#bloodstained clothes

[renegadeknight]

the future's past

Her arm bled slowly, a red rivulet trailed toward her wrist. He checked it over and found only shallow scrapes at her elbow, until he rotated her arm and found–

“He bit you?” It was a question only because he didn’t believe his eyes were actually seeing two crescents of teeth marks marring her skin.

Rating: Mature | Words: 31.6k Major Tags: major character death(s), canon typical violence, outbreak day time loop Notes: my one and only contribution to whumptober, see notes on AO3 for more details and CWs

Chapter 1 - i've seen this film before (and i didn't like the ending)

Chapter 2 - two graves (one gun)

Chapter 3 - chalk outlines (where the future was)

Chapter 4 - out of breath (and into dust)

Chapter 5 - for once in my life (i am right on time)

[depressed-sock]

Strays and the Hands that Feed Them  by depressed-sock Part Two ( 8316 words ) Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & Darth Maul, Coruscant Guard Clone Troopers & Darth Maul

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Bloodstained Clothes/Armor

Hi holy fuck this turned out longer than expected lol. So for this prompt, I ended up throwing in a reference to it throughout this chapter. So lots of blood-stained clothes and armor mixed in between what kind of sorta a plot

tag warning: lots of murder and implied murder, implied sexual assault (Nothing is shown but there is a part with Thire that starts to head in that direction but is swiftly put to a stop I'd suggest if you don't want to see it to start skipping at "So all Thire and the rest of the Guard can do is make do with what they’ve got." and end "It’s hard to forget a name that fits so perfectly.")

...

It’s later than Fox would like when he finally makes it back to his office. He’s exhausted and tired and wondering how the hell any of this happened in the first place. A senator murdered in their own office shouldn’t be possible during the high traffic hours of the Senate but it’s happened. And whoever did it left the room practically painted in the senator’s dark blue blood.

Fox can’t even say he’s exactly upset by the death itself. It had been one of the problem senators on Fox’s long ‘Only for Qualified Officers’ blacklist. It also happened to be one of the few he actually put a bounty on through a few different shell identities.

So if he really wanted to not deal with the paperwork and investigation involved in this he could just write it off as an enthusiastic bounty hunter. It’s a tempting idea. The only problem is that Fox had specifically requested he wanted this senator alive.

Which means he has an actual security threat he needs to worry about. So instead of the easy route, he has to figure this out before some other fucking senator gets murdered. Or worse, one of Fox’s Guard gets murdered. (Even though it wouldn’t legally be considered murder because fucking clones aren’t legally sentient according to most of the Senate.) So now he’s just fucking pissed off and tired.

To make it worse he had plans for this particular asshole. They had been a kriffing shiny killer in the worst way. Maiming them and making them useless so that they’d get sent back to be decommissioned. There’s only one shiny left standing after having an encounter with them and the only reason Mouse has survived is because Fox has hidden her deep in the Coruscant barracks.

Mouse who had always been soft-spoken and kind. Mouse who loves the little droids that help clean up around the base and Senate. Mouse who continues to refuse any sort of eye prosthetic because she’s terrified of what might happen if she’s able to see again.

Fox won’t lie. He prefers to keep his hands out of most of the situations he orchestrates but this time the loss of shinies and Mouse’s fear had just pissed him off enough that he wanted to get his hands dirty. He had been planing to take his time with this particular senator, wanted to take the fuckers eyes and make him fucking beg for death. Wanted to make sure Mouse knew with absolute certainty the fucker was dead by Corrie hands.

It’s not his usual approach. It is, however, one that’s reserved usually for the real sick fuckers. He could have just as easily set it up to completely ruin the senator’s career but this one had hit too close and it had pissed off not just Fox but the entirety of the Guard. He’d just been waiting for a bounty hunter to take the listing so that there were at least a few steps in between before someone tried to point any accusations at the Guard.

Now that’s not possible.

And if Fox ever finds out this senator was murdered because a bounty hunter decided to bring him in dead rather than alive Fox is going to be pissed. He might even hunt the fucker down for taking Fox’s kill. Considering the body had been left behind though, Fox doubts it was someone trying to cash in the bounty. It looked more like something akin to revenge. Long and drawn out. Painful in the worst ways.

At least he can take solace in that.

He sighs as he sets his helmet down on his desk. Rubbing a hand down his face and steadily ignoring the fact that there’s another presence in his office that is distinctly not a clone. If he doesn’t look up he doesn’t have to acknowledge it. He can just pretend for a second that he can just sit down, get some of his flimsiwork done, and hopefully after that get maybe an hour of sleep.

There’s a chuckle from the direction of his office couch. Like the bastard knows exactly what Fox is thinking.

He looks up to glare at the figure sitting on his couch. Maul’s lips tug up into a feral grin, black tunic opened far enough that Fox can see the swaths of still-wet dark blue blood on the red of his skin. Enough blood that Fox is absolutely certain that it’s soaked into Maul’s clothes. Blood that Maul smears onto Fox’s couch as he leans back, legs spread out and looking all too pleased with himself.

Fox doesn’t know what pisses him off more. The fact that this asshole killed the senator and made more work for Fox, the fact this bastard took his kill, or the fact that the ingrate is getting evidence all over Fox’s good couch. Fucker could have had the decency to wash up and burn his fucking clothes. It’s going to take hours to get those stains out.

“You know I expected you to just fuck off and die somewhere far away from me.” Fox crosses his arms and leans back onto his desk. Ignoring the flimsi and datapads that fall off as he does it. Not like he’s getting any of that shit done with Maul here anyway.

“Where would I get my fun if I did that little Fox? After all, you put so much work into piecing me back together that I thought I should get you a gift.” Maul licks the tip of his fingers and all Fox can think about is how Shivers is going to have so much fun giving this fucker a health inspection later.

Oh, Maul doesn’t realize that he’s getting one yet. He’ll only realize his mistake later. Right now though, he thinks he’s safe but Fox is absolutely certain that he got the Thire and Shivers special when he wasn’t looking and now has a tracker implanted somewhere underneath his skin.

Thire does it to keep track of his enemies. (Fox is not aware if he succeeded with Palpatine and can not confirm or deny any knowledge about any kind of tracker that may or may not be on the old raisin.) Shivers does it so they can track down the rest of their patients who are all known Medbay jumpers.

As far as Fox knows, he personally only has the ones hidden in his armor. He refuses to find out if either of them snuck one under his skin. Mostly for his own sanity, but also because he knows a lot of the troopers who come back from reconditioning are just that paranoid and need something to soothe that part of their brains now.

“You got me a fuck-ton of paperwork is what you got me you asshole. Next time don’t leave a fucking murder scene, hide the body somewhere I won’t find it, and take a fucking shower.” Fox crinkles his nose, “In fact go take one right now and stop ruining my couch.”

“I figured you’d be angrier.” Maul just tilts his head and leans forward, “Considering I took your revenge from you. I remember in great detail what you wanted to do to them.”

Ah, this is drunk Fox’s fault. You fucking idiot, Fox thinks to himself as he glares at Maul.

“You obviously have no problem taking revenge for me,” Fox emphasizes that specifically. Because that kill was definitely done out of revenge and it had to be for the Clones if it was Maul doing it. He’d have no other reason to do it. Fox rolls his eyes and adds, “Considering they’re now dead and no longer my problem I don’t really care.” He cares a little. Not as much as he did because it at least means there’s not some strange murderer running around that might take out the Guard.

