#he carries Kira out of the ship as its coming down around them

[youngpettyqueen]

I do love it I do love it very much and it gives me brain rot but Julian running through fire to get to Garak isnt even like a Garashir thing to me because thats just how Julian is. Julian would run through fire for just about anybody- whether he knew them or not, tbh, he would be the first one running into a burning building to save a stranger if he thought he had a chance. the nature of Julian Bashir is that he will risk life and limb to help people because he is, at the very core of his being, a doctor and a healer

[worldcatlas]

DS9: Emissary (Part 1)

After an oddly Star Wars-esque text crawl, we meet Benjamin Sisko in a flashback to his time on the USS Saratoga, during the battle of Wolf 359. The ship is captained by a Vulcan named Storil, played by J.G. Hertzler, who would later come back to play the Klingon General Martok. Both are wearing TNG-style uniforms, and both are having a very bad day.

One of these characters is about to gain a tragic backstory, and it’s probably not the one we’ll never see again.

Oof. Thankfully, the plot fast forwards three years, and we see Sisko’s son Jake holo-fishing in some cute space overalls. The shirt appears to have an interesting texture, and the slightly darker fabric on the shoulders is a nice touch, with the double piping at the seams giving it just a hint of “space suit”.

You can eat whatever you catch, but it might leave you feeling a little… hollow.

Interestingly, this outfit would later find its way to the Delta quadrant, as we often see it worn by Rebi, one of the Borg twins in season 6 of Voyager.

Look, we all just want to be Super Mario in our hearts.

Next, it’s time to meet an old friend in a new uniform: it’s the universe’s favourite punching bag, Miles O’Brien! In contrast to the old uniforms, which displayed rank pips on a stiff collar, the new ones have a soft grey turtleneck under the jacket. As well, where the old uniforms had black shoulders and a coloured body and sleeves, the new ones are only coloured on top.

It saves on coloured ink in the replicator.

A tour of the dilapidated station wouldn’t be complete, of course, without a spooky Bajoran monk making ominous invitations, and Sisko is in luck! I love this look; the cowl and long sleeves convey religious modesty, while the asymmetry, exotic fabrics, and metallic accents give it a distinctly alien flair. Given the importance of Bajor to the plot of Deep Space Nine, it’s not surprising they’ve given this much care and attention to the Bajorans’ costume designs, but it’s still nice to see this level of detail on a one-off character.

He may be a harbinger of your cursed destiny, but he’s got his aesthetic locked down.

Speaking of Bajorans, we soon meet a very angry Major Kira in the uniform of the Bajoran militia. We’ll see different earth-toned variations around the station, but Kira’s is a rusty orange colour, made with heavy corduroy and quilted fabric on the sleeves. It’s a nice contrast to the primary colours Starfleet brings to the table, while still using rank pips and a communicator on the chest.

What, do you want me to do a twirl?

Elsewhere on the station, some last-minute looters are causing trouble, and we get a quick look at Ferengi fashion. Nog wears a typical Ferengi headpiece with shimmering sequins, and Quark adorns himself in heavy, patterned fabrics.

Rule of Acquisition #47: Don't trust a man wearing a better suit than your own.

Even better is Nog’s partner in (literal) crime, an unnamed alien in an impressively monochrome outfit. The alien wears baggy pants and a cowl similar to the Bajorans’, but also carries a spiked flail on his belt. He also wears a leather-looking vest with a strange bar across the front, and heavy bracers and boots, all in varying shades of brown.

It probably works great as camouflage… outside of a space station.

The two are busted, however, when security chief Odo shows up to out-brown them all.

Don’t make me go all the way to beige.

On board the docked Enterprise, Sisko has a very tense meeting with Picard, who asks him if they’ve met – before realizing they have, kinda, when Jean-Luc sort of uh… murdered Ben’s wife in his Borg phase. Oops.

Haha awkwarddd

The final straw was Sisko’s realization that they’d worn the same outfit, so he returns to the station to change into something else.

New year, new you(niform).

He gets a fit check from his new pal Odo, who wears a slightly different uniform in this scene than the one we saw on the promenade. This version is yellower, which doesn’t do any favours for his complexion, especially since the makeup also seems to be, uh, droopier.

You good, Odo? Need some bucket time?

Of course, a good captain always gets the opinion of his second in command, so he goes to see Kira as well, who is hard at work cleaning up the mess left behind by the Cardassians. It’s sweaty work, so she has removed her uniform jacket, revealing a very lovely sleeveless blouse underneath.

Redefining high-waisted pants for the 24th century.

In a helpful bit of exposition, she explains to Sisko how the Bajoran religion is the only thing holding her people together, and we get a glimpse of her earring – an important symbol of her faith.

However, their heartfelt conversation is cut short when the ominous monk from earlier returns to tell Sisko, simply, “It’s time.” He’s too Starfleet-polite to say no, or “who the heck even are you,” so we find ourselves whisked away to a temple.

Welcome! Get comfortable. It won’t last long.

The monks here, too, do amazing things with robes, using the same layering as before in various colours and textures. We meet Kai Opaka, an important religious leader, who insists on showing Ben a magic box. Suddenly, we’re transported to a beach, and our stoic commander is wearing some extremely purple beachwear.

I need to stop saying “yes” to everyone.Once the shock wears off, Sisko realizes his dead wife Jennifer is here too, in a killer teal and gold bikini! This would be great, except she doesn’t know who he is, so he just kind of weirds her out a little.

Excuse me, you’re blocking the radiation.

Sisko is nothing if not determined, however, and as he pursues Jennifer down the beach, we get to see some interesting swimwear in the background, too. I dig the pattern on the left suit, and the guy on the right is a great example of the old Trek standby of “colour blocking = futuristic”.

My man looking like an early aughts DVD menu.

Just as Ben’s about to win Jennifer over with aubergine stew, we’re thrown back to the present. Fortunately, it’s a present where we have Dabo girls in metallic latex dresses.

We’re all winners at the Dabo table.

Not fashion related, but I’m 99% sure this alien is playing his instrument with two cucumbers.

…?!

Anyway.

Gul Dukat comes aboard the station to spread smugness, wearing armour consistent with the Cardassians’ last appearance on TNG, though considerably updated from their first appearance (pictured: TNG season 4 “The Wounded”).

Is it just me, or do all Cardassians look alike?

Don’t expect to get any great fashion inspo from these guys, though, as they never leave the house without their pointy black security blankets.

Seriously, these guys have one look.

Lastly, we get a good – if all too brief – look at the outfit worn by Morn, the chatty barfly often seen in Quark’s. He’s wearing what appear to be studded leather gauntlets, to match the sleeves/pauldrons(?) on his top, which is obviously just stretched tight over his rippling muscles.

Some folks are just built different.

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 3

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

2983 words, 3rd person POV

I'm just as surprised as you are that I'm cranking these out so fast. Thanks, NaNoWriMo!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

...

Saturday dragged so sluggishly for Jason as he waited impatiently to visit Lijah again. He spent the day stalking the outskirts of the camp, trying to watch Lijah as he worked. He was fascinated by Lijah's effect on others; it was clearly shown that it wasn't just Jason who was compelled to change behavior simply by listening to him. The kids loved him, and he was popular with the other counselors as well. Jason caught himself daydreaming a few too many times of being one of them and being able to spend the day with Lijah out in the open like they could.

During one of these moments, Jason stared off across the surface of the lake, the sunlight sparkling across the ripples in the water. He wondered what would have happened over a decade ago if Lijah had been at the camp with him...would the other kids have been enraptured by his presence and listened to him then? Would Jason and Lijah have become friends as quickly as children as they had as adults? Or was it their personal experiences that drew them together now and they were all the better for it?

"Enjoying the view?"

Jason spun to face the speaker, relieved it was only Lijah. Lijah laughed at his reaction and looked out across the lake to see what Jason was seeing.

"It is gorgeous out here, isn't it?" he sighed, his expression dreamy, "I've worked at a few different camps over the years but I think Crystal Lake is my favorite."

Jason's heart still pounded in his chest, despite the surprise having worn off. Why was he so nervous to stand here next to Lijah like this? Did the others feel this way around him too?

"Oh, hey!" Lijah said suddenly, pointing down at the nearest dock where two campers and another counselor stood, "That's Terry and Kira over there with Julie. Kira was bullying Terry since day one of camp, saying she looked ratty and pushing her down - you know, stupid kid insults like that. Terry didn't want to be a tattletale, so she wouldn't say who was picking on her, even though we all knew. The director has a rule that we can't interfere unless the kids come forward so we were stuck for a little while. The other counselors and I came up with a detective game to make Kira realize she was doing something wrong and hurtful and she came forward on her own yesterday to admit it. She's been doing great today at making up with Terry and I think they'll be friends really soon. It's so cool what a little positive reinforcement can do."

Lijah crossed his arms over his chest and gazed proudly out at the two kids, but Jason couldn't stop staring at Lijah. What was it he was feeling right now? Impressed at his ability to handle bullies in a way that the counselors when he was a child never could, certainly, but what else? What was it about Lijah that made Jason want to throw his machete in the lake and never hurt anyone again?

"What's up?" Lijah asked, noticing Jason staring at him, "Did I say something wrong?"

Jason shook his head, but could not tear his eyes away. Lijah had his hair tied back today, pulling it off of his neck and away from his face. There was sweat around his hairline, sticking strands of hair to him in tiny swirls and lines. His freckles were more pronounced in the daylight, and his tanned skin almost glowed, even in the shade of the trees. To Jason, this view was much more appealing than the lake.

"Alrighty then," Lijah said, shrugging it off, "Anyway, I just wanted to say hi since I saw you hanging around up here, but I gotta get back to my group. I'm seeing you tonight, right?"

Jason nodded fervently, excited by every second he got to spend with Lijah. Lijah smiled broadly and waved as he set off back to the camp.

"See you later, Jase!" he called.

Jason gave a small wave back, his stomach full of butterflies. He decided he didn't care why he was feeling this way or what it was about Lijah he liked so much. He felt immeasurably and inexplicably happy for the first time in a long time and he didn't want to overthink it. After all, wasn't that what his mother wanted for him?

-------------------------------------------------

Jason returned to cabin 5 that evening a little earlier than planned. The sun had set, but the sky was still relatively light and the camp was winding down from the day. Jason looked through the bedroom window, but Lijah was not in there yet. He tested the window to see if it was unlocked, and to his luck, it was. He checked his surroundings to ensure no one would see him struggle to squeeze through the narrow opening. It was embarrassing enough that Lijah had to see it last night. The coast was clear, so Jason pushed himself into the bedroom, nearly getting stuck in the process. Once inside, he straightened up and closed the window so bugs would not get in. It struck him as he looked around that he was in Lijah's private room alone.

A little snooping couldn't hurt, right? Jason allowed his eagerness to drive his actions as he explored Lijah's room. He first looked in the dresser drawers to see what other clothes Lijah had besides his work shirts and shorts. From the brief snoop, it seemed that Lijah liked light, muted colors and pants with deep pockets. He also seemed to be a fan of chunky bracelets and wristbands, probably to camouflage and support his delicate wrists.

From there, Jason moved to the books on top of the dresser. Adventure novels, a couple college textbooks in the subjects Lijah had specified as his course of study, some notebooks, including the one Jason had used to communicate with last night, and one romance, all paperbacks that looked well used. Curious about the romance novel, Jason flipped through the pages. Mother never had these kinds of books at home, so he wasn't sure what to expect. His eyes fell upon a passage that described a kiss between the heroine and her strapping, yet emotionally manipulative love interest:

"...her cerulean orbs meeting his stormy grey ones in a passionate stare before their lips collided in a kiss so fiery, so full of desire, it would warm the hardened coals of even Wyatt's darkened heart. Charlie swooned into his massive arms, surrendering herself to his rough touch. Wyatt growled into the kiss, his stubble scratchy against her smooth face, but not unbearable. He gripped the back of her neck possessively, but Charlie knew it was part of his insecurity in that he never wanted to let her go. Funny, she thought before the intensity of the kiss forced her mind to become a blank slate of ecstasy, He won't talk about his abandonment issues, but I can feel them here in his kiss..."

Jason set the book down, frowning. Did Lijah really see himself in this Wyatt character? It didn't seem right, but it probably wasn't important. Jason turned instead to the notebooks, but they were mostly blank aside from sparse doodles, camp schedules, and Jason's shaky handwriting. He put the notebooks back where they were and opened the door to the rest of the cabin.

Across from this door was the door to the bathroom, but Jason didn't need that at the moment, so he ignored it and proceeded left down a short hallway to the living area. The hallway opened up to a tiny kitchen and dinette on the right and an ancient, faded couch with a rickety coffee table and an old antenna TV and VCR atop it. This area was not as bright and full of Lijah's personality as the bedroom was, but Jason figured that was to be expected. His own bedroom at home was a reflection of what few interests and hobbies he had. The bedroom was a sanctuary for the individual, and held a piece of their soul. At least, that's what a bedroom should be. Mother had told Jason all about the filthy, lecherous activities young people would get up to in bedrooms. Only a married couple should share a bed, she had told him. It was a sin otherwise.

Feeling slightly hungry, Jason made for the short refrigerator, needing to squat down to see its contents. A couple sandwiches wrapped in plastic occupied one shelf with a handful of apples on the lower shelf, some cans of soda on the door. Jason reached for one of each, hoping to finish them before Lijah returned to avoid accidentally showing him his face. He brought the food to the couch and sat down, his weight causing the seat to sink lower than it was meant to. He removed his mask and devoured the sandwich and apple as quickly as he could, feeling somewhat like a ravenous raccoon. He cracked open the soda can and chugged it, realizing too late that it was a bad idea to drink a carbonated beverage so fast. Bubbles surged up through his nose and he sputtered, covering his face so he did not spray soda everywhere. He coughed and gagged, but the feeling soon went away. He made a mental note to drink anything bubbly as slow as possible, but preferred the idea of never having soda again. It was too sweet for him anyway.

Finished with the meal, Jason located a small trash can at one end of the kitchen and disposed of the remains. He pulled his mask back on just as he heard the front door to the cabin open. He tensed, preparing for a fight, but it was Lijah, alone, who gave a start upon seeing Jason's towering figure in his living room.

"Oh gosh, you got me again!" he cried out, laughing nervously, "You're here early."

Jason nodded once and watched as Lijah locked up and set down the pack he was carrying near the door.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, a tiredness in his voice that worried Jason. Would he be able to stay up tonight? Did he stay up too late last night? Jason shook his head and pointed to the refrigerator, silently telling Lijah he had found the food. Lijah yawned.

"Oh, good," he said, shuffling towards the bedroom, "Sorry, I'm a little worn out from today. We can still hang out, but I might crash a little earlier than last night if that's okay."

Jason nodded and followed him. Lijah turned to the dresser and tilted his head at the stack of books.

"You checked out the romance novel?" he asked, disbelief in his voice, "Huh, didn't see that one coming. It's not very good, but it was free, so I figured why not, y'know?"

So Lijah didn't choose that book for the plot, Jason realized. That made much more sense. Lijah opened the drawers and retrieved a stack of clothes, brushing by Jason to head to the bathroom.

"You can relax in the bedroom if you want for about fifteen minutes while I shower," he said, stifling another yawn, "I'll try to get my bedtime routine done quick so we have some time together."

Jason had no problem with waiting for him to prepare for bed. He was happy just to be in the same building with him and not anxiously wonder where he was like before. Jason sat on the edge of the bed, having grabbed the notebook and pencil he'd used yesterday in preparation for the conversation he would be having tonight. He heard the shower turn on in the bathroom, and an unwelcome thought of what Lijah looked like in there sprung into Jason's mind. Startled by this, Jason shook himself. What was he thinking? His mother's warning about college aged young adults surfaced and he wondered, horrified, if these thoughts would consume his brain like the counselors he'd killed or if he could fight them and keep his head clear and pure. What would happen to him if he couldn't get rid of them?

Jason struggled with this fear until the sound of the water stopped and he heard Lijah moving around in the bathroom. He squeezed the edges of the notebook to ground himself. What would Mother say if she knew what he was thinking about? Realistically, she would probably forbid him from coming back here and have him read Bible passages until the thoughts went away. Mother knew what was best for Jason.

Lijah entered the room once he was done in the bathroom, his hair still damp and his cheeks slightly flushed from the steam. He wore a loose fitting navy blue t-shirt with an unfamiliar logo on the chest and green plaid boxers. He brought with him a wonderful, clean scent of shampoo and mint flavored toothpaste. Jason wrote on a fresh page of the notebook,

"feel better?"

Lijah hummed in agreement, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders softly popped.

"Nothing like a hot shower to take the day off and get you ready for bed," he said, climbing up onto the mattress next to Jason, "How's your day been?"

Jason thought about it, but didn't want to be too honest that he had pretty much just been waiting all day for this meeting. He wrote,

"did alot of walking. liked what u said about the bully. ur really good with kids."

Lijah waved him off modestly.

"Aw, that wasn't just me," he replied sheepishly, "I can't take all the credit. All of us counselors worked together on that. They're a good group of people. I'm glad I got the chance to work with them."

Jason tilted his head to one side, his interest piqued by this statement. So all the counselors were good, not just Lijah? Would Jason even need to kill anyone this year, or had the nightmare of wicked counselors finally ended? He wondered what his life would become if he didn't come here to kill every summer. It would probably be much like last year, quiet and content with his mother, having everything they needed and just going day to day, living the life she built for them. But Jason knew he couldn't live that life now. He wanted his life to include his new friend, and he wasn't sure how he could do that, with Lijah going back to college at the end of the summer and moving into an apartment somewhere probably far away.

Lijah tilted his head to mirror Jason and catch his attention.

"What's on your mind, big guy?" he asked. Jason considered his next few words and decided to avoid the topic. He wrote,

"u said u had a sister rite? tell me about her?"

Lijah's entire face lit up with a huge smile and his joy was so infectious, Jason couldn't resist matching the expression.

"Phoebe!" he exclaimed, "She's the best little sister anyone could hope for. We're thirteen years apart, so I'm pretty protective of her, and it was really hard for me to go away to college and leave her behind. I call home once a week and send her letters every month of cool stuff I've learned or seen. She likes bugs and dolls and dinosaurs. Our parents won't let her see Jurassic Park though - that's a scary movie about dinosaurs - but I think she can handle it. She's a tough kid. Definitely way tougher than I was at her age. I used to get beat up in school for being, uh, different."

Jason felt a surge of protectiveness for Lijah, though he didn't know who had hurt him. How could anyone even want to hurt someone like Lijah? He curled his fingers into the bedspread, fists shaking with anger. Lijah noticed and addressed it,

"Hey, it was years ago; don't worry about it! Besides, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'd rather solve my problems with communication than violence."

Jason nodded and forced himself to relax. What was he going to do anyway? Find the bullies and kill them even though they probably haven't been anywhere near Lijah in years? Stupid. Jason tried to explain his thoughts by writing,

"sorry bullies make me real mad. i got bullied to."

Lijah offered a sympathetic look. He moved a hand towards Jason, but rethought the action and stopped, biting his lip.

"I bet they wouldn't mess with you now though!" he said instead, trying to look at the bright side, "I bet they'd take one look at how tall and muscular you got and run away. The machete helps too."

Jason grimaced under the mask. That probably wouldn't be the only reason they ran away...Still, Lijah meant well and he couldn't blame him for trying. It was more effort than anyone had put in before, and that was worth something.

-------------------------------------------------

The conversation continued for a short while, but Lijah soon began nodding off. In one of their quiet moments, Jason looked over and saw Lijah slumped on his pillows, sound asleep. Jason sighed and took that as his cue to leave. He rose from the bed and set down the notebook on the dresser. He looked back at Lijah, bemused by his awkwardly scrunched limbs and his face pressed unflatteringly into the pillows, before turning off the light and leaving through the window to let him sleep.

It was moments like these that Jason was beginning to dislike his heightened energy levels during night time. It worked great for serial killing, but not so much for spending time with a friend. But he was beginning to have a hope and some confidence that things would work out and that he and Lijah would find some sort of rhythm together.

[capricornsicle]

I have a feeling your ask box and I are going to be familiar. You might be hot-taked out after that killer Satomi discourse. But whenever you’ve got it in you, I’d sure love to hear what you think about Kira and her Jeff-deemed-absolutely-necessary departure.

Oh, definitely. And I do love content, so...

Kira Yukimura was done so dirty by the writers and Jeffrey “I’m not racist I’ll prove it by arguing to poc calling me out for it on twitter” Davis. Her treatment was racist, tokenizing, and it wasn’t even high-brow racism. It was sloppy and lazy. If you’re gonna write all your characters of color off the show, commit to it. She went to the desert like 5 times before she stayed. Cowards.

Kira was only meant to be on the show for the Nogitsune storyline in 3b. However, fans liked her so much that, as with Theo in season 6, she was brought back for more episodes. The difference is that Cody Christian is white-passing and male and Arden Cho is not. Female characters don’t exist on Teen Wolf without a relationship to a male character. Hayden existed for Liam. Tracy existed for Theo. Melissa existed for Scott and Argent. Allison existed for Scott. Lydia, the female character with the most screentime of all of them, spent a lot of her time existing in relationship to Jackson, Stiles, Parrish (shudder), and other male main characters. Women on the show were reduced to love interests and mothers more often than not, and Kira was the same.

I loved her character. I loved her arc. I loved Arden Cho, who in real life is as sweet and kind as her character. I enjoyed her parents, both Noshiko, who’s surprisingly funny and a total badass, and Ken, who’s the most wholesome man in the universe. The only straight man we stan. I love him.

Anyways, Kira was getting a fun arc outside of being Scott’s girlfriend, with her parents and her powers and all, and then wham, white-passing boy shows up and no more main character status for Kira. Guess there wasn’t enough room to keep the only interesting plot line of all the ones happening in s5. Personally, I would have chosen Kira over the Marrish garbage fire of underage relationships, but that’s just me.

Then. The Skinwalkers. I could write a whole essay about them, but this is a Kira post, so I’ll limit it to her. At least Luther got sent to the moon for a reason. Kira got sent to the desert for “rEaSoNs”. There was no indication that her power was out of control, but every indication it wasn’t. She was growing and learning. Then, suddenly, she was “too powerful” so she had to go to the desert and disappear for a few episodes and then go back and forth for a while before they wrapped up sending Theo to the upside down or wherever he went and she could finally go... hang out with the people who we were told could help her control her power but who only threw spears at her and gave her a season finale ex machina. Then back to the desert with you!

You can tell something was going on backstage in her treatment. Arden Cho wasn’t informed she was being cut, she had to be told by fans. Her departure was carried out as swiftly as possible, and not for any real reason. Kira would have been tremendously helpful against the hunters and in a lot of later scenes, against the Ghost Riders (and let me remind everyone that KIRA WAS THE ONE WHO TOLD LYDIA ABOUT THE WILD HUNT), against pretty much anything. Immune to electrocution? Don’t help with the hunters who love electrocuting people. Sloppy writing through and through.

And what’s more is that Kira was cut just in time for the Scalia thing, which was so fucking rushed oh my GOD nothing has ever been less natural- this is a Kira post, calm down capsicle. Anyways, Kira got replaced as Scott’s love interest and not much else by a white girl, no hate on Malia or Shelley but much on the writers. I loved Malia and Kira’s friendship, and if anyone should have gotten with Malia, it should have been Kira. (The first time I saw Malia I wondered if we were getting another ambiguously brown character, actually, but no, just Georgian and well-tanned. But I bet not all my followers knew Tracy was played by a Chinese and Cherokee actor. Or that Nolan was played by a Mexican and Caxcan actor. Or that Theo was played by a Penobscot Native actor. The list goes on of white-passing POC who got to stay marginally longer than Black or brown characters.) The “Scott ends up with a white girl he has no chemistry with” threw me for many loops, especially after I was surprised to find myself liking Scira, even though I’m usually bored by straight relationships because of their one-sided focus and nonexistent chemistry. Kira got to be a character outside of Scott, and I liked their romance better for it, and then desert for a thousand years!

TLDR on the canon end of things is that Kira and Arden were done dirty by a group of powerful white men who wanted to tell a cishet white story.

Now, on the fandom end of things, I’m stepping into the real hot water. It’s safe to say that Kira’s story was sloppy and Arden didn’t deserve that ending, but it’s less safe to say that this fandom doesn’t treat her that well either. Here’s the most popular x Scott ships on Ao3, under the Teen Wolf tag with no other filters.

Scott and Allison. Scott and Stiles. Scott and Isaac. Then Scott and Kira, in dead last. Scott and Malia don’t even make the top ships list, probably because of how rushed and sloppy it was, but I digress.

People love Scott and Allison a lot, and I get that. I liked her too. I was also sad when she died. But, unlike a lot of sentiment I see in this fandom, I don’t think she should have been brought back to fight the beast in season 5 and get back with Scott. Not only do I think bringing characters back to life without very good reason and explanation (which they wouldn’t have, come on) cheapens their death, and that bringing characters back to life is weak storytelling in general, but let’s recall that Scira is still a thing in season 5. They’re still madly in love when Kira leaves. Allison should not have come back and love-triangled so Kira could be written off for a different white girl or so the massive amount of young white girls in the fandom who love Allison would be angry at Kira for breaking up their OTP. That would have been the one thing that could have made season 5 worse. (Well, they could have made Marrish a thing or killed Mason, but Jeff Davis thought about it and a shiver went down his spine because the ghost of Christmas future hears my name in its nightmares.)

