me just by holding my wrist?”

“When people lie, their heart rate typically spikes. I felt your pulse, and it remained steady.” It isn’t exactly false, but it’s not quite the method you had used. But you also aren’t going to outright admit that you’re a Jedi when he could still kill you.

“Ah, I see,” he says, his hand subconsciously rubbing his other wrist. “Now I guess it’s my turn to ask who you are.”

“None of your business,” you reply simply, and he looks at you silently for a second before nodding.

“I understand you might not trust me completely-”

“The only thing I trust about you,” you begin, cutting him off, “is what you told me about your condition with the Empire.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he replies. “But, I can promise you that I’m not a threat.”

“Not a threat to who?”

“You. Anyone. Well, anyone except the Empire.”

“You’re a clone trooper.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a threat to the Jedi. You’re a threat to citizens who do not want to align with the Empire, even if you’re not with them anymore. People will still see you and fear occupation.”

“The Jedi have all been wiped out,” he responds, “and it is not the clones that forced the occupation, it’s the imperials that order us around.”

“But they’re the sign of occupation, are they not?”

“I mean…I guess.”

“And how can you be certain all the Jedi have died? I’ve heard quite a few rumors about some surviving and in hiding.”

“Well, those are just rumors,” he counters.

“But if you knew there was a Jedi nearby, you’d kill them, right?”

“I-” he begins, but then his face scrunches in thought, almost as if he’s in pain. His hand goes up to his head, but then he shakes it, clearing his throat before looking back up. “Part of me believes that it is my duty to make sure all the Jedi are dead, but the other part of me believes that the Empire lied in order to take control.”

“How come you aren’t convinced of this like you’re convinced that the Empire is wrong?”

“Well…I don’t know,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s almost like…it’s natural for me to think the Jedi deserve to die.”

“But you fought alongside them for years, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And did they ever show signs of betrayal then?”

“No.”

“So what makes you believe that they might have betrayed the Republic?”

“I…don’t know. Like I said, it just feels natural.”

“But there’s no evidence to support this natural feeling?”

“No, there’s not.”

“Then perhaps there is no reason to believe they betrayed the Republic. Perhaps the Empire lied about it.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Yes,” you say simply. “From the moment he became Supreme Chancellor, I have never trusted Palpatine. Everything he said was always too vague, too…interpretive. I believe that he’s always been up to no good, and never truly liked the Jedi.”

“I guess that does explain some things that he did and said,” the clone responds. “I’m willing to change my opinion on the Jedi if I’m shown that they did not betray the Republic.”

“I’m afraid there is no concrete way to prove this. There is no evidence that the Empire betrayed the Jedi. All you can really do is take the word of those who knew and were close to Jedi.”

“Did you know a Jedi?”

“Yes…I did,” you reply. “He was like a father to me. He cared for me in ways that no one else ever had. And he always had the best interests of others on his mind. Especially my best interests. He taught me how to be the person I am today, how to treat and care for others, while always looking out for myself as well.”

“He sounds very important to you.”

“He was. And he never would have betrayed the Republic. He loved the men under his command as a father loves their sons. And the other Jedi that he introduced me to had equal love for their men. They were all pure of heart and just wanted to help others.”

“I see. I’m sorry that you lost so many people, especially the one who was like a father to you. What was his name? I might have fought under his command.”

You hesitate, not knowing whether or not revealing his name could reveal your own identity, but you decide to take the chance, because you hadn’t spoken his name since his death, other than in screams of despair and nightmares. “His name was Codo Daawa.”

“Codo Daawa? General Daawa?” the words are almost sad, regretful even. “He was a very kind person. I did fight under his command a few times. I looked up to him and how he always looked out for us and protected us. I’m sorry, again, for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you, both of you in your own minds. You are again thinking about the feeling that you’d had when Codo had died, how you instantly felt a difference in the force. You’d known without a doubt that he was next to you, but within the force, and he wanted more than anything to comfort you, though it was impossible. 

“My name is Howzer, by the way,” he says, breaking the silence. “Formerly Captain Howzer, in case General Daawa ever mentioned me.”

“No, he didn’t,” you reply, and he nods understandingly.

“And your name?”

You bite your lip under your mask, a new wave of panic taking over. Do you dare reveal your real name? What are the chances that he knows who you are? Even if he’s heard of you, would he immediately assume you’re the same person as General Jinn?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he adds as you remain quiet, “I understand you still don’t trust me.”

“It’s better for both of our safety if you don’t know.”

“I see.”

“But,” you say, clenching your hands in your lap, “I won’t get anywhere in life if I never trust again.” He looks at you curiously, patiently waiting for you to continue with where you’re going. You let out a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You lift your head to gaze at him through your mask. And after closing your eyes and preparing for the worst, you open your mouth to speak.

“My name is y/n. Y/n Jinn.”

If you enjoyed this, comments, reblogs, and messages are greatly appreciated!

Tag List! Use this Tag List form to be added, removed, or change preferences! @imabeautifulbutterfly @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @kaykates @tacticalsparkles @lucyysthings @namesmox @crosshairxs @milppa @techssexythighs @paige6768 @rintheemolion @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @lightning-wolffe @ilikemymendarkandfictional @megafrost4 @darkangel4121 @hedahobbit98 @shuttlelauncher81 @sleepy-tog @littlemisscare-all @nahoney22 @ladykatakuri @that-one-weeb-but-starwars @rain-on-kamino @shadowwing1324 @salaminus @southernbaguette @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @remuslupinsfatass @oo-hazel-oo @pshhbam @howlerwolfmax @bloodmoon-bites @misogirl828 @i-donot-want-it @andyoufollowyourheart @tachyon-girl

please don't delete this stuff. Tumblr I'm begging leave my taglist alone. And the other stuff. Just let me post all of this. If you have to delete something, delete this nonsense

I'm literally just writing this so that you leave the important stuff alone. this is bait

delete this please please omg please tumblr leave the actual stuff I want alone

Shhsjdjdhfjejdhdhdidjdbdhdjdjdbshidjsbdhsjdbdusidndbjdjdjebdjdkdbdbeodjdbiskdbdjsisjdbdbiskdbdhdkdnbdjdjwbeisndbeikwjwbwjwownwb

Shhsjdjdhfjejdhdhdidjdbdhdjdjdbshidjsbdhsjdbdusidndbjdjdjebdjdkdbdbeodjdbiskdbdjsisjdbdbiskdbdhdkdnbdjdjwbeisndbeikwjwbwjwownwb

Shhsjdjdhfjejdhdhdidjdbdhdjdjdbshidjsbdhsjdbdusidndbjdjdjebdjdkdbdbeodjdbiskdbdjsisjdbdbiskdbdhdkdnbdjdjwbeisndbeikwjwbwjwownwb

Shhsjdjdhfjejdhdhdidjdbdhdjdjdbshidjsbdhsjdbdusidndbjdjdjebdjdkdbdbeodjdbiskdbdjsisjdbdbiskdbdhdkdnbdjdjwbeisndbeikwjwbwjwownwb

Shhsjdjdhfjejdhdhdidjdbdhdjdjdbshidjsbdhsjdbdusidndbjdjdjebdjdkdbdbeodjdbiskdbdjsisjdbdbiskdbdhdkdnbdjdjwbeisndbeikwjwbwjwownwb