Just the crazy stray Thorn picked up that’s murdered someone Fox wanted to murder. Yeah, Fox isn’t sure how exactly that became the better option but here it is.

“There was a bounty put out on them. I assumed you’d like them dead long before they were taken somewhere else,” Maul states it like he expects Fox not to have known that. Which just makes him wonder how much of an idiot Maul thinks he is. But Maul has a look in his eyes like he knows exactly what Fox is going to say next.

Fox adds some poison to his mental shields and hopes it kills Maul slowly.

“I put the bounty on them, di’kut.” Even if he didn’t he would know because Fox knows exactly who in the Senate all have bounties on them for security reasons. Amidala has already surpassed Palpatine by at least ten different bounties with only two duplicates from the same person but placed in different systems. Surprisingly Binks is winning in how much his head is worth to someone on some backwater planet.

Fox has money on it being a shell identity and that it’s a senator who wants him dead. All he knows for sure is that it’s not Palpatine because he would have just had Fox kill the Gungan. Even if he did Fox might have found a way to get out of that assassination attempt because he definitely doesn’t want to test whatever fucking God likes the clumsy thing. With Fox’s luck the Gungan would trip and someone elses gun would suddenly go off and put a bolt through Fox’s head by complete accident.

“You are very clever aren’t you.” Maul’s eyes light up in that sickly familiar yellow and Fox just shakes his head in exasperation.

“Why are you here Maul?” Fox sighs in resignation. Because there has to be something more to all of this.

“Consider this a forward payment. Both for future information,” he licks his lips, eyes still bright before he continues, “and for the help I need. I’m quite familiar with the intricacies of Coruscant but… my brothers are not.” His eyes narrow, “I know I’m not your first… stray,” he sneers the word, “I’m sure you have had others you’ve had to teach. I want you to teach my brothers how to survive here and in exchange, a few of your problems will disappear.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Maul raises an eyebrow ridge. “I can take care of your enemies while you stay in the shadows like you wish to.”

“I can very obviously handle that by myself thank you.” He can. It’s not the first time he’s made a Senator disappear, both under his own will and because Palpatine demanded it of him. It doesn’t matter that those ones had cared about clones. That they’d been fighting for Fox’s and his brother’s rights. They’d been a danger to his Guard because Palpatine was a danger to his Guard.

There’s no place in this galaxy for him to regret protecting his people.

“Besides,” Fox continues, “If you’re just going to leave behind a fucking murder scene then I don’t want your help. You’ll just give us more kriffing work and we don’t need that.”

Maul snorts, “That was because I wanted your attention. You haven’t noticed the other missing senators yet, have you?”

Fox narrows his eyes. Shit, what did he miss? “Who?”

“You’ll find out,” Maul bares his teeth in a facsimile of a grin.

Fox is going to have to look into this. Figure out which senators Maul has taken out of the picture and what kind of headache just got dropped into his lap. He hopes Maul has some sense of self-preservation and hasn’t gone after Palpatine’s closest ‘advisors’.

“Get out and let me think about it.”

“Of course,” Maul stands, walking past and leaving a bloody handprint where he grips Fox’s shoulder. “I’ve left a comn you can use to contact me. Just don’t wait too long little Fox, or I might get too bored to stick around.”

Fox kind of hopes he does get bored, just so that Maul will leave. Then at least Fox could go back to the status quo.

…

Stone sees the stray before it sees him. Which is a surprise considering the force user should sense that Stone’s walking up from behind it. He doesn’t grab it, he’s not that stupid, but he does start to walk beside it down the street. It glances at him from behind its hood, yellow eyes piercing but they have an edge of daze about them that Stone has seen in his brothers before.

It’s the tired soft edge of a long shift. The tell that they're about a few minutes from either passing out. Not a great state to actually talk to a person in but Stone doesn’t have the time to wait for the stary to take a nap.

He tilts his head towards an empty building and they both quietly slip inside. The stray taking position with eyes on the doorway as it leans back against the wall arms crossed. Expectantly waiting for whatever Stone has to say.

“You’ve been going after senators.” Stone knows this to be true despite Fox keeping the information to himself. Hard for Stone not to know what’s been going on because Stone’s watched the footage of the stray slipping in and out of the Senate. He’s also edited it to make the stray a near-ghost in the system. No evidence left behind for anyone else to find.

The stray is quietly watching him. Studying him like he’s done before in Isolation One. Searching for something about Stone even as Stone readjusts his shields. He loses more and more of his own presence to protect his mind. He’s become good at that, becoming just another thing among thousands. Too hard for a single force user to pinpoint.

“Is there something you desire from me, Stone?” Maul lets his words come out in a lazy drawl, studying his claw with an idle unhurried glance.

“Our blacklist has more than just Senator’s on it.”

“Oh does it now?” The stray purrs with interest but doesn’t move from its position. Just tilts his head and narrows its eyes.

“Has Fox taken you up on your offer?”

The stray tilts its head further to the side, “He told you? No,” it grins, “No, he didn’t.” Then it barks out a laugh. “You all are so strange in very different ways, aren’t you? What has your master done to change you? Or were you always like this? Drawn together by circumstance and chance?”

Stone gives it a flat look, “I’ve always been like this.”

“Maybe.” The stray gives a faint nod of acknowledgment, “Maybe you’ve become something more. You’re all quite talented in shielding it makes one wonder what else you might be talented in.”

Stone scrunches his nose making a face of distaste not liking anywhere that sentence would lead. “Do you want the list or not?”

“You seem fairly confident that I’ll do something with it.”

“Because you already are?” Stone says in a confused tone. This is why Fox doesn’t like him near the Senate he can’t play their games when the answer is already obvious. He doesn’t get why anyone wouldn’t just say what they mean. “I also added some things on Skywalker and Kenobi.”

“You’re giving me Fox’s blackmail so that I’ll kill more people for you.” The stray steps up to Stone so that their both chest to chest. Stone’s seen the action before done by others, it’s an action that’s supposed to be intimidating but considering Stone has seen the stray curse out a terrible book series and keep reading it, it doesn’t really work. “I should have expected something more when you said you didn’t care about what the senators do to you. You’re the one to watch out for, aren’t you? The others speak their threats to anyone who will listen and you remain silent in the background. Watching and gathering what you can before you strike.”

“First of all, it’s my blackmail, Fox has his own. He’s got access to information I don’t so you can still have your deal with him.” Stone states, before shaking his head. “Secondly, I get information others can’t get but I don’t act on it. I said before that I can’t afford to do that. I’m not Fox.” He doesn’t want to be Fox either. Fox looks like he’s always ten seconds from dropping dead and Stone doesn’t want that kind of stress in his short life. It’s why Thorn then Thire are next in line for Fox’s position.

And if they all go, then that means something’s gone wrong and Stone won’t be far behind them anyway.

“Here.” Stone hands over the data stick, shoving it into the stray’s hand. It’s the stray’s choice if it does anything with data. What Stone doesn’t say is that he also added everything Fox gathered on Palpatine. All the information, all the data that proves without a doubt that Palpatine is working both sides of the war. It’s Everything that Fox had conveniently forgotten about after the one time he confronted Palpatine.

Stone had originally thought that had been a mistake on Fox’s part. Maybe it still is. But at least this way someone else besides Stone has the information on Palpatine. If Stone has read Maul right, he knows that the information will be used in the best possible way.

Stone had read somewhere that revenge is best served cold.

He hopes Maul can make Palpatine freeze over in terror as his plans crumble into dust around him.