Even if people aren’t “bring Allison back” campers, they largely ignore Kira’s entire existence. People who post gifsets and posts about Allison or Lydia don’t give anywhere near the same amount of attention to Kira. I see more Malia posts, actually. And while all of them had more runtime than Kira, none of them paired with Scott quite as perfectly, or had such strong independent storylines. Lydia almost did, but it kept petering out and she kept going back to main plot only. I see lots of appreciation posts for Allison and Lydia and Malia and the men, obviously, but NOTHING for Kira or Arden Cho. We all know what happened backstage because we read the same post in 2016 or whenever and then we all stopped talking about it.

Even the racism in this fandom skips Kira. Scott antis, I’m looking (controversially) at you. I’m glad Kira isn’t the subject of a bunch of obvious racism (as much as “bring Allison back!” makes it subtle), but not because she’s a forgotten side character. Kira made the main credit sequence! She has a sword! What else could you all POSSIBLY want?

And here’s where I burn at the stake: Kira was written off her own damn “look Fun Japanese mythology” storyline half the time so it could center around Stiles. A white boy. There were numerous issues with the mythology before that — “Oni” means demon, not “firefly samurai ninja”, and it refers to a similar mythology as the western “fae”, a large collection of creatures benevolent, malevolent, and in between, with different traits and origins. Kitsunes are meant to be red or white, not gold, and they’re foxes, not cats, animation team. “Nogitsune” refers to the malevolent class of “low” Kitsune, or “wild” Kitsune, who didn’t align themselves with the goddess Inari and do divine and pious work. There are many of them and the most they really do is harass people at shrines, not murder indiscriminately for funsies. They’re only malevolent in that they like doing bad deeds, not that they’re serial killers. And they’re not one of the usual 13 low Kitsune, two of which are bad of their own accord! (Spirit and Air. Google it!) They are meant to be dealt with by Inari-aligned high Kitsune, not your average tricky fox. Among other things.

So Stiles. Outside of the Kira storyline, he’s used in a lot of fandom discourse about racism and sexism. And queerbaiting. Y’all love a scrawny white boy. Anyways, Stiles gets possessed by the Nogitsune (that’s NOT how that works but okay Jeffrey) and suddenly s3 is about him. Kira’s not evil, now let’s look at Stiles being tired and messy and killing people. Dylan #1 did a great job playing that part, no hate on him, but the fact that a white boy became the main character in a Japanese (or Korean, if you’re Jeff, same thing) girl’s storyline is. Hmm. How do you call it? Blatant racism. And erasure. Which is racism. YIKES, Jeff. There is so much wrong with Stiles being the Nogitsune and controlling the Oni and his whole story (and oh my god the other guy who got possessed was also a white boy instead of a Japanese character played by the same actress Jesus fucking Christ). I’m not going into that, because that’s its own essay.

Anyways, because of how much this fandom loves Stiles, it’s easy to ignore how Kira and Japanese characters were treated. People project onto Stiles with glee. He’s white. He’s awkward. He’s (supposedly) not super attractive. (Yikes.) He’s ditzy and bouncy and all that fun stuff, but he also always saves the day. He got written off for most of 6b and he still saved the stupid day. And hey, dark!Stiles (let’s not get into calling him dark instead of Nogitsune that’s just too much wine we’d have to crack open to say it) is a fun trope and people like posting and creating about him. Except that he’s the white boy who took Kira’s storyline. Her independent story about Kitsune and the like was all given over to him, not just by the show, but by the fandom. So now every post about Kitsune is a Stiles post, even if it started with Kira. And because it’s Stiles, and this fandom loves him, and is easily offended by people leaning too hard on the glass house around them and him, Kira gets forgotten and swept aside. Everyone would rather talk about Stiles. Who is incapable of bad. Or cultural appropriation. But if you attack him you’re being ableist because he has ADHD. This is why I relate to Nolan for anxiety feels instead.

TLDR on the fandom end, y’all don’t treat Kira better than the show did. I see a few posts here and there from some dedicated users — typically the same people posting about Boyd, Deaton, Morrell, yeah that’s it I’m the only one posting about Kali. (Un-fun fact: Kali was not played by an Indian actor, but by a half-Black actor. Jeff Davis, when called out on twitter, said “wow ok idiots we tried to find an Indian actress but it was hard actually SUPER hard so shut up and stop telling me how to write MY show”, which is paraphrasing with intent to make fun, but exactly what he said.) Y’all who know about Arden and Kira should diversify your blogs to include more POC, especially ones where the actor AND character were rudely sidelined for vague white people reasons. Post gifs of Kira along with Allison, Lydia, and Malia. Post ship stuff of Scira too. Post about kitsunes, the origin story of the Nogitsune, when you post about the white boy who became the main character of that arc. Call the show out. Call the fandom out. Stop making every bit and piece of her story about Czechoslovakia White Boy. Demand Kira in any future runs of the show, if season 7 or whatever does happen. Include her in your fanfictions, in your headcanons, in your art. You don’t have to love her, but you have to remember that she’s as there as any of the white characters are.

This take is very hot. If I receive racist asks and/or messages about this, I’m going to make fun of each and every sender.

[keldae]

Facing Vengeance

There was nowhere on Odessen that was completely private, it seemed. Yet by this point, most of the base’s occupants seemed to know that if Comman-- no, if Master Taerich was walking around with that particular worried frown on her face, to just leave her be and let Lana, or Theron, or Sorand sort out whatever the problem was. 

Right now, Xaja had a feeling that not even the combined skills of her husband, her closest advisor, and her brother could solve this problem for her. And hells, she felt even more anxious thinking about how Theron was going to take the grim news that Kira and Scourge had given her.

She stepped out onto a small balcony, overseeing the new construction of off-base buildings for the military families starting to form, and sighed heavily. Even Odessen’s cheerily bright sunshine couldn’t break through the clouds of worry in her mind. Bracing her weight on her hands, she leaned against the railing to watch with unseeing eyes, her mind racing with trying to strategize for the task ahead, and trying to form contingency plans in the event that -- no, she couldn’t fail, not now, not with these stakes.

It could have been ten minutes, or it could have been two hours, before she sensed a warm, familiar presence behind her, along with the heavy bootsteps of someone a foot taller than her. She could sense the avalanche of questions Theron had for her, but he remained quiet, watching her with a frown she could feel, even with her back turned to him.

She sighed again, and finally spoke, her voice quiet. “They found the ship.” With the Force enhancing her senses, she could feel the way Theron’s breath caught in his chest, despite his trying to hide it.

Silence lingered for a moment after her words, then the bootsteps approached her, and a heavy hand settled on her shoulder. Honestly, Xaja wasn’t sure if Theron’s touch was him trying to comfort her, or if he was trying to reassure himself that she, at least, was all right, for now. Perhaps both. “Any other news?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the worry out of his voice. Perhaps to anyone else, he could have fooled them into thinking he was aloof and detached… but Xaja knew her husband far too well.

She shook her head, frowning. “No. Scourge thinks the… problem is worsening, but it’s impossible to confirm that this far out.” Another heavy sigh, as though the weight of the galaxy itself rested on Xaja’s shoulders… which, in her opinion, wasn’t too far off from the truth. It was a burden she would never fully grow used to carrying “We won’t know for certain until… until we get there.” She glanced up at Theron’s amber eyes, clouded with worry, then looked back down the valley. Almost of its own will, her hand reached up and found his fingers; she squeezed tightly, and felt him squeeze back just as hard. “We’ll be leaving soon to intercept it.”

“How soon is ‘soon’?” Theron asked, determinedly keeping his voice somewhat light despite his worry.

“Kira’s getting the Serenity fuelled up as we speak.”

“... I see.” Another pause, before Theron spoke again. “I should come with--”

“Theron, you know why I can’t let you come with us,” Xaja said, finally turning to face Theron directly, never letting go of his hand. “You’ve never had him in your head… you don’t have any protection from him.”

“He’s dead,” Theron argued.

“And still as deadly now as he was when he was still alive! If your own mother had no defense against him…” The reminder of what Satele Shan’s fate could be made Xaja falter for a moment, dread stilling her tongue at the reminder of what was happening to her old mentor, and the grandmother of her child. 

“It’s my mother on that ship,” Theron protested. “I need to be there!”

“Where you need to be is safe here, on Odessen, with Daenril!” 

“Between your dad and Senya always keeping an eye on him…”

“He still needs his daddy.”

“And he still needs his mama. I’m not letting you--”

“Right now, his mama is the best shot for saving his grandma.” Xaja felt unshed tears choking up her voice as she looked away from Theron’s eyes for a moment. “... And I can’t lose you again, Theron. I can’t!” Her eyes fell to his abdomen, despite herself -- even a year after rescuing Theron off Nathema, the image of that terrible lightsaber wound that had nearly killed him was burned into her memory.

“What the hells makes you think I can lose you?”

Xaja didn't answer that… at least, not by continuing the argument. A bitter, broken laugh escaped her as she ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "How fucked up are we that this is a regular fight with us?"

"I kinda envy couples whose biggest fights extend to chores, now that you mention it." Theron stepped toward, enough to wrap his arms around Xaja's back and pull her into a tight hug. She gladly melted into his touch, resting her cheek against his chest, tracking the breaths she could feel him take, reminding her that he was alive and safe. Silence lingered for a moment before he spoke again, his voice quiet. "I don't like this. I feel like I need to be there. It… it is my mother." That was probably the closest he would get to admitting his fear for Satele.

"And you know why we can't risk it. Scourge, Kira, and I are the only ones with any immunity to Valk-- Viti-- Tenebr-- fuckit, whatever his name is." That bastard had had far too many names to keep track of. "We're not even bringing Arcann on this -- it's too great a risk." Tilting her head up, Xaja caressed Theron's cheek, feeling stubble against her fingertips. "I'm not going to put you in danger like that."

Theron sighed, covering her hand with his own. "I get it. But it doesn't mean I like it."

"Believe me, I don't like it either--" She straightened as she sensed another bright presence approaching, and glanced to the side as Kira appeared on the end of the ramp. "What's up?"

"All fuelled up and ready to go, boss." Kira flicked a little wave at Theron, then turned her attention back to her former Master. "Scourge is ready to head out five minutes ago."

Three hundred years of life, and apparently he'd used up his life's allotment of patience. Although, at the prospect of destroying what was left of the Emperor, for what had to be the final time... "Be there in a minute," Xaja confirmed, and watched Kira dart away. She then looked back to Theron and tugged him down to rest her forehead against his own. "It'll work out," she murmured, forcing herself to sound vaguely optimistic. To judge from Theron's quiet sigh, she'd failed.

"Whatever happens…" he finally whispered, "... even if you can't save Satel-- save my mother… make sure you come home. I can't lose you." The Force around him flickered with anxiety and fear he was barely keeping suppressed. "Come back to me."

"I will," Xaja promised as she stretched up to kiss him. Inwardly, she tried to shove down her own dread at the upcoming peril she was flying into. This parting from Theron wouldn't be another five year separation, right? Surely the Force didn’t hate her that much? "I love you, spyboy."

"I love you too." Theron gave her a small attempt at a smile, then leaned in to kiss her again. "Be safe."

Returning the smile, Xaja nodded, then reluctantly stepped back from Theron, forcing herself to finally turn and hurry down the ramp. The galaxy still wasn't going to save itself… and her old mentor couldn't save herself this time. This has got to be the last time we deal with anything connected to that bastard. Force, I can’t keep doing this...

She could see Theron still standing there, watching, as she piloted the Serenity up and out of Odessen's atmosphere minutes later.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

OC Enneagram types!

@nade2308 I haven't been able to stop thinking about doing this since the Enneagram conversation came up in the Discord, so here it is! My seven main characters (sorry, Rowan, I'm not confident enough to type a tree just yet) and their Enneagram types, plus a short explanation and some quotes about their basic type and wing!

Robin - 4w3 As a basic type of a 4, Robin sees himself as fundamentally different from other people. He isn't sure how to fit into the world, since his dual fae-human nature leaves him feeling on the outside of all of it. He feels broken and incomplete, and keeps trying to create a place that he fits. The 4 tendency to imagine a world where they can belong led him to idealize the hunter world and want to join it like his father, despite his grandfather's warnings against it. The 3 side of his personality is also involved in the effort to fit in, to make himself into an acceptable version that people will like. “Fours feel that they are unlike other human beings, and consequently, that no one can understand them or love them adequately. They often see themselves as uniquely talented, possessing special, one-of-a-kind gifts, but also as uniquely disadvantaged or flawed. More than any other type, Fours are acutely aware of and focused on their personal differences and deficiencies...Healthy Fours are willing to reveal highly personal and potentially shameful things about themselves because they are determined to understand the truth of their experience—so that they can discover who they are and come to terms with their emotional history. This ability also enables Fours to endure suffering with a quiet strength. Their familiarity with their own darker nature makes it easier for them to process painful experiences that might overwhelm other types.” “Threes learn to perform in ways that will garner them praise and positive attention.” John - 6w5 John is deeply tied to his roots, following the family tradition of becoming a hunter with no question of whether or not that was what he wanted to do. To him, duty is the highest thing to seek after, and individual personal goals must always be secondary to what has to be done. the 5 side of his identity comes into play in his work; John feels a sense of pride in working from the shadows, knowing about vampires but hiding that secret from the larger world for its own protection. Like his great-grandfather, he's the sort of person who seeks out a person to be devoted to. Until his brother died, Gabe was the tethering force in John's life. After his death, John drifted away from his home, searching for a new connection, but struggling to find it. “Sixes are the most loyal to their friends and to their beliefs. They will “go down with the ship” and hang on to relationships of all kinds far longer than most other types.”Wanting to feel that there is something solid and clear-cut in their lives, they can become attached to explanations or positions that seem to explain their situation. Once they establish a trustworthy belief, they do not easily question it, nor do they want others to do so. The same is true for individuals in a Six’s life: once Sixes feel they can trust someone, they go to great lengths to maintain connections with the person who acts as a sounding board, a mentor, or a regulator for the Six’s emotional reactions and behavior.” “Investigating "unknown territory"—knowing something that others do not know, or creating something that no one has ever experienced—allows Fives to have a niche for themselves that no one else occupies.” Kira - 5w4 Knowing she would struggle to fit into normal society because of her deafness, Kira seeks to make herself important to others by making discoveries and creating new things. She often called on the 5 tendency to rely on their knowledge and curiosity in her classes, and made a name for herself as the smart girl, not just the Deaf girl. Her passion for strange and new fields of study allowed her to keep an open mind when she first learned of the existence of vampires, and also helped her delve deeply into the lore surrounding them when she became a vigilante hunter. As she's grown, Kira has become more in touch with the 4 side of herself as well, accepting her uniqueness and seeing that as a gift. “Behind Fives’ relentless pursuit of knowledge are deep insecurities about their ability to function successfully in the world.  Fives “take a step back” into their minds where they feel more capable. Their belief is that from the safety of their minds they will eventually figure out how to do things—and one day rejoin the world. Fives are not interested in exploring what is already familiar and well-established; rather, their attention is drawn to the unusual, the overlooked, the secret, the occult, the bizarre, the fantastic, the “unthinkable.” ” “Fours maintain their identity by seeing themselves as fundamentally different from others.” Cody - 2w3 Cody is at heart a giver. He grew up being the friend Robin needed, and that was such a formative part of his identity that when Robin left Rowan House to become a hunter, Cody felt adrift. As the youngest child of his family, he'd relied on his friendship with Robin as an outlet for his need to be useful and needed, since his siblings didn't seem to want the nurturing. Since then, he's channeled that into his work, where he enjoys helping people find the information or books or other help that they need at the library. While he's very selfless, Cody is also ambitious, deeply driven to create stories that he can share with the world. His drive to become a published, successful author is the main evidence of his 3 wing. "Being generous and going out of their way for others makes Twos feel that theirs is the richest, most meaningful way to live. The love and concern they feel—and the genuine good they do—warms their hearts and makes them feel worthwhile. Twos are most interested in what they feel to be the “really, really good” things in life—love, closeness, sharing, family, and friendship. Healthy Twos are the embodiment of “the good parent”: someone who sees [people] as they are, understands them with immense compassion, helps and encourages with infinite patience, and is always willing to lend a hand—while knowing precisely how and when to let go." "Threes are often successful and well liked because, of all the types, they most believe in themselves and in developing their talents and capacities. Threes want to make sure their lives are a success, however that is defined by their family, their culture, and their social sphere. No matter how success is defined, Threes will try to become somebody noteworthy in their family and their community." Maira - 9w8 Maira's basic 9 type has allowed her to navigate her world by finding the paths of lesser resistance. She's wise enough to know when to back down and seek another route to her goal, and this has gotten her far in her world. People respect her shrewd 'chess match' movements, but also like her as a person since she has managed to maintain a reputation of being even-handed, understanding, and willing to seek negotiated solutions. But making the mistake of thinking Maira is a pushover is a dangerous one. Her 8 side is strongest when she encounters an injustice or cruelty. Maira has her breaking point, and woe to the person who pushes her over it. "Peacemakers are the skilled mediators and counsellors in a group of friends or coworkers. They work hard behind the scenes in order to keep the group harmony steady and flowing. As children, they knew how to get along with each classmate, making them a great addition to any group project. They can easily see the many different sides to an issue and tend not to jump to conclusions quickly, if at all. Complacent and humble, Peacemakers are stable and gentle, willing to go the extra mile to avoid rocking the boat. Soft-spoken yet firm in their personal stances, they make an effort to neutralize tension and restore group harmony." "Eights have enormous willpower and vitality, and they feel most alive when they are exercising these capacities in the world. They use their abundant energy to effect changes in their environment—to “leave their mark" on it—but also to keep the environment, and especially other people, from hurting them and those they care about. At an early age, Eights understand that this requires strength, will, persistence, and endurance—qualities that they develop in themselves and which they look for in others." Emma - 5w6 Emma's 5 tendency to acquire esoteric knowledge is one of the reasons she's risen so rapidly in vampire society since her turning. She's learned a great deal about herself and her fellow vampires, and she uses that knowledge to her advantage. She's well known for being not only on the cutting edge of knowing what's happening in the city, but for being able to analyze that information and interpret what it will mean for the vampire community and the wider city population. Her 6 side is evident in her formation of a coven that accepts vampires who were not turned by its own members, giving outcasts or vampires who broke free from their sires like her a place of safety. "Fives think, “I am going to find something that I can do really well, and then I will be able to meet the challenges of life.” They therefore develop an intense focus on whatever they can master and feel secure about. Depending on their intelligence and the resources available to them, they focus intensely on mastering something that has captured their interest. Much of their time gets spent "collecting" and developing ideas and skills they believe will make them feel confident and prepared. They want to retain everything that they have learned and “carry it around in their heads.” " "Sixes rely on structures, allies, beliefs, and supports outside themselves for guidance to survive. If suitable structures do not exist, they will help create and maintain them." Arion - 7w8 Arion is perhaps the poster child of the dangerous side of the 7 type. A hedonistic pleasure seeker, he's driven by filling his life with whatever he enjoys. He has acquired a wide range of talents and interests. But his vampire bloodthirst is his most intense drive. Unlike some vampires who control and manage their impulses, Arion embraces them. He revels in the pleasure of drinking real blood, and sees nothing wrong with seeking it out. His 8 side makes him truly dangerous, because in addition to his craving for a life of comfort and ease, he has a powerful drive to do whatever it takes to attain that goal. While he is fully capable of luxuriating in his pleasures, he is also willing to temporarily put them aside in pursuit of one he believes will be even greater." "Sevens are enthusiastic about almost everything that catches their attention. They approach life with curiosity, optimism, and a sense of adventure, like “kids in a candy store” who look at the world in wide-eyed, rapt anticipation of all the good things they are about to experience. They are bold and vivacious, pursuing what they want in life with a cheerful determination. Sevens are compelled to stay on the go, moving from one experience to the next, searching for more stimulation." "Eights do not want to be controlled or to allow others to have power over them. Much of their behavior is involved with making sure that they retain and increase whatever power they have for as long as possible. They often refuse to “give in” to social convention, and they can defy fear, shame, and concern about the consequences of their actions. Although they are usually aware of what people think of them, they do not let the opinions of others sway them. They go about their business with a steely determination that can be awe inspiring, even intimidating to others."

Taglist: @nade2308 @cmvorra @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowing-river24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts @amarilloskies

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist for Magic & Silver stuff, just let me know! (Type description references taken from https://www.enneagraminstitute.com and https://www.truity.com/enneagram/9-types-enneagram) 

[greyias]

FIC: Watershed

Title: Watershed Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Angsty angst angst Synopsis: She has to wonder if maybe this was what that fabled ever after feels like from the stories. Where everyone flies off into the stars together, happy to the end of their days. Perhaps the wave will never find its shore, forever tumbling in this sea of bliss. Spoilers: So many spoilers. For the end of Onslaught and its epilogue. Like from almost the very first paragraph.

She can’t stop smiling. Her cheeks should ache from it, but her heart seems to be so overflowing with joy that it’s leaking out everywhere.

Perhaps it’s unbecoming for a member of the Jedi High Council, those who are to be so revered and wise that they inspire everyone around them to greatness. She can’t help it though. For the first time in a long, long time, everything feels like it has fallen into place. Even though there is war, it feels like things are genuinely starting to right themselves in the galactic sense. With Kira and Scourge’s return, her crew is whole again. The Republic is starting to resemble the place she’d grown up in, the Jedi Order is reforming and stars. They want her to help shape it. 

That still feels odd and wonderful and absolutely terrifying and she’d said yes, but only afterwards realized that she maybe should have said no. Grey had built a far different life after Zakuul had upended the galaxy — one where she tried to uphold the Jedi ideals that had shaped her life but… not all of them. It’s not exactly a secret that she had fallen in love and gotten married — to the son of the former Grand Master of the Order no less. Although when she thinks of Master Satele’s struggles with with family and detachment, and the effect it has had on the lives around her, perhaps there are some pieces of Jedi dogma that need to be addressed. Reshaped.

It should feel wrong to criticize her old mentor’s decisions, but as the physical embodiment of said decisions wraps his arms around her, all thoughts of self-recrimination and any second thoughts are immediately chased away as that all-encompassing euphoria washes over her again. Theron’s chin settles on her shoulder, his cheek pressing against hers as he pulls her close in the crush of the crowd at the bar. His close proximity sends a thrill through her as his voice rumbles low where only she can hear.

“What do you say we take this celebration somewhere more… private?”

His meaning carrying on the low, sultry tone and he way his fingers curl around her hip.

And as much as she loves being back with the Republic, celebrating their victories and renewed fellowship — it is too tempting of an offer to refuse. She could spend the entire trip back to Odessen getting lost in his arms, and probably to Lana’s eternal dismay probably will, but right now she just wants to ride his wave of elation until the very end. To whatever shore it crashes upon.

As she lay in his arms afterwards — sweaty, sated, exhausted, and still smiling like her face has gotten stuck this way — she has to wonder if maybe this was what that fabled ever after feels like from the stories. Where everyone flies off into the stars together, happy to the end of their days. Perhaps the wave will never find its shore, forever tumbling in this sea of bliss.

She is still caught up in it, even as she meets with Kira and Scourge to discuss the urgent matter they had spoken of on Carrick Station. Discussing their years long quest to find Valkorion—Tenebrae’s—original body to destroy it.

“When you purged the last of Valkorion from your mind,” Scourge says, “that is when his final weapon was unleashed. A Sith ritual, carved into the very flesh of his original body, unleashed an ancient plague from every molecule of his decaying corpse.”

“We were both knocked out cold,” Kira adds. “Comatose for… more than a year. Satele Shan was the one who finally pulled us out of that nightmare… and started a new one.”

The seemingly endlessly tumbling wave finally crashes ashore, the almost omnipresent effusion of joy scattering around her like droplets suspended in mid-air. Each of them chanting in unison, an endless stream of “no, no, no” as if that would somehow hold reality at bay. As if denial itself can stitch back together a false sense of peace for just a few moments more. Valkorion having built in one last ditch effort at enacting vengeance upon the galaxy is not the big surprise it should be. It is not the thing shattering her newfound happiness.

It is Master Satele. She had saved the last of Grey’s crew, bringing their odd little family back together at long last. But in rescuing Kira and Scourge from the from the disease rotting off the flesh of Tenebrae’s corpse, Satele has gotten herself snared in that monster’s web. The thought of her old friend, her old mentor, Theron’s mother, slowly fading to illness and her mind being overtaken by not just darkness but some remnant of Valkorion is… it’s smothering. For a moment, it just roots her to the spot, that feeling of being trapped in her own mind, darkness pressing in from every side as a malevolent entity tries to pick apart every piece of her soul and restitch it into something grotesque and unnatural.

Her fingers unconsciously stray to the hilts of her lightsabers. They smooth across the beautiful patterned swirls, etched into the metal over a lifetime ago. The action is as grounding now as it had been the first time that Satele had laid them in her hands. Back when the first time Grey had emerged from the darkness, and her mentor’s kindness had been a light to guide the way. And now it seemed… it was time to repay that kindness in turn.

She tries to take in a deep, calming breath, but the sound of air rushing in her nose just makes a whistling noise. It doesn’t sound at all like Theron’s name, but that’s all she can hear. The need to find him, talk to him is all that fills her. He needs to know what’s happening. This is his mother, he needs to be involved in this process somehow. This isn’t just her decision, this is their family and—

Scourge is still talking.

Talking about failsafes. Last ditch efforts to keep Valkorion’s last plague on the galaxy from spreading. The part of her that is logical, the part of her that is a Jedi, knows that he’s correct. The need to contain the contagion must ought weigh the part of her that is desperate to save Satele. To try and save Theron from knowing the pain of what it’s like to lose a parent. To spare him the emptiness that follows Grey around every day, unable to ask for her own mother’s opinion or advice or just one last smile. The bond between Theron and Satele is different—strained at best—she knows that. But it’s still there. And it’s worth fighting for all the same.