Shhsjdjdhfjejdhdhdidjdbdhdjdjdbshidjsbdhsjdbdusidndbjdjdjebdjdkdbdbeodjdbiskdbdjsisjdbdbiskdbdhdkdnbdjdjwbeisndbeikwjwbwjwownwb

I don't know how many lines to write to protect myself but PLEASE IM BEGGING

sibviusvbiensuifhsfphrhfiuiyvugsinhbyurnivcjmunuriebivisrvhnwriuvnbrishvbsgfvnsaenicjsihfeunsfcrebvirsyrvbnrsvybvvusybvushivbnsihvsvnbsrivbrvknjvtuhiwvnwubwyotibvroiyufrnvriulvnvbuwivnvcwriybvuvciwrnvuvcnuwinbrvuwirtvbnuiwirtvnwovbwirtuvwvubiwrtuvbwuvbiwbruvwrtnvnrwtiuvbwvwbnuirwthv9uowrincvuwribvrovnwiuwbrvnvrtvbuwirvvkjbruvwirvnjwugbihfnhflnvhiurwbvnwyrbnvuwvnbwvt

cniwuhvrbvlvbrhvfwilersnv hwilrbvcniluvwbnruivcbrwivlwbvbrtwbvuerwhnchuienwbcvwryiuuhrvbwviulwnesvbnwierusvbnerwsuivlwrvbrwnilubviewjriublvrwervjnwbeuilbrebwvweriuvhliubwruvilbwuivwuilvburibwv wirvuwrobvwilvbernbvwueilvw.vbviwlvbivwlvbbvw

[yuristarwars]

Stay With Me (just a little longer)

Summary: Vel, Cinta, Cassian, and Melshi are sent on mission to infiltrate an Imperial TIE Fighter factory by Luthen. The boys are working with some Union workers to sabotage and slow down security forces while Vel and Cinta plant the bombs

Stay on track, stay on track, stay on track.

Vel wore her green Imperial uniform well, her blonde hair tied back into a bun, black boots stepping on the catwalk.

The Imperial TIE-Fighter factory was much larger than any of their previous missions. The Aldhani Imperial Base was about one third the size of this place, with some single rooms hosting about two dozen TIEs, just waiting to be shipped out.

Her partner walked behind her, wearing the same sort of green outfit. They had just gotten changed the night before and them being able to see each others' bodies bare and naked, for what could be the last time, was the highlight of that night.

Neither had heard word from Andor or Melshi in the past few minutes and were starting to get anxious. They needed word that the security forces had been routed so that they could plant the bombs in the generator room

Vel held her comlink to her mouth and whispered into it. "Cassian," she said, "Cass, can you hear me. Cinta and I are almost in position, I repeat, Cinta and I are almost in position."

Silence came from the other end and she looked at Cinta with fear before they both snapped their heads forward while a couple KX Droids passed them.

They kept walking until they got to the main factory room where they could see that the working of TIE Fighters had slowed down quite a bit. There were only a few people working while KX Droids guarded every corner.

Cinta pointed at a level across from them and saw an Imperial Army Trooper run out of a corridor onto the platform, only to be shot down from behind and fall onto the floor 20 feet below him.

Running onto the platform where he fell from, was Cassian and Ruescott, along with about a dozen workers. They were all shouting and running at the KX Droids and IAT's trying to stop them.

Cassian looked over at the two women and yelled: "Go!"

The two immediately did as he said and ran to the giant generator room, which was being empties as Security Forces ran past them to contain the riot in the main factory room.

"Here," Vel panted, giving Cinta a pack of bombs for her to go set up on the other side of the nearly half a mile long room, the side farthest from any door.

As they were getting it all set up, the vents suddenly closed and the lights turned to red. Cinta stared at Vel and Vel stared back in horror.

Then, gas started pouring into the room from the ceiling, a thick yellow smoke that started filling up the entire room.

Cinta screamed across the room to Vel as the door began to shut. "Go!"

"No, I'm not leaving you-" she screamed back, but she was starting to cough. The gas was getting to her.

Against every part of her heart screaming at her to stay with her girlfriend, Vel had to listen to her lungs and run out the door just as it, dooming her partner to an unceremonious death...

Then she heard footsteps come from behind her and she pulled her blaster out of her holster. To her surprise and delight, it was her friend Cassian, along with a few dozen other Rebels in masks.

He handed one to her and she took a deep breath. She was thankful for the new air in her lungs, but part of her was still suffocating.

"I have to go back for her," she said, turning towards the generator room.

Cassian grabbed her wrist. "Leave her! We need to get out of here!"

She yanked it away from him. "Not without her."

She opened the door back up and ran across the catwalk through the thick yellow gas. She looked on every platform, desperately trying to find her girlfriend.

Finally, Vel saw a body lying on the floor, completely unconscious. She picked Cinta up, the dead weight making her move more slowly.

Nonetheless, the blonde-haired Rebel march forward, gas all around them fire and explosions going of as her friends assaulted the reinforcement security forces, covering for her.

As they made it out of the factory, Melshi helped Cinta carry her to the U-Wing while Cassian got it started. Vel pulled out the detonator once they all got inside with the other workers, and pulled the switch.

The factory went up in a blaze of fire and iron as the U-Wing pulled out of the atmosphere. In a strange sense, it was beautiful. A good, solid hit on Imperial infrastructure, but Vel could not stop thinking about her partner in the bed behind her.

She turned around and the ship's doors closed. Vel knelt down next to Cinta and held her hand, putting her head to her chest while Melshi put a mask on Cinta so she could breathe more easily.

So they traveled through hyperspace for hours, the workers sitting against the wall and sleeping while Vel stayed awake with Vel, waiting, waiting, for her to wake up.

Suddenly, she felt Cinta stir. Vel stood up and smiled. "Cinta, Cinta can you hear me?"

Cinta stayed silent for a few seconds more with only a couple groans. The she finally spoke. "Isa?"

Vel's face fell. "No," she said, "no its- its me. Its Vel, don't you remember me?"

The dark-haired Rebel lifted her hand and lightly grabbed Vel's arm. "Isa, Isa I'm scared," she said, tears running down her cheek, "they're taking mommy away."

Things suddenly clicked. CInta had told Vel about her sister back on Fest, but never said anything much about her. Vel knew that her sister dissapeard a little bit after her parents died, but there was no conclusion for her like there was for her parents. Cinta must've been hallucinating because of the gas, thinking back to when her mom and dad were first executed.

"I'm scared," Cinta whimpered, holding her head to Vel's wrist, "they're not gonna take you away, are they?"

A single tear ran down her. "No one's gonna take me away," she whispered, patting her girlfriend's black hair, "I promise."

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 5.02 ‘A War on Two Fronts' Reaction

Rex what on earth are you wearing?! Look what they did to my boy.

Naw, he’s got jaig eyes on the front of his chest plate. I’d love to know the story behind Rex getting his jaig eyes.

Ok, who thought it was a good idea to give Rex a jetpack?

Gymnast Rex! Look at him being all flexible and flipping about like a Jedi. Also, his little grunts/old man noises during this. 

Rex, you did not need to backflip off the tank. Sir, you are showing off again.