…

There’s a body on the Guard’s doorstep. Dropped right in front of the barracks without a care in the world. Fox for the first time since he’s stepped foot on Coruscant hasn’t been more thankful than now for the barracks to be out of sight of most of the general population. Because that means he can contain the situation and hide any evidence he needs to hide.

There’s only one unaccounted-for factor and it’s the natborn aide that likes to come around and help some of the Guard paint their nails and teach them how to use other cosmetics. They also conveniently happen to bring several crates of whatever packaged food they can get that day. Today was some sort of sweet bread that Fox knows has already gone into several different betting piles.

When the aide first sees the body they pause, stare at it before recognition hits them, then they laugh and tell Fox to keep up the good work before they carry on like they didn’t just step over a senator’s corpse. Fox tries to remember if the aide counts as his stray or Thorn’s and after a moment blames it fully on Thorn, based fully on the fact that Thorn’s strays are all a bit more unhinged than Fox’s.

Fox looks down at the body. The body that is still seeping fresh blood, its clothes slowly growing more and more stained. Fox can only sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose as a headache starts to build.

He’ll get this cleaned up, and then he’ll start looking into any other missing senators.

…

It takes several days to realize who is missing. Who, because apparently it’s not just senators that Maul is targeting now. The first that Fox finds gone is a near-human male Senator who liked to corner Fox’s troopers into rooms by themselves often enough that Fox had finally put his foot down and made sure only he would ever be available for the disgusting bastard. The second is a Rodian woman who worked in Corsec who liked to commit friendly fire on clones and with a personality that makes Sly Moore look nice and pleasant.

Which maybe doesn’t say as much as Fox would like, considering he tolerates Moore more than most. Oh, she’s just as much of a bastard as he is without a doubt but she’s also never touched a single one of his troops or him. Sure she’s done some mind fuckery but she’s a darksider as far as he can tell so that’s expected. It’s tame compared to some of the other assholes Fox has to put up with.

What might be the most concerning part about these people missing is that no one else realizes that they’re gone. Or at least they haven’t realized it yet. It’ll be at least a week before someone does take a second look and notices that they’re not where they said they were going. The only reason Fox knows is because he was looking for it but the Senate Guard and Corsec really should have realized that these people are very much gone from under their noses.

Fox is just glad that none of it can be blamed on the Guard. In fact, it’ll look as if they had a run-in with pirates when they had traveled back to their homeworlds. Since both of them supposedly disappeared on unregistered trips out of Coruscant. Even though Fox knows he saw them recently in the Senate.

It’s good work. Done quietly and without the fanfare of Maul’s other very public murders.

This whole situation makes him think. Mostly about Maul’s offer. It makes Fox wonder if it has to extend to the Senate or if Maul would be willing to go after other targets.

Because there’s one that’s been on the top of his list for the last month after Fox had saved a Vod from decom and hidden them away in one of his safehouses. The 534th Commander had, according to the file, become defective and unable to carry out his duty. An understatement considering the shape Fox had found him in.

Fox thinks this one was one of his most horrifying recuses yet. The Guard has never had someone they know come through on a recon or decom order from the GAR. There’s always one or two every once in a while but never a batchmate or friend. So when this one ended up being Thorn’s missing batchmate who Thorn had thought cut off contact with him... Well, it had been heartbreaking to watch Thorn try to interact with his Vod who barely responded to outside stimuli.

It’d taken hours to get any kind of answers from him. It turns out all of the 534th are terrified of contacting anyone out of their battalion. Afraid to make an already bad situation worse. The poor Vod looks like he’s gone through several years of guarding the Senate’s worst. Haunted and broken in ways only the Guard really understands.

Fox fiddles with the comn unit in his hand. Studies it carefully.

He could figure out a way to deal with Krell eventually. It would be more difficult than a senator who he could easily find blackmail on but it would be doable. The only problem is that Fox doesn’t think the vode in that battalion have the time to spare for Fox to get said blackmail. Not when the situation has begun to rapidly deteriorate according to Jackal.

Fox fidgets, grip tightening on the comn unit before he puts it down on his desk. He starts on his next round of flimsiwork, ignoring the device. He barely lasts a few minutes before he picks it up again. Then with a sigh he gives in with a simple press of a button and Maul appears on the holo. Maul who grins at him with sharp teeth and a look of pure satisfaction.

Fox narrows his eyes as he thinks about how he’s already regretting this. But this is something he actually needs help with and if Maul wants to prove his worth this is the best way. Besides Maul might not be able to go up against Palpatine but surely he’d be able to take out Krell. And as a bonus, it’ll hopefully take him off Coruscant long enough for any investigations to blow over. “How would you feel about taking out a Jedi?”

…

Thorn feels like this is some kind of cosmic payback. It has to be because there are currently two Zabrak sitting in the Guard Commander’s combined office and he’s the only one currently here to deal with them. Because Fox is meeting a contact with Slick and Thire is on Senate duty and Stone is sleeping for the next two hours. And there are two Zabrak now staring at Thorn expectantly in their shades of orange-yellow with black markings that Thorn doesn’t want to think about.

Thorn thinks the worst part is that these two might just be the consequences of his own actions.

He figured that Maul would have just fucked off permanently. Found somewhere much better to be than here in the shithole that is Coruscant. Thorn really wouldn’t have blamed the Zabrak for that! It’s not like the Guard could have just kept him in the Isolation one forever. Eventually, someone would have come sniffing around.

Besides what the fuck were they supposed to do with him? Thorn knows he might be a little bit of a hypocrite for thinking that considering it was originally his plan to keep and use Maul. But to be fair! That doesn’t mean he actually knew what to do with him. At least, they got some extra protection for their minds. That was one good thing about that whole situation. After that though, they had ended up floundering with what else they could get out of Maul.

So Fox got the Zabrak a pair of cybernetic legs and let him fuck off to who knows where. Figuring that Maul would find a way to remove the force suppressor on his own and far away from the Guard. You know, just in case Fox’s theory about Maul kind of losing his mind because of something to do with Palpatine and the dark side of the force turned out to be true.

It’s why Fox never offered to fully remove it. Anf Thorn fully agrees with that decision. He does not want to deal with more of bitey Maul than he’s already dealt with. His vambrace still has puncture marks he hasn’t had time to fix.

Anyway… So Maul left and now there are two Zabrak sitting in Thorn’s shared office and they’re staring at him.

“Hello?” He says weakly confused as he stares right back at them from behind the protection of his helmet. Maybe these two, very obviously related to Maul, Zabrak aren’t actually related to him. Maybe Thorn’s finally hitting Fox’s level of sleep deprivation where he starts seeing hallucinations.

Maybe the big fucker who’s standing up and towering over Thorn won’t fucking snap him in half and suck out his insides.

Or maybe he will and Thorn can finally fucking sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

Maker, he should piss off one of those senators who like to send them to isolation. He could use a fucking break.

“Our brother sends his regards, “ the big one narrows his eyes. “He said you will teach us the ways of Coruscant.”

Oh, fuck that bastard. “Sorry, I don’t know your brother. We only take in stray tookas here, not failed darkers.” Thorn might not be able to talk about Sith lords but the old raisin didn’t think about all the other words to describe himself and others like him. Honestly, big mistake on that asshole’s part.

The smaller more normal-sized Zabrak steps up beside his brother, placing a hand on the big fuckers arm and giving a weak smile to Thorn, “He said that the Fox approved it because Maul promised to deal with Krell?”