There’s a small part of her that almost doesn’t want to tell him. That wants to keep this quiet and between her and Kira and Scourge. To handle this herself and just let him know when the matter is settled for good or for ill. It’s a selfish and immature part of her, built out of fear and insecurity. Fear over Theron’s reaction, insecurity of being able to control him. She knows firsthand the lengths he’s willing to go to save those he loves, how he can put himself in danger because he doesn’t think. Just reacts. The thought of him rushing headlong onto an infected ship and getting himself pulled under the same disease as Satele makes her breath hitch, squeezes around her chest like a vice. As much as she wants to spare him the pain of losing his mother, she knows she cannot lose him again. Especially not to Valkorion’s last vengeance.

It is a selfish, quicksilver desire trying to masquerade as protection. To try and control him with misinformation, even if it is to keep him safe, are not the actions of a trusting partner. There’s only the briefest, fleeting thought of the irony of her keeping him in the dark as she embarks on a dangerous mission in order to keep him safe. She squashes it just as quickly, because that is not love either. It is pettiness. To try and draw parallels between this situation and his decision to go undercover is trying to justify a wrongful action. And it is also not unlike comparing muja to a sphere-fruit as the situations are not the same at all.

She lets that desire go, for it is not the actions of a wife, a partner in all things. Nor of a Jedi, but that is only secondary. Maybe even tertiary. She and Theron made their vows to each other, and she will not walk back on them because of her own insecurities and fears. If she is to trust him, and she does, she really, really does, then she will trust him with the truth. Will trust that he can be honest with her in return. And that they will face this together.

He finds her waiting on the couch in their quarters. Feet pulled up in an awkward attempt at failed meditation to calm her nerves. Calm her racing mind and twisting gut. His clever eyes take in the scene, the casual grin slipping from his face as soon as his eyes meet hers. She wonders again if she’s doing the right thing. They’ve both been so happy — he deserves to keep that, doesn’t he? Let one of them float along in this bliss. However it’s just another excuse to try and keep him from pain. To delay being the one to deliver it. She doesn’t want to hurt him. Even in her darkest moments she’s never wanted to hurt him.

Besides, they’ve already been down this road before. Hiding the truth in an attempt to protect each other makes things worse in the long run. It just brings more pain on both parties.

“You okay?” he asks, expression scrunching up in concern.

“Theron, come sit down.”

His brows furrow further, lips pressing together as he crosses the room. His once-easy gait transforming on his approach, spine straightening, shoulders bunching up as if he’s coiling up in defense. Even as he takes his seat next to her, it’s quick, perfunctory, rather than an inelegant flop across her lap when he’s free of cares. 

“What’s wrong?” The question is quiet, filled with such soft concern that she feels something twinge in her chest.

“Please just listen to me first,” she says, “before you do anything.”

“Of course.” 

He just looks so earnest and worried as he folds his hands over hers in a gesture so sweet and caring that it nearly undoes her. No one else sees this side of him. Most think he’s only made of up of snark, work, and seriousness. He’s sometimes let others see a slightly more carefree side during parties or at the cantina unwinding — but they never see this soft, sweet man who looks at her as if she’s the only person in the galaxy. They might see him sometimes laugh or smile, but they’ve never seen how beautiful it is without his walls obscuring them. She wonders when the next time she’ll see it again, already hating herself for upsetting his happiness. 

But if it were her mother, she’d want to know. She wouldn’t want it hidden from her. And despite the differences between him and Satele, she’s pretty sure he would too. 

“Kira and Scourge told me where they had gone,” she starts slowly, working her way up to it, “they were tracking down Tenebrae—Valkorion’s original body. To destroy it. At the same moment I had banished him from my mind and into the void.” 

He watches her as she speaks, listening dutifully as promised with sharp eyes, jaw set, and a familiar look settling into place. Back when Valkorion had still been taking up residence in her head, Theron had not remained quiet about his feelings on the matter. Sometimes she had wondered if he had somehow hated Valkorion more than her, with some of the expressions she had caught settling in on his face when the ghost would make his appearance. The look on his face now is similar to the ones back then, and she recognizes it now as a sign that he’s getting protective, preparing to throw himself between danger and the one he loves. 

It is both a frustrating and heartwarming sight, but this is not about her. So she shakes her head, attempting to summon that Jedi calm, and try to keep her voice steady as she tells the next part.

“He had done something to his old body, Theron. Some sort of ancient Sith ritual that unleashed a plague that sent Kira and Scourge into a coma for over a year,” she says. “Satele found them—pulled them out of it.”

Theron starts at the name, clearly not expecting this part of the tale. “Is that where she’d gotten off to?”

“Theron.” Her voice fails, her, cracking. It has the unintended effect of him going silent and deathly still. It almost seems like slow motion, watching as he has difficulty swallowing suddenly, eyes meeting hers with a sudden naked fear. “She was infected.”

She can see the realization dawn on his face as he parses through her words. Brows knitting together as an undecipherable series of conflicting emotions race across his face. She wishes she could identify any of them, but his mother has always been the subject he’s been the most tight lipped about. 

“Is she…?”

His tone is terse, almost harsh. Someone who didn’t know him better might think the harshness to be a mirror of his feelings, rather than the only way he can get out the words when the undercurrents race too strong.

“No, she’s not,” Grey says, “not yet.”

Even as she says it, she realizes he didn’t quite finish the question and doesn’t know if he’s asking if Satele is still alive, or if she’s been overtaken by the disease. She takes in a breath, letting it fill her lungs and using the moment to gather the calm that she needs to provide. This is Theron’s mother, not hers. Regardless of how close they are, he is the one allowed to be overcome with emotion right now and she needs to be his touchstone.

“What’s it doing to her?” His tone hasn’t softened yet.

“They’re in stasis right now,” she says carefully, “they’re sleeping, but it’s not… pleasant. Nightmarish. And it’s… connecting the minds of the infected together. Merging them somehow.”

The stony expression on his face slips only for a moment as he recoils in horror, for a moment revealing the depths of emotion roiling underneath the surface. She understands it, as the description brought to mind so many horrors, including all of the poor souls on Ziost that tore each other apart under Vitiate’s influence.

“Kira and Scourge say stasis isn’t stopping the infection, just slowing the progression,” she clarifies, choosing her words carefully. “They’re all quarantined on a transport, we’ve sent a signal to alter its course so we can intercept it. It will take time for it to come back in range. Enough time to make plans.”

“Plans?” Theron’s voice is still rough. Terse. And there’s more emotion contained in that one questioning word than some could fill in a book. 

She blinks a few times, reminding herself to stay centered. To not get pulled under the tide of his emotions, and instead squeezes his hand. Trying to summon a confident, comforting smile she doesn’t really feel.

“Right now our plan is for the three of us to board the ship and connect our minds together with the Force and try and reach Satele. To save her. All of them. We’re immune to this contagion in the way that others aren’t.”

His eyes are sharp again, expression shuttered as he processes things. “How can you be sure?”

The question catches her off guard. “Be sure of what?”

“Be sure you won’t get infected?” 

His voice is so rough and fierce it takes her aback. For just a moment, they’re both back in Alliance Staging Area, right before their mission to Umbara. And he’s vowing to do anything to protect her. It doesn’t matter what the threat against her is, he will always want to put himself between her and it. She blinks. This is not the time for this. So she pushes the past away, choosing to focus on the present.

“We’ve all been vessels for his power in the past,” she says carefully, and he presses his lips together so tightly she wonders if it hurts. “It… inoculates us. Almost like a vaccine. I’ve been his vessel for so long, back then… and again. I’m probably the most protected from this disease.”

Theron’s quiet, his expression still set in a deep frown, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. She wants to something to comfort him. She hates seeing him like this and just wants to make it better. But she can’t, not at the present moment. So she waits. Because he’s always so patient with her when she’s the one struggling. She needs to give him time to process, let him work through everything himself. He’ll come to her when he’s ready.

It takes less time than she expects, but still feels like an eternity when he finally breaks his pensive pose. Looking back at her with a movement so quick and precise, like a razor’s edge.

“I don’t like it.” His voice is still taut. He’s wound so tight, ready to spring.

“I know,” she says. She doesn’t either, but it’s the hand they’ve been dealt. “This is their best chance, Theron—I’m their best chance.”

“I can’t—” His voice cracks then and he stops, jaw snapping shut with a loud click as he looks away. He swallows, still facing the other way as he grinds out, “I don’t want anything to happen to Satele.”

He takes a few more breaths, seeming to try and gather his thoughts a little more.

“Look, I know we’ve never been some holo-perfect family that sends out cards every Life Day. If there’s a chance to save her… she’d do the same for me.”  There’s something in his voice that makes it sound like it cost him something to admit that aloud, but she does not know what it is. 

Instead she simply nods, laying a hand softly on his knee, giving it a simple squeeze to let him know she’s listening. Waiting. It’s enough for him to drag his gaze back to her. The guarded expression is gone now, shutters thrown open wide so that pure, raw emotion can shine through. 

“But I can’t lose you. I don’t want to choose, but if I have to—”

“You don’t have to choose, Theron,” Grey says, being sure to project confidence in her voice, because that’s what he needs right now. The hero, not the wife. She much prefers the latter role to the former, but she will give him whatever it is he needs. “If she can be saved, then I will save her.”

“And if she can’t be?” His tone is angry, aggressive, challenging. She’s not sure if it’s directed at her or the situation. He’s pinned her with a piercing, unblinking gaze. Even knowing him as she does, it’s unnerving. For a stranger she imagines it would be downright intimidating.

“Scourge has a contingency plan,” she says hesitantly, “if we can’t purge the infection, he proposes to destroy the transport. And all those on board.”

Theron’s nose wrinkles, the line of his mouth twisting up into an ugly expression he can’t quite shove down. The expression smooths out as he nods his head succinctly, as if concluding some silent discussion with himself.

“Okay,” he says roughly, “I’m coming.”

“Theron, you can’t,” she barks, “you’ll be infected too!”

“No, no, I know that—I’m not—I won’t compromise the mission,” his voice is earnest, sincere even as fierce as it still is. “But you need backup, onboard the shuttle. Someone will have to be there to evacuate you. And set the detonation if it comes to that.”

Grey stares at her husband like he’s lost his mind, unable to comprehend what she’s hearing.

“You can’t—she’s your… you can’t, Theron!”

“Can’t I?”

“She’s family!” Her voice sounds as much like a plea as a denial to her own ears.

“And so are you,” he says fiercely, “you’re my family.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“I know you, and I know how you get about family.” His eyes meet hers, gaze hard and unflinching, but voice still gruff. “Are you going to tell me that you won’t get tunnel vision? That you’ll know when to pull out? Be able to make that call if Satele is beyond saving?”

If he had slapped her in the face, it probably wouldn’t have stung as much as his words. It’s not wounded pride over her judgement being called into question, although that smarts too, but he’s not… entirely wrong. 

No one in her life will ever fill that maternal void that was left when her mother was killed. But of everyone in her adult life, Satele had always come the closest to ever providing anything near the warmth and security and guidance of Grey’s own lost mother. There had been other mentors and masters; men who had stood in as paternal figures throughout her life. But there was something special about the memory of her long lost, loving mother that was difficult to replicate completely. She’d do anything to spare Theron from having to know this particular pain — but it’s not completely selfless. Grey doesn’t want to lose another mother herself. As much as she’s even allowed to think of Satele as one.

“Can you make that call?” she asks, sounding angry and petulant.

“Better me than Scourge,” Theron says flatly.

She should defend her friend and his judgement and ability to make hard decisions such as these — but she can’t. For as long as Scourge has lived, all of the wisdom and experience he’s been able to gather, from what she has witnessed, it seems that in retrospect most of his hard decisions are motivated not for the preservation of life but fear. Fear of time running out and not reaching an end goal, of getting distracted from destroying an enemy. She knows he’s changed since Valkorion’s death, that his mortality has changed him—but she has not seen firsthand yet if his motivations have changed with it. 

Taking a shortcut out of fear and trying to pass it off as a “hard decision” is ultimately short sighted. Just as short sighted as trying to bring back what has been lost. The thought chastens her, and she lets out a long breath, and with it, attempts to release her own selfish motivations into the ether.

“Satele would want me to do the right thing,” Theron says, voice finally softening. “And you too.”

“I know,” she finally gets out, “I can separate my feelings… of what I want. Versus what needs to be done.”

“She’d never forgive either of us if we unleashed a horror on the galaxy just to save her.” His expression is still guarded, as if he doesn’t quite believe his wife’s acquiescence.

“You don’t have to be there, Theron,” Grey says, “if it… if we have to make that call. You don’t have to watch that. Even from the safety of another ship.”

He swallows, his expression darkening again as his eyes drop back to where he’s folded his hands tightly in his lap. There’s something else going on there, something he can’t put into words yet. She’s never completely grasped the unique dynamic between the estranged mother and son. Ever since Grey had met him, there has been a part of her that has desperately wanted to find a way for them to bridge that gap. 

Perhaps it’s a bit selfish of her, seeing such an opportunity lost that she’ll never have again herself. But the two of them are alike in so many little ways that she doesn’t think either of them will ever fully realize. Sometimes it’s maddening, staying on the edges. Keeping out of it. They would both gain so much by having each other in their lives. But much like in hiding the truth of this situation from Theron, it’s not her decision to make. 

“I hate this,” he finally mutters.

She lays a hand on him gently, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I do too.”

“What’s that they say about ignorance being bliss?” It’s meant to be a joke, but his tone is biting and bitter.

“Would you rather have not known?” She asks cautiously, wondering again if she’s made the right decision here. He blinks at that, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that she could have kept this to herself.

“It sucks that it’s happening either way, but I don’t… I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with this without me.” She nods, but before she can say anything he adds, “At least this way I know I’ll have done everything I can, that we will have tried every avenue. I won’t have to spend the rest of my life second guessing.”

She nods, and there’s another long pause, his eyes straying back to his hands. 

His voice is quiet, almost small as he speaks. “I wasn’t there when Master Zho was killed — I was dealing with Darth Mekhis. I mean, he made his own decisions, I don’t think he regretted them? But it’s easy to wonder, ‘what if I’d been there?’ Would I have been able to make any difference in the situation? I mean, maybe not. Probably not.”

Grey swallows, for a moment, just six-years-old again, watching the flames flicker in the moonlight as fire claimed her childhood home on Dantooine. The smell of burning wood and flesh invades her nostrils, the moment permanently seared in her consciousness. Leaving a child forever wondering what if? 

She blinks and again is back in the present.

“It is hard,” she agrees quietly.

When he looks at her, it’s almost as if he had suddenly been on that journey with her too, his expression drawn up in remorse. This is not about her, no matter what he says, so she gives him what she hopes is an encouraging smile.

“I do not wish for you to have any regrets,” she says. “We will do whatever we can for Master Satele. For all of those people on the ship.” She gives his hand another squeeze, being sure to meet his eye, “We’ll do it together.”

His lips try to twitch upward into a smile, but the expression doesn’t quite get there. The million of ‘what ifs’ probably still running through his mind.

“We can meet with Scourge and Kira when you’re ready,” she says. “See if we can find a role for you in the plan.”

He gives another nod, letting out a long breath as if some long battle had just been won. Maybe it was just an internal one. She will not ask what, if he wants to talk about it, he will.

“I can give you some space if you want it.” The offer is cautious as she does not want to leave herself. 

“No,” he says quickly, almost too quickly. His hand squeezing hers as if to hold her there.

“Alcohol, then?”

The laugh he lets out is shaky. “Oh, I knew there was a reason I married you.”

He releases his hold on her so that she can go grab him a drink. A decanter of fine whiskey had made an appearance in her quarters after one of her brother’s recent “business” trips. Whether it was a willing donation or confiscation she’s unsure. She made a habit of not asking many questions about that sort of thing. Sometimes feigning ignorance was the best way to maintain peace. Her hand hovers next to the decanter, hesitating for a moment, before she grabs it and a glass, bringing both back to the couch. 

She pours out a single serving that Theron knocks back instantly. She immediately refills the glass, enough to where the liquids almost overflowing. He shoots her a sheepish look, taking a much more measured sip this time. She takes back her seat next to him, content to keep him company as he works his way through the glass. They are long past the need to fill in every silence.

By the time he’s about halfway through the overfilled glass, his stiff posture has relaxed and he’s leaning against her. Her fingers card through his hair in the way that always seems to relax him. He blinks at her with a soft, open expression. The walls he’s so careful about maintaining are down now, and a heartbreaking jumble of emotions roll off him.

“Life never gives us a break does it?” The question is quiet. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s asking too much to just… be happy. It’s like the damn galaxy is conspiring against us.”

“What do you mean?”

“After you got that damn ghost out of your head, we had a chance. At least, I thought we did,” he mutters, “until Vinn had started those uprisings that were the start of that kriffing conspiracy.”

His anger and rage at the man who had nearly torn them apart mirrored her own. Even with all of the time and recovery, it still simmered. It might always. Something in his tone makes her wonder if some of that is still self-directed. She lets out a breath, tracing a finger across the implants above his brow, tracing a path along the side of his face. His eyes flutter at the action, some of the anger bleeding out of him.

“After I got back… we’d both been sorting through so many things. My recovery wasn’t exactly easy and you were…” He trails off, looking away. “It was a lot. But then we got married, and it had kind of felt like maybe we’d gotten there. Even with this war starting back up and everything, it’s been good. And now this.”

She leans over to press a kiss to forehead, lingering in the awkward position as his fingers curl around her, anchoring her in place. There’s only the briefest thought about where his glass has gone and if they’re going to be cleaning whiskey out of the upholstery. He presses his forehead against hers, eyes sliding shut.

“Our vows said we’d be there for each other through better or worse,” she says quietly. “This is probably one of those ‘for worse’ times—but it will get better.”

“That’s probably true.” His fingers holding her in the position twiddle idly against her hair. “Even at its worse, my life still is infinitely better with you at my side.”

“And with you at mine,” she says with another soft kiss. “No matter what, we’ll face this together.”

“No one else I’d rather do it with.”

[swtorpadawan]

Three Years

Author’s Notes: Warnings for PTSD, emotional trauma and allusions to sexual violence. The following story takes place between Chapters 9 and 16 of Knights of the Fallen Empire. Three years.

Bas’rish leveled her blasters at the target. It was all instinctive to her, of course. She could almost make these shots in her sleep. People had been telling her how naturally gifted she was with a blaster in her hand since she was old enough to hold one back on Ryloth. And she’d been very young at the time, indeed.

The shooting range on Odessen was quiet this time of night. This ‘Alliance’ of Corellan’s never really slept, but even so, most of its personnel did find time to sleep at some point. Even Bowdarr had finally settled in for the evening, though like Bas’rish, he preferred to sleep in his old quarters aboard the Maiden’s Luck, which was now sitting on a nearby landing platform. Bas’rish, of course, had been offered accommodations inside the Alliance base when she’d joined, but she’d declined. The familiarity of her old ship, with Bowie residing just down the hall, were a welcome sanctuary. Her ship was the only place that had ever truly felt like home. Her old crew – misfits and vagabonds, such as they were – were the only people who had ever felt like family. Aside from Corellan and maybe Kira and a handful of others she could count on one hand.

She pulled the trigger. The automated targets registered the hits. Both bull’s eyes.   

Three years.

Bowdarr. Her ship. And her freedom. Corellan had managed to return all these things to her. And he’d offered her a place in his Alliance without a second thought. A chance for her to strike back at the Eternal Empire. Surrogate little brother or not, she didn’t like owing the Jedi – or former Jedi – so much. Hell, she still owed him from before he disappeared, and the entire galaxy went sideways.  

She fired her blasters again. Both indicators flashed. Hits.  

Three years.

Bas’rish had ‘been someone’, once. Someone important. The Twi’lek merchant captain had been the best smuggler of her generation. (And the best living, period, no matter what Hylo Visz thought.) She was the finest quick-draw artist anyone had ever seen. She’d been the one to find the long-lost treasure of Nok Drayen. She’d co-opted a coalition of fellow independent traders back in the day to help the Republic pull off an improbable victory on Corellia and was afterwards honored by the high-and-mighty Chancellor herself. She’d been a thorn in the sides of two Empires, both of which had been hell-bent on galactic conquest. She’d been an even greater scourge to legions of gangsters, petty crime bosses, bounty hunters and Republic customs officers. She’d been counted a friend and valued ally of the most famous heroes in the free galaxy. Along the way, she’d left a long trail behind her of broken hearts of both genders, including those of two Republic senators, one Jedi Knight on Tatooine, an Imperial General, and two Alderaanian nobles – a brother and a sister - at the same time. (Beat that, Hylo.)

In a word, she’d been the Voidhound.

Then the ‘three years’ had come.

Three years as a prisoner of the Zakuulan Empire. Three years as a plaything to that bitch of an Exarch on her infernal Star Fortress hovering over Belsavis. Three years during which the rest of her crew, believing she was dead, had apparently scattered to the four corners of the galaxy. Three years during which her name and reputation had faded; most now seemed to think of her as yesterday’s news. Three years where the rest of the galaxy simply carried on without her.   

Three years.

Bas’rish finally holstered her blasters, satisfied with her shooting if not with her own state of mind. Her customized belt with its holsters, pouches and ‘little tricks’ was one of the few things she had retained from her old ensemble. That, and her boots. Gone was the flashy gray jacket with red trim with the mid-riff baring red shirt beneath it that was tied off just above her naval, showing off just enough of her lovely green skin to be distracting without looking outright indecent in public. Cast aside were the matching trousers, the ones that that showed her backside to great advantage. Her ‘new look’ featured a black trench coat with adaptive armor padding and dark clothes underneath that showed precious little in the way of skin. The Twi’lek smuggler had even considered an eye patch but had decided the small scar just beneath her right eye – virtually the only physical scar on her body left over from her recent time as a prisoner – didn’t really warrant it, and no matter what anyone else said, she hated being a caricature of herself.   

She suddenly realized she wasn’t alone.

Bas’rish spun on her heels on reflex, rolling into a crouch as she pulled both blasters and pointed them towards this figure who had been standing behind her. The movement was purely instinctive; a talent that had been refined from countless gunfights with Imperials, gangsters and other scum.

Corellan Halcyon, the Alliance Commander, the infamous ‘Outlander’, simply raised his hands in an ‘I surrender’ motion.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch.” He smiled thinly.

Bas’rish felt her eyes widen in recognition then exhaled slowly, realizing only afterwards that she had been holding her breath. She re-holstered her blasters, then turned away from the Alliance Commander. He was wearing his new body armor – the one that was clearly Zakuulan inspired. She’d guessed that Jedi robes no longer suited him. Still, even with his twin lightsabers sheathed, he couldn’t help looking like the star from an action holovid.

“Sheesh, Hero. You startled me.”  

Corellan’s smile widened a bit at her old nickname for him. She’d used it on reflex. They’d been close, once. Maybe they still were. Bas’rish honestly wasn’t certain, at this moment.

In response, he let his hand fall to his sides.

“I can tell.” His voice was simple and matter of fact.

Three years.

The smuggler reached down and dusted herself off. She’d kicked up quite a bit of dirt with her little move, as well as from her shooting session.

“Need something?” Bas finally asked.

“Just checking in, really. We haven’t gotten to speak much since you joined us.” He looked around. “It’s kind of late for target practice.”

“I just wanted to avoid the crowd.” She said the words quietly.

“I understand.” Corellan just nodded. “Hylo says the run to Kessel you and Bowdarr just came back from went well.”

“Told her there was a short cut.” Bas’rish smirked wickedly. The smile faded when she looked over at him and realized he was watching her for something. Doing that ‘careful consideration Jedi-thing’.   

She folded her arms at him, eyeing him incredulously.

“I take it there’s a ‘but’ in there, somewhere?”

Corellan slowly nodded. “Hylo also said she’s worried you’re pushing yourself – and your ship – too hard. Given what you’ve been through, I mean. Belsavis was only a week ago.”

Was it? Her eyes narrowed at that. Bas’rish didn’t doubt he was telling the truth about the passage of time, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Like it had been a mere interruption in the life she’d been living, or that she had been dreaming for a long time but had woken up now and was ready for the life she’d had before to resume.

Even if she knew it wouldn’t go that way.

“Well, it’s my butt. And my ship.” She countered. “They’re both mine to push as hard as I want.”

Bas’rish worried for a second that Corellan would bring up the fact that she’d signed on with the Alliance. She was technically under his command. If he pressed the issue and pulled rank, tried to ground her, she honestly wasn’t sure what she’d do. If he were anyone else, she’d probably jump in her ship and bail on everything on the spot. With him…

Fortunately, he didn’t press. Not the way she expected, anyway.

“What about Bowdarr?” Corellan’s head tilted just a bit.

That knocked the wind out of her sails, a little. The loyal Wookie was one of the last links to her life from before. Her reunion with the big fuzzy lug after all that time… she had to bury her face in his fur so people wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

Three years.

Corellan Halcyon had her beat on that score, of course. He’d been frozen in carbonite for five years. For all Bas’rish had been through, she didn’t even want to think about what that could do to a person. Bas’rish wouldn’t trade places with him. Certainly not with that crusty old bastard, the Sith Emperor, now running around in his head. She was one of the very few who had a damned good idea of what he had lost along the way. And, of course, he was still somebody. Even five years after he had disappeared, hundreds had flocked to his banner, with nearly half of those coming from his former enemies in the Sith Empire. The Republic troops were no surprise, and the independents (her ilk, she supposed) had been squeezed so much, they probably would have followed almost anyone at this point. But the Imps! Corellan had probably killed more Sith and Imperial soldiers by his own hand than anyone else living, and they still admired him enough to bail on their beloved masters back on Dromund Kaas.