Ahahahahah omg, it’s an absolute 'blink and you’ll miss it' moment but after Rex leaps off the tank and just before the shot changes, you can see him brush off his shoulder. Sir, you are definitely showing off. You utter dork. I love him so much.

“We must not train terrorists.” Well, that’s going to come back and bite everyone in the arse.

Rex sounding like a drill sergeant there while they’re training the rebels. Also, hello to that jawline.

So this is where we meet Saw Gerrera. Great.

Pitting two young girls against each other over the affections of some teenage boy. How original. I thought something written in 2012 would be better than this but that’s probably looking back with far too rose tinted glasses. Or the awful goggles Rex was wearing.

Rex’s outfit would’ve been so good without those bloody googles. We were robbed.

Just paused it and the hat and earmuffs aren’t great either. And why is he wearing long socks with the pants tucked into them? Is that an aerial or view thingy on his right earmuff? What is the random patch under the long sleeved shirt on his right bicep? Are the blotches supposed to be a camouflage pattern? Ok, I revise my opinion. This entire outfit is trash. Burn it with fire.

Where on earth did Rex get this abomination of an outfit anyway? Does the 501st just have a random closet full of awful civvies clothes? Ahahah, it’s a disguise box isn’t it. 

Ok I’m now analysing Rex’s outfit way too much but oh well, here we are. What are the random pouches attached to his belt for? Why have pockets on your pants if they’re not holding anything? Now that I look at it, the chest plate really doesn’t seem to be covering a great deal. Why are you wearing 2 layers Rex? Unless the underneath layer is his blacks, then it makes more sense. And what are the holsters for your DC-17s attached to? They’re sitting on his hips but the belt is around his waist and they don’t look like they’re connected. Are they just magically connected to his person? Do ARCs just come out of training with their holsters glued to their hips? I have so many notes about this outfit.

Tangentially related outfit notes: Why does Ahsoka have to wander about in a) a boob tube and then b) a skin tight outfit with cutouts, yet Rex and all the guys are fully covered in loose clothing. Oh wait, I know why.

Ah, so Steela was the voice of reason. Of course, it’s the young girl that has to keep the arrogant, hot headed male in check. This is painfully dated, and probably explains why Saw went completely off the rails after her death.

Really not impressed with Saw. He’s arrogant, dismissive and hot-headed. That line from Steela about how he fashions himself as their leader even though no one elected him does not bode well either.

So many Jedi cloaks in this episode! I love the return of their ridiculously obvious and completely unsubtle “disguises”. 

Lmao at Obi-Wan and Anakin at the end having their serious Jedi conversation while pretending to be subtle in their cloaks. No one is falling for that boys.

“I am hopeful, Anakin. Hopeful.” How mysteriously Jedi of you Obi-Wan.

Oh, this is the planet that The Bad Batch went to in ‘Aftermath’. I thought Onderon felt familiar. It’s decidedly weird sometimes watching The Clone Wars after watching The Bad Batch. There’s a lot of moments that I didn’t understand the significance of and thus completely missed out on. Like the return of Rex in ‘Battle Scars’, Cody in ‘The Solitary Clone’ and Gregor (who I still haven’t met in TCW yet) in ‘War-Mantle’. Things like understanding exactly who Cut and Suu were in ‘Cut and Run’ and the importance of their history in TCW, especially with Rex. Even Trace and Rafa are characters from TCW, though I’ve yet to meet them either. And then there’s moments like this where a planet that is completely new at the time of this TCW episode being broadcast is familiar to me because of the backwards way I’ve watched everything. I’m definitely going to have to rewatch The Bad Batch at some point once I’ve watched all of TCW, Rebels and Tales of the Jedi to fully understand and get all the moments and references. 

Lmao of course they have the two characters that were fighting team up at the end and use the same training exercise they failed at earlier to defeat the droids. I know it’s an “animated kids TV show” and sometimes you can really tell. And yet there’s also commentary in here about the folly of an external (essentially) military force training insurgents/rebels from another planet country and the consequences there of. Hmmmmmmm, I wonder what on earth that could be referring to. Hmmmm.

I still cannot believe Rex’s outfit. The ribbing in the group chat is going to be even worse than after the Zygerrian armour. 

[thevibraniumveterans]

REBELS REWATCH

S2E1 — THE SIEGE OF LOTHAL

The episode begins with the Ghost being flanked by two A-Wings and pursued by TIEs. Hera instructs that they should aim to reach the freighter and to “keep the TIEs off our back.” Ezra, in the Ghost’s forward gunner’s seat, grins: “Good shot, Phoenix-1. Save some for the rest of us.” The Ghost's path is clear, and it is revealed that Hera and the Spectres have a new fleet to watch their backs when needed. Hera banks hard left to avoid an incoming TIE; Zeb complains of the unsteadiness, and Ezra teases him: “Come on, Zeb. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Zeb falls to the loading bay, but Ezra turns back to the viewport, still grinning. Hera tells her crew that she’s “moving into position”. Sabine is piloting the Phantom, one hand on the yoke and the other on the controls. She acknowledges: “Copy, Spectre-2. I’m on my mark.” Her targeting computer locks into her target: “Firing…now!” Thumbing the trigger buttons, she lets loose a barrage of laser fire, freeing several cartons from a transport ship, and zips away. Satisfied, she comms Hera, “Cargo is liberated. Spectre-2, you’re clear for pickup.” Unfortunately for them, Imperial reinforcements have arrived. Ezra, having long since picked up foul language from his roommate Zeb, swears: “Ah, karabast!”

The Ghost is pursued by two TIEs. More than used to this, Ezra notes, “Whew! Got real crowded all of a sudden.” In the Phantom, Sabine heads over to shake off a few TIEs, saying, “Got you covered, Phoenix-1.” She successfully laser bombs a TIE. Zeb prepares to pickup the containers from earlier, and Ezra, aware of the time constraints, relays, “Uh, anytime, Zeb.” The Lasat completes his task, and Hera relays to Phoenix Squadron, “Mission accomplished.” The fleet zips into hyperspace, Kanan blasts a few more TIEs into oblivion, and instructs Sabine to dock the Phantom with the Ghost. She does so, with calculated precision, as always; Ezra, still in the forward gunner’s bay, senses her presence, triumphant and bright. He looks up and smiles: “She’s home.” He’s glad that the mission has gone well and according to plan, mostly, but he’s also glad that Sabine’s back on the Ghost.