Oh, that fucking bastard. Fox hadn’t even told Thorn he was planning something for Krell soon. It doesn’t exactly surprise him, considering Fox just stopped Thorn’s batchmate from getting decommissioned like a month ago and Jackal’s a fucking mess. His hands still shake and his eyes look so very dead, like Krell had taken away some important part of him. Jackal had wanted to go to Kamino and it took everything Thorn had to pull him back to just to convince him to stay here for at least Thorn’s sake.

He fucking hates that it came to that. Hates that Jackal will never be the same. The only good thing that came out of the situation was Nexus and Malware who Fox had found trying to hack into Kamino and Guard systems trying to save their commanding officer from his fate.

Malware had gone back to Krell’s battalion but Nexus had stayed. They haven’t left Jackal’s side for a single instance and Thorn isn’t going to complain about it. Especially considering Nexus is another point to anchor Jackal back to himself.

Now Thorn is stuck here instead of by his batchmate's side. Because his batchmate got sent to the Squad Stray safehouse where everyone’s a criminal even if they’re not yet. At least Jackal doesn’t ever have to worry about a natborn being a commanding officer ever again. The twin Twi’leks who are definitely not Thorn’s kids but who are also very much Thorn’s kids are also helping with that readjustment.

“He also did mention that you were all possibly insane.” The tall Zabrak glowers in a way that reminds Thorn so much of Maul. Kinda makes that tired unhinged part of his brain want to squash the Zabrak’s cheeks together.

Also fucking pot meet kettle Maul you fucking hypocrite.

“Right ok,” Thorn takes off his helmet specifically so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let's start with names. I’m Thorn and you are...”

“Savage,'“ The tall one growls.

“Feral.” The nice one smiles weakly.

Ok, Thorn can work with this. He can definitely do this. He will also, while doing this, will make a plan to get Fox back for this whole situation. There had been plenty of time to warn him about this Fox, you motherfucker.

…

Thire has been reconditioned twice in his life. The first time was shortly after an escort mission for General Yoda. After that one, he’d had trouble remembering names for months. He still does, though it tends to be natborns whose names don’t really stick around in his head anymore. It’s easier to give them numbers. Senator Blacklist #1, Whitelist #12, Corsec #30, and so on and so forth.

The only reason General Yoda’s name stuck is because Rys and Jek like to talk about that mission, like to reminisce even if Thire can barely remember a few minutes of what happened. It also helps that General Yoda asks after them all, checks in, and makes sure they’re all okay. He still does it even when Thire lies to his face about being fine and knowing exactly who General Yoda is.

The second time Thire was reconditioned was right before he was promoted to Commander. He doesn’t remember the reason for it. He thinks it was Enemy #1 who ordered it, thinks that it wasn’t really a punishment for Thire but for one of the other Commanders he’s close to.

There is one thing that he does know for certain about that second reconditioning. That whoever he was before he can never really be that person again. Mostly because after that one something went wrong with Thire’s head that was worse than forgetting names.

Thire knows he wasn’t always this paranoid or angry before it happened. Knows it in the pitying looks he gets from the others when he starts muttering to himself just before he starts stockpiling supplies in some hidden corner of the base. Knows it in the way Fox promoted him immediately after Thire came back from Kamino and started talking back at the Senators when he couldn’t wrangle his anger in.

Knows that Fox did that so that Thire could never be reconditioned again and come back somehow worse than what’s already happened. Or be decommissioned for that matter, but that was less of a threat nowadays even for the newly added shinies. Nowadays they just send them somewhere else and make them blend in because only a few people actually check if a trooper has been decommissioned. And even if they get one of those fuckers who like to make sure a trooper is dead they have enough dead bodies in the basement that it’s easy enough to switch numbers if they need to.

So there’s really no need to worry anymore.

Now Thire’s anger and paranoia are just a quirk he can’t be punished for. It doesn’t matter that Thire has access to a tracking system that tells him exactly where every Guard is at all times. It doesn’t matter when Thire inevitably snaps and beats the shit out of the first GAR to dare bad mouth Fox in 79’s on Thire’s off days. It doesn’t matter that on the really bad days Thire can only trust Fox and the other commanders and that on the worse days Thire shoves himself into a corner with his stockpiled supplies where no one will ever find him.

None of it matters because Fox has made it as safe as he can. And even then there will always be things that hurt the Guard because nothing about their situation will ever change for the better.

The Enemies might not be able to force Thire to be different. But there are still rules he knows he has to follow because no matter how safe you think you are, you really aren’t. Not here, where no one but your fellow Guard will try to save you.

There are plenty of ways to die here on Coruscant. An angry senator with too much strength, shot in the lower levels, taken by slavers, trampled in a riot. Plenty of other ways to also have the will to live slowly sucked out of your soul too. Just standing long enough in the Senate’s halls is usually enough to do that.

So all Thire and the rest of the Guard can do is make do with what they’ve got.

Like right now.

Watchlist #15 is on Fox’s list because she’s been slowly getting braver. Touches here and there on trooper’s armor, comments that leave even seasoned troopers shuddering in fear of what’s going to come when the teasing finally stops. She’s been getting braver and Thire knows with absolute certainty that this is the week she’s going to take it too far. It’s not paranoia if it’s the truth.

It’s why he’s put himself on the Guard schedule to be around her. If there’s going to be a fall out he’s not going to let a shiny take that hit. Thire himself has never had it happen to himself either but he knows he’ll handle it better than a shiny would. The others try to protect him just as much but inevitably they all experience some version of this bullshit.

He thinks mostly, that they just don’t want him to finally snap and go on a murder spree with Shivers. What they don’t know is that he and Shivers have a plan and it involves explosives and everyone in the Guard being off planet when that happens. They’re still working out the logistics of how to get the Guard off Coruscant, they’ve debated telling one of Fox’s batchmates so that maybe the Vod can help steal a cruiser from one of the battalions. But Thire doesn’t trust them to keep their mouths shut.

So the plan is a work in progress. Something better to focus on than Watchlist #15. Who hasn’t noticed that Thire has been ignoring her the entire time she’s been talking at him. It’s only when she looks up and down the hall and notices no one else that she orders him to her office. He follows behind. Perfect posture, perfect stride. Nothing out of place, nothing to critique.

A part of him just wants to put a bolt through her head and not deal with any of this. It would be so easy too. None of these bastards ever expect the Guard to defend themselves. And if Thire makes the murder look messy enough he might even be able to get away with claiming it was the same murderer who got Senator Blacklist #3 just a couple of weeks ago.

He steps into her office when she opens the door and waves him through with a smile and a glint in her eyes. She closes the door behind herself then she locks it and is quiet as she passes him, fingers dragging along his shoulder. She hums in satisfaction as she leans back against her desk, studying him.

“Take off your armor.”

He tries not to think as he does it. Just focuses on the clips and straps as he drops the pieces to the ground in a semi-orderly pile. When he steps out of his boots he returns to a parade rest. Still in his blacks because she only said his armor and Thire hates her too much to give her more than an inch.

She frowns at him, anger sparking in her eyes but she can’t hold his attention. Not as he stares straight past her shoulder and into the shadows just behind her.

She sighs before pushing off her desk, “You meat droids really do only follow orders to the letter don’t you?” She grips his chin and tries to force him to look her in the eyes. He refuses too, but also he can’t when there’s something so much better to look at. The shadow just behind her is as familiar to Thire as any of his brother’s faces.

Because Thire is paranoid. Because Thire keeps an eye on not just his brothers but also his enemies.