She honestly didn’t envy him, not any of it. Not after getting a taste of the burden weighing on his shoulders. She just…

“Bowie can take it. Trust me.” She finally answered.

He regarded her softly, then nodded. “Okay.”

The Twi’lek smuggler blinked. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I mean I trust you.” Corellan answered levelly, opening his hands wide. “If you tell me you’re alright, and that Bowdarr is alright, and that your ship is alright, then I believe you.” He regarded her again.

“So, that being the case, I’m okay.”

Bas’rish swallowed and turned away. Dammit. “Okay.”

Corellan shifted uncomfortably, a silence settling in.

“I’m sorry we haven’t talked more.” He dipped his head a little. “I’ve been busy.”

Three years.

“I believe you.” Bas’rish smiled, looking back at him over her shoulder. “I remember I felt swamped running a smuggler fleet for a few days. Running an outfit like this? I can’t even imagine.”

Corellan chuckled a little at that. “Honestly? Lana Beniko and the others handle most of the day-to-day administrative responsibilities. Theron Shan and I have been running operations.”

Her smile widened into a smirk. “I should have known. You never stay out of the field for long. What have you been hitting?”

The Alliance Commander eyed her levelly.

“The other Star Fortresses.”    

Bas’rish blinked in surprise at Corellan.

“We used what we learned from the first one – and what you told us about them during your debriefing – to start hitting Star Fortresses above worlds with active resistance movements.” He pressed on. “There were minor differences, of course, but they all followed the same basic layout and employed the same strategy and tactics. Uniformity proved their undoing.” He shook his head, almost in disbelief at the Eternal Empire’s arrogance. “Belsavis was only the beginning. We’ve destroyed five more Star Fortresses all in the past week. All six worlds are now in open rebellion against Zakuul. Their resistance cells have linked up with the Alliance, like K'krohl did after Belsavis.”   ­

The smuggler captain let out a slow whistle.

“That’s… crazy.”

Corellan shifted his head and shoulders a little. If he were a man capable of nonchalance, it might have come off as a shrug.

“Well, we weren’t sure how quickly they would make adjustments. As far as we can tell, they haven’t even tried. The Exarches apparently aren’t very effective at sharing information with each other, especially when faced with oncoming failure.”

Bas’rish shivered involuntarily. “Yeah. Forta Gair used to rant about the other Exarches all the time. Always complaining about who was getting the cushy assignments back on Zakuul, or who was commanding Fortresses over more interesting planets than Belsavis. She had a lot of anger.”

Corellan’s brow furrowed. Plainly, he’d picked up the emotion in her voice.

“It got bad, huh?”

Bas bit her lip. She could have given him a one-word answer. He’d have accepted it. She knew he would.

Three years.

“One thing I’ve learned fighting the Eternal Empire: At their core, the Knights of Zakuul are fanatics.” Bas’rish answered diplomatically. “With the Exarches, their best of the best, it’s doubly so. And Forta was the worst kind of fanatic.”

“How so? Was she brutal? Insane?”

“Worse.” Bas replied. “She was bored.”

Corellan was clearly being cautious with her. But when her pause lingered, he finally pressed. “How do you mean?”

It took her few moments to fully form the words. Corellan, of course, gave her all the time she needed.

“You know,” she began wistfully. “Back when I was just running contraband through Republic worlds, we used to say the worst customs agents weren’t the ones on the major worlds that saw lots of trade and had thriving markets, both black and white. No, the worst ones were the high-and-mighty petty bureaucrats on the small worlds at the ass-end of space. They just don’t have enough to do. One fella on Taris even threatened to have me locked up in prison on Belsavis. Which is ironic, I guess, given what happened later.”

Bas’rish exhaled slowly. “Forta Gair was like that, in a lot of ways. She was one of their biggest and baddest warriors, and here Arcann had stuck her on a Star Fortress in orbit over a dung heap of a prison planet that most people never heard of. A planet that has been a quagmire of fighting for years. The Fortresses practically run themselves; everything is automated. There was hardly anything for her to do aside from watching broadcasts of the freed convicts and the local Esh-kha killing each other while the Republic completely failed to restore order.” 

Corellan must have caught the tremor in her voice. His eyes grew sympathetic.

“What did she do?” he finally whispered.

Bas’rish exhaled again, this time trying to turn it into a laugh. She felt light-headed and manic at the same time.

“Oh, you know. Sometimes she wanted…. wanted…” The Twi’lek’s voice caught itself before she said any more. For a second, it felt hard to breathe. She felt her right arm start to shake. Cursing herself, her left hand reached over and grasped it. On an academic level, she recognized that it was a coping mechanism. Something she’d hoped – prayed – she’d stop doing after her escape.

Three years.

She couldn’t help it. She started talking faster.

“It wasn’t so bad, though. She’d always have me taken to the medical bay afterwards to recover. Those Zakuul droids are good at patching people up. Three years of all that and I only got this little scar to show for it, see?” she reached her hand up to her cheek, brushing her fingertips against the small scar running across her eye.

She didn’t want to tell him why the Exarch had ‘allowed’ her to keep that one scar.

The hand started to shake again as she looked down.

Corellan started to reach out his hand for hers, then stopped.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Is this…?”

She looked up into those pale-blue eyes. They were so trusting, even after everything he had been through. She finally nodded, reaching out her own shaking hand.

He gently reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. After a moment, her breathing returned to normal and she looked up at him. There was a look of regret in his eyes she hadn’t ever seen before.

“I’m sorry.” He offered simply.

She scoffed but didn’t pull her hand away. “I told you before I’m a big girl. You aren’t responsible for what happens to me.”

“No.” Corellan reflected. There was genuine guilt in his voice. “I’m not. But if I had been around, if I hadn’t gone missing, I might have stopped all of this. The invasion, the subjugation… I might have stopped it all from getting this bad in the first place. I might not be responsible for you, but maybe I am responsible to the galaxy.”

Bas’rish angrily pulled her hand back from his and punched him in the arm. And she didn’t bother being gentle about it.

Corellan, who’d probably endured more combat related injuries than anyone she knew aside from Bowdarr, winced and started rubbing his arm at the point of impact.

“Ouch.” He looked down at her questioningly.

“That’s bantha dung, Hero. You know better than to think like that. Hell, even your Masters taught you better.” She brooded. “If we’re going to start thinking like that, I might as well blame myself for getting caught and everything that happened to me.”

Corellan picked up on that. He always was good at reading her mood.

“How’d it happen?”

She shifted and turned away. “You didn’t read my debriefing?” Theron Shan had taken most of the questions when they’d brought her to Odessen.

Corellan shook his head. “This isn’t ‘Commander Halcyon’ asking. This is just me. Theron would have told me if there was something the Alliance Commander needed to know. But I figured you’d talk to me about it if you were ever ready.”

Bas’rish exhaled, then nodded. Somehow, talking to him made it easier.

“Well, after the invasion rolled in, jobs started getting tougher and tougher. Their blasted fleet was everywhere. My crew and I did what we could. We even ran some jobs for the resistance group that Kira was part of before that fell apart. I lost touch with her after that.” She eyed him for some reaction and, finding none, pressed on with her story. “Two years in, we were starting to get desperate just to find a safe harbor. The Zakuulans had Nar Shaddaa on lock down by then, and I soured on Port Nowhere when it was taken over by some idiot calling herself the ‘Red Huntress’.”  

She paused, brow furrowing.

“Risha had left by then, gone off to chase her throne on Dubrillion. With our situation, I couldn’t blame her. I know it didn’t work out for her, but I don’t know if she survived.” The Twi’lek swallowed again at the bitter memory.

“Anyway, we got word of a prisoner on Belsavis – an Exchange slicer named Chaney Barrow – who supposedly knew how to avoid scans by the Eternal Fleet. Problem was, by then, Belsavis had its own Star Fortress. The only way we could reach the surface and search for this slicer was if we knocked out their sensors for a while. We managed to board the station and get pretty far in before the Exarch got wise to what we were doing.”

Bas’rish took another breath.

“Long story short, I got trapped behind a security force field. Guss tried to work the panel and bypass it, but by then we knew the Exarch was on her way with her Knights. We were out of time. I told them all to run for it.”

She swallowed. “Corso refused. He actually started hitting the shield with his fists in aggravation, the damned idiot farm boy.” She smiled a bit at the memory and sniffed. “Akaavi finally had to knock him out and carry him off. She said something to me in Mandalorian… I couldn’t understand it, but it sounded like a prayer. She was pretty torn up. Guss, too.” She sighed. “Long story short, Forta Gair caught me, then broadcast to everyone that I’d been killed. Bowdarr had been holding down the ship where we were docked and would have come back for me if he thought I was still alive at that point.”  

“I understand.” Corellan said somberly.

Had he been anyone else, she would have hit him again. Thing was, she suspected he did understand. That part of it, anyway. At least he had Teeseven – his little Astromech droid – back, the way she had Bowdarr.

Time to change the subject. Before her eyes started to well up again.

“By the way, that’s two I owe you, kid.”

Corellan raised an eyebrow, questioningly. She wondered to herself if he had learned that expression from watching his Jedi Masters.

“Two?” he finally asked when she didn’t elaborate.

“You saved me from Drooga when we first met on Nar Shaddaa. Remember?”

The Commander chuckled at the memory. “As I recall, you took a very active part in your escape. Same as you did at Belsavis.”

Bas’rish smirked herself in remembrance. To her own surprise, it had been almost ten years ago, now. (Damn, she was getting old.) Her ‘negotiations’ with Drooga had gone sideways even after she’d recovered his blasted pet shanjaru. She could never help running her mouth too much with the Hutts. Bad memories from back on Ryloth, probably. Bas was a hell of a gunslinger but facing off against all Drooga’s guards was just a bit out of her league. Realizing that Corso was going to get himself killed trying to save her, she’d ordered him to run. (Back then, he still listened when she gave commands like that.) With the Twi’lek captain captured, Drooga had ordered her dressed in a slave girl outfit and then collared with a chain leash that wrapped around him, forcing her to sit at the foot of his throne. The sick bastard had even pulled her close and licked her face, promising her that she’d be ‘my entertainment tonight and my breakfast tomorrow’.

Creep.

Fortunately for her, Corso had found a couple of young Jedi wandering the streets a couple of hours later, and they’d been willing to help. (This was how she had met Corellan Halcyon and Kira Carsen in the first place.) The trio had fought their way to Drooga’s barge, with Bowdarr – who she had only just met – staging his own jailbreak during the chaos. Taking advantage of the distraction, Bas’rish had wrapped her chain around Drooga, then pulled when she was out of reach of his grasp. The fat Hutt (was there another kind?) had struggled hard, but when his eyes had popped out of his sockets and his final breath escaped from his nostrils, it had been one of the most satisfying moments of her life. With their meal ticket gone, the remaining guards had fled along with Drooga’s guests, and Corellan had cut her loose from her chain with a slash of his lightsaber. Having been rescued and still practically naked, she’d jumped into the tall Jedi’s arms and planted a kiss on his cheek, drawing a flush of embarrassment from the Jedi Knight, a blustering reaction from Corso (who still had a little crush on her at the time) … and daggers from the eyes of one Kira Carsen.     

Bas’rish had gotten it.

Instead of propositioning the Jedi Knight – which had been her first inclination at the time – she’d pronounced Corellan her ‘little brother’ on the spot. It didn’t seem likely that they’d ever meet again, but as fate would have it, they’d wound up teaming up several more times, most famously when she and Corso had joined with Corellan, Kira, Ulannium – the Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order – and Havoc Squad in their assault on Darth Malgus’ space station at Ilum. That had been a hell of a fight. But in between all these encounters, the smuggler and the Jedi hero had often exchanged letters and holo-messages. He’d warned her off a couple of tough situations involving Imperial fleet movements and she’d advised him on matters involving navigating the criminal underworld and other matters well-raised Jedi weren’t usually taught in their temples.

They were very different people, but they had made a good team.

(She would never admit it, but he’d probably rubbed off on her a bit from that first encounter. She’d made more ‘altruistic’ choices along the way than she felt she normally would. It was kinda weird.)

“Well, in the case of Drooga, my ego wouldn’t let you and the others have all the fun while I played the damsel in distress.” Bas’rish smiled wickedly. “For Forta… that was personal. Just a taste of what I owed her.”  

She thought back at the memory from just a week ago. Corellan, while storming through the station with his Astromech droid, had found her in the Fortresses’ medical bay, recovering from another extended ‘interrogation session’ with the Exarch. He’d freed her, even recovering her blasters for her, then she’d joined him and Teeseven for the rest of their run. In the end, when they’d finally confronted the Exarch, Corellan had engaged her in a vicious lightsaber duel, giving Bas the opening she needed. A series of precise shots had breached Forta Gair’s armor and crippled her for good.   

Three years.

She’d stood over the Exarch, this woman who had made her whole world a living nightmare for the last three years and looked into her eyes. Defeated, Forta had looked back up at her in disbelief. As if it were impossible for the Zakuulan to believe that her imprisoned ‘pet’ could ever be the one to finally deliver the death blow.  

One well-placed shot between the eyes had proved her wrong.

She noticed Corellan had grown quiet and somber again.

“I should have gotten you out.” He said sullenly. “The moment I saw you lying there. I should have aborted the mission and gotten you back to the ship. You were in no condition to press on to the Exarch.”

The smuggler scoffed. Her physical injuries had mostly been healed at that point.

She knew Corellan wasn’t talking about physical injuries.

“You couldn’t take the risk. You’d invested a lot of prep work for that mission. If you’d scrapped it all, the Exarch would know you’d been there and would have changed everything. She’d have been ready for you next time. You might never have gotten another chance. Besides, I proved I could still handle myself, didn’t I?”  

“Maybe.” He looked at her again. “But it would have been the right thing to do.”

Bas restrained herself from rolling her eyes at his words. Instead, she sighed.

“Doing the right thing – and doing the best thing – aren’t always the same thing, Hero.” She said. “The things you’re taking on now… you’re making decisions that will shape the whole damned galaxy for years to come.” She stopped herself. The last thing she wanted to do was add to the pressure on his shoulders.

“Anyway, like I said, that’s two I owe you.” Bas finished.

“You know I’d never hold you to that.” Corellan frowned again.

This time, Bas’rish shot him a hard look.

“Hero, debts like that aren’t about the person they’re owed to.” She said somberly. “They’re about the person who owes them. Just… accept it, okay?”

He started to speak, then stopped himself, looking into her eyes.

“Okay.” Corellan finally said.

An awkward silence settled between them. She didn’t know where to go from there and he suddenly recognized the need to change the subject.

“Also, can I just say you’re only about two years older than me. That’s hardly old enough for you to call me ‘kid’.”

It was as close as he could manage to an actual joke. Kira would have been proud.

“Closer to seven, now.” She wrinkled her nose at him and smiled. “Carbonite.”

It wasn’t an idle barb. Bas’rish honestly hoped that would get him to open up about what was up with him. Instead, he just exhaled and nodded.

“Well, I suppose so.”

That was so like him. He just absorbed the blows, got up and kept going.

“Tried to escape once.” Bas’rish offered. She didn’t know why she was telling him about this part. Maybe she cared too much about what he thought about her? “From the Star Fortress, I mean.”

“Really?” Corellan turned his head, listening with interest.

“Mmm-hmm.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “About five months after I got snatched. I caught the Exarch in a … a ‘compromising’ position where I knew she couldn’t corner me and then I made a run for it. I had it all planned out. How to bypass the security. How to get past the patrols. I even had the codes to launch the shuttle sitting in the hangar. From there, there’s no way I couldn’t have out-flown whatever they threw at me and gotten away.” A soft sigh. “It would have been perfect, Hero. The greatest escape of my whole damned career.”  

As Bas’rish’s voice trailed off, another awkward silence settled between them. This was definitely getting to be a thing.

“What happened?” He finally asked, quietly.

“Oh, I didn’t know that Forta had wired my shock collar remotely to her cybernetic implants.” She waved a hand, feigning indifference. “She didn’t need her control device – or even her hands – to zap me from anywhere within the Fortress. She basically just took me down with a thought, right before I would have reached the hangar.”

Bas’rish found she had turned away from him again.

“Clever bitch. She made me pay for that little stunt for weeks afterwards.” She exhaled. “And after that, she was much more careful with me. She never let her guard down with me again.”

She watched the tension roll through his body. What would have been anger in someone else. For a second, it looked like he was distracted, listening to someone else.

“I understand.” Corellan said quietly.

This time she turned and challenged him as a flash of anger came to her green eyes.

“Do you?” she bit back a retort.

He nodded slowly.

“I know you. I know you value your freedom more than almost anything else.” Corellan said. “Imprisoning you, telling your crew you were dead, treating you like that, to you, that must have been worse than death.”   

Damn. He had her pegged as much as she had him.

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “Just as you value being the ‘Hero’ more than almost anything else.”

Not a dig. They’d always been honest with each other.

 “Maybe. But like you said, I need to become more than that.” He shook his head, plainly determined not to get thrown off his train of thought. “That doesn’t matter. The point is, I can’t imagine what being imprisoned could do to you. Regardless of my intent, I’d never try to do the same by grounding you on Odessen, even if I thought it was for your own good.”

Finally, Corellan looked up at her. She could see the pain in his eyes, and he could see the same in hers.

 “I’m not okay. And you’re not okay.” He said quietly. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

This time, Bas didn’t turn away. She reached out and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him close. Much to her surprise, his feet didn’t budge. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug.

She lowered her head muffled a sob into his shoulder.

“I want to kill them all.” Bas’rish whispered harshly into his ear, still clinging to him. “All of them. Arcann. His stupid sister. All their Knights and Exarches. Everyone who fought for them and helped them. For what they took from me. For what they took from you. For what they took from all of us.” She exhaled slowly. “I want to just light their whole planet on fire and watch them burn.”

Stars, it felt good to say all that out loud.

Corellan simply pulled her closer, holding her like that.   

“I know.” He answered quietly.

That was it. No judgements. No condemnations. No damned Jedi platitudes about temperance and the folly of revenge. Just a quiet acceptance of what she had said. An acceptance of what she felt.

That was Corellan. He would never preach or nag or demand. He’d inspire and even lead you… but only if you let him. Otherwise, he’d just press on with what he had.

He didn’t bother releasing her from the hug. He just spoke in a low voice.

“Listen, I know I’m not much of a counselor. And I’m probably not much better at being a surrogate little brother, either. But I am your friend. I’ll do anything I can to help you. And I have a whole organization of people behind me, now. Some of them are, you know, equipped to help with situations like this. I can send one of them to talk to you.” He paused. “But only if you’re comfortable with it.”   

If it had been anyone else making the offer, she’d probably have pushed him away and stormed off in a huff. Possibly after delivering some key insults about people minding their own business.

But she knew he was hurting, too.

Their experiences had been very different, but he understood about her crew. Maybe he understood about this, too.

So instead, she just pulled him closer.

“You’re the best surrogate little brother any girl could ask for.” She exhaled slowly, then leaned up to whisper in his ear. “When we find him, please don’t let Corso know I told you that. He gets jealous about that sort of thing.”

Corellan chuckled faintly. “What about Bowdarr?”

“Oh, Bowie’s way too old to be a surrogate little brother. Or even a surrogate big brother. He’s more like a loving, slightly crazy uncle. With a lot of fur. And with the strength to rip Skytroopers apart with his bare hands.”

Corellan laughed lightly at that, something he did rarely. The two finally eased out of their embrace.  

“You’ve gotten better at this ‘hug’ business.” Bas’rish grinned up at him wryly.

He smiled back. “Well, I’ve learned to expand my skill set.”

She snickered then finally exhaled.

“I think… I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” She swallowed. “For help from someone.”

“I’m glad.” Corellan looked relieved.

An easy peace settled between them. This time, it didn’t feel awkward at all.

“Nightcap?” he offered.

Bas’rish smirked again. In all the years she’d known him, it was the first time he’d ever been the one to invite her for a drink.

“Sure. See you in the Cantina in five?”

“Of course.” Corellan gave her a boyish grin, and there was a bit of light in his eyes. “It’s good to have you here, Bas.”

With that, he turned, walking back towards the base. Bas’rish simply watched him depart before gathering her things.

Corellan was right. She wasn’t okay. And she wouldn’t be okay for a while, yet.

But she had her ship, her Wookie, her friend and, most importantly, she had her freedom.

Bas’rish realized that she was still somebody, after all.

END

[swtorramblings]

Commander Thexan: The Third

Thexan brooding by @fleeting-sanity, inspired by the Starboy cover (link). I just asked for random art to try to get some inspiration from and this was the result.

Commander Thexan meets with his top agents before sending them to Zakuul, and, very likely, their deaths.

Story begins here: One More Night Previous:  Rendezvous Next: Sacrifice Unsought Allies entry: Three Minutes

From the journals of Commander Thexan, Alliance, former Prince of Zakuul.

My brother and I spent our childhoods raised to be used in Father’s endless wars. Our sister would have followed us, briefly. I believe now that the training was not the point. He was testing us to destruction, trying to find one powerful enough to leave his aging body for, and if none of us had been, to break us and our mother for his amusement.

Still, I know war. I have seen it, I have fought in it. I know there will be losses, especially when fighting the Eternal Empire. I refuse to think of my people as resources to be expended, but sometimes the rewards simply outweigh the risks. So, I didn’t want to send any more to Zakuul, especially these three, but there was too much to gain to avoid it.

Including my remaining family. They did not speak of it, but they knew it was part of my motivation. I could not go myself. I had my own tasks. So others carried my risk.

“So, Commander, it is time. I told you it would come to this,” Scourge said when I entered the room.

“Yes, Lord Scourge, you were right as usual.”

Kira rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t say that. It may cause swelling in his skull.”

The third member of the team, brooding in the shadows, simply said, “Can we just get on with it?”

“Apologies. I thought you might need some more time.”

“No.”

“Why would we?” Scourge agreed.

“We won’t let you down,” Kira put in.

“You won’t be letting me down if you come back alive. Very well. Your ship is prepared. May the Force be with you.”

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

They had fled from their hiding place, knowing that the Eternal Emperor was close behind. Their plans to escape had rapidly collapsed. Vitiate was too close, and had brought down what seemed like the full fury of Zakuul to prevent it. Vaylin was exhausted, Senya still barely conscious, with Caz’zandra almost carrying her. Only Arcann and Lana were able to fight, and even they could not have defeated the horde of Skytroopers blocking their way.

They were about to turn to flee again, when they were surrounded by his laughter. He had reactivated the disguise, cloaking himself again in the form and voice of Valkorion. Whatever the truth, though, he was still too powerful to fight at this point.

It was over.

“Did you really think you could escape once I was aware of you? Foolish children.”

“We can still fight you, Father,” Arcann said

“Perhaps. Perhaps you would even have been a threat at one time. But you have used up what power you have, even Vaylin. And I see you have taken my wife out of carbonite. You would not wish her to come to harm, would you?”

Caz’zandra turned, gently lowered Senya to the ground, and drew her lightsaber. “You do not care what happens to her. Or anything other than yourself.”

“Of course I care. You are trying to take what is mine. And who are you to steal her away? A nothing that I have elevated to my Knights. Return to my service, perhaps you can work in the sewers beneath the city.”

Arcann could feel her anger, and gestured for her to wait. They would not win, but they would strike together. Soon.

Lana suddenly sensed something, something familiar. They needed more time. “Very well, then. What are your plans?”

Vitiate smiled, seeming almost benevolent. “Senya will be returned to carbonite. It may be too late for Vaylin, but I will try to save her from herself. If only you had been mine to mold while still a child.”

“I’ve seen that, you monster!” Vaylin shouted at him.

“Indeed. Perhaps we shall speak of it, then. Later. Arcann will die. He has always been too much trouble.”

“And I have been proud to be.”

“Silence. The Knight will also die, since she does not seem willing to return to my service.”

“No. I am not.”

“And what of me?” Lana asked.

“She wishes you to live. I shall indulge her until she no longer cares.”

Arcann and Lana glanced at each other. That was interesting. Hopefully they’d have time to take advantage of it later.

“So, do you wish to fight? It is a waste of time, but it would make this slightly more interesting.”

They were close. Arcann sensed them now, as well, and spoke. “No, Father. We will not fight you. Not now.”

“It will be your last chance.”

“It will not.”

The ship screamed across the sky, the impacts from its cannons shaking the ground, scattering the droids. A voice came over their communications. “Oh, hells yes, I’ve been waiting for this all year!”

At least Koth was having fun.

As their band formed a circle around Senya, prepared to defend her and each other, three figures landed, having leapt from the ship now shrinking into the distance. They turned and surrounded Vitiate.

Scourge looked at them first, saying, “We shall hold him here. Koth will take you off-world.”

Arcann was about to object, but then the Sith glanced pointedly at his mother, and he simply nodded and turned to help Caz’zandra with her.

Lana was torn, but eventually prepared to cut a swath through the remaining Skytroopers. She knew she would see Z’lia again. She did not know if she should look forward to it.

As the smoke cleared, the Eternal Emperor laughed again. “You three? You have even less chance than they do.” He gestured at Arcann and his group.

Scourge answered first. “Perhaps not, but I have lived long enough and planted what seeds that I can. I can die here with no regret.”