Later, aboard the rebel capital ship Phoenix Home, the Spectres and Ahsoka meet with Commander Jun Sato, who commends them. Sabine, listening intently, has her hands on her hips. A few feet to her left, Ezra, standing beside Sato, rests his hands on the edge of the large center console, and looks up and smiles at the Commander’s closing comments. After a short exchange between Hera and Ahsoka, Chopper barrels into the meeting room without so much of a warning, and Ezra straightens his posture. The droid has an incoming transmission; it starts playing, and Ezra realizes, “Hey, it’s Old Jho!” Moments pass, and Minister Tua, of all people, walks into frame, begging for help. Sabine, like the others, think something’s fishy. Zeb gives voice to her concerns. Minister Tua is frantic: “Please, I beg you. Listen to my request. My life is in danger. I need you to give me safe passage off Lothal. I assure you, my intentions are sincere. To prove it, I will trade secret Imperial information.” Ezra, having walked over to the other side of Sabine, turns slightly toward her and raises his eyebrows at this highly unusual request. Ezra looks back at the live hologram of Minister Tua. Sabine asks, “You’re defecting from the Empire?” Tua admits so. Ezra’s expression turns contemplative; after a moment, he says, “She’s telling the truth.” Guarded, he stammers a bit, but reveals that he “can sense her fear.” Kanan agrees, but asks, “of what?” Ezra frowns and looks away, pondering this question. Nearby, Ahsoka notes this exchange. Hera asks Tua what she can trade, and Tua replies, “A list of rebel sympathizers on Lothal and other nearby systems.” Sato is not convinced, and wonders why said sympathizers “have not been arrested”. Tua notes that some have friends in high places, and that the rebels “need allies”, and as such, need to “get me off Lothal and I will give you the list.” Kanan dismisses the notion, and Sabine agrees, given her experience: “It’s obviously a trap.” She’s not too happy about this latest development. Ezra side-eyes her momentarily; Tua continues, saying that she’s “discovered the true reason the Empire came to Lothal.” Hera knows why, and says so, but Tua reveals there is another reason “known only to a few and ordered by the Emperor himself.” At this news, Ezra is the only one left watching Tua’s live message; Hera has turned to discuss this with Ahsoka, Kanan, and Sato, and Sabine speaks with Zeb. Ezra steps forward after a few contemplative moments, and says, “We have to do this.” Surprisingly, Ahsoka and Kanan agree. No surprise there, they’re the only three in the room that are, to the knowledge of everyone else in there, the only Force Sensitive ones, and so, would be able to discern better than most when decisions are not made in haste. Sato agrees, and Ezra turns back to Tua and determinedly says: “Minister, we’ll get you out. Send us your coordinates.” Tua thanks him; Ezra turns around, and walks back the way he came, calmly brushing right past Kanan.

Hera and Kanan head to the hallway, then into a small corridor, and discuss his distrust of joining a bigger rebellion and her insistence that the goal has always been the same, they just did the smaller job. At this moment, Ezra walks past the other side of the corridor, overhearing the discussion. He stops by the doorway and decides to listen, despite it being a private moment. Kanan notes, “I survived one war. I’m not ready for another one. I saw what it did.” Ezra eavesdrops pensively. “To the Jedi,” Hera finishes. “To everyone,” Kanan corrects. He steps out of the corridor and heads back down the hallway. Hera follows. Ezra, on the other hand, reflects on the weightiness of that revelation, and watches Kanan and Hera walk away. Through the Force, Ezra senses conflict, sadness, wariness, and narrows his eyes a little.

Onboard a Star Commuter shuttle, Ezra sits a row behind Kanan. Hera boards, followed by Zeb and Sabine, who says, “So, we’re not taking the Ghost, and we’re letting Chopper drive?” Hera notes that it’s safer than being tracked by the Empire. The crew enters hyperspace, and Kanan asks what the plan is. Ezra says that “Minister Tua is scheduled to visit Governor Tarkin” the next day and would depart Lothal “via shuttle at 1800.” The plan would be to “wait at the hangar, steal the shuttle and take her to safety.” He makes it sound so simple, but plans always go awry, especially when made with too much confidence. Sabine, behind him, cautions Ezra: “I hope you’re sure about this.” He turns around to look at her; Zeb too, is concerned: “After all the trouble she’s made for us, why should we help her?” Clearly having learnt a whole bunch of lessons since the Spectres took him in, Ezra replies, “Because that’s what we do, help others who can’t help themselves. Plus, her list will help us out.”

The shuttle exits hyperspace above Lothal, and is cleared to land. Staring wistfully out the viewport at his home planet, Ezra admits, “I didn’t think I’d miss it, but I—” And pauses. Something feels off, and very, VERY wrong. He turns to Kanan, who asks what’s up. Ezra asks, “Do you feel that?” He stares away again: “I feel so cold.” The last time Ezra experienced this icy feeling was after he woke up from tapping into the dark side to summon a fyrnock alpha on an asteroid. Kanan acknowledges this admission. Later that evening, the shuttle lands at a docking bay, and the Spectres step out after Ezra. He looks up, horrified: “I’ve never seen so many Star Destroyers here.” Especially because there’s one right above the docking bay the crew are at. He frowns, brows furrowed: “It’s gotten worse.” Sabine also looks upward, but redirects her attention when Hera tells Chopper and Zeb to “stay with the shuttle” in case they need a quick getaway. Kanan gets down to business, notifying the crew that “Tua’s leaving from Bay 23.” He leads Hera and Sabine away, and it takes Ezra a few extra seconds to tear his eyes away from the Destroyer overhead before following.

Kanan discusses the plan with Hera; Ezra watches the exchange, looking from Kanan to Hera and back, again and again. It is debatable whether he is watching the exchange as part of trying to understand what the mission needs, or that he is watching Kanan and Hera’s relationship play out before his very eyes and mentally taking notes, given his eyebrow raise and the accompanying grin. Nevertheless, Kanan steals a trooper uniform, stealing a page right out of Ezra’s own eventual playbook; Ezra, Hera, and Sabine look on in disbelief. Sabine says, half amusedly, “Kanan’s gone buckethead.” Ezra, on the other hand, is entertained, and smiles lopsidedly. He’s also “kinda jealous. I only have the helmet.” The trio turn around and make their way up a building; Sabine leads the way, and jumps up on a low ledge before reaching for a streetlamp and hoisting herself up and toward the building’s roof. Ezra follows her lead, and Hera’s close behind.

Ezra, on the roof, watches as a disguised Kanan walks down the street below. He notes Tua’s arrival but tells Hera, several feet away, that the Minister’s “got company”. Ezra sounds uncertain; Hera asks, “What kind of company?” Ezra raises a pair of macro binoculars to his eyes, and sarcastically says, “Oh, fantastic. Agent Kallus.” Sabine, somewhere nearby, descends a building and drops to the ground behind Kallus. She begins firing as a distraction for Kanan to execute his part of the plan. Ezra and Hera jump off the building and reach Tua, who is sheltering behind a few crates. Ezra tells her to “get to the shuttle” as the Spectres would be “right behind you”. Sabine hops into the speeder that Kallus had previously escorted Tua to the shuttle in, and takes off vertically, buying her some time to get back onto the building. She watches as Tua races to the shuttle, followed closely behind by Ezra, Hera, and Kanan. A blast knocks the trio to their backs; Sabine, on the roof, comms Zeb requesting “a pickup. Now!” Zeb says he’s on his way. Ezra and his pseudo-adoptive parental figures hide behind a few more crates, and get onboard the pickup shuttle that Zeb and Chopper were told to stay by earlier. Sabine leaps onto the shuttle’s ramp, back with the crew. The shuttle, however, gets downed, and crashes back onto street level. Not one to waste a single second, Sabine urges the Spectres to “Come on. Come on! Up, everybody! We’re moving!” They run out, and away.