Just as the senator opens her mouth, about to demand something more, Enemy #2 slides up behind her, grabs her by her hair, and slices a line across her neck. Thire stares as blood hits his face. Stares as it drips down his face and soaks into the collar of his blacks.

It’s only now that he meets her eyes and watches the panic that hits her. She tries to claw back at the hand holding, tries to tell Thire to help her. Save her. But all that comes out is a dying gurgle. The light in her eyes dims as blood pours down her throat, soaks into the white of her clothes turning it a sick facsimile of the Coruscant Guard colors.

Thire watches her die, watches Enemy #2 drop her body to the floor, watches and watches and watches. Enemy #2 cleans the blade on his black tunic and eyes Thire as if expecting some kind of reaction from him.

Thire looks him in the eyes. Thire says nothing as he grins back at Maul.

It’s hard to forget a name that fits so perfectly.

…

“Where is your brother by the way?” Thire asks as he leads his two new additions down one of the matenice tunnels out of the Guard’s offices and to the streets of Coruscant where these two will be much less obvious.

“He said something about slitting throats before he ran off and left us here.” Savage growls ducking under a pipe and scowling when the edge of his horns still catches it with a soft clang.

Thorn stops to look back at them. Feral gives him an awkward smile and Thorn curses in his head as he mutters to himself, “I’m going to have to look into that later. Fuck.”

…

Fox comes to himself as he’s walking down some empty alleyway in the lower levels of Coruscant. He sighs, heavy and tired as he takes in the aches and pains that come from over-exertion. A sign that whatever he was doing before had to have been more complicated than what Palptine usually uses him for nowadays.

Because Palpatine doesn’t give him blackout missions anymore unless he wants it to be messy. The old bastard figured out pretty quickly that Fox would do anything for his brothers but has a tendency to put his victims out of their own misery with a quick death. CC-1010 however has no qualms with torture when Palpatine orders it.

He doesn’t look down at his armor. Doesn’t take stock of his status. Fox knows there’s going to be blood. The question is whether it’s his own, someone else’s, or some sick mix of both.

He opens up his messages checking through to quickly take stock of what emergencies might have happened while he’s been out of it. Nothing major, a few red alerts but they're all from the GAR emergency system. There is a single message from an unknown contact that catches his eye.

It’s done.

He stares at the message. Then he glares at it and the red alerts that keep popping up on his feed. He’s got a suddenly bad feeling about this.

Before he can think too hard about it a comn comes through from Thorn.

Fox answers it with a quick, “I’m back from a blackout.” Because, unlike some other people, he knows protocol.

“Shit, I was wondering why you haven’t been answering for the last few hours. I’ll tell Shivers to be ready for you.”

“Thanks,” Fox breathes out and closes his eyes, ignoring the sudden headache pounding behind his eyes, “What did you need Thorn?”

Thorn hesitates a second before he says, “Thought you’d like to know that our Stray made headlines today.”

“Please tell me he didn’t do what I think he did.” Fox feels like hitting his head against the nearby wall. Should have specified he wanted Krell taken out quietly, should have fucking specified quietly. Maybe if he hits his head at the right angle and just hard enough he’ll just never wake up from this nightmare.

“I have never seen anyone so fucking dramatic before Fox. It was verging on the edge of hysterically funny when he claimed he was going to cleanse the Jedi of their tainted roots since apparently they can’t do that themselves just before he beheaded Krell.”

“I kriffing hate this man,” Fox groans, “I thought he would quietly assassinate him not make a fucking production.”

Thorn laughs. “You thought the guy who left a senator’s office covered in their own blood would be subtle?"

“He did fine with all the other murders he committed.” Fox rolls his eyes even though Thorn can’t see him. Thorn’s right, of course, Fox doesn’t know why he expected anything different.

“Wait… what other murders?”

Oh, That’s what Fox has been forgetting to do. He’ll need to catch the other commanders up on what’s going on. Even though Fox knows Stone has figured it out and with the way Thire has been claiming the Maul is now his stray Fox can guarantee Thire knows something. Probably helped with that something too.

“Exactly,” Fox says because if Thorn never figured it out that means no Natborn would. Thorn’s smarter than any of Corsec or the Senate Guard combined but Stone and Thire are just on a whole level of crazy that no one else can keep up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Thorn asks with confusion rather than any kind of hurt.

“Honestly forgot but you might want to keep the plausible deniability considering Maul’s gone public with the fact that he’s alive.” Fox takes a step towards the end of the alley before he stumbles and realizes maybe he should sit down for a little. “I’m pretty sure Thire’s already involved with one of Maul’s murders so we probably don’t need anyone else getting in the middle of all of this.”

He slides down the wall, right hand automatically covering his left side. He hadn’t realized how dizzy he was until just this moment.

“Oh, is that why Thire has actually been using Maul’s name?”

“If I had to guess, yeah.” Fox breathes in through his mouth and out through his nose. He lifts his hand up. Dark red blood drips down through the cracks of his gauntlet. “Thorn, I need a pickup.”

“Fuck, Fox where-”

He doesn’t hear the rest as he slides fully down the wall and into darkness.

…

Thire has a hand on Maul’s bicep as he drags him into the barracks, all while ignoring the worried looks everyone is giving him. He’d found the Zabrak while out on patrol looking dazed and not fully there. Dissociation. Shivers had to look up that one after the first couple of times they found Fox like that.

So Thire is doing something he’s never done before. He’s shoving down his paranoia and helping the fucker who helped him. Mostly by dragging the bastard into one of the vode’s cuddle piles.

It’ll be fine because it’s Thire that’s dragging him into the room. It’ll be fine because Thire’s paranoia rivals Fox’s and therefore would never do something to put any of his brothers in danger.

There are already several groups set up. Hound passed out between his two shinies plus Mouse who is curled up in his arms lying directly on top of him with Grizzer lying on their legs. Mouse must have had another panic attack. Thire winces in sympathy but moves on to his target.

Fox is in Thorn’s arms, head tucked and hidden from view, with new bruises running down his back and a bandage wrapped around his stomach. Thire knows that Fox has had a blackout mission recently. He also knows how long it takes for Fox to come back from that. He doesn’t know what Enemy #1 does to Fox but even after an assassination blackout Fox comes back with a worse headspace then he left with.

It makes Thire want to do something stupid. Makes him want to stab the old bastard in the throat until he can’t speak ever again. He breathes. Forces himself to swallow down his anger. Not the time. Not yet.

He turns back to look at Maul whose gaze is a bit steadier. Then Thire points to where Thorn and Fox are, “Get in the fucking cuddle pile.” Instead of waiting for a reply and because Thire doesn’t want an argument he shoves the Zabrak down and ignores the yelps that come from Thorn and Fox when the Zabrak lands on them.

So far so good, Thire thinks to himself with a proud little smile.

…

Maul has never liked being touched. Touch was usually a precursor to pain because it taught and it punished and it made Maul stronger. But he hates it. It’s no different in this situation, even though not a single clone here is trying to harm him.

Just the barest brush of skin against his makes him want to flay off the part of him that burns and crawls. He could escape this, the angry clone clearly left him with an escape route. Worse comes to worse he could just as easily fling them all away with a wave of his hand.

He doesn’t. Instead, he allows the angry clone to cling to him, head nuzzled just under Maul’s jaw. It shouldn’t mean anything. He shouldn’t even care. But the angry one’s mind is an open book and he feels safe around Maul. To him Maul is safety and he’s not the only clone in this blasted pile of bodies that feels this way.

It makes him want to scoff, to deny everything, and burn their trust to the ground. Make them regret ever finding Maul, ever helping him.