Kira snorted. “Speak for yourself, old man. I plan to die in bed.”

The third remained silent.

“Flee, then, Son, but understand that the galaxy will not hide you. Not any longer. Not after this.”

Kira lifted her hand and waved it in Valkorion’s holographic face. “So, are we going to fight, or what?”

Scourge drew his lightsaber and activated it before he replied. “We shall. For the Empire.”

“For the Republic!” Kira shouted.

“For Ziost,” Master Surro whispered.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira (8)

CHAPTER 8: Discoveries

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: like the title says...

Warnings: old repressed memories

Word count: Finally! This is only up because of Tari so you all have her to thank for this.

I miss my old colleagues. Taught me so much. This new part of the company is...weird. But I have been taking my rage out in the gym so there’s that.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The morning breeze saturated with the cold and smell of dewy grass and flowers tip-toes inside your room with the grace of a professional ballerina. Your bare back, with the loss of the duvet's hug, can feel the sweet kisses she leaves all over your susceptible skin. A turn over the bed and you can feel the shift in the warmth of the duvet surrounding your naked form. Your arms sense the disparate temperature over the other side of the bed, forcing you to open your eyes and find it empty.

Where did you go?

As if to answer your thoughts, the sound of the shower running in your bathroom comes as soothing waves, bringing with it the tiny fishes that tickle you while they eat away the muck on your feet you never thought you had.

It is a task to get up from this cocoon of warmth but the thought of what may be on the other side of the wall makes it easier to be up on your legs and strut towards the door.

The door clicks open and you can already feel the heat inside the bathroom the moment you step in. The shower is turned to cold but the vapours leaving the surface of the body that stands under it are visible from where you stand. The glass door to the shower temple is opened and you step in, too entranced by the muscles peaking from beneath the scars that mar the otherwise flawless perfection. The rivulets on that pale skin make it glow in its entirety save for the parts where the scars rest. The strong pressure of the water perfectly disguises the head with its white foam, letting you focus more on the liquid snakes slithering down that naked back.

And just like that, your fingers are tracing them; both the snakes and the scars- too enchanted for your own good. Your touch makes the muscles flinch and the body turn, bringing his face out of the white foam to watch you with his ocean eyes while his hands wrap themselves instinctively around yours and take them behind your back as he softly bares his teeth at you when he brings you close to him. The push from his chest is enough to drive you into the wet wall behind, the cold tiles rubbing against your surfaces, letting you know the depth of pressure and- somewhere deep down inside you- the height of pleasure.

The blue glows lustfully green in the soft yellow lights above and around the two of you. Your breaths are ragged while his chest rises and falls with graceful movements of a calm ocean wave gently rocking a pirate ship.

"Say it."

The words are soft but the ripple that they carry holds the strength to tear you to shreds on the inside. The vibrations from your soul's core are visible on your skin to the onlooker as he tries to test them for himself when he brings his face closer to yours.

"Say it," his lips move in a whisper right in front of yours and you have to focus all your strength in keeping yourself balanced on your two legs as they begin to shudder.

"Loki."

His name is a whisper of a prayer to call unto him from your lips while the stray drops from his hair, head and chest fall over your breasts.

His arms that now rest on either side of you seem to be holding him in place as he restrains himself from doing something he should not.

But oh! Even the Gods do not have the strength to keep away from the temptations that they secretly want to worship themselves.

His lips gently collide with yours, pushing you back into the wall as his hands let go of yours to grab your heated hips and pull them closer to his already primed length.

Your hands find their place around his neck and once the chains inside your mind let go, the force with which you pull him close is unknown even to you.

He loves it.

He craves it.

And so, his fingers tease your skin when they move down to grab your perfect thighs in their firm grasp and lift you up, your legs locking him in place while his body does the same with you by keeping you against the cold tiles.

Neither of you wants to let go of the lips when the tongues dance in harmony and moans are gulped down with pure contentment.

He stops.

You growl.

But he continues to look at you as you feel his hands snaking down your wet caverns, the dark greens nearly hitting the edge as they watch you gasp at his mere touch.

"Yes."

You cannot stop yourself. Your eyes are already closing, your walls threatening to give up, your fingers digging into his skin as he strokes your walls right where they are bound to light up and gyrate.

And he lets go.

Only to come back with his length pushing inside you this time.

.

The jolt that your body goes through when your eyes pop open hits hard when you find yourself lying in your bed. It reverberates harder when you sit up and feel the morning pleasantness chilling every little bead of sweat over your surface.

The bed is empty. The doors are closed. The birds are chirping. The sun is up.

Everything is as it's supposed to be.

Everything except your senses that are still trying to get used to the idea of you having woken up from a way too realistic sex dream with your boss.

"Good morning, Kira!"

Ygritte's voice from the living room makes you jump.

Holy shit!

"Morning, um... Ygritte."

The sounds of her picking up the remnants of last night while dusting off your space are both welcoming and a bit intrusive.

"What would you like to have for breakfast, Kira?"

"...I'm good with sandwiches."

You can hear her pick up your laptop from the floor to place it on the desk.

Picking up the bottle of water on your nightstand, your lips run for a quick gulp to moisten that dried up throat.

"Something refreshing and green or meaty and juicy?"

And all the water goes down the wrong way because of the scandalous imagery your brain comes up with. Again.

.

Fenrir lounges on the refreshing grass, judging you without shame as you eat a vegetable kebab sandwich with greens that are too crispy for someone who has survived on two-days worth of groceries for an entire week.

"I feel I might hurt my teeth eating this lettuce," you mutter to yourself while Fenrir tilts his head with a scoff and a whining growl before trying to push your feet away so he can do a full stretch.

"Shut up, you whiney wolf," you hiss softly at him- which he completely ignores - biting into the deliciously minty kebabs and tomatoes while trying to keep the lettuce in place with your teeth.

"Don't forget we have to leave tonight."

Now it is completely normal for you to find yourself in situations where you lock eyes with a complete stranger at a restaurant while trying to fit a burger in your mouth and failing to do so. What makes this situation worse is to watch your boss and his pet wolf look at you with sheer amusement in their glittery eyes as the lettuce hangs from your mouth before you try to find a seemingly graceful way to fit the entire thing in your mouth with your fingers.

"I've made the arrangements," you finally speak after the green chunk of cool crisp finally goes down your throat.

"Did you get Gustav to ready my suits in time?"

"All three of them are ready to fly off with the rest of your luggage."

"What about the arrangements for the stay?"

"I talked to Friday and she's assured us of our stay at the expo for the week. She's Mr Stark's assistant."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

You turn to face Loki for the first time during the day, catching the man dressed in the deepest hue of the blue t-shirt over his chest while the black trousers compliment his legs. And other parts.

"What about your dress up for the expo dinners, darling?"

Darling.

The shimmers of this unexplained pain carefully intertwined with a latent string of pleasure pulling through your subconscious do not go unnoticed by your existence when you feel your legs shudder.

"I uh...I don't..."

Your words do not come out as the sleeves are rolled up and the tie goes away to let the collar be unbuttoned.

"Call Gustav," Loki picks up an unmarked sack kept by the end of the porch and puts it over his back, "he'll fix something up for you."

Without another word, he walks off on a trail somewhere in the estate you do not want your mind to wander in this heated condition.

"Gustav."

Forcing yourself out of your own punishing trance, you call the man of every hour to help you out.

.

"You all right?" Robert asks you the moment you step out into the living room, dressed for the afternoon you'd planned.

"Yeah, why?"

"You said you'd be out in twenty minutes. Ygritte was worried about you."

"Oh," you breathe out, tucking a side of your hair behind your ears, "I had an issue...with my bathroom."

"..."

"Couldn't find myself to walk inside," you whisper to yourself, chugging down a glass of water without touching it with your lips.

"Something broke?" Robert's brows furrow in concern.

"Yeah," you mutter as you walk out towards the front door, "me. I'm broke."

“What?”

“What?”

.

"I have to say it is good to see you in not-formals!"

Sam's chirpiness is a drizzle of fresh waves as he makes you chuckle.

"Wait. Really?"

"Yeah," he nods, his eyes stealing a quick look at Robert walking five steps behind you, "I've only ever seen you leave your house to go to work."

"Huh," you pretend to wonder out loud, "so you've tried to see me every time I leave my place?"

The heat evidently reaches his ears as he fumbles through the words, making it harder for you to suppress your chuckles.

"Welcome to the Violet Springs, Madame, Sir."

The greeting by the hostess helps break out of the rush of embarrassment pooling up through Sam's skin that you can conveniently compliment in his summer blue shirt and sand trousers, playing well with your sky blue sundress.

"Yes, um," Sam tries to clear his throat, "we have a reservation under Sam Diaz."

The hostess barely takes a minute to look up the name before taking you and him to the seats by the edge of the restaurant with the view of the city below you.

Sam takes a moment to bask in the glory of the concrete world around him while you look for Robert and find him standing on the other edge with a wide view of the entire hall.

I still don't get why he has assigned himself to me. The only reason I'll be requiring his expertise is when I step on my own foot.

And like a note struck from the instrument of epiphany, you sit straight and take out your phone to send a quick text before giving all your attention to your neighbour.

If this little date goes bad, you're responsible for getting me out of here.

"Before we begin," you start, catching every bit of Sam's senses, "I’m letting you to know we are splitting the bill and that is final."

Words on your phone light up against the otherwise asleep screen- That *is* my job, Miss

"We haven't even started talking yet! Or had anything to drink!" Sam brings out of this shared internal joke from the man you can't see smiling from across the room.

"That's exactly why," you chuckle.

You can see his brown eyes take your features in. You can sense it even when you look away, appearing to smudge something off the wine glass kept in front of you.

Wait. This place has wine glasses. Oh, it's expensive, isn't it? For expensive people.

"You look amazing today, by the way."

Robert watches as you go blank and blink at Sam in return for something the boy said to you. He has seen that look on your face- like you are lost somewhere for a second, trying to find the weight of whatever you witness with your senses. You've done this before, in his boss' presence more times than he can count. Only this time, you don't try to busy your hands and tear away your gaze as if you're not supposed to be in the presence of the person in front of you.

.

The grub hoe hits the cooler layer of the soil hard before Loki finally gets up and drops the tool away from him.

Sweat beads are teased by the afternoon breeze which is comparatively cooler than what the city is witnessing at this moment, thanks to the generous amount of trees surrounding him.

Picking up his shirt lying on the chunk of stone two feet away from the shallow plot he has dug, he allows the cotton fabric to soak up the sweat from everywhere he is exposed.

"Lemonade, Master Loki," Ygritte's call comes right on time as she sets down the tray on the table made of stone under an old sacred fig. Fenrir is not far behind.

"Nice weather for a Saturday," she hums as she uses tongs to pick up the spherical ice cubes from the bucket and masterfully drop them in the tall glass before pouring the jug of lemonade blessed with mint leaves.

Fenrir walks over to the freshly dug up plot to smell the wet earth before putting his paw over the cool dirt.

"Get away from there, Fenrir," Loki commands without looking at the wolf, who growls in protest before coming to the table to demand his share of the treats.

Before he can bring his nose up the surface to sniff the contents of the jug, Loki shoves his face away.

"Only the wolves who work hard get to have a feast," he announces to the enormous body of fur staring at him with nothing but animosity right now.

"Go play with Kira."

Fenrir slumps down and lets the grass rub his wiggling back, making Loki's eyes reflect disgust as he downs his glass.

"Miss Kira isn't home, Master Loki," Ygritte responds as she pours him a refill.

She does not get a response back from Loki but can see his fingers twitch before he goes for the glass and empties it again.

"Thank you, Ygritte," he greets flatly before dragging the sack towards the pit and scattering its contents- which look like sesame seed-sized violet pellets- all over the freshly dug ground.

"Make sure everything is ready before nine tonight," he throws into the air for the woman to catch as she walks back while Fenrir lays in the grass and shade to watch his master work.

.

"I..."

"You don't like wine?"

The look Sam and the waiter give you is that of pure betrayal before one of them composes themselves.

"That's okay we can order something else," Sam chimes.

"I've tried to get used to the taste but..." The sentence hangs mid-air as you give a light shrug as a loose apology. "I'm good with Long Island, though."

Their brows quirk as Sam nods in approval while the waiter's lips stretch just a little at one corner.

"I'll have a Caipiroska," Sam declares as he closes the menu.

"You can order wine, if you want," you try to persuade him as his liquid honey eyes seem to get struck by something new whenever he looks at you- something you do not seem to get used to.

He is about to say something when a heavy voice filled with aged sophistication fills the air around you.

"Good afternoon, young lads. How are you liking the place?"

You reluctantly look up from the food menu to watch a middle-aged man with a well- groomed beard looking and soft honey eyes with flecks of deeper darker brown scattered in them. From the looks of his effortless blue suit that went with the theme of the restaurant, he seems like the manager here.

This is an expensive place.

"It's nice," you feel generous for the lack of experience in settings like this.

"It's brilliant," Sam beams.

The smile stretches from within the manager's beard as he clasps his hands together. For some reason, it even feels like a smile you'd seen somewhere before.

"Wonderful then," he continues, "if I may be so bold to suggest, try our Asian cuisine today and while your server gets back to you with your drinks, take a look at the new art installed in our Galleria for the New Foundations charity."

You turn towards Sam with a glimmer in your eye and a childlike smirk on your face. "This sounds fun."

.

All clothes are dumped on the observatory floor as the dirt-laden feet take the stairs towards a lone room and come back with a towel in one hand and swimming trunks cajoling the perfect shape of the rear that walk out of the place and towards the glass building that houses nothing but a pool and its required necessities.

Leaving the towel on the lounging seats, he dives into the cold water with the grace of a dolphin and intention of tiger, letting his body ride like a free wave till he has to come to the surface to breathe before going down again.

At first it's a blur. The shape. But the more time Loki spends inside the water, the more he can see a figure adroitly floating in the pool with enchanted shimmers all around it.

The hair takes the shape of whatever it wants to, going graciously wild as it lifts the veil from the face.

Your face.

Your glittering eyes that look through his soul.

He stops just to float towards you, stands in the deep waters to look at the wound he helped take care of while internally appreciating the view of watching you untethered.

Of imagining you untethered.

Just as his mind realises this- a second too sooner- he pushes to the surface to breathe. Hard.

He stills in the water around him, questioning himself, his sanity, wondering where you came from; out of the blue, curious as to why you, bewildered at the thoughts slowly scratching a surface he knows is not there.

Curse you, Kira.

And with that contemplation left in the air, he goes free on his back, back into the water.

.

"If it's alright with you, Mr-"

"Harrison."

"Mr Harrison," you continue, "I'd like to talk to my boss about this charitable event so that the company can do its bit to help out in any way."

The manager, Harrison, smiles with his teeth out.

Why is that smile so familiar?

"Brilliant idea!" Harrison laughs.

"Hold on, let me get your contact details." Opening your phone, you jot down his number from his visiting card that marks the hotel's sigil and his designation.

"May I get your full name?" You ask him, trying to open the save option quickly and get over with this to get back to your date, who seems to be shaking with restlessness now.

"Yes. It's Harrison Wardwell."

With one strike of a peaceful clink echoing inside your head, you have travelled back to a dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn over the windows because the sun is too bright. The edge of the desk is lined up right with the window, with books and notebooks scattered over the wooden structure. Plushies crowd the bed as someone lies under the sheet on the side of the bed that is nearer to the window.

There are no birds chirping outside. Why would there be? It's a hot afternoon. There is no creak of the door opening because it is never shut. The footsteps are quieter than a cat's. The fingers are rubbing against the sweaty palm before they touch the edge of the bed. The movement is slow but that does not stop the hand from disappearing under the sheets.

The phone drops from your hand over the tiled floor.

"Oh, sorry," escapes your trembling lips as you bend down to pick it up, using the bare seconds to compose yourself before getting up.

"It's Wardwell with a 'W'."

The voice pierces through your throbbing skull.

"Yeah," you nod without bringing your eyes to look back at him, "I got it. I'll go back now."

He wishes you a great time but your body and mind do not register anything.

You do not even realise when you've come back sat down on the table till Sam is fighting for your attention to ask you about your choice of entrées. The stickiness on your palm and the heat radiating from behind your eyes are warning you for what is about to come. And so, you do what you do best.

"I'm sorry, Sam," you blurt out as you get up, catching Sam's face fall, "I'm not feeling well. I'll have to go back. I'm really sorry."

Robert is already on his heels, walking towards you, sensing trouble from the way you stand.

"Yeah, no," Sam stammers, "it's okay. Is everything okay? Anything I can do? Want to get some air?"

"No, no. I'd rather go home," you mention, already picking up your purse and walking away, "thank you for understanding."

You're nearly at the door, your breaths shallow, your back marred with sweat, almost ready to collapse when Robert takes hold of you before getting into the elevator.

The doors close for the ground floor but Robert does not let you go.

"Water?" He simply puts.

You shake your head, your breathing growing rougher while your nails are beginning to dig into his jacket.

"Do you have medication?" He doesn't stop.

You nod your head furiously.

"It's back home."

The tears stinging your eyes are just sitting over the edge, waiting for one light push.

"Would you like to lie down somewhere?" The softness in his voice is soothing but the idea brings back the face of the man.

"I want to go home," you breathe out with all your strength.

Robert's concern takes another shape over his features. The shape of resolve. Carefully wrapping his arms over your back to help you stand straight he walked you to the entrance.

"Then let's get you home."

.

The crisp black shirt tries it's hardest to flutter on Loki's back but the buttons in front stop the wind from taking advantage of the breathing fabric and the body it has been wrapped around.

The walk back to the house is a languid one with Fenrir by his side- something both seem to be enjoying this suddenly breezy noon with a grey cloud approaching from the city side.

The French doors are still slid open when he reaches the back to watch the hazy sun reflect streaks of wetness from your eyes to your chin as you rush towards your part of the house in clothing he has never seen you in.

Loki's gait is composed, though the grip on the bag of his sweat-soaked clothes grows tight.

"Robert," he calls out to the man in charge of your security, who is refraining himself from following you to make sure you're okay, "a word."

.

The rumble of thunder outside is not welcomed by Fenrir, who howls at the black clouds and lightning streaks to drive them away.

The cold breeze travels inside to whirl around the lounge, swinging around every little furniture piece.

Loki turns off the light to his study and walks out, feeling the playful current over his neck even from here.

"Ygritte," he shouts, but never condescendingly, walking down the hallway, "you know Fenrir will soil his paws in the dirt outside and then you will have to cl-"

He turns the corner to have every authoritative atom in his voice die down when his eyes lock to your figure asleep in the living room just where the winds are blowing in.

With your laptop still on, your diary untraditionally left open, your phone continuously buzzing with messages, he figures you dozed off while working.

'She had a panic attack, sir. One moment she was talking to the manager and next when she came back at the table, she was pale.'

Peace.

'No, sir. That boy had nothing to do with it. He is a gentleman. I ran a background check on him just to be safe.'

You are at peace.

'I have never seen her go through something like this before either, sir. Something must have triggered it. She was fine five minutes earlier.'

Sleeping without any worries. Floating in some dream, he thinks. A beautiful one, he prays.

Your hair, usually tied up, strays loose, partially covering your cheeks while moving to the tunes of the pleasant air. Your lips are slightly apart, one sure sign of how deep the sleep is. Your glasses hang awkwardly over your nose, almost making the man smile at the unintentionally delicate, purely appealing picture you've painted.

The gust of wind coming from the open doors forces you to bring your body close to yourself to ward off the cold and without any forewarning, Loki's body is already moving to slide the glass close, giving one snap of his finger and pointing to the floor near his feet to bring Fenrir inside without so much as a squeak.

The lightning outside the glass lights up his face, illuminating this deep ocean of green in his eyes as he blinks with a tender thought before slowly making a one-eighty to stand right at the back of the sofa where you lay.

One step and he can see your arm and shoulders move with your gentle breathing. One more and he watches this side of your face already sinking in some dream.

Know your lines, Loki.

His fingers twitch at the thought. He looks around for a sign of help but gets none. So, one lungful of air later, his hands lightly brush away your hair from your face, making sure they never touch your skin.

The thumb and index place themselves securely around the edges of the frame of your glasses before they are pulled away with commendable patience. Even the lungs are allowed to breathe only when he has snapped the temples in.

It is hard for his eyes to break away from your face but he does so unwillingly to bend over the sofa from here he stands to place the glasses on the coffee table in front of you, his fingers accidentally brushing your exposed waist.

The second it takes his nerves to realise what kind of contact was made, you wake up with a gasp and a withered moan.

Loki cannot understand what he is watching for a moment there.

Red eyes looking around in unadulterated horror, lips trembling with the intensity of a cracking winter, fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa you lie on, breaths shallower than the pit he dug this morning.

But the worst of the thump in his heartbeat comes when you turn to look at him with the look of a victim of dreadful deception. A quick breath is taken in by the parted lips of Loki, the man of the multi-million empire who bows to no one, to bring himself to explain himself to you.

"Is he here?"

The words on the edge of his tongue stare at you with a tingling shock.

"...what?"

A single tear falls from your eye over the cheeks heated for all the wrong reasons.

"That man," your words come out broken and wounded, similar to the look in your eyes, "is he-is he here?"

Something inside his chest rips apart and comes off and he has no idea what it is or how to put it back up.

"I... it's just me," he finally speaks, the confusion along with this unknown searing pain piled up between his brows, almost regretting saying it the moment those words leave his mouth.

"Oh, thank God," you wheeze through the shiver in your throat, striking the man again with your words, "thank God."

He can see you struggling with your breathing while your eyes still go out to make out the shadows you don't trust.

"Kira," he finally speaks, bringing your attention to him with this soothing composure in his voice, "look at me."

So you do.

"Whoever he is, isn't here. He will never be."

Lightning lights up the green in his eyes, showing him in a brilliant light.

Like a natural reflex, you nod in response to the assurance.

"Go get some sleep," he speaks softly, "we have to leave in seven hours."

Your head turns towards the golden base clock before getting up and walking to the East wing.

Loki doesn't move from where he stands till he sees you walk down the corridor, turn on your lights for a few minutes and then turn them off.

Fenrir is shifting his weight between his paws before Loki finally tells him to go and he dashes to where you went.

The cellphone is already out and the phone is ringing on the other side.

"Yes, Sir?" The familiar Scottish accent drips through the earpiece.

"You said she talked to the manager. Who is he?"

A two-second pause. "A Harrison Wardwell, sir. Do you want me to-"

"I need everything on that man."

Thunder rumbles violently, rattling the strongest doors and windows of the house.

"Every. Single. Thing."

[kiranerysismyhero]

Homeric Epic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807252

Jadzia drags Kira along on an odyssey on the holodeck

For @primatechnosynthpop on tumblr for the @sapphicstartrek fanwork exchange

“I do not believe you.”

Jadzia replied without turning. “No one asked you to believe anything, Worf. I was just letting you know that I’m busy this evening.”

“The major has expressed her disdain for the holosuites many times. She would not willingly join you again, especially after her experience in the Camelot program.” 

“Who said anything about willingly?” 

Jadzia smiled when she spotted Kira arriving at Ops. “Nerys! Perfect timing.”

“Oh?” Kira said, joining Dax at her station. “Why’s that?”

“You can tell Worf here that I did in fact get you to agree to join me in the holosuites tonight.” 

Kira sighed, but her expression wasn’t without mirth. “That’s right. Against my better judgement.” 

“Hey!” Jadzia turned to Kira, “I won fair and square and you know it.”

“Only because you violated the spirit of the rules!” Kira protested. “I spent all week fundraising the old-fashioned way, and you just spent a couple evenings playing Tongo and called your winnings ‘donations from the Ferengi waiters!’ You may have won the bet, but I wouldn’t call it fair and square.”

“Oh come on,” Jadzia argued. “Deep down, you wanted me to win anyway or you wouldn’t have taken the bet. You know I usually donate to the war orphan fund around this time of year anyway. That little spark of imagination within you just wanted an excuse to get some exercise.” 

Kira merely gave her a look. 

“If you two are finished bickering,” Worf interjected, “we have a meeting in the Wardroom in a few minutes.”

Jadzia turned. “We were not bickering.” 

“And even if we were,” Kira added, “what’s it to you?”

“We’ll make it to the meeting on time, don’t you worry.” There was a bit of playful condescension in Jadzia’s voice.

“I just meant-” Worf sighed. “I hate it when you two…” he gestured for the right words “...combine your sass.”

Jadzia smiled. “I suppose maybe we should save it for tonight.”

“I can hardly wait.” Kira’s voice was deadpan, but she wore a smile.

---

That evening Kira and Jadzia walked onto the turbolift as the next shift started their watch. 

“So,” Kira started, placing her hand on her hip, “are you going to tell me just what kind of holographic misadventure we’ll be having tonight?” 

“A classic from Earth, one of their foundational epics.” Jadzia mirrored Kira’s pose teasingly. “Don’t worry about the costume, I already picked up your toga from Garak.”

Kira eyed Jadzia with a bit of suspicion. “What’s a toga?” 

---

Kira was beginning to grow impatient with Jadzia’s absence. They were supposed to be running this program together, weren’t they? So why was it that Jadzia had decided to play some apparently minor character back on the island with all the narcotic fruits, if Kira and her crew were meant to leave that island and wash up here?

Speaking of Kira’s men, she didn’t much care for the holographic crew she’d been given. First she had to drag them all out of their lotus-induced stupor to get them back on track, and now they’d decided without her permission to raid this cave of the meat and cheese they found. She absently tangled her fingers in the wool of a sheep in one of several pens around the spacious cave. 