The Spectres take temporary refuge at Ezra’s old residence. They are lucky for now as it had been previously established that the Empire had marked this building as off-limits. In its basement, Sabine fiddles with the controls of the old communicator, while Ezra faces the other direction, clutching a helmet. Sabine gets the machine running, and a live broadcast plays, announcing Tua’s demise and publicizing anti-rebel propaganda. Hera’s heard enough, and shuts off the broadcast: “They did this to turn Lothal against us. We can’t do any more here. We have to leave, for good.” Ezra, as usual, does not take this lightly, countering with, “We can’t just run.” He turns back to Hera: “The people have to know the truth.” Despite his insistence, which his found family knows they agree with, they know there’s only one option, and it’s not one they like either. Sabine stands up, faces Ezra, and notes, “I don’t think the Empire is giving us much choice.”

Troopers arrive at the temporary hideout; Ezra notes, “We’re in trouble.” The troopers explode the place, but the Spectres escape just in time, to the roof. Sabine is crouched next to Ezra, who warns, “If they know about this hideout, they’ll know about our others.” Hera says, “There’s no more hiding, We need a ship. Maybe we can try one of the local Imperial airfields.” Sabine keys a command into her wrist gauntlet, and Chopper beams a map. Sabine says the airfields are “locked down. Besides, we’ll never get outside the capital.” Zeb notes they’re being targeted by the Empire; Kanan points to the Imperial Complex, but Hera is incredulous: “Are you crazy?” Kanan wonders if “anyone ever says yes to that question”, but Sabine dismisses that comment. Ezra shifts his line of sight from Kanan back to Sabine, who points out and gestures as she speaks, “He’s right. Deploying troops to block every city exit has spread the garrison thin. It sounds crazy, but the area with the least troops will be—” Chopper zooms in on a particular section. “—here, near the factories,” Sabine continues, “There are landing platforms outside those hangars. They’re our best chance if we’re gonna find a shuttle.” The Spectres head off, crossing to a neighboring rooftop via a couple of connecting cables. Halfway across, Ezra hears a faint explosion. He looks down at the house he grew up in, which is now in flames and unsalvageable. He frowns in disappointment, looks back up, and mutters under his breath, “I guess there is no going home”. He puts on his helmet, and follows the Spectres. (It’s worth noting that Ezra has always had an attachment to home, whoever and wherever that might be. Here, he’s specifying that he can no longer return to his old residence, the one he spent the first seven years of his life growing up in. In S4E15, Ezra leaves a message for his found family, specifically stating, “I can’t wait to come home.” In Ahsoka S1E7, he tells Sabine, “But you know, getting home is kind of important.”)

Some time passes, and while Kanan temporarily retains his stolen uniform, Ezra puts on his disguise - his outfit given to him while undercover at the Academy last season. They both transport some “power cells in need of recharging for the rebel pursuit” on a hover sled. The trooper on guard wants to check the contents, but Ezra tries to perform a Jedi mind trick (the first one he’s been seen trying to do this series): “No, you don’t have to check inside.” It doesn’t work on the trooper, so Kanan covers up for him. Ezra, under his breath, tells Kanan, “I wish that worked for me.” Unamused, Kanan responds, “I wish it worked on you.” They make it inside the Complex and into a storage room. Sabine and Hera remove the lid from a crate and get out. Zeb does the same and complains; Sabine stops by the doorway, and says, “Don’t think it matters if you’re noisy. There’s nobody around. This was a good plan.” Kanan agrees; Ezra, however, recognizes the more important need to get going, so tells the Spectres, “This way.”

They move into the hallway. By this time, Ezra and Kanan are back in their usual clothing. They and the rest of the Specters happen upon two troopers, but Zeb clears them, and they run, Sabine last to follow. Choppers opens up a door, and the crew run out into a shipyard. They run past several TIEs, and Kanan points out a shuttle they can use. They start running again, but something stops Sabine in her tracks. She gasps in surprise, and beckons Hera over. Turns out, the thing that has drawn Sabine’s eyes are “shield generators,” realizes Hera. Sabine agrees, noting that they are of “military grade.” She presses a few buttons on a generator, enabling it to be moved away. Hera does the same, and instructs Ezra and Zeb to “grab all we can carry.” She and Sabine get on the move, quick, and pass Ezra and Zeb, saying, “These might help turn this day around. The fleet could sure use them.” Ezra and Zeb hurry off to do as told, and Kanan follows behind. However, Kanan stops short, sensing something bad. Ezra halts too, pauses, turns around to face Kanan, and ominously asks, “Do you feel that?” Ezra senses something dark, and Kanan agrees: “The cold.” Meters away stands Darth Vader, saber ignited, mechanical breathing echoing through the shipyard. The Spectres turn around; their day has gone from bad, to worse.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Stalker Hunting

I've done my little bits of Horizon Forbidden West the last couple of days. There are issues about spoons, because work's a mess right now, but sometimes you just need to fuck up a bandit camp or two. Maybe dig up some greenshine. OR ... stalk the Stalkers. Literally.

Bandit camp. Poonk. Poonk. POONK. Nobody saw me. Nobody engaged. And again, one guy kept talking about how "she must have gone to lick her wounds" when a) nobody even fired a shot at me and b) EVERYONE ELSE WAS DEAD. Eh well. POONK.

So much climbing. So many near misses, close calls, and running around. But several outright slabs of greenshine so it's entirely worth it.

Ooh, hey, new form of Burrower. Hi, Burrower! ...Bye, Burrower. POONK

The Gouge is still kicking my ass. I got most of it, including the cluster, but the one remaining fucking fragment of greenshine is not worth Outlast-meets-Subnautica with fucking Burrowers. I get why you can't shoot them with an arrow underwater. But why, why can you not just stab them?

Look. Bellowbacks. Even if I am blowing you up, there should be some of your sac webbing intact enough for me to use to upgrade my weapons and armour! But no! Every time I kerboom you with a sac rupture, you deny me Bellowback Sac Webbing AND I AM FED UP WITH IT.

Time to take out my frustrations on another rebel camp. But lemme get some surrounding campfires first.

Yes, thank you, map, for finding me a route to the bandit camp by the paths. I would prefer not stroll through the front gate, thank you. So I will climb this mountain.

Ah. Here we are. Sharpshot booooooooooow ... GO.

I'm sorry. Three people just dropped dead in front of you, and you're now saying it was a false alarm?!? BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! ...Also POONK.

Okay, no one's alerted and I haven't seen anyone but they're still playing the tense music. Maybe because of people inside that bunker?

Definitely people inside that bunker. Oh, this is going to get stupid - shield and melee stupid. Time to improvise.

YOU ARE IN TIME OUT; GO STAND IN THE CORNER. Good! Perfect! Facing the corner like something out of Blair Witch! *WHACKSTABSTABSTAB*

And the other two did not come to your rescue. They will regret that. Shorter range Hunter bow. Poonk-poonk.

(Yeah, my draw speed on that's a little insane too.)

Huh. I guess these are where some of the weapons like the one that destroyed Verbena's forcefield were being developed. ...SYLENS. YOU. LIVING. SHIT.

I mean, I probably could take some of these schematics, but if Boomer ever got hold of them... Yeah, no. I will instead make a boom that she would be PROUD OF.

Okay, and it's still telling me that there's someone in this camp. BUT I SEE NO ONE. Stealthing stealthing stealthing...