Then Fox slips an arm over Maul’s side and pulls him flush to the clone’s chest. It burns in the worst way possible. A feeling that can’t ever be soothed by time or recovery. It makes Maul seeth in anger.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t attempt to escape. Instead, he tries to relish in the hate he feels. Only to find the feeling slipping away. Turning into something more akin to awe.

This is an intimacy he has never felt before, and one he’s absolutely certain the clones don’t share except with a select few outsiders. Even then, he’s certain that only he has been pulled into the heart and safety of the Guard’s home like this. It brings forth a feeling that he can’t name or describe.

He swallows the lump in his throat and pretends he doesn’t pull the angry one closer like he can protect the clone from whatever wishes to hurt him.

Maul remembers his lessons. He could never forget them with the way they’ve been seared into his head by Sidious’s teaching methods. His instincts tell him that he should use these clones for all they’re worth and then discard them. That it is the way of the dark side not to trust even your allies. To use those around you to gain more power then discard the pawns that have become useless.

But in those lessons, he also remembers the rants and mockings of his old master about the Jedi and their code. One thing in particular draws Maul’s mind as he falls deeper into the calm the clones surround him with. The Jedi claim that attachments will lead to the dark side. It makes him wonder why his old Master has no such attachments. Why he doesn’t attempt to grasp that supposed strength.

Maul licks his dry lips and thinks as his fingers move through the angry clone’s hair. Claws just barely scrapping the clone’s scalp. He could be stronger than Sidious. Could be more powerful then any Sith before him.

He has all these attachments he could take. All of them within reach and spread throughout Coruscant as they work. Alive and breathing and hurting. He can use that.

Use this anger that bubbles up from somewhere deeper than his own hatred.

He will become more powerful than Sidious and all it will take is falling deeper into the dark side for these clones.

[renegadeknight]

But every time he considered following that instinct, he couldn't shake the feeling that running would mean running head first into trouble - the kind of trouble that ended with bloodstained clothes.

Writers, reblog this with the last sentence you wrote from your WIP

[lavenoon]

So I dyed my hair! My bathroom looked like a battlefield, oops

@naffeclipse next time the hair gets dyed to match a fool the bathroom gets cleaned up before said fool gets home </3

*self insert Aster is not a girl (he/ she)

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[vingler-mirror]

Curses by the crane wives is such an Isokania song

[smoresie]

The aftermath of their first meeting

[see-arcane]

Your coloring encapsulates the sunrise revealing Jonathan's hair being so sinister and devastating. Crimson dominates those pieces, like the bloody color of the holiest love, the color of passion, blood, sex, madness. love as madness.

There are times I really do love cooler, subtler tones. Mystic purples and dreamy fantasy palettes. But when it comes to the events surrounding October 3rd and all that come after it in Dracula, there is really no doing without visceral and omnipresent red. It's the sunrise and sunset, the burn of the Count's eyes, the blood on Mina's lips, the only color Jonathan can see anymore. Red, red, red.

[whump-about-it]

Smoke/Shared Clothing/ Bloodstains

@whumpril day23 (a little late)

CW: blood, smoking, conditioned whumpee, aggressive caretaking, clueless caretaker, hidden injuries, mentions of vomiting (no details).

When Friend walked into Caretaker’s apartment they were neither surprised to see Whumpee there, nor that they were wearing Caretaker’s clothing.

Whumpee had been oscillating between Friend and Caretaker’s couches since Whumper had finally agreed to leave them alone. Considering Whumpee had not been at Friend's that morning they were honestly relieved to find them at Caretaker’s. As for the clothing, Whumpee had recently taken up the habit of wearing Caretaker’s sweaters and t-shirts. They probably would have worn Friend’s too, except Friend hadn’t been fond of the clothes sharing the one time Whumpee had tried it. Caretaker apparently didn’t mind because these days Whumpee seemed to be wearing their clothes more than their own. Caretaker was closer to Whumpee’s size anyway, so though Whumpee was swimming in their clothing, they weren’t drowning in them like they had been with Friend's.

What did surprise Friend was that Whumpee was smoking.

They were leaning out the open kitchen window, one of Caretaker’s sweatshirts rolled up to their elbows, with a small tendril of smoke rising from the half spent cigarette between their fingers. They turned to look at Friend when they walked in the door. Their face was pale with dark circles under there eyes and they gave Friend a half smile in way of a welcome before turning back to the view out the window. Taking another drag from their cigarette.

“I thought you quit.” Friend tried not to make the statement sound accusatory. They’d been the one who got Whumpee hooked on smoking in the first place after all. Years ago, before any of them could imagine what the future would bring. Caretaker had hounded them both for the smoking until it eventually got the better of Friend. Whumpee had taken longer though. It had only been in the last couple of months, again since Whumper agreed to leave them alone, that they’d given the habit up.

“It’s been a long night” Whumpee shrugged and stubbed out the cigarette on the windowsill.

Friend nodded and went to join them at the window. They had been tipped off that something was wrong when Caretaker had called in sick to work the day before. The one time Caretaker had answered their texts they had said they thought they might have food poisoning and not to worry. That morning though, when Caretaker had called in sick to work again, and Whumpee wasn't around like Friend would have expected them to be if Caretaker was ill, they figured they should probably check in.

"How is Caretaker?"

"They've been better" The statement didn't mean much coming from Whumpee. They had always been the monarch of understatements. Friend could distinctly remember a time when they had described a cut that had required stitches and a blood transfusion as nothing more than a 'scratch'. They had also tried convincing Caretaker and Friend that it had come from falling in the shower, but that was a whole different issue.

"They're sleeping now," Whumpee explained "But they were up half the night vomiting and the other half hallucinating. They thought I was their uncle at one point, which I didn't even know they had any."

"That doesn't sound like food poisoning"

Whumpee shook their head.

"I think its the flu, but if there's no blood involved I'm really at a loss with medical stuff."

Friend swallowed and tried not to think about those years when they and Caretaker had been out of contact with Whumpee. All those injuries Whumpee had had to treat on their own in the dark closet of a room Whumper had kept them in. Caretaker knew more of the details than Friend did. And though Friend would have been there to listen if Whumpee wanted to tell them, they didn't envy Caretaker being the one Whumpee had turned too with that information.

"You should call me next time" Friend didn't know anything about treating the flu either, but they and Whumpee could have at least muddled through together. Whumpee shook there head though, stiffling a yawn as they did.

"You have a job. Anyway, I figure it's pay back for all the times the two of you were there for me when I couldn't get up off the floor."

Friend sighed and put a reassuring hand on Whumpee’s back. Despite the light touch Whumpee’s whole body tensed and Friend remembered a second to late that they didn’t like being touched anymore.

“Sorry” They removed their hand and Whumpee leaned more heavily on the windowsill, working to even out their breathing. It was a more dramatic reaction than they’d had in a while, but they also looked ready to collapse with how tired they were, so Friend didn’t think much of it.

“I was going to say that you don’t owe us anything, Whumpee.”

Caretaker had always done more peeling Whumpee off the floor than Friend had. But Friend was sure they felt the same way. Caretaker was the kind of person who would give you the shirt off their back (clearly, as Whumpee was already wearing it).

Whumpee pursed their lips and nodded in a way that Friend knew meant they didn’t believe them. That could be a conversation for another time though. Whumpee really did look awful and now that Friend was thinking about it, if Caretaker had come down with something contagious, Whumpee could very well be catching it.