Kira was uneasy. The crew had insisted that the laws of hospitality would compel the person who lived here to grant them a gift that would aid them on their journey, but Kira had her doubts. By the look of the cave this dwelling belonged to someone or something rather large, and there was no guarantee that the occupant shared the same cultural rules of hospitality as her crew. 

As Kira rethought the plan to wait here to meet the homeowner, the ground began to shake with thunderous footsteps. The sunlight from the cave entrance was blocked out, the only remaining light the fire that had been lit by the now-quaking crew. A flock of sheep streamed through the darkened cave entrance, followed by whatever it was that cast a shadow so large. 

The gargantuan form, back turned, rolled a large stone into place at the mouth of the cave. With the only exit very much blocked and no idea what sort of giant creature it was whose food her men had helped themselves to, Kira felt anxiety pool in the pit of her stomach. At least the program was about to become a little more interesting than just trying to command a ship of buffoons, Kira mused. 

The figure turned slowly, standing up to its full height as it stepped closer to the light cast by the torches. It dropped the wood that it had been carrying with a crash that sent Kira’s men scrambling to hide. A voice like the rumbling of a volcano called out “Who is there?”

Kira took in the looming form before her. It was dirty, a bit lumpy, and approximately fourteen feet tall but the trail of spots from the bare feet to the misshapen temples were unmistakable, as was the twinkle in the big, singular blue eye. 

“Jadzia? How are you doing that?” Kira marveled. 

Jadzia switched back to her normal voice, albeit in a stage-whisper. “Imagination, remember? Don’t pull yourself out of the story!” 

Kira gave Jadzia a look that made it clear that she wasn’t moving forward without an explanation.

“Fine, technically I’m in a sectioned-off area of the holosuite controlling the cyclops through VR. It’s a hologram that just looks like me. Well, fourteen feet of me.” Even with teeth like mossy boulders Jadzia’s smile was charming. “Now back into character!” 

Her voice boomed out “Who are you?” 

Kira rolled her eyes but adjusted her posture to that of a brave leader speaking on behalf of her men. “We are Greeks, and come from Troy. We’re trying to return home, but adverse winds blew us ashore.”

---

Kira stood tied to the mast of her ship as her crew worked around her, wax plugging their ears. They had been warned of an island ahead on their journey where Sirens lured men to their deaths with irresistible song. Kira just knew Jadzia would be one of them. She had made sure that her men wouldn’t be drawn in by the siren call but her own ears would remain unplugged. Only, she wasn’t just curious to hear the Siren. She was ready to give her a piece of her mind. 

“First you were a hippy Lotus-Eater that helped drug my crew, then you were huge freakin’ Polyphemus and ate everyone, then you… ugh, I swear you picked this program specifically so you could frustrate me!” The fire in Kira’s eyes was giving Jadzia life, though admitting as much would get her in even more hot water with her irritated friend. 

“No,” smirked Jadzia in Siren form. “I just thought you’d look great in a toga.” 

Jadzia didn’t look bad in one herself, Kira thought. For this character Dax hadn’t used any fancy holographic tricks, save for a bit of a glowing aura that only accentuated her natural beauty. 

Not that that was the point Kira wanted to focus on right now, she reminded herself. 

“If you had to pick an old ‘Earth epic’” Kira punctuated the term with finger quotes, a difficult feat with her arms pinned to her sides, “you could have at least had us be on the same side.”

“But that would take the fun out of thwarting you again and again.” Jadzia’s grin made Kira want to ‘thwart’ her right in the face. 

“You said I would like this program better than Camelot because it’s about my character trying to get home to his beloved wife, who is meanwhile using all her tricks to keep suitors off her back and stay faithful...” 

Jadzia nodded. “No kissing of married women.” 

“... and yet here you are trying to seduce me, a married man!”

“It’s the nature of my kind,” Jadzia shrugged. “You resisted Circe well enough, you honorable hero. Besides, if it really bothered you, you could have plugged your ears like the rest of the crew.” Jadzia’s voice grew sultry. “My dear Odysseus, one might think you wanted me to seduce you.” 

A heat grew in Kira’s stomach as a blush formed on her cheeks. “Your choice of holoprogram,” Kira objected, “has cast you to pursue me twice now. Maybe you’re the one who wants the seduction to happen.”

“Yet you haven’t ended the program, or attacked anyone you’re not supposed to.” Jadzia pointed out. “You may object to the Siren calling to Odysseus, but maybe you don’t mind me pursuing you.”

“Maybe I’m exercising my imagination!” Kira spat back with a bit too much bluster. “Like what I’d like to do to you if I weren’t tied to this mast!”

Jadzia completely sidestepped the threat, purring “Maybe I should come aboard ship and find out exactly what you would like to do to me.”

“Maybe you should!”

Jadzia stepped off the island, her footsteps gliding across the water as she made her way to the ship. Within a few moments she stood on the deck face-to-face with Kira, who pulled at her bonds to lean closer to Jadzia. 

“Maybe I should untie you,” Jadzia murmured.

“Or maybe you could just kiss me already!” 

Jadzia couldn’t help but smile at the genuine impatience in Kira’s voice. Leaning in closer so that her lips were a breath away from Kira’s ear, she cupped Nerys’s chin with her right hand and whispered “Okay.”

Their kiss was long and deep. Kira’s senses were overwhelmed as the taste of Jadzia mingled with the brisk fresh smell of the sea air. Maybe the holosuites had their merits after all. 

“You know, this isn’t how the program is supposed to play out.” Jadzia smiled, breathless as she pulled back a millimeter. 

Kira wore a smirk as she went in for another kiss. “You know I like to make up my own endings.” 

[storyknitter]

Kiss Goodbye

So an AU where my Consular Rineth is the Outlander has been rattling around in my head since the end of summer, when I wrapped up SoR with her.

In my canon, Sanna and Rinnie both go to meet with Marr on behalf of the Jedi/Republic in chapter 1 of KotFE. Now, just before you get to the scene where you tell your crew to either high-tail it out of Wild Space or stay and fight this new huge fleet, there’s a room with a few escape pods. So what really happens is that Sanna stuffs her younger sister – whose husband is onboard the Defender, waiting for them to come back – into an escape pod, tells Kira to be sure to pick up the pods, then get back to the Republic.

Well, as I was prepping to run Rinnie through the expansions, this crazy AU of “What would have happened if Rineth was the one to ensure her sister and crew’s safety instead of the other way around?” Rinnie would have killed Valkorion, becoming the Outlander trapped in carbonite for five years while her crew falls apart. Vassanna would have made it back to the Republic (wracked with guilt) and turned to Theron for comfort. They would have started a relationship and been happy together in stolen moments between assignments, falling hard and fast.

But they’re at war. Sanna is continually thrown at as many fights as she can get to, slowly worn down and exhausted by the constant losses to the Eternal Empire. Theron’s off doing his spy thing, trying to find a weakness that the Republic can exploit. The timeline’s a little wonky, but whatever. This is AU fanfic so I can do what I want and handwave the timeline as I see fit.

This is the only part I have completely worked up at the moment (and it’s near the middle). I do have the entire storyline in my head and scribbled down, but it hurts to write out and I don’t work on it much. So grab a box of tissues and... enjoy?

Warning: major character death

One morning in the middle of Melona, Vassanna and Theron dragged themselves out of each other's arms and the warm, cozy hotel bed to prepare for the day ahead. His heart swelled with pride as she slipped a gold chain over her head, its white and purple crystal pendant resting perfectly against her chest, near her heart. He may not be able to travel with her, but his gift could stay close.

Theron couldn’t help himself: he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear, eliciting a giggle. Hells, he was certain his heart would explode every time she did that.

“That tickled,” she said as she turned around in his arms, draping hers over his shoulders and running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Their eyes met and time stood still, melancholy creeping and tangling around them as their time together came to an end. Sanna kissed him deeply, her palm cool on his cheek. “I love you, Theron Shan.”

He nodded, nuzzling her nose. “Love you too.” He hesitated only briefly before putting voice to the thoughts that had been bouncing around his head for the last day and a half: “Be careful. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

She gave him a soft, sweet smile. “You always have a bad feeling about this. But I don't like leaving you, either,” she said, growing serious. “Come with me. There's room on my ship.”

Theron sighed, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know, I was so ready to go with you out to Wild Space, but... they need me here, at the SIS.”

“I know, but–”

“Sanna, this is how I protect the Republic. You defend us with glowing plasma swords and the Force – I use intel, blasters, and sneaky stuff.”

“Fine,” she said with a frown, her mouth twisting with concern. “Just... make sure you're in more than your underwear this time, okay?”

“I never should've told you that story," Theron said ruefully, shaking his head. They both chuckled and his laugh turned into a heavy sigh as he glanced at the chrono on the wall. “They need you out there, beautiful.”

“And I need you, so stay safe.”

“Hey, that's my line,” Theron murmured, a smirk creeping onto his lips. Tenderly brushing a wisp of hair off her forehead, he kissed her temple. “I love you.” He pressed his lips to Sanna’s cheek. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

She nodded. “I love you too. I'll come back, promise.”

He sent Sanna off to the spaceport with a bittersweet farewell kiss and a new datastick tucked in her pocket – a few weeks ago, she’d mentioned that the Defender was quieter than ever with Rusk recalled by the military and the loss of Scourge, so Theron had put together a new playlist of music for her, Kira, and Doc as a surprise.

Theron's shuttle was scheduled to depart for Nar Shaddaa an hour after she and her crew headed to Arsei 5. A week and a half later, he’d completed his mission for the SIS – gathering intel on the so-called Star Fortress and its planetside bunker – and was relaxing in the safe house, mostly ignoring one Jonas Balkar. His colleague had been trying his damnedest to get Theron out to the clubs around the Red Light Sector and, failing that, the Promenade.

“You think I don’t remember the last time you talked me into going to the bar with you? My bruises had bruises,” he said, scowling. “And no amount of blackmail will change my mind.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun. And I swear, there’s no undercover work this time. Just two co-workers getting a drink off the clock...”

Theron didn’t hear the end of the recruitment speech. Something thumped in his chest, twisted his insides, and an ice-cold wave washed over him, sending goosebumps prickling across his skin. “Something’s wrong,” he murmured.

Jonas stopped speaking immediately and reached for his datapad. “I know better than to doubt your intuition.” Before the dark-haired spy finished his sentence, an encrypted notification arrived for them both: Arsei 5 had fallen to the Eternal Empire.

“No,” Theron whispered, his heart in his throat. Grabbing his comm, he stood abruptly and turned toward the bedroom. “I, uh... I gotta make a call.” He barely recognized his own voice, strangled and panicked as it was.

He dialed Sanna’s comm frequency, pacing furiously as it rang and rang and rang. He hung up and counted to sixty before punching in the frequency again; his stomach flopped as there was still no answer. Ice crept into his chest, making it near-impossible to breathe or think rationally. Terminating the call after long moments, Theron forced himself to wait until he read through Trant’s missive regarding the planet’s capture before attempting to contact her once more.

Perusing the blunt report, it appeared that only a small handful of ships had escaped the carnage; they were filled to bursting with as many beings from the forsaken planet as they could carry. One of the surviving vessels was listed as a Defender-class ship, and he breathed a little easier, able to wait five whole minutes before picking up his comm again and dialing her frequency by rote.

“C’mon, beautiful, pick up. Please pick up. Pick up pick up pick up,” Theron muttered as the ringing continued. He stopped counting the number of rings and froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. The spy slowly turned around, his stomach sinking to the floor as his gaze fell upon a glowing figure two meters away, its features heartbreakingly familiar: an ancient scar running diagonally across a beautifully peaceful face, diamonds dotted across soft cheeks, sorrowful eyes framed by long dark lashes.

He shook his head as he stared, his vision blurring; his heart had accepted the truth standing before him even as he denied it with his words.

“No. No, sweetheart, please no.”

“You should end the call, love,” Vassanna said, her voice a hollow echo of its soft, silvery tone. “I can’t answer it.”

“No!” he shouted, picking up the holocomm and hurling it across the room in a rage. The ghost of the woman he loved more than he'd thought possible reached out with the Force and caught the device, gently resting it on the dresser.

“You still need that. Kira’s trying to figure out how to break the news to you.” She gave him a small, infinitely sad smile as she stepped closer, within arm’s reach. “It’s going to take her a bit.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “This isn’t happening. You promised me. You promised,” he hissed through teeth clenched tight. She reached up to rest her hand on his cheek, a slight pressure reinforcing the fact that this wasn’t just some terrible nightmare.

“I know. I’m so sorry – I tried to keep my promise, I swear. Oh my love, I wanted so much to come home to you.”

Theron couldn’t answer; the grief that bubbled up from his heart choked him. Instead, out of habit, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead and was pleasantly surprised to find his lips met resistance. Shifting closer, he tentatively wrapped his arms around her translucent form. For the briefest of moments, he held Sanna close before his arms collapsed into his own chest. His Jedi gazed up at him, exhaustion in her features. “I’m sorry, Theron, I can’t...”

The reality of her death crashed into him and he dropped to his knees, folding his arms around himself to keep from falling apart.

“Theron.” He glanced up at his name, blinking away the blurriness in his vision. She brushed her fingers against his jaw and kissed him, as light as a feather, on his cheek. “I can’t stay now, though we’ll see each other again. But first....” Sanna trailed off as she took his hand in hers, turning it palm up, and rested her other hand on top. Frowning in concentration, she closed her eyes and her image flickered before him, as though a projector's power source had faltered.

“No, don’t go yet,” he whispered.

Vassanna looked up, meeting his gaze triumphantly, her smile brighter than a thousand suns. She removed her upper hand, revealing a gold chain with a white and purple-streaked crystal pendant resting cool and heavy in his palm. Theron’s fingers closed tight around it and, clutching the necklace to his chest, lost all control over the emotions roiling inside him.

He wanted to lash out, to break things, to rage against whatever destiny, whatever cruel fate had taken her away from him. Instead, he sniffled and a sob escaped him, followed shortly by another. Clamping a hand over his mouth and screwing his eyes shut, he berated himself. Come on. You’re a professional on the job, dammit. Pull it together, Shan. There is no emotion, there is only peace. There’s no emotion, no emotion. There's only the Force. A muffled keening sound startled him as he realized it was coming from his own throat.

Theron felt one last soft brush of her lips on his cheek and heard a whispered, “I love you, Theron. Always,” in his ear, and then– then she was gone as suddenly as she’d arrived.

“No, come back. I love you too. Come back Sanna, please. Don’t leave me. Come back, I love you...”

His holo-communicator buzzed, pulling him out of his misery. He didn’t need to look at the display to know the incoming call would be Vassanna’s former padawan and best friend. Dashing tears off his face with the sleeve of his jacket, he slipped the necklace over his head, tucking it under his shirt, close to his heart. Taking a deep breath, Theron answered and – without preamble – said flatly, “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Kira Carsen’s mouth opened in surprise before her face collapsed, nodding and digging her fists into her hips. “I'm so sorry, Theron, it's all my fault,” she said, her voice breaking. “I missed a Knight mixed in with all the Skytroopers. There were too many and I – and she –”

“It’s not your fault, Kira. I don’t blame you,” he interrupted and swallowed another sob that threatened to slip out. “I seriously doubt she’d blame you, either.”

The red-haired Jedi nodded, wiping her eyes and sniffled again. “I need to contact the Council and the Senate. I called you first, you deserved to find out from me. And– oh Force, I need to comm her family.”

Something about the panic on Kira’s features prompted him to volunteer. He’d spoken to Sanna’s family occasionally after the war broke out – and not just that first disastrous time when she was heartbroken over the loss of her sister on Marr's ship. At first, he happened to be there when they chatted, but then everyone began checking in on one another. He liked her parents and they seemed to like him as well: it was shockingly domestic.

“Thank you, Spy Boy,” Kira said, giving him a forced smile. “She loved you so much. You know that, right? So much.”

Barely able to speak, Theron nodded, lips pursed. “Thanks, Kir,” he said, meeting her watery gaze. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Theron. Farewell.”

As Kira disconnected, he sighed heavily and pulled up the appropriate Mirialan phrasing, the words Sanna had used ages ago to inform her parents that they’d lost a different daughter. Muttering a curse, he worried that the Nabeshin family would start refusing his calls if he kept giving them this type of news.

He punched in Sanna's parents’ frequency and Kethrys answered after precious few rings – there was no way that Theron was ready to have this conversation.

(If he were honest with himself, he would never have been ready for this conversation.)

“Theron! What a pleasure to speak with you again.” The Mirialan’s voice was soothing, calm, and the shape of her small smile was enough like his Jedi’s that he froze, staring, blinking hard as his vision blurred again. Swallowing the lump that had grown in his throat, he finally spoke, the foreign words tumbling clumsily off of his tongue:

“Solemn greetings, bereaved one.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, remembering the last time he’d said those words to her. Theron forged ahead, his voice breaking and fists clenched at his sides. “I share your sorrow over the death of San–” A harsh, gaspy breath snuck out before he could stop it. “Of Vassanna Nabeshin, Jedi Knight, Battlemaster of the Order, and daughter of Kethrys and Tomar. She...” He trailed off, grasping at the proper words amidst the grief swirling through him.

“Oh, not both of my girls,” the older woman cried, her fingers raised to her lips. “Not both of them, please. Oh, my girls...”

“I want her back, Keth,” he said, breaking from the traditional script in a moment of weakness. “This can’t be real, I want her back.”

The remainder of the conversation passed in a blur of denial and disbelief from both parties, and no small amount of tears. Theron ended the call and slid to the floor, forearms on his knees, his head against the wall. A quiet knock on the door cut through the fog of grief surrounding him.

“Go away,” he snarled at Jonas before the other spy could open the door.

“All right, all right. I’m gonna go grab some whiskey – the liquor cabinet is empty – but I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Whatever, I’m a grown-up and can manage on my own while you go shopping.” Scrubbing his face with his hands, Theron unmuted his implants and picked up his datapad, reading the updates he’d missed in the last hour or so. He tried his best not to envision what the destruction of Arsei 5 looked like: it’d be less likely that his imagination would picture her there, lying lifeless and –

No, he thought to himself, this just can’t be real. This has to be the worst dream I’ve ever had. There’s no way she didn’t make it. She always makes it. Even when the odds are fucking terrible.

He railed at the Force, calling it a coward and a liar and a cheat because there was no possible way that she could be dead. He begged and pleaded for this all to be a terrible misunderstanding, for the intel to be wrong, for her to be a prisoner of war, anything but dead. He would accept any other outcome than her death. How the hells was this at all fair? She was so special, so indescribable – she didn’t deserve to die and be forgotten, left behind on a battlefield on a strange planet. Fuck the Force and Destiny and to the fucking Void with them all.

A new update pinged his implants. Finding it difficult to focus, he skimmed the message on his pad: the Republic and Sith Empire signed a peace treaty with Emperor Arcann, going behind Saresh’s back, and his barely contained rage boiled over.

“Why now, you cowardly fucks, and why not a Force-damned week ago? She’d still be alive!” he roared, heaving the offensive datapad across the room and into the wall with a satisfying crunch. The chrono from the nightstand followed it, shattering into pieces. Grabbing his holocomm, he hurled it across the room for the second time that day, only to have it snagged out of midair once again.

If looks could kill, Jonas Balkar would be a dead man.

Unfortunately, he’d known Theron long enough to be unimpressed by the scowl on the traditionally-grumpy spy’s face. “Come have a drink, Shan,” Jonas said, leveling a serious look at his colleague. “Just promise you won’t throw anything else.”

“The signed a fucking treaty!” he shouted, gesturing wildly.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Taking a deep breath, Theron made his way out of the room: whiskey sounded like a terrific idea right about now. Near the door, the image of Sanna that he'd tried so hard to ignore – lifeless and broken in the dirt – resurfaced. He let out a strangled cry and punched the wall, pain shooting up his arm. It barely dulled the ache in his chest. As he pulled his fist back again, Jonas tackled him, the punch grazing the side of his head.

“What the hells, man? Breaking your damned hand isn’t gonna bring her back.” The dark-haired spy’s words snapped Theron out of his reckless fury and he glanced over at the broken pieces of tech on the floor.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he said, still a bit dazed as Jonas steered him to the living room of the safehouse. “Oh hells, she’s really gone. She’s gone and it was pointless because they signed a treaty and fuck,” he swore emphatically as he plopped onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “She’s gone and I didn’t tell her I loved her enough and–”

A rude snort from Jonas interrupted his rambling. “Please. She knew how you felt. Unless she was a blind idiot – which she wasn’t – she knew.” Jonas sighed and clapped a hand to Theron’s shoulder. “Damn. I knew when you finally fell for somebody you’d fall hard. I just didn’t realize you already had.” He paused briefly, handing Theron a generous glass of whiskey with a smirk. “But don’t worry: I won’t tell anyone that you’ve actually got a heart.”

Theron rolled his eyes as he accepted the glass, wincing at the sharp pang leftover from picking a fight with a wall.

“To your Jedi,” Jonas said, solemnly raising his tumbler. “May she be at peace in the Force.”

Theron lightly tapped the rims of their glasses together before tossing back the contents of his own. With Jonas's help, he proceeded to get more drunk than ever before – and that was saying something. He knew he’d regret it in the morning, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

[youremyonlyhope]

The Last Jedi

Here we go. The most controversial Star Wars movie ever (unless Rise of Skywalker has reviews that are just as mixed. I haven’t read any so I don’t know how it’s been received yet.) I actually really really enjoyed the Last Jedi, but I haven’t rewatched it since I saw it in theaters.

Also, unrelated, but literally just a few hours ago I met Oscar Isaac. I was doing a caroling event where I work, and he came by with his son to watch. During one of our breaks, he asked if his son could try the microphone and he held him up so he could whisper and sing stuff into the mic. It was adorable.

I seemed to be the only person who recognized who he was, though one of my co-workers said he had thought so too but he wasn’t sure until I confirmed it. So I went up to Oscar and said hi, asked if he was Oscar Isaac, shook his hand, and thanked him for coming. He says that it was great and that his son loves to sing.

I always joked that I’d bump into Oscar one day since he lives in Brooklyn, but I didn’t think it’d actually happen. And not while I’m wearing a Star Wars shirt and Star Wars socks (which he obviously couldn’t see since I was bundled up in a coat and a scarf and boots but whatever). And definitely not the day before I’m supposed to see the Rise of Skywalker.

I’m still freaking out oh my god. Ok. Time to rewatch the Last Jedi.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... This was the first Star Wars movie I’d seen in theaters in like 12 years at this point. Seeing those words on a giant screen again was amazing. “Certain that Jedi Master Luke Skywalker will return and restore a spark of hope to the fight.” I love that line. I love any and all comparisons of Luke to hope. Yes I am biased. But also, restoring the spark is exactly he does in the end so yes, I love it. It’s just now hitting me that we’re picking up exactly where we left off. Having 1 night between the two movies is every different than having 2 years. ...Was that whatsherface from Game of Thrones, Catelyn’s creepy sister? (IMDB says yes) *BB8 beeps* “Happy beats here buddy, come on.” BB8 sort of said the thing! Also, OH MY GOD I JUST MET OSCAR ISAAC AND NOW HERE HE IS ON MY SCREEN WHAT THE HELL. Was today even real? Oh General Hugs. “Skinny guy. Kinda pasty.” Knowing Oscar and Domnhall are friends makes this better. Oh BB8. Very honorable of Billie Lourd’s Lieutenant Connix to make sure she’s in the last ship leaving the base so everyone else leaves before her. I forgot about the chain reaction of bombs destroying their own Resistance ships... You know, Paige dying while dropping the last of the bombs was already emotional. Rewatching it after you know she’s Rose’s sister makes it worse. First Binary Sunset of the movie. General Hugs has a very good upset face that makes me not feel bad for him at all. More like I want to punch him. Snoke can use the Force across the galaxy... forgot about that. I realized I didn’t mention this in the last one, but I remember the crew complaining that when they filmed the end of Force Awakens it was a cloudy day, but then when they went back to the island for TLJ it was super sunny. And now that it’s been pointed out, I noticed it immediately. Luke throwing the lightsaber. I can’t remember if I was spoiled for this but I feel like when I watched it, I wasn’t that thrown off by it. Something else I didn’t mention at the end of Force Awakens is that I LOVE this set. The stone houses are amazing. Oh porgs. Also, that porg looking into the lightsaber always gives me anxiety. The first words we hear Luke say in 40 years are an annoyed “Go away.” which at least is less whiney than the Tosche Station. Oh Chewie’s like “DUDE. WE NEED YOU.” “Wait... where’s Han?” Awww. Throwing in a little Vader’s theme in there. More temper tantrums. People getting mad at Luke calling a lightsaber a laser sword (in a purposefully mocking way) even though George Lucas himself called them that in some interviews. Yes, it’s not a laser sword, but Luke is trying to show how ridiculous he thinks the idea of him taking down everything is by calling a lightsaber that. I remember being like “Luke... no let’s not just milk that thing... oh ew” I do love the shot of Luke using the giant stick to cross to the other cliff and kill the fish. God that’s a steep hill. “No one’s from nowhere.” “Jakku.” “Alright that is pretty much nowhere.” That’s funny. “It’s time for the Jedi to end.” Remember when that line in the trailer made the fandom literally break down? I love knowing that behind the scenes, Carrie had to slap Oscar a billion times. Also, I do not blame Leia at all. So many people were mad about Leia and Holdo demoting Poe, but Poe was too fearless in that moment. Yes, he destroyed the ship and it worked out, but they lost so many people and they already didn’t have many to begin with. It was worth it, but at a very high cost. So I don’t blame her. Heyyyyyy it’s that girl from that Black Mirror episode and what was that other show? Chewing Gum or something? (IMDB says yes it’s Michaela Coel) See and Poe’s already learning a little by asking permission. Of course... later on he doesn’t ask permission... but whatever. Leia’s Theme... causing me pain. Oh, Kylo didn’t kill his mom. We’re supposed to be happy about that? The bar is on the ground. The utter horror I felt the first time the control room was destroyed and Leia was pulled into space. Oh I love the moment when Leia flies in. Because I’d heard that in the books and comics, we get to explore Leia’s Force abilities and stuff but we don’t get it in the movies besides “I feel that Luke’s in trouble.” Which sucks, because she is the “other” if Luke didn’t work out, so she’s just as strong as Luke if she got trained. They should have just trained both kids honestly, why did they pick the boy? Not saying Obi-Wan and Yoda are sexist... but they’re probably sexist. Also, foreshadowing. I actually noticed the hologram of the ship and Leia flying through this time. Oh Chewie. I like the porg that literally has his jaw dropped in horror. Knowing now that the dice were kind of a symbol of Kira (was that Emilia Clarke’s character?) and Han’s relationship makes me not like them as much. Still, cute throwback that they’re still on the Falcon. We can just ignore they weren’t there in Force Awakens (I kept an eye out and didn’t see them) The way Luke laughed when he said “R2!” I just... my heart. “Nothing can make me change my mind” *R2 plays the Leia hologram* I literally just went “AWWWW” out loud because I forgot that that’s why R2 started playing it. Oh my heart. That hurt the first time. Luke standing over Rey, but offering to help her. Parallels. Oh Admiral Ackbar. I love Holdo’s dress. I love the draping. Someone teach me how to make it. “Thank you for making me aware.” Yeah Poe, she already knows. Stop mansplaining. This is literally a case of mansplaining, why would Poe think he’d have to explain to a commander that there’s no fuel? Yeah it’s a little harsh, but is Holdo wrong? All of these fanboys complain about Canto Bight, but forget that it was Poe’s idea. Then they go and say Holdo was too mean should have put Poe in charge. Guys. Poe’s impulsive. We love him, but he’s the ultimate Gryffindor with no fear and will just do anything without considering consequences. I do wish Holdo had been more open like “I have a plan. You don’t need to know all the parts of it. Just let me do what I need to, ok?” instead of “Just follow my orders.” but still. Oh poor Rose. “Doing talking....” Oh she’s so cute. “I’ve had to stun 3 people trying to use this escape pod.” We love a girl who can fight. Yeah. Once again. Not mad at Rose. Finn does have some selfish tendencies, he’s well meaning but ultimately selfish (or at least, only thinking of Rey). So I do not blame Rose for stunning him.