...Oh. Right. The front door I avoided like the plague getting here. There is a lone sentry scouting the area, who apparently was not alerted because I cleared the place out so quickly and quietly. Ah well. Charger first, then HEADSHOT.

Okay, I'mma head out and get a few more-- Ooh, that says "unknown settlement", and it's in territory I'm going to need.

Thank you for the news about the rebel camps. At least one in your vicinity will not be a problem anymore, sir. (Kind of wish you had the option to tell them that.)

Right. Lemme do some trading and then see what I can upgrade.

...Not much. Not enough. Guess I'm going to have to go hunting Stalkers again.

Oop. BELLOWBACK CONVOY. DETOUR.

Right. Now lemme see if killing them without hitting the big sac in the back will get me what I need. ...ohthisisgonnahurt...

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK--

(I did get way better at dodge-rolls, though. Just ... not quite better enough. Hence...)

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Right. Okay. That's enough for now. Surprisingly, Stalkers are going to be easier. So long as I'm careful about how I hit their stealth generators, since that's the part I'm after.

Approaching from a different angle and ... yeah. They really do climb now, the little fucks. Okay, that one I can see and... GONE. Tree-climbing little shit.

Huh. There's generally at least three in these areas. But the other two aren't coming out. Time to do the usual. Hide in bush ... then shoot proximity flare-mine.

Theeeeeeere you are. My vision is mostly shit but I can see your shimmer surprisingly well. POONK.

Right. Third one. Another proximity mine aaaaaaaaaand...

AW FUCK!

No, I mean, I got the Stalker, but ... there was a duck. I NEED DUCK BITS.

Heeeeeeeeeere ducky ducky ducky...

...fuck.

Well, I can at least upgrade and shop some-- Wait. Is that purple-grade Utaru infiltrator-type gear? GIMME!

Right. To upgrade it, I'm gonna neeeeeeed... Fuck.

Heeeeeeeeere, Stalker Stalker Stalker...

DUCK! Sorry; Duck first, then more Stalkers.

Okay. I can get this a little more upgraded now. For more, I'm going to neeeeeeed... Stalkers. AGAIN. Also ... oh fuck we get Scorchers back?!? AND I HAVE TO HUNT ONE?!? Fuuuuuck.

...However, I do see a Scorcher site not too far from here... And in the same vicinity as some greenshine and a rebel camp--

And I will think about that tomorrow or something.

Look. I know. I know. There is a main quest and I should be getting on with it. However, my play time is limited and my spoons more so. Also I can't decide on whether I want to go for AETHER or DEMETER first. I'm at level ... 49 now, I think? Not 50 but close, anyway. So level isn't an issue.

(See, you might ask how? But ... like ... I hunt constantly when on the move. And when you add up the various XP extras for stealth kills, head shots, weak point shots, etc? I get a lot of XP very quickly.)

Anyway, level's not an issue but what I get out of it is. On the one hand, I figure that DEMETER is probably the quest that will let me deal with those damn metal flowers. On the other hand, @true0neutral informs me that one's reward for dealing with AETHER involves a really spiffy Sharpshot bow? That can also shoot Tear arrows? Aaaaaaand I am conflicted. Heeeeeeelp.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Tails California

TITLE: Tails California PAIRING: Bob/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Rory finds herself in California and searching for a certain WSO.

[A/N - Sequel to “Karaoke Night:Bob”.]

Rory pulled up to the gate of the North Island Naval Base.

“Identification?” the officer asked her.

“Umm, yeah. I’m looking for an aviator called Bob or Robert.”

The officer looked at her. “Ma’am. Do you know the aviator’s full name and rank?”

Rory shook her head and the officer sighed.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but unless you know the aviator’s full name and rank or you’re on the visitor list, I can’t let you on base.”

Rory nodded and pulled out of line. Well that was a bust. How was she supposed to get on base if she didn’t know Bob’s real name?

Rory had never been to San Diego before so she decided to drive around and explore. It seemed like no matter where she went, she was surrounded by servicemen and women.

There was a beach not too far from base called the Hard Deck. It looked like a place where Navy personnel would hang out.

She walked in and found a seat at the bar.

“Hey, what can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“This might sound like a weird question, but do know a Naval aviator called Bob or Robert?”

The brunette woman cocked an eyebrow at the younger woman. “Depends on who wants to know.”

Rory broke down and told her the story about she had met Bob at karaoke night while he was on deployment. “So I decided to pack up everything and move here…”

The bartender smiled. “I’m Penny and your Rob sounds like one of my husband’s pilots Bob Floyd.”

Rory let out a sigh of relief.

“They come here every Friday.”

Luckily today was Friday.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It didn’t take long for the aviators to start trickling in.

Rory recognized the tall blonde that had been there that night. The one who had sulked at the bar while everyone else had fun around him.

She still hadn’t spotted Bob though. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d spot her at the bar and come over.

Suddenly, the jukebox music stopped.

Some people groaned as a man in a Hawaiian shirt sat down at the piano and started playing “Great Balls of Fire.”

She knew that voice. She recognized him as one of the men with Bob that night. Along with the girl that came and sat on his lap as he sang.

Everyone cheered as he finished his song. The mustached man walked away from the piano.

Rory took this opportunity and jumped up on the piano bench. “Baby, what do you say we just get lost/Leave this one-horse town like two rebels without a cause…” she sang.

Rory watched as a brunette head shot up. She saw glasses and blue eyes and knew he had seen her. She crooked her finger at him as she continued to sing as loud as she could.

Eventually the whole bar joined in.

“Heads Carolina, tails California/Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer/Up in the mountains, down by the ocean/Where it don't matter, long as we're goin'/Somewhere together, I've got a quarter/Heads Carolina, tails California…”

Just like in the karaoke bar, Bob walked up to her and stared up at her as she sang. When she finished, everyone clapped and cheered.

Bob wrapped his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground. “Wha…”

Rory cut Bob off by kissing him.

Bob stood frozen for a moment before he cupped her cheeks in his hands, kissing her back. “What are you doing here?” Bob finally asked.

“You told me to look you up if I was ever in California.”

Bob laughed.

“But you’re a difficult man to find Robert Floyd. They wouldn’t let me on base to see you because I didn’t know your full name and rank.”

“You never gave me a chance to. You ran off.”

Rory opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Bob softly kissed her. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Your friends are staring.”

Bob looked over and saw Rooster smiling at him, Hangman giving him a smirk and a nod, while all the others had their mouth open. “Let them stare.”

Rory narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re much more confident this time.”

“Well you don’t really know me.”

“No, but I’d like to.”

Bob smiled and kissed her again.