“Why don’t you get some rest” Friend nodded towards the couch behind them in the living room. “I’m gonna go check on Caretaker.”

“Sure” Whumpee murmured. “Just want another smoke first.”

Friend knew they probably should have said something about that. But they really had no ground to stand on so they let it go and turned away from Whumpee towards the hall where Caretaker’s bedroom was. A split second later though they turned back.

Something had caught their eye.

The spot on Caretaker’s sweatshirt where Friend had accidentally touched Whumpee was sticking to their back in almost a perfect outline of their hand. Not only that but the spot where the heel of their hand would have been now had an odd brown stain against the green of the fabric.

Friend swallowed thickly, a familiar panic and confusion curling in their stomach.

“Whumpee?” They asked “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Whumpee turned to look at them. Pasting an expression of confusion on their face as they did. Looking at them directly for the first time Friend could see that Whumpee wasn’t just pale. They were colorless. And their dark eyes were blood shot and red rimmed from crying.

Friend could feel bile rising in their throat. Without much thinking they stepped forward and grabbed Whumpee by their elbow, forcing them to turn back towards the window. Caretaker would have been gentler. They would have had Whumpee sit down and coaxed the truth out of them with calm words and reassurances. But Friend wasn't Caretaker.

Their ears were ringing as they pulled up the hem of Caretaker's sweatshirt. Whumpee was wearing a black t-shirt underneath it, but Friend could see dark red, still moist stains at the waist band of their grey sweatpants.

Whumpee let out a yelp of protest, but didn't resist as Friend grabbed at the t-shirt. They only pulled it up as far as they needed to confirm what they were fearing. The few inches of visible skin on Whumpee's lower back were covered with bruises, welts, and weeping cuts, overlapping the already intricate map of healed scars.

"Whumpee. What did you do?" Friend at the very least managed to keep their voice a stern calm. Whumpee was beginning to shake under Friend's grasp. They were leaning heavily on the windowsill, gripping it with white knuckles. Friend suddenly felt the need to hold onto Whumpee and let go of their clothing, instead grabbing them by their elbows again.

"Caretaker had a fever of 104" Whumpee answered. Their voice was shaking as much as their body. "They needed medicine. I didn't know where else to go."

Friend had the ware-with-all to pull Whumpee's weight towards themselves, right before their knees buckled and the two of them collapsed to the floor, gripping each other as Whumpee let out a sudden sob of pain.

"You call me, Whumpee" Friend insisted, gathering Whumpee against them trying to avoid aggravating God knows what injuries they had. "You should have called me. Not Whumper. You never have to see them again."

Whumpee began to sob harder.

"I just wanted to help" they moaned "I wanted to be useful for once. You guys were never supposed to find out."

Friend's heart broke. They pulled Whumpee's head into their chest and began to stroke their hair. They suddenly regret their anger and how aggressive they had been.

"You were helping. You are useful. You didn't have to go to Whumper for that. Being here for Caretaker is enough. They appreciate it, I promise you. They'll tell you when they're feeling better."

Whumpee began to sob even harder at Friend's words. Friend kissed them on the top of their head and continued to stroke their hair until they had calmed a little. It didn't take long. Even at their worst, Whumpee had never been much of a crier.

"Was this the first time you've contacted them?" Friend asked when they thought Whumpee was able to answer.

"Yea" Whumpee nodded against Friend's chest. Friend breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, you didn't make any deals with them did you?"

"Just for the medicine."

"And all they wanted was to hurt you one last time?"

Whumpee let out a single sob as a response and Friend kissed them on the head again.

"Have you cleaned yourself up yet?"

Whumpee shook their head against Friend's chest.

"Tried," They mumbled. "Can't reach"

"Alright. Do you think you can stand? If you can get to the table I can clean you up. You'll probably have to talk me through it though."

Whumpee lifted their head from Friend's chest and looked at them with watery eyes.

"I think I'll need help getting up" They admit sheepishly. "Someone should check on Caretaker. It's almost time for them to take the medicine again."

"Don't worry. I'll check up on Caretaker." Friend reassured them as they helped Whumpee up off the ground. "I'll grab you a change of clothing too. There's too much blood on these."

Whumpee nodded and let Friend lead them to the kitchen table.

[geraldofallon]

Fashions of the Neath, taken from 1890’s fashion plates.

Grey-dyed second-hand nankeen. It’s seen one too many nights at the Medusa’s Head. That may even be some of your blood on there.

[drabbles-mc]

Nothing To Tell

Tig Trager & OFC (Claire Morrow)

For Day 23 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: bloodstains / sharing clothes

Warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of blood, language

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Anj and I have clocked so many hours talking about Claire and until this I never felt like I had a good idea for a small fic to put her in. So, you know, shout-out to Whumpril for allowing this girl to make her debut. I love her.

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @i-just-read-stuff @justreblogginfics @withmyteeth @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @darqchilddaydreamz @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @yourwinchesterbros @nessamc @garbinge @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

 Despite the fact that Tig’s eyes were open, that his gun was in his hand, that he was moving down the stairs towards his front door, he still felt like he was asleep. He wasn’t, of course, because the pounding against his front door had made sure of that. It was incessant, and if he had felt a little more awake he would’ve been yelling at whoever it was to knock it off, but he just had to settle for grumbling under his breath. Holding back a deep sigh, he flipped the deadbolt on the door and pulled it open, gun held tightly at his side.

Of all the people he thought he was going to be opening the door to, Claire wasn’t one of them. It was late, she should’ve been home, and she also had a key to let herself in with. All of those thoughts were running in the background of Tig’s sleep-addled brain as he looked at her, trying to register the sight in front of him.

Her eyes were puffy and red, makeup smeared beneath them. Now that she wasn’t trying to break his door down, her arms were folded tightly across her body, trembling even though it wasn’t all that cold out. Her hair was a mess—however she’d had it tied up before, all that was left in the ponytail now were a few locks of it, the rest around her shoulders and out of control. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other as she stood on his front step, glancing back over her shoulder for a moment before turning back to look at him again. Her bottom lip trembled as she opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find any kind of words to say even though she was coming up empty.

Even with the deep breath she took, her voice still came out small and shaky as she finally got herself to say, “Please don’t tell my dad.”

Confusion crossed his face at that. Shaking his head slightly, he reached out and gently looped his arm around her, trying not to take it personally when she flinched at his touch as he guided her inside. His voice was soft from more than just sleep as he told her, “Get in here.”

He did a quick scan of the street before stepping back into the house himself, putting the deadbolt back in place. When he turned around, he found Claire standing in the middle of his living room in much the same position she was on his step. It’d been a long time since he had seen her looking so rattled about anything. Fear never seemed to sink its claws into her, even though most times it should’ve.

“What’s going on?” he asked, tucking his gun into the back of his waistband.

She shook her head, running her hands back through her hair. “They can’t know. You gotta,” she paced in front of him, “you gotta promise you’re not gonna tell my mom and dad.”

“Claire—”

“Or Jax,” she cut him off, her voice trembling. “God. I didn’t even—” she dropped her face into her hands for a moment, “Fuck.”

He stepped in front of her so that she wouldn’t be able to keep walking when she finally lifted her face from her hands. He wanted to lift her head, make her look him in the eyes. He wanted to hold her, but he felt like she might shatter if he did.

“Claire,” he repeated, “talk to me, baby. What’s going on?”

She finally looked up at him, tears on her cheeks. She finally let her arms drop to her sides, and that was when Tig saw the blood splattered along the neckline and chest of her light grey t-shirt. “Please don’t tell them.”