And now I will take a nap since I have to go to a show tonight. And then I will finish the last 3/4-ish of the movie when I get home later.

Annnnd I’m back!

See. Rose has good reason to be mad at deserters. Ok so it wasn’t Poe’s idea to go to the Star Destroyer it was Finn’s. I will give him that. But still Poe went along with it. “That... wasn’t exactly my...” Oh 3PO. I wish Maz had had a bigger scene. More Lupita please. I have one question: from what angle is this hologram filmed? And how does the camera follow her? I guess it’s multiple hologram cameras, but still, it followed her as she rolled and ran around. Also, did Finn call Maz or did Poe call her? Because as far as we know, only Finn knows her. It seemed like they both had the idea to call her, but that Poe had it first. Did Finn tell Poe about Maz? I’m glad they showed Finn handing Poe the binary tracker thing, since for a second I was like “What if Rey had popped up next to Finn on the Star Destroyer?” I’m glad Rey’s first instinct is to shoot Kylo. “Can you see my surroundings?” “You’re gonna pay for what you did.” “I can’t see yours.” Why do I remember that line so vividly? Why does it make me feel so unsettled? Rey, my sweet Rey, I wish you had just told Luke that you saw Kylo. I love Luke’s explanation of the Force. And him messing with Rey was funny. I love when Rey’s reaching out and feeling life, death, peace, violence, etc. And I love Luke saying the Force doesn’t belong to the Jedi, because it doesn’t. The Jedi failed years ago. “You didn’t even try to stop yourself.” Luke’s horrified. But also, Rey’s just like an extreme version of Luke. Yoda knew that Luke’s emotions could make him vulnerable to the dark side, Rey’s already vulnerable. Yeah, I don’t blame Luke for being scared of Rey after he feels like this is Ben all over again. Oh my god. I love the porg that has a metal piece over its head. That actually made me laugh out loud. Poor Chewie.

I just had to refresh tumblr because my draft wasn’t saving. It brought me back to my dashboard. Where there was a spoiler for the new movie and it wasn’t tagged. PLEASE tag your spoilers people.

The water hitting Kylo still confuses me. Say what you will about the Canto Bight plot... the costumes are AMAZING. The costumes literally make the whole side plot worth it to me. Literally I was just in awe by all the costumes during every single scene. And the set! The set’s fantastic too! I literally just paused every single second to take in all of the costumes. Do I care if the Canto Bight trip ended up pointless? Nope! Because it gave me some of Star Wars’ best costumes. Oh... to be an extra in the Canto Bight scene... Just show up... And put on a beautiful outfit... And do nothing else but pretend to drink, talk, and gamble... That’s the dream. Oh hi Mark Hamill! That was cute that they let him voice that little thing. I remember noticing the thing and being like “...is he important?” and nope, it’s just Mark doing an extra voice. Oh I love the Fathiers. Aww and it’s the little Force sensitive boy. I have thoughts about that kid that I can get into later. The way BB8 jingles with the coins. I love it.

Rey: *Does a move with her stick* Rey: *Does the same exact move with the lightsaber* Fanboys: She’s too good too fast! Mary Sue!

As I said throughout all of the Force Awakens, she’s just applying the skills she already had. If anything, a lightsaber’s easier since it’s half the length and she doesn’t have to worry about the back of it hitting her. LOL, remember when we thought this shot was an epic shot of Luke training her? Good times. Oh that poor fish nun. Everything Luke says about the Jedi is true (also did I not say they failed earlier in the post? Luke agrees with me). Rey’s right that a Jedi got Ani to come back from the dark side, but the Jedi’s system enabled him to turn in the first place. Soooooo yeah. Oh Luke. Don’t blame yourself. Kylo was already basically gone. Sure, seeing his uncle standing over him with a lightsaber definitely didn’t help... but it’s not the only thing that made him turn. Who is this captain of the medical ship? He looks familiar. (IMDB says he’s Danny Sapani. I probably recognized him from the Crown) Oh BB8. Finn, did you learn nothing from Rey? Put the cover back on the vent! Awww the Fathiers have such sad eyes... I love the Resistance ring. Can I buy one? Ok. The shot of the bubble egg lady singing felt like it was much longer the first time, but it’s really only a split second. I. LOVE. THE. CANTO. BIGHT. SET. I know it’s a real town in like Italy or somewhere near the Mediterranean. I want to go. I love it. I love that the first thing Luke does when he decides to use the Force again is to seek out Leia. Oh poor Adam became a meme after this. He just has a very wide and bulky body, ok? God Luke looks so scary in Kylo’s flashback. “Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.” That reflection scene is so visually stunning. So in a way, it’s like Luke is failing Rey like he failed Ben. He’s not helping her in the way she needs, so she’s being lured by the dark side instead. I love the walls falling around Luke. “Did you do it? Did you create Kylo Ren?” Rey, he already told you earlier that he believes it’s his fault, so the answer from him is yes. I can’t remember if we hear this story of Luke and Kylo one more time after this or not. “Then he’s our last hope.” Ok ew. No. Kylo is not allowed to be compared to hope. Only Luke, Leia, or Obi-Wan can be. Oh for a second I thought that torch was a lightsaber. YODA!!!!! I think I had been spoiled for Yoda showing up. It was definitely still exciting though. “The sacred Jedi texts!” Oh Luke. Oh memes. Not as whiney as I remembered. “But that library contained nothing that the girl Rey does not already possess.” Because Yoda knows she stole the books. Oh Yoda. I love Yoda. Oh Rose. Ok, so I will give it to Poe that at this moment it doesn’t seem like Holdo has a good plan. Abandoning ship isn’t necessarily cowardly, but on the surface it does seem like it puts them in more danger. Literally earlier today I watched a video about the layout of the Millennium Falcon, and the escape pods were mentioned. And I thought to myself, wow that must be something from the novels since we’ve definitely never seen that in the movies. Welp... I was wrong... Rey’s in one now. I was about to be like “Do they not care that an escape pod just docked?” before I saw Kylo. LOL the iron coming down like a ship. I feel like I remember being completely terrified when Rey stepped in front of Snoke. Oh BB8. Bumping into stuff. I remember being super relieved that DJ (has he told us this is his name yet? I can’t remember) gave back the medallion. Captain Phasma! Hey girl hey! Leia shooting Poe is still funny to me. Also Lieutenant Billie Connix is smart.  I love the scene of Holdo and Leia saying goodbye. Also, Holdo’s purple hair with her bright blue eyes is super striking. Good choice. Snoke puts down the lightsaber. Unknowingly sealing his fate. Literally when Snoke reveals he connected their minds, I was like OF COURSE. Because the whole time I’m like neither of them are strong enough to do this. “She was more interested in protecting the light than she was seeming like a hero.” See. And that’s the flaw in both Poe and Finn. And Rey to an extent. They’re thinking about the big picture, but in context of smaller things like seeming like a hero, saving Rey, saving Kylo, etc. But Holdo’s thinking of only the big picture. I knew DJ betrayed them, I just forgot how badly.

And here’s another annoyance (which I was sorta trying to touch on earlier). Everyone hates the Canto Bight plot, yet they complain about Holdo trying to take charge. If Poe just let Holdo take charge and ignored Finn and Rose’s idea, then her plan would have been a complete success. No Canto Bight, no DJ to betray them, all the transports make it to Crait unnoticed, and the First Order eventually destroys a ship that’s empty except for Holdo. They complain about Holdo, but don’t think about the fact that Holdo could have prevented another plot they hated if the main characters had just listened to her.

And then Snoke hits Rey and literally puts the lightsaber back to where it will kill him. Ok literally I just misread a caption that said “Lord Vader” as “Lord Voldemort” and I was very confused. Taking a second to say that I love this set of Snoke’s throne room. Been thinking it forever, but Kylo picking up the lightsaber off the ground and seeing the reflection in the smooth red floor is amazing. Kylo igniting the lightsaber through Snoke is amazing. Also, I typed “Ben igniting” before literally freezing for a second and being like “...ok that’s a lot to unpack” I guess when he does something good my brain thinks of him as Ben instead of Kylo. ALSO, arm #16 and #17, I love that Snoke’s arms were cut off too in true Star Wars fashion. And I am VERY excited to see this fight scene again. I told myself not to pause at all during the Kylo and Rey team up fight, but I paused literally a second into it because Binary Sunset yes.

And my idiot brother and my mom are texting in the family group chat so it’s popping up on my screen throughout this scene. Ugh.

All of these red knight weapons are so cool. And I forgot about the one that gets chopped up... Oh my god one is a sword that transforms into a whip. LOVE. IT. And I love the quick lightsaber ignite through the head. Love it. Woah how is there still 44 minutes? I remember this battle being much closer to the end. I was wondering when the red walls went away, but I rewinded and saw that they had been slowly burning away after Rey made something hit them. Nice touch.

Ugh my brother and mom will not stop texting.

“You have no place in this story.” Wow Kylo, harsh. Oh shoot I forgot about the lightsaber breaking until they started their Force tug of war with it. I’d always wondered what would happen if someone lightsped through something... I want to say that I realized what she was doing before they told us, but now I realize that they basically told us what she would do when the First Order guy said “they’re preparing to hyperspeed.” so I guess I just caught on to the obvious hints.

God that moment still gives me chills. The silence. The way it sort of goes black and white. The multiple angles. So good.

I know for a fact that I spent the rest of the movie from this point on with my hands over my mouth in a constant stake of shock/fear/anxiety. Oh BB8. Some people thought this was ridiculous. But I had just spent the last few months rewatching the prequels before seeing this, and compared to the stuff R2 does, BB8 clumsily controlling a walker is nothing. Oh how I love Gwendoline Christie. I FORGOT THAT WE SAW HER EYE IN THE MASK. I hope Phasma survived. She’s so awesome. Ok my quality is like horrendous right now so I’m gonna refresh. LOL I FORGOT ABOUT GENERAL HUGS NEARLY ATTEMPTING TO KILL KYLO. Oh I forgot how much I love Crait as a set location. OH AND THE ICE DOG THINGS! LOVE THEM! Poe petting BB8 when he comes back kills me. I like those space age two person laptops. “People believe in Leia.” *Binary Sunset plays* My heart. Ok for a second I was like “This first person camera is like a war movie” and then it turns and we see the trench and I’m like “...ok... ok fine but that was very literal.” The red footsteps. Just... guys this set is so AMAZING. Ugh, these red streaks of dust behind them are so amazing. And when Finn passes in front of the camera, it gets covered in the dust and blurs part of the lens. Just like the Rathtar goo in the Force Awakens. I wonder if that’s going to be like... the thing of the sequels. One shot that has the camera lens partially covered by something. Also, I just wasted time trying to figure out if there’s an official name for that or not... oh well. The winding stripes left behind as they weave around... just... amazing. YEAH! GO CHEWIE! GO REY! Oh my god I forgot about the porg roaring. “Oh, they HATE that ship!” I’M DEAD. Look at the salt and how it forms the crystals in the trench. I love it. I FORGOT ABOUT THIS SHOT OF THE CAVE FULL OF THE RED SALT. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. I remember when the trailer had the first shot of the gorilla walkers, and I didn’t notice at first that there were normal AT-ATs next to them, and then I realized these things were twice as big as AT-ATs and I was horrified. See, and now Poe has learned that you can’t always be a hero and is making a good decision. I forgot about Finn’s speeder literally melting as he gets closer. I don’t understand the people who were mad that Rose stopped Finn. I for one was HORRIFIED at just the thought of Finn dying this way and thankful she stopped him. “That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate, saving what we love.” The kiss is pointless but I love the line and sentiment behind it. Oh god. Ok. Here come the emotions. Binary Sunset is playing. I was a wreck. And a little of Han and Leia’s Love Theme as she sees the dice. I remember actually noticing that in the theaters and half-sobbing. Oh god the forehead kiss. Oh and he winks at 3PO as he walks by. My heart. This is the specific shot of the gorilla walkers and the AT-ATs in a line that freaked me out. That shot of Luke standing up against all the First Order walkers and ships. Amazing. That shoulder brush though. Kylo’s so dumb, he literally just watched that lightsaber get destroyed, he HELPED destroy it. He should have known something was up, it couldn’t have been repaired that quickly. Purposeful shot of Luke’s feet not moving the salt. That Matrix back bend though. “I will have killed the last Jedi.” He said the title. Also, is that the only time it’s said? Because they say it a lot in Force Awakens but I don’t think so yet in this movie.. “And I will not be the last Jedi.” Ok so now it’s said again by Luke. Purposeful shot of Kylo’s shoe leaving a footprint as he runs to Luke. I’m pretty sure I probably shrieked when he tried to slice Luke in half.

I just now remembered that I’d actually kind of wondered if he’d be a Force projection or something when he first showed up. Because I’d just watched Return of the Jedi like a week earlier and saw Obi-Wan do it, so I wondered if Luke was doing it too. Especially when Poe said Luke was distracting the First Order. It passed my mind and was confirmed when Kylo couldn’t hit him. And here’s where I started to feel like my world was crumbling...

Oh god. My eyes are wet. It hurts. But when I watched it the first time, I really felt like my world was absolutely falling a part and ending forever while I watched Luke die. With the stupid binary sunset in front of him just like when he was a teenager and when he was a baby. One of the first things he ever saw was the binary sunset. I was like “This is beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I’m not completely in pain and dying.” That shot from above of Kylo with the stormtroopers, mirroring a shot from the prequels of Ani. Nice. So do they still have that connection even if Snoke’s dead?

HEY! Hey. Those dice were still visible to Kylo even after Luke was dead... was Leia Force projecting them to Kylo? It wouldn’t take as much work as doing it to everyone else at once from lightyears away. One person, your son, would be easier. So maybe... maybe Leia’s the one continuing the projection of the dice. I’m gonna stick with that theory thanks.

Awww BB8 asked Rey about his antenna, just like when they first met. Remember when people were like “Are Poe and Rey gonna be a thing?!?!?” and of course I’d much prefer that over Reylo thanks. The books! Somehow, that obvious shot of the books goes over so many people’s heads. So many complaints about the books getting burned, when they literally show us that Rey saved them. I had never noticed the bunks in the Millennium Falcon either until I saw that video earlier, and I’m glad I got to actually see one in use since Rose is sleeping in one.

Oh GOD the entirety of the Resistance can fit on the Millennium Falcon... that is NOT good.

I LOVE the scene of the kids retelling the story of Luke. I must have already gone in depth about this 2 years ago, but I love it. Luke became a legend in the end. He didn’t necessarily want to be one, but he’s become one. It was exactly what was in the opening scroll, he restored the spark of hope. That subtle use of the Force by that little boy. With Binary Sunset playing. And I love that last shot of him holding the broom up like a lightsaber.

I nearly forgot that they put in “In loving memory of our princess, Carrie Fisher” at the end. That’s what got me to finally cry. 40 straight minutes of covering my mouth in anxiety, then feeling like my world was crashing down around me as Luke died. Having it dedicated to Carrie made me just start sobbing so hard. Watch that happen again tomorrow.

I remember when I left the theater, at first I was like “What if the boys is Rey’s brother?!” but then... I realized that a huge point of the movie went over my head for a second there.

The fandom got so caught up in figuring out who Rey’s parents are, whether it’s Obi-Wan or Luke or Leia or even Palpatine, that they were mad when Kylo said they were no one. But like... guys... not every single Force user is related to the Skywalkers or anyone else we already know. There were hundreds of Jedi in the prequels, because anyone can be Force sensitive. Obi-Wan’s parents were nobody, Qui-Gon’s parents were nobody, Mace’s parents were nobody. They didn’t come from long lines of Force users (at least in movie lore), BECAUSE THE JEDI WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO HAVE KIDS. The Skywalkers aren’t even a long line, it’s just 3 generations at this point. So literally none of the Jedi of the past came from powerful Force users (or at least from ones who got the chance to become Jedi) since that literally goes against the code.

Luke found at least 11 other Force sensitive kids to train alongside Ben, their parents were all definitely nobodies since he’s the last Jedi. Ben is an anomaly, Luke and Leia are anomalies, the Jedi don’t have kids! The fandom got so caught up in figuring out who Rey could be related to, that they forgot that for millennia the individual Jedi were not related to anyone.

Anyone can be Force sensitive. Anyone can be a Jedi. Rey is an example of that. That little boy is an example of that. That’s why I love that the little Force sensitive boy was the final shot of the movie. He was meant to reassure and remind us after the Rey parentage reveal that anyone can end up Force sensitive. They don’t need a famous/powerful parent. They can come from anywhere and be anyone. And I love that that’s the final note of this movie.

Some people were not reassured. Some people couldn’t handle the idea that Rey’s powerful just because she’s Rey, not because she’s someone’s daughter. She HAS to be related to someone to be that powerful, right? But every Jedi before her who was just as powerful wasn’t related to anyone, so why does she have to be?

ANYWAY! I was actually worried over the last 2 years that I’d rewatch The Last Jedi and not like it as much as I did in theaters. I still like it a lot. Even the Canto Bight scenes get redeemed by the costumes and the set being so amazing. But I love the message of don’t be a hero, this is bigger than just you. And I love the message that even if you’re “nobody” from “nowhere” you could still be Force Sensitive and you could still be a Jedi. I love Luke’s send off, I love that he does end up reigniting the spark and being a beam of hope again. I love it.

And I’m excited to see the Rise of Skywalker tomorrow.

[weerd1]

Star Trek DS9 Rewatch Log, Stardate 1909.28: Missions Reviewed, “Extreme Measures,” “The Dogs of War,” and “What You Leave Behind.”

(Note: as we are in the last nine episodes which run as a continuous storyline, these three will be summarized together.)

Kira and Garak return an ailing Odo to DS9, and his condition is far worse than Bashir expected. Odo asks Kira to return to Damar so she doesn’t have to watch him die, and so Kira’s grief won’t be the last thing he sees. Bashir and O’Brien reveal their plan to Sisko who though angry, gives his approval. They also reveal they have Romulan mind-probes to use if the Seciton 31 agent does not want to be helpful. Soon enough, Sloan himself arrives, and Bashir springs his trap. Realizing he’s cornered, Sloan triggers a suicide device.

 Bashir stabilizes him, but they have about an hour before he dies. Bashir re-rigs the Romulan probes to create a mind meld, and he and O’Brien go into Sloan’s brain to find the material. At first there is little resistance, but the longer they stay the worse it gets until they are shot by a “guard.” They realize that must symbolize where the information is. Trying to enter, they find themselves awakened by Sisko, who puts and end to it. In his quarters, Bashir tries to read, but the book just starts over again right where he left off, and he realizes they are still in Sloan’s brain; Sloan can’t replicate what Julian has not read yet. He gathers O’Brien and returns to “the room,” finding Sloan inside surrounded by documents. O’Brien finds the cure for Odo, but Bashir does not want to leave given all the other information. 

O’Brien talks him out, and they wake up, really this time, as Sloan dies. Bashir replicates the cure and saves Odo. Starfleet however does not want to share the cure with the Founders, and Sisko follows those orders, asking Odo not to do it either. Odo mentions how the Federation wrings their hands about a Section 31, but they still allow them to do the dirty work, and accept that work. On Cardassia, Damar’s resistance cell is in trouble when betrayed by one of the officers he tries to recruit. Soon, it is just Damar, Garak, and Kira hiding in the basement of Garak’s childhood home, tended to by Mila, the servant to Garak’s father Enebran Tain, and likely Garak’s mother.  The ailing Founder decides to pull Dominion forces back into Cardassian space, solidifying their position, and allowing them time to build more ships and Jem’Hadar and extend the war. The Federation Alliance decides not to let this happen, and prepare to invade Cardassia. Kai Winn takes Dukat, whose sight is restored, back in, and the two plan to take the book of Kosst Amojan to the Fire Caves to release the Pah-Wraiths. Quark gets a message from the Grand Nagus that he’s going to be made the next Nagus, and begins to plan. Brunt shows up, ready to suck up, and tells Quark about the various reforms Zek has made, like taxes and wage guarantees and free healthcare. 

Quark vows to return Ferenginar to it’s corrupt, greedy glory. Ezri and Bashir begin to talk about whether or not they should pursue a relationship. Initially they decide not to ruin their friendship, but soon they are making out in a turbo lift. The Nagus arrives, and reveals that he thought he was talking to someone else when he named Quark Nagus…Rom. Rom becomes the Grand Nagus and Quark vows that HIS bar will always be the greedy and corrupt tribute to what Ferenginar should be. Dukat and Winn find the right place in the caves, and reading the right spell, they burst into flame. They await the moment. O’Brien makes the decision that he will return to Earth after the war and take a teaching position at the Academy. Kasidy reveals to Ben that she is pregnant.

The invasion of Cardassia begins. On the planet, Damar reveals he is alive, and the people begin to rise up against the Dominion in the name of Damar. In response, the female Founder orders a city destroyed. She promises every act of betrayal by Cardassians will result in another razed city. Jem’Hadar forces find and capture Darmar, Kira, and Garak.

 They are about to be executed. The Alliance fleet enters Dominion space and the fight is on.  Things are not going well for them. Winn on Bajor proposes that Dukat drink with her to celebrate, but he realizes too late that she has poisoned him and his death is the sacrifice that brings forth Kosst Amojan. Just as the Jem’Hadar are going to gun down Damar and crew, the Cardassian guards turn on the Jem’Hadar, and declare their allegiance to Damar. They prepare to raid the headquarters. In space, the Cardassian fleet turns its guns on the Breen and Jem’Hadar, turning the tide. The Alliance fleet pursues the Dominion to Cardassian orbit. There are thousands of ships and orbital emplacements there. The fight is not over but becomes a stand off. 

 Given the Cardassian change of sides, the Founder orders the elimination of all Cardassians on the planet. The world begins to burn. The rebels hit the HQ, but Damar is killed in the process. Kira and Garak make it into the control room, and Garak kills the last Weyoun.

 The Founder refuses to call off the attacks on Cardassia or surrender the fleet, telling them they will have to fight to the last Dominion soldier. Odo beams down from the Defiant, linking with the Founder, curing her in the process. In the seconds they are bound together, he negotiates a treaty between Dominion and the Alpha Quadrant. The war comes to an end. The alliance beams down to find the Dominion has killed 800 million Cardassians. Odo reveals the Founder will stay and face war crimes trials, but he will go back to the Great Link and cure his people, teaching them about the Solids. Kira asks when he will come back. He reveals he won’t.

On DS9, everyone gathers in Vic Fontaine’s lounge, realizing it is likely the last time they will all be together. Worf takes the position as Federation ambassador to the Klingons. Garak has stayed behind to rebuild Cardassia. O’Brien gets ready to leave to Earth. On Bajor, Kosst Amojan returns, but rather than come into the Kai, he reanimates Dukat, restoring him to his Cardassian form.