Top Gun Taglist: @maverick-wingman​​​​ @thescarletknight2014​​​

Lewis Pullman Taglist: @tallrock35​​ @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy​​ @luckyladycreator2​ @justanothermagicalsara​​ @anotherr-fine-mess​​ @airedale17​​ @xcastawayherosx​​ @khaylin27​

[heygutlcssa]

REPOST AND LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

1.) When you were young - The Killers

You sit there in your heartache / Waiting on some beautiful boy to / To save you from your old ways / You play forgiveness / Watch it now, here he comes / He doesn't look a thing like Jesus / But he talks like a gentlemen / Like you imagined when you were young

2.) In the Ghetto - Elvis Presley

People, don't you understand / The child needs a helping hand / Or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day / Take a look at you and me / Are we too blind to see? / Do we simply turn our heads And look the other way / Well, the world turns / And a hungry little boy with a runny nose / Plays in the street as the cold wind blows In the ghetto / And his hunger burns / So he starts to roam the streets at night / And he learns how to steal / And he learns how to fight / In the ghetto

3.) Leader of the Pack - the Shangri-Las

I met him at the candy store / He turned around and smiled at me / You get the picture / "Yes, we see" / That's when I fell for the leader of the pack / My folks were always putting him down (down, down) / They said he came from the wrong side of town / (What you mean when you say that he came from the wrong side of town?) / They told me he was bad, but I knew he was sad / That's why I fell for the leader of the pack

4.)He's a Rebel - The Crystals

When he holds my hand, I'm so proud / 'Cause he's not just one of the crowd / My baby's always the one to try the things they've never done And just because of that, they say / "He's a rebel and he'll never ever be any good / He's a rebel 'cause he never ever does what he should" But just because he doesn't do what everybody else does / That's no reason why I can't give him all my love

5.) Flip, Flop, & Fly - Big Joe Turner

Now flip, flop and fly / I don't care if I die / Now flip, flop and fly I don't care if I die / Don't ever leave me, don't ever say goodbye

6.) The world was wide enough - Hamilton

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory / Is this where it gets me, on my feet, sev'ral feet ahead of me? / I see it coming, do I run or fire my gun or let it be? / There is no beat, no melody / Burr, my first friend, my enemy / Maybe the last face I ever see / If I throw away my shot, is this how you'll remember me? / What if this bullet is my legacy?

& LIST 6 QUOTES THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE: ( I cheated a little)

1.) Rebel Without a Cause

---I don't know what to do anymore. Except maybe die.

---I woke up this morning, you know... and the sun was shining, and it was nice, and all that type of stuff. And the first thing, I saw you, and, uh, I said, "Boy, this is gonna be one terrific day, so you better live it up, because tomorrow you'll be nothing." You see? And I almost was.

2.) 12 Angry Men

---It's always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. And wherever you run into it, prejudice always obscures the truth.

---We’re not here to go into the reasons why slums are breeding grounds for criminals. They are. I know it.

---Look, this boy’s been kicked around all his life. You know - living in a slum, his mother dead since he was nine. He spent a year and a half in an orphanage while his father served a jail term for forgery. That’s not a very good head start. He had a pretty terrible sixteen years. I think maybe we owe him a few words. That’s all.

3.) Inherit the Wind

---Progress has never been a bargain. You have to pay for it. Sometimes I think there's a man who sits behind a counter and says, "All right, you can have a telephone but you lose privacy and the charm of distance. Madam, you may vote but at a price. You lose the right to retreat behind the powder puff or your petticoat. Mister, you may conquer the air but the birds will lose their wonder and the clouds will smell of gasoline.

---Brady: We must not abandon faith! Faith is the most important thing! Drummond: Then why did God plague us with the capacity to think? Mr. Brady, why do you deny the one faculty of man that raises him above the other creatures of the earth, the power of his brain to reason? What other merit have we? The elephant is larger, the horse is swifter and stronger, the butterfly is far more beautiful, the mosquito is more prolific. Even the simple sponge is more durable. But does a sponge think? Brady: I don't know. I'm a man, not a sponge! Drummond: But do you think a sponge thinks? Brady: If the Lord wishes a sponge to think, it thinks! Drummond: Do you think a man should have the same privilege as a sponge? Brady: Of course! Drummond: [Gesturing towards the defendant, Bertram Cates] Then this man wishes to have the same privilege of a sponge, he wishes to think!

---Can't you understand? That if you take a law like evolution and you make it a crime to teach it in the public schools, tomorrow you can make it a crime to teach it in the private schools? And tomorrow you may make it a crime to read about it. And soon you may ban books and newspapers. And then you may turn Catholic against Protestant, and Protestant against Protestant, and try to foist your own religion upon the mind of man. If you can do one, you can do the other. Because fanaticism and ignorance is forever busy, and needs feeding. And soon, your Honor, with banners flying and with drums beating we'll be marching backward, BACKWARD, through the glorious ages of that Sixteenth Century when bigots burned the man who dared bring enlightenment and intelligence to the human mind!

TAGGED BY : @dustwereturn

TAGGING: @warriours ; @ycllowhaired ; @unvendaval ; @whatsbehindthefacade ; @angelsweeps

[lolitastories]

BLACK AND BLOOD

Y/N L/N is the daughter of the Great Khal Drogo although she was raised by the king of the unknown lands. After finding out he died she travels and finds the one who caused his death. Along this adventure she meets the mother of dragons. Jon Snow. Night walkers. We will see if she really has the Dothraki blood flowing through her veins.

Chapter 3:

We come up to the royal guards trailing behind and making sure every crop and gold gets to kingslanding. “Don’t let another wagon move an inch!” I scream to the Dothraki. The horses rush fastly towards the soldier standing now guard with their spears and shields. The army’s in line as we make contact with them. Daenerys can be heard above with Drogon. His fiery breath fires from above down to her enemies. All you can hear now is our screams while we take care of the soilders and the soilders scream as the fire burns them to dust. Men on both sides are being slaughtered. A second wave of Dothraki Screamers ride in. They switch from a seated position to standing atop their saddles shooting bow and arrow. While fighting a soilder I notice Daenerys being shot at. “Malakho! Get rid of him” I scream in Dothraki and motion to the crossbow that was being used. I moved behind him taking care of the soldiers that tried getting in his way.

“Aren’t you something?” His sword swings over my head and when he comes around I stop him with my arakh. Push him back, regaining my balance. I aimed towards him with force as he did the same but his only fault was that he wasn’t fast enough. I look over to find Drogon on the ground. I run towards him but the flames throw me to the ground. I stand up feeling a sting on my ribs. Darn.

“Need to get you back” Lasdar on my people tows a horse my way and helps me on. “I will make sure the queens get back safely” I trust him. He hushers my horse to move. I didn’t notice that the soldier made contact with me. I closed my eyes once or twice and I can’t remember now where I was headed. Everything was a blurr. Maybe it was because of the loss of blood or because the night was falling and I had no way to see. I fell apart when the horse finally came to a halt.

“Couldn’t go without any drama could you?” a faint smile crossed my face until blackness overtook me.

“Why didn’t you go? They would have never happened!”

“Oh come on, she is old enough to take care of herself. Look! She made it back in one piece”

“Yeah and a cut that might have cut her in two!”

“Can yall both shut up” I groan feeling the wrap around my waist. “What did they say? Am I going to die?” I sit up and notice my siblings staring at me. “What?”

“You are an idoit. Why did you have to go into the fight when you knew it was 10 against 1. You weren’t needed there” I grab the first thing I could find and throw it at my brother's head.

“Out!”