Tig had never heard her plead like that, like she actually meant it. “I can’t tell anyone anything,” he reached out and gently thumbed the tears off her cheek, not saying anything about the way she recoiled slightly at the gesture, “if you don’t tell me what happened. So,” he brought his hand to rest on her shoulder, “what happened?”

She sniffled, shaking her head. “They told me. They told me not to get involved. And I,” she stepped away, giving herself room to start pacing again as she spoke, “I didn’t listen. That’s what they’re gonna tell me, too, you know. They’re just gonna tell me that if I had fucking listened—”

“Don’t worry about them,” Tig interrupted her spiraling train of thought. Whatever she went through, and she was still worrying about the rest of them. “Gemma, Clay, Jax—fuck all them right now, okay?”

“Tig…” the lump in the back of her throat made it hard to speak, his name coming out weaker than she wanted it to.

He could see the way her eyes darted around, looking at him, scanning the room, glancing over at the door, going back to him, repeating the cycle all over again. The longer the two of them stood there, the more he realized that he might not be getting anything out of her for a while. As much as he hated being in the dark, he also knew that trying to drag it out of her wasn’t going to be good for either of them. Claire had never been anything other than an open book with him. She’d been that way her whole life: a chronic over-sharer, oftentimes to a fault. If she wasn’t telling him something, it wasn’t a choice for her—she just couldn’t do it.

“What am I doing?” The question rhetorical, forced out past a sob.

“You’re okay,” he said, not knowing at all if it was true. Stepping in, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug that she gladly collapsed into. Hooking his chin over her head, he ran his hand up and down her back. “You’re okay.”

She didn’t hug him back. She wanted to, but she couldn’t force herself to do it, like the amount of strength it would take to return the embrace was too much for her to exert in the moment. Her arms hung limply at her sides as she leaned against him, tears and makeup smearing across the shirt that he was wearing. She was glad for the reprieve, the comfort and care that she wouldn’t have gotten if she had gone home.

Tig didn’t know how long the two of them stood there like that before he finally asked, “You gonna stay?” He asked it like a question, but there was only one answer that he was going to accept.

She didn’t pull away, just nodding as she stayed pressed to him. “If that’s okay.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Of course it is.”

He finally pried himself away from her, hands still resting on the outsides of her arms. Claire couldn’t force herself to look him in the eyes for a moment, her gaze staying fixed on the floor. There was a brief moment when she thought about turning around and running back to her car. But there was no getting away from it. It was all going to come crashing down eventually.

“Can I borrow something to, you know,” she gestured to the blood smeared on her shirt.

Tig nodded. “I’ll grab you something.”

He was hardly gone for a minute before he reappeared with a shirt and a pair of sweatpants in his hands. Neither of them were really going to fit her, but they didn’t have blood on them so they were a step in the right direction. She was only going to wear them to sleep, after all, so he figured that she wasn’t really going to mind.

Handing them over to her, he said, “Go shower. I’ll,” he gestured to the couch, “get this ready for you.”

She didn’t know why fresh tears spilled over onto her cheeks as she nodded, but they did. Neither of them acknowledged them as she reached and took the clothes from him. “Thank you.”

Tig watched her as she slowly made her way off towards his bathroom. He waited until he heard the sound of the shower running before he went to grab an extra pillow and blankets for the couch. He was going through the motions of it all, realizing how long it had been since someone had turned up on his step looking for a safe place to stay. That’s not usually what anyone needed him for.

It wasn’t often that Claire came by for more than a drink and to complain about her brother. Both of those activities were things that Tig was more than happy to indulge in with her. But she never needed to hide out at his house. The more Tig thought about it, the last time she was there for anything close to this purpose, was when she was a kid. It wasn’t just her, though. Thomas was there, and so were Tig’s daughters. Jax had managed to talk his way into staying at Opie’s with Mary and Piney, which was just as well. Despite the circumstances of it all, Tig almost found himself smiling at the memory of it. No one told the kids why they were actually staying at Tig’s, so they all just treated it like a big sleepover. They were better off that way.

The smile on his face faded when he realized that Claire was the only one out of the four who was still around. Tig couldn’t remember the last time that Dawn or Fawn had crossed county lines into Charming, and everyone knew what had happened to Thomas. So it was just Claire, and it didn’t seem like she was much better off than the rest of them for having stayed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her footsteps, the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. Turning around, he saw her standing there in his clothes, hers balled up in her hands because she didn’t know where she should leave them. Despite his clothes not being the right size for her, Tig couldn’t help but to think that she still didn’t look as small as she did standing on his doorstep. She didn’t look okay yet, but she looked better. It was a start.

He wanted to ask how she was, but the answer was obvious. He also wanted to ask her again about what had happened, but she finally looked like she wasn’t waiting for someone to come kicking his door in after her, so he let it lie. Whatever the circumstances were, they wouldn’t change before morning.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she stepped in closer, her voice quiet, still unsteady. She didn’t know which part of it all she was really apologizing for. Maybe all of it.

He shook his head as he took the clothes from her, unsure of whether he should just toss them for her or wash them. “It’s okay.” He gave her a small smile. “Not the worst mess I’ve had to clean up.”

It got a weak laugh out of her as she shook her head. “Gross.”

They both chuckled for a moment, despite the exhaustion, all of the questions lingering above their heads. Tig let a few beats pass before asking, “Want me to stay down here?”

She shook her head, nose twitching to fight off the sniffle she could feel creeping up. “I’ll be okay.”

He studied her face. “You sure?”

She took a deep breath, trying her best to sound as certain as she usually did. “Yea.”

He didn’t want to push it, didn’t want to make things worse all over again, so he nodded. Stepping in, he gave her another hug, kissing the side of her head, not caring that her hair was still damp. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

She nodded as she hugged him back. “Thank you.”

He noticed the way that she wasn’t quite ready to let go yet, so he didn’t make her. Leaning his head against hers, he said, “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

She let out a shaky breath, but she still nodded. “Okay.”

[snorlaxlovesme]

clothes stained in your partner's blood, willing to change everything to stop fate

[distrxst]

a whole two (2) relations tags for the sisters and the weird mother and son

[fnvbennygecko]

i have not seen anyone really talk about how benny gets tortured at fortification hill besides me. HE NEARLY GOT GUTTED!!!!!!!!

like the last part is absolutely supposed to be referencing how he got tortured the only way for that to happen is to get. GUTTED!!

[byanyan]

if you're byan's friend and you're smaller than them, they'll give you all of the clothes that no longer fit them or that they just don't wear anymore if you like any of them. like, they'll genuinely just give it to you bc they want someone else to enjoy it. and yes, it does include the pieces they've altered and/or made for themself.

[strapinandstraponyourstrapons]

what they are to me: my sons, my baby bois, my blorbos, my sweet precious angels

what i call them: weredickheads

[sxbaist]

@autresdieu / Luca:  NUDE :  for one muse to walk in on the other while they’re changing. ( shirtless luca, sorry?? )

"Hey, you hear about--"

Ah. Fuck.

Vega's never been good about knocking. Never been good about thinking three steps ahead, two steps ahead, a half-step with one foot in front of the other. Something about the late night high that settles in, evaporating thoughts meant to thrive in the daylight. Her timing is evolutionary.

Her eyes; traitorous, wandering through rectus abdominis valleys about six beats too long.

Stuttering in her chest clicks the pieces back into place, dying just a little more when friends prove pretty.

"I-- fuck."

That should have been a,

--"Sorry."