“No! You will listen to us, if father finds out you almost died-”

“I almost didn't die! It's not like this hasn’t happened before. And he knows that there is that risk that I might not return home”

“Yeah well he made us promise to make sure nothing happened if we could stop it” of course he did. Of course he would be the one to make them promise to make sure if anyone had to die first it would be them. “So don’t put yourself in this situation if you can help it or next time take us with you!” Our attention moves to the knock on the door. “Come in”

“I wanted to see how you were doing” Daenerys comes in as Tyrion trails behind her. Joia and Grisill excuse themselves out.

“Much better” the wound hurts but how can it not. I have lived through this pain before. “But I am sure that wasn’t the only reason you stopped by.” Don’t get me wrong I understand she likes me but she has more serious things she needs to worry about other than me.

“You saved me from Dothraki rebels and fought alongside me to take back my throne overseas. The Unsullied and Dothraki are more your people than mine. They follow your lead. I need your help with something. Jon got a message from Winterfell and the so-called Night king and his army are marching towards Eastwatch.”

“Jon has agreed to bring one along for us and Cersei to see a real night walker. I will be going to King's Landing to make that agreement with my brother Jaime” I am waiting for Tyrion to continue or Daenerys to get to the point on how she needs my help. “Davos is coming with me and Jorah is going with Jon.” They both look at each other and somehow agree on Daenerys to tell me what the request is.

“I need you to travel back with Jon and the unsullied. Not one of our people will travel north of the wall but if he is speaking the truth and soon he becomes an allie we will atleast cast trust on the northerners”

“What if the queen denies the request and attacks dragonstone when we are not here?”

“You will see a dragon flying above and bring back the unsullied” This is a horrible plan. She was the first one to not want to do anything but give the dragonstone to Jon if he wasn’t going to bend the knee. Now she wants to send an army to protect the north from the undead. “You don't have to to cross the wall with them, just stay in the castle and wait for them to come back’’

‘‘Go to Winterfell. Keep a lookout for a dragon flying around. Wait for Jon to show back up and hope Cercesi accepts to meet, what can go wrong?’’ They both nod. The pain is bearable. I put on my clothes and pack to leave. I don’t tell my siblings anything again knowing damn well if I do they would fall behind me.

‘‘I heard you got hurt’’ I turned to look back, seeing Jon walking up to me. The men can be seen packing up the ship. Food and most importantly dragonglass.

‘‘Yes, one of the queen's soldiers got to me’’

‘‘You are going to need more than those clothes to keep you warm‘’ I look down at my clothes letting a chuckle escape

‘‘Don’t worry about me, I have experience in the cold’’ he walks closer to me taking hold of my hands.

‘‘I don’t have experience or know anything about your land but I can assure you, nothing will be colder than the winters in Winterfell and you run warm’’ right now i am running warm. I hope he can’t see the pink shade in my cheeks, what is happening? I mean i am not stupid but there is no way this guy has made me feel more things than the man i fell in love with 5 years ago when I was 15.

‘‘Well I hope that the King of Winterfell is kind enough to lend me some warmth’’ My eyes move from our hands to his eyes. ‘‘I meant clothes’’ I smile feeling nervous start to raise

‘‘Of course Princess’’

‘‘Begging your pardon, Your Grace. Princess’’ Our hands move away hearing Davos' voice. He is alongside a young man.

‘‘You survived King's Landing.’’ Jon answers. I step back but don’t move far as there’s a hold on belt. I look down noticing Jon’s hand.

‘‘Yet again’’ Davos laughs. ‘‘Your Grace, this is—’’ The young man steps forward in front of Davos extending his hand

‘‘It's Gendry, Your Grace. I'm Robert Baratheon's son. Bastard son.’’ Jon shakes his hand as I just smile awkwardly just standing a little back from Jon

‘‘We was meant to keep that to himself.’’ Davos tried to add but I new that didn’t matter when he mention that part

‘‘Our fathers trusted each other. Why shouldn't we?’’ I felt as the young man Gentry was talking it was something I wasn’t supposed to be here for

‘‘I saw your father once at Winterfell.’’ Jon keeps a straight face. I moved my hand towards his yanking my belt away but that only got him to get a hold of my hand.

‘‘I met yours in my shop.’’

‘‘You're a lot leaner.’’

‘‘You're a lot shorter.’’Jon stops smiling and pauses a moment. Then he chuckles.

‘‘I grew up on stories about them.’’ It made my heart feel nice to hear Jon speak about something other than hurt about his life. I wonder if he had more nice stories to tell

‘‘All I ever knew was they fought together and won. Ser Davos told me where you're going, Your Grace, and why. Let me come with you.’’ Jon looks back at me seeing my expression. This was his move. This man was asking to join him, it wouldn’t affect me in any way.

‘‘Don't be a fool. You're not a soldier.’’ Davos butts in

‘‘No, but I'm a fighter. And he won't be needing a smith with a sword like that.’’

‘‘Do you know how to use one?’’ The young man shakes his head ‘‘Well, that's a problem.’’

‘‘I prefer a hammer.’’ Jon smiles at him, agreeing to have him join as a blacksmith and if he wishes,a soldier soon enough. They both walk away to the ship leaving Jon and I alone again. I take this opportunity as he stays frozen looking at the castle to move closer. I don’t press myself against his back but close enough to hear his breathing.

‘‘Is there a reason you keep holding my hand?’’ My head now reaches up to whisper in his ear. I couldn’t help but grin. I see his eyes close pushing his head back a little and taking a deep breath

‘‘I had to keep you close to make sure the new guy wasn’t a threat’’ I laugh a little. ‘The mother of dragons allowed one of her advisers to come along with me, I have to do my job and keep you safe’’ He turns around enterwining our hands. My breathing was unsteady now and his eyes have never looked more beautiful.

‘‘You should go hold Jorah's hand too then, I can assure you he needs more protection than me’’ it was his turn to laugh.

‘‘Humor me’’ my smile fades and I back up. I let go of his hand.

“We should get going. The faster we get there the faster we come back” I turn around standing by the boat waiting for the rest to come. Mormont can be seen kissing Daenerys before he departs towards me. Tyrion standing beside her like always. Jon walks forward talking to her.

“Glad to see you in better shape” I smile at Jorah.

“Me too” He laughs “You know I met your father before” I give him a questioning look. “I never said anything because he asked me not to.” He turns towards me, almost casting over my body. “I was the one who delivered the message of Khals death to the castle. Khal told me to find you before he died and lead his men with Daenerys after his death”

“How come I never heard about this?” anger started to raise. This would have made things simpler yet I don’t know if it would have. I trust Jorah now but back then he was just a stranger. If he would have told me this I wouldn’t have believed him. It would happen like it did, I came and tried to kill Daenerys until everyone including my own brother advised me against it. She told me how it happened and I choose to believe her and everyone else but yet I can’t help but still not trust her.

“Your father chose it would be best. He said you always had a way with people. You always trust your gut and that somehow everythings always goes your way” I smile

“He likes to say the gods are the only ones who can keep up with me. When I was younger he prayed to the gods to look after me becasue he had a feeling nobody in this lifetime could''

“He mentioned something about your stubbornes” yes. That is what he called all my antics. “I'm glad you chose to help Daenerys. Yes she has three dragons but she needed people like you and Tyrion beside her” There is sadness in his voice. I know things werent as good with him and her but the only thing he wants now is for her to be happy.

“And your Jorah. I know she missed you”