 Sisko senses it from the station, and goes there. Dukat/Amojan disintegrates Winn as she tries to stop him, distracting him enough Sisko can tackle him, and taking the book, knock Dukat, himself, and sacred evil text into the flames. Sisko is suddenly in the Celestial temple.  Sarah/Prophet is there and tells him that he has fulfilled his duty, Dukat will forever be imprisoned with the Pah-Wraiths on Bajor. But Ben’s corporeal form has been destroyed. He is now to stay in the temple and learn, so he may one day return to Bajor as Emissary. He reaches out and brings Kasidy into the temple, telling her what has happened, but telling her to make sure everyone knows Benjamin Sisko, The Emissary, promises to return.

Kira takes Odo back to the Great Link, where he changes his appearance to look as if he is in a tuxedo one more time and bids her farewell. He steps into the dying link, and it begins to heal around him, but he can no longer be differentiated from his people. 

Kira returns to DS9 where she has assumed command of the station. She finds Quark has started a betting pool on who will be the next Kai, which she immediately shuts down. Quark realizes he’s going to have to stay crafty to keep ahead of the new station commander. “The more things change the more they stay the same,” he says. Kira sees Jake Sisko, standing on the upper level of the Promenade, where he and Nog (Kira’s new Ops officer) used to look down on the others. Now he’s looking out, toward the wormhole, knowing his father is in the Celestial Temple. She joins him there, and the two look out as we pull away. Deep Space Nine, formally Terok Nor, hangs in space at the mouth of the wormhole, and as it has for the last seven season…it waits.

I’m not sure how you mourn a show that ended two decades ago, that you know is on Netflix, or that I know I have upstairs on DVD. It’s a show I can revisit anytime I want to in any amount, and dammit, I am sad it is over.  I want more, I would watch all of these people carry on tomorrow if I could. We’ve lost some of them, but dear lord how this all ends, enough to satisfy, but I would return to Bajor in a heartbeat if they announced it.

There are some things here I might have done differently. I still think Kira should have killed Dukat rather than Sisko, and with all the talk of the Alamo, it seems like the final battle of the show should have happened at DS9, surrounded by insurmountable numbers of Dominion ships, but perhaps that would have been too much like the battle that opened Season 6. The culmination of the Damar storyline, from “Cardassian Bridge Officer” to Dominion toady, to hero of Cardassia is so pitch perfect as to need the climax on his world. The fleet battle so ridiculously epic to this day, despite 20 years old effects, you need it to be where it is so you can cheer when the Cardassians turn, and be horrified when the Dominion turns its guns on Cardassia…formerly the villains. What a change from the first episode, and what a journey.

What a journey for the Ferengi as well, as Rom goes from “Pit boss” to Quark’s brother to engineer to Nagus.  Or Nog as he goes from child thief, to Cadet, to DS9’s operations Lieutenant. Garak, as the plain, simple, tailor with a mysterious past to the defacto ruler of a smoldering Cardassia.  As great as all the main character arcs where, those supporting characters are what really makes DS9 great. Brunt, Weyoun, Martok, Sloan, Cretak, Winn, Bareil, the list goes on. A couple of particular things I took away from the finale, the final battle between Sisko, Dukat, and Winn struck me this time as a nearly beat for beat homage to the final scene of the Classic Series’ second pilot “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” where Kirk has to face his friend Gary Mitchell who has developed god-like power along with ship’s psychologist, Dr. Elizabeth Dehner. The dynamic where Dehner realizes she’s wrong as she watches Gary force Kirk to bow to him as a God is remarkably similar to Winn watching Dukat do the same to Sisko.  More on that in a minute. Another character note I love, and something I missed 20 years ago, Worf becomes Ambassador to the Klingons…the same position once held by Curzon Dax. What a fascinating extension of his relationship to Dax, even as Dax’s current host Ezri has chosen Bashir.

Kira Nerys: Former freedom fighter, who may have delved into terrorist one time too many. Woman of faith, surrounded by a scientific world. Woman who owns her sexuality and her femininity, and is perfectly happy to kick your ass when you need it. A woman we watch grow from ready to kill every Cardassian she sees to co-liberator of their world. Who loved and lost a Changeling, but whose love will set the stage to bridge Odo’s people with the Solids.  Who served next to her Emissary, and stands now in his place waiting for his return. Rewatching DS9 absolutely reinforced my feelings that Kira Nerys is Star Trek’s best character.

Hindsight allows me to see what DS9 foreshadowed in television as well. Complex characters in morally ambiguous situations; long story arcs dependent on you seeing each chapter, and each episode leading into the next; women as leaders and peers who are not marginalized by the story; a brown man who is presented as a good father AND as the Messiah: Deep Space Nine is not just progressive for its time, it helped define what television would become. It’s continuity replicated in a thousand binge-worthy streams on Netflix like “Stranger Things.” Representation for women on shows like “Jessica Jones,” or “Game of Thrones” or of course “Star Trek: Discovery.” Though honestly, we have perhaps not learned enough from DS9, as there has never been another character quite like Benjamin Sisko, and all he represents. We can still learn from that; as I have said many times in this rundown, “Star Trek is always relevant.”

So now it is over, and I find that yes, DS9 holds up pretty well 20 years later. It’s still ahead of its time in some ways, and in those things that aren’t, serves as a roadmap of where we have been, demonstrating why we needed to move beyond such tropes. But in questions of faith, what it means to be human, and how one doesn’t have to be perfect to be better, nothing quite examines the human condition like DS9 does; and that’s why, hands down, at least for now, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine is the very best Star Trek has to offer.

NEXT VOYAGE: After  173 episodes, 124 pages, and 71,819 words about DS9, how is there a Next Voyage? Join me one more time for my review of “What We Left Behind,” this year’s DS9 documentary. But let’s face facts: I will never be done talking about DS9.

[hydrospanners]

to break our bones for kindling. War has a way of breaking things. When Doc & Rea shatter themselves on different sides of the front, the jagged puzzle pieces of their hearts don't always fit neatly back together. SWTOR. Established F!Jedi Knight x Doc. Angst with a (kind of) happy ending. 1600 words. AO3.

Wounded pour in by the dozens, filling every tent with blood and bodies and the sickly sweet stench of death. Doc knows that stench like he knows the smell of caf or the bouquet of his favorite cologne. He knows it like he knows the scent of the Alderaanian spice cakes his father always buys for his birthdays.

It never did stop turning his stomach.

“We’ve got more incoming!” A voice bellows over the intercom, over agonized moans and helpless sobs and shouted orders. The tent flaps tear open seconds later and another stream of stretcher-laden, battleworn soldiers pour into the already overcrowded space.

Doc passes his tools to the nurse across the table from him, saying, “You’ve got it from here, handsome. Seal her up.” He resists the urge to wipe his sweaty brow and strip the gloves, slick with viscous green blood, from his hands. He tosses them in the bin and slips on a fresh pair from the repository beside it. His eyes scan the wounded, looking for familiar faces. Prays to the Force that he won’t find any.

To his relief, the faces are all new. One of the wounds, though, is painfully familiar.

“Over here!” He waves at the soldiers hoisting the stretcher between them, eyes locking on the burned edges of a laceration he wishes he didn’t recognize immediately. The kid’s uniform is the plain, unadorned grey of Imperial enlisted. He tries not to wonder whether that enlistment was voluntary or not; you can never really know with the Empire types.

The kid’s split open from neck to navel. One long, narrow slice that’s almost elegant in its efficiency. He might have admired the craftsmanship—the very familiar craftsmanship—if he wasn’t the one who had to separate melted synthetic fiber from melted organic flesh.

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind and goes to work.

# # #

Thirty more casualties pour in before she finally shows up. Smeared from head to toe with ash and dirt and blood, her jaw is clenched and forehead wrinkled in one of her rare frowns. Only one lightsaber dangles from her hip.

Her eyes find him almost immediately, and his heart stutters as she catches him up in the bright blue of her gaze, threatening to unravel him then and there.

Doc chokes down the swell of conflicting emotions and turns his eyes back to his patient. Back to the burned tissue and severed organs, to the shallow, rattling breaths and the too-slow oozing of blood beneath his fingers. “Suction,” he says, and the nurse obliges.

Then Rea is there beside him. He doesn’t want her here. Not now. Not while he’s stitching together a kid that she—

Either she doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care. It’s hard to tell with Rea. She’s at his side, one hand on his shoulder and another on the kid she nearly killed. The kid she was meant to kill. Doc may not be able to sense the Force, but he knows the rush of energy surging through him like he knows his own name. He knows the feel of her power, the shape it takes when it weaves its way inside of him, renewing him.

“What else can I do?” She asks.

This is the fourth day of the offensive. The fourth day of bombs and blaster fire and kids younger than Kira with craters the size of Nar Shaddaa in their chests. The fourth day of endless surgery and exhaustion and pumping their own nurses for blood. Of power outages and nutrient rations and using torn up shirts for bandages.

This is the fourth day of death, and even Doc can only take so much.

His fingers are slick with ruby-red blood and the lungs beneath them are gurgling through shallow wisps of breath. This isn’t a life he’s sure he can save and he knows the face of the person who took it. Knows it as well he knows his own. Sometimes wonders if he could maybe lo—

He has to focus. Has to save this kid.

Doc clenches his jaw and shrugs her hand from his shoulder. “I think you’ve done enough,” he says.

Her silence is heavy, and he misses the weight of it when she leaves.

# # #

He’s too tired to be angry when the message comes through his comm. He’s too tired to feel anything.

There are limits to the human body. To his. Even to Rea’s.

“She just collapsed,” the nurse is explaining, her voice fluttering with anxiety. She wrings her hands behind her back, all six of her eyes flitting to anywhere but him. “She wouldn’t let us check for injuries and she refused to rest. We asked! I don’t know—“

But he does. He knows exactly what happened. He’s seen it so many times now. “Give her fluids and a sedative. Keep an eye on her blood pressure, but don’t worry too much about it. She’ll be fine.” He pats the nurse’s shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring way. Nobody likes the idea of a Jedi dropping on their watch. “I gotta get back to it. My dance partner’s the impatient type.”

“Should we give her kolto?” The nurse calls after him.

“Not enough to spare,” he shouts the answer over his shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

Please let her be fine.

Something tightens in his chest.

# # #

It’s one thing when it’s Sith. When they have lightsabers and can bend nature to their will with a gesture. When they can snap a mind in half with a look. It’s one thing when they can fight back. When they’re a threat.

But most of the time they aren’t. Most of the time, they’re just soldiers. People like him, with mass-produced armor that might stop a blaster bolt, but will split like silk beneath a lightsaber. People who don’t have a prayer in the galaxy of standing against her.

“It’s my job,” she explains, even though he hasn’t asked. Even though Doc’s just checking the wound she pretended not to have in total, unquestioning silence. “It’s not like I’m proud of it. It’s not like I even wanted to do it. But we both know someone has to and--Well it’s better that it’s me. I can take it.”

Her pulse is setting a frantic tempo for his instruments, beeping rapidly into the close, empty room. They might be stacking wounded three high out in post-op, but Jedi still rate private rooms. He can’t decide how to feel about it, so he’s trying not to feel anything.

“I’m not asking you to like it, but I won’t apologize for it and I won’t quit,” she goes on. He’s noticed that she doesn’t care much for quiet. “I tried to warn you about this back on Balmorra. I told you exactly how it would be, told you exactly what kind of person I am.”

He doesn’t call her on the blatant lie. He isn’t sure if she even realizes the untruth of it. He’s learned that Rea has all these ideas about herself, about the kind of person she is. She’ll talk for hours about her sins and her failures. She’ll warn anyone who listens how she’s just a weapon, how she’s cut glass and getting too close will only get you hurt.

She never mentions things like working herself unconscious in a field hospital, trying desperately to heal the people she hurt and the people she couldn’t protect. She doesn’t talk about how these wounded weigh on her, how she carries every life she’s ever touched around on her shoulders. How she never seems to bend beneath all that weight.

Rea talks a lot about her coldness and her cruelty and her mistakes. She never says a word about her strength. About her integrity. About the tenderness of her heart.

She never said a word about how she’d let a man stomp all over her if that’s what it took to keep him moving forward. She never told him she’d break herself to carry someone who was struggling.

Maybe if she’d been honest with him, he would’ve jumped ship ages ago. Maybe he’d have had the good sense to get out while he still could, before he could get tangled up in all this longing and respect. In this trust and warmth and passion. Maybe he would never have gotten in this deep.

Doc ties off the bandage around her ribs and admits to himself that he can’t really blame her for any of this. Harder still, he admits that he doesn’t want to. He takes her hand in his, not quite looking her in the eye but not quite looking away either, and says, “Everyone has their limits, Gorgeous.”

“I know.”

“There’s only so much death and destruction a man can take. I guess four days of casualties is flirting with my limit.”

She nods, but he can’t bring himself to look at her face. Can’t bring himself to see if there’s any hurt in her eyes. “It isn’t going to get better,” she says.

He swallows. “I know.”

“It’ll probably just get worse.”

He takes a breath. Squeezes her fingers. He doesn’t have to look at her to see the wall she’s putting up between them, to see the layers of permacrete growing higher and higher around her heart. It’s a game he’s played dozens of times before, and he doesn’t care much for being on this side of it. “I know,” he says.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Doc. You don’t have to stay.”

He finally turns his gaze to hers. Lets himself plummet into the bright blue pools of her bloodshot eyes.

“I’m exactly where I want to be.”

[reylo-solo]

Star Wars AU - Rey goes undercover to seduces Kylo Ren

Anything involving the word ‘seduce’ is bound to be a great AU idea, haha. Thanks, Nonnie! Hope you like it - it’s kind of a long one!

Read it on AO3.

Just a Touch

Theroom was vast and sprawling; her footsteps echoed on the shiny red floor. Itwas intimidating. The entire room was red, the colour of blood, apart from afew black accents and one lone, tall black throne at the opposite end of thehall.

         That was where the Supreme Leader sat.That was where Rey was headed, carrying the sealed envelope upon a silver tray.

         He didn’t speak as she approached histhrone, but neither did he take his eyes off of her. Those dark, perceptiveeyes and their scorching gaze made her stomach twist. If she just kept her eyesdowncast, away from his probing stare, she would be safe.

         She climbed the few steps to histhrone, bowed low before him, and held the tray with the letter upon it out.She thought he would take it instantly and not think twice about it; she waswearing the servant garb, after all, and certainly that made her blend in withher surroundings?

         But he didn’t take it. Notimmediately. The stretch of silence went on so long that Rey had no choice butto lift her gaze, where it instantly caught his. He had been watching her witha mixture of intrigue and intensity on his face, and the second she locked eyeswith him, her entire body went cold.

         This was him. The Supreme Leader ofthe First Order. Potentially the deadliest, most dangerous man in the entiregalaxy was but an arm’s reach away from her, and she didn’t dare blink, lest hetook it as a challenge.

         Surprisingly even to her, her firstthought was that he was not as scary-looking as she’d thought. In fact, he wasroguishly handsome, with luscious dark curls that coiled around his strongjawline and the back of his neck. He wore all black, which only enhanced thelight pallor of his skin tone. He lookslike his father, Rey thought chillingly. She felt a strange, intrinsic urgeto smile, and greet him like she would an old friend. He just had that kind offace. But she bit her tongue and stood up straight.

         “Who are you?” he asked, eyes narrowedspeculatively at her. “I’ve never seen you before.”

         “My name is Kira,” Rey said, her voicehigh and clear. “I just joined your service, Supreme Leader, and I am honouredto be here in your presence.”

         His lips quirked up in analmost-smile, like her words amused him on a level she didn’t quite understand.That’s what they told me to say, shereassured herself. Why does he look likehe’s going to laugh in my face?

         “Kira…” Although the name wasn’treally hers, when it was spoken by him, in that contemplative, intriguing tone,it made her wish it was.

         She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

         “What attracted you to my employ?”

         Theidea of redeeming you attracted me here; of being the one to bring you back toyour family. Maybe even the idea of killing you…maybe. Rey almost huffed.She was getting tired of holding the tray out to him. And does he ask all hisservants these questions, or just the ones he’s suspicious of?

         “I come from a long line of Dark Sidesupporters. My mother and father rallied for the Empire, even after its fall.”The words felt hollow on her tongue. She felt strange, speaking of a made-upfamily as if she had ever had one to know the difference.

         “I believe it is my turn to serve,”she continued, her voice steady. “And I am willing to do whatever is needed ofme, if it should help us win this war.”

         Kylo Ren raised an eyebrow and noddedslowly.

         “Good answer.”

         He took the letter off the tray andbegan opening it. Rey bowed one more time and then she got the hell out ofthere.

**

         When Rey had agreed to this undercovermission, she hadn’t thought it would be so difficult. But this was easily thebiggest challenge she’d faced in her life, and she’d been stuck on a ship witha bunch of Rathtars and angry gang members once.

         She had been stationed aboard the Supremacy for nearly two weeks, and she’donly managed to get close to the Supreme Leader five times, none of which gother any closer to her end game.

         She had been sent to pose as Kylo’sservant by the Resistance in an attempt to bring him back to the light and tohis family, but it was proving very difficult to do so. He was a very busy man,and that was becoming painfully apparent to Rey now. Every day he was never inone place for too long, so she just spent much of her time sneaking andskulking around, trying to monitor his every movement until she getsdistracted, or someone snaps at her and asks her what she thinks she’s doing,doesn’t she know she’s supposed to be cleaning the kitchens, and so on. Then bythe time she would finish that task (because it was very important to play her part well), he’d be nowhere to be found.

         That is, until she hit the two-weekmark of her deployment. That’s when everything changed.

         She had been looking for him fornearly thirty minutes. No one seemed to know where he was, and he wasn’t wherehis schedule said he’d be (she quickly got the impression that the schedule wasmore of a suggestion to Kylo Ren, and one that he rarely followed). That’s whyshe was in his quarters, scouring the halls and trying to listen through doors.

         She was just turning the cornertowards the fresher when she ran face-first into something hard and sturdy.Only when she opened her eyes did she realize the thing she’d stumbled into wasthe very man she had been looking for.

         He gazed down at her, nonplussed, andsmirked upon recognizing her face.

         “Ah, it’s you,” he murmured. “What areyou doing down here?”

         Rey’s mouth fell open but no soundcame out at first. She really had to focus to speak all of a sudden.

         “I, uh…was just going to takeinventory of the fresher,” She didn’t even know if that was a thing. It justpopped into her head first.

         Kylo smirked. “No you weren’t.”

         Rey’s heart was hammering against herribcage at a dizzying pace. She suddenly felt trapped, and she hated feelingtrapped.

         “I’m sorry…?”

         “What were you looking for?” he asked.He hadn’t stepped away from her or moved since she’d walked into him. They stillstood close together, almost unbearably so.

         “I-I wasn’t looking for anything—”

         “Was it credits? Food? Were you comingdown here to sleep? What were you looking for?”

         “You,” Rey sputtered. She hadn’t evenrealized the word had crossed her mind before it was crawling out of her mouth.She cleared her throat.

         “I was looking for you.”

         Ren furrowed his brows. “How did youknow I was down here?”

         She shrugged pathetically. “I justknew.”

         “Hmm.”

         The gears in her head were beginningto smoke from turning so fast. What was that advice Poe had given to her beforeshe left? You gotta do what you gotta do?She was really crossing over into new territory here, and she’d be lying if shesaid she wasn’t nervous about it. This could break her whole act, if shestarted flirting with him and he saw right through her. Her blood felt hot in herveins.

         “Don’t you ever experience that?” sheasked, her voice a tempting lilt. “When you know someone so well, that you canfeel them, even when they’re not around? Like an extension of your soul…”

         “You know me that well, do you?”

         “I know you better than you’d everthink, Master Ren,” She smiled as prettily as she could, gazing at him throughhalf-lidded eyes. “What kind of a servant would I be if I didn’t?”

         “Good point,” Kylo’s eyebrows raised. “Whatdo you need from me so badly that you went looking?”

          She took a breath and leaned in just a littlecloser to him, whispering, “I want more.”

         “…More?”

         “I want to serve you; only you. None of those useless Stormtroopers, or the Generalsor Captains or Commanders…I don’t care about them, or their measly needs. You are the Supreme Leader. You will bethe one to usher us in to a new dawn, and I want to be there by your side whenyou do.”

         She watched his mouth and throat workas he swallowed, and colour flooded the high curve of his cheekbones. Heappeared to deflate, just the tiniest bit. He looked at her for a very longtime, letting her words settle over him. Something new and mysterious glimmeredin the depths of his stare, but other than that his expression was unreadable,no matter how hard Rey scrutinized it in her head.

         “That’s very bold of you,” he finallymused, his voice taught with restriction. “Very bold, and very risky. Whatmakes you think I won’t kill you just for taking up so much of my time?”

         Rey inclined her chin proudly. “If youdid, I would consider it an honourable death.”

         After a moment, he cracked a grin, thelikes of which made Rey’s heart come to a deafening stop.

         “Well. I admire your courage, Kira,and your loyalty. Let’s talk.”

         **

         Talking had quickly evolved intoscheming, which had then morphed into the kind of relationship where each halfneeds the other there at all times, just for comfort.

         Rey was about five months into herundercover position, and she was closer than ever to Kylo, who came to her foreverything from advice to mechanical help to dinner company. He had officiallyappointed her as his personal advisor, much to everyone else’s surprise. Sheknew she had him by the tail now. All she had to do was give a couple hard tugs…

         But it was no longer as easy as she’dthought it would be. As he had warmed to her, she had done to same to him. Shelonged for his company each night as she slept alone, and she’d stay awake andthink of something he had said or done earlier that day, and she would log itinto her memory for safekeeping. Every smile, no matter how stiff or small,every hurried whisper and lingering stare…they all meant something to her now.At first it had just been a sign of hope: if he could smile at her that waymaybe he could smile like that all the time, away from here. But then it hadchanged into something more, and Rey wasn’t sure when this had happened. Nowevery time she saw his hand twitch close to hers, she could feel him wanting totouch her, and she could feel herself wanting him to. Just a soft, simple,touch…

         It almost made her feel bad for lyingto him.

         **

         Six and a half months later, and theyhad finally shared a sincerely intimate moment.

         Last week, as they had sat in Kylo’squarters, discussing battle tactics, Rey had noticed that he kept moving alittle closer to her, and a little closer, until his knee was brushing againsthers and he was on the literal edge of his seat. But his face had betrayed nothing,which made Rey wonder if he had hardly even noticed it.

         As it had been getting late, Rey had stifledseveral yawns before Kylo finally suggested she take her leave and go to bed.She had sleepily agreed and, as she placed a hand on the table before them tostand, he had delicately placed his fingers upon hers. She hadn’t been able tocontain the soft gasp which had escaped her mouth. Her eyes had locked onto thesight of their hands touching, lit by the golden flare of the dim lights intheir sconces. His fingertips ran slowly across her knuckles, raising the hairson her arm and the back of her neck. It was a simple gesture, but it was soft,and there was an emotional weight to it that she had never experienced before.

         And just as quick as it had come, hishand had gone, leaving her feeling strangely cold.

         “Goodnight, Kira.” Once again, hisface betrayed nothing. It was maddening.

         Rey bowed, knees trembling slightly,and walked to the door. Before she could cross the threshold, she had lookedover her shoulder to find him with both elbows on the table, staring at hishands. The one which had touched her skin was clenching and unclenching slowlyas he looked at it. It made Rey’s breath catch in her throat.

         Now, he had invited her to attend himat dinner. This was nothing new, of course; he had done this several timesbefore and it had become a normal occurrence by that point. And yet, Rey knewit was going to be different somehow. Just a touch, and everything had changed.

         Her concern was only punctuated by thewhite box she had found sitting atop her bed that evening when she had gone toprepare for their meeting. Cautiously she had approached it, very aware of thefact that it may be from someone who had caught on to her game. But when sheflipped the lid open, the only sight that greeted her was an elegant blackdress, with a high neckline, a thigh-high slit in the side, and an exposedsection about the waist. She had never seen anything so beautiful fit her bodyso well; like it was made especially for her. It hugged her body but wasn’t tootight; it went to the floor but she didn’t tread on it. The silky material itwas made out of shone when it caught the light. She could have stayed andtwirled in front of that mirror for hours.

         Her heart was in her throat the entireway to Kylo’s quarters. She was nervous and jittery and she could onlypartially explain why. There was something else there beneath it all that shecouldn’t quite wrap her head around.

         He had greeted her the same way healways had, with a nod of the head and an open hand gesture, the sign for herto take a seat. She followed orders.

         As they sat down, he said, “That dresssuits you.”

         She grinned. “I agree. Whoever got itfor me has a very good eye.”

         He kept his eyes on his plate of food,but she knew she saw a smile tug on those lips of his.

         The dinner had gone as it usually did:calmly, and interspersed with talk that was strictly professional. Yet Reycouldn’t help but notice the restless way his leg bounced beneath the table,like he was waiting for it to be over.

         Once a droid cleared the table andleft the room, they both felt suddenly nervous, like they had nothing left tohide behind. Unable to stand the tense silence for too long, Rey stood, andwalked over to the expansive windows that looked out at the starry galaxybeyond. She could feel Kylo approach behind her; hear his tentative footfallson the hard floor.

         They looked out at the stars insilence for a while, letting the vastness of it all wash over them. They reallywere just two little specks, off in the distance. Why should they let theirlives be ruined by war?

         Rey turned to face him and was shockedto find him standing very close to her; so close that she almost ran into himagain, as she had fatefully done once before. She raised her eyes to his, andshe saw something there – some flicker of emotion, however nondescript, rightthere in the slight part of his lips, and in the soft crease between hiseyebrows.

         “I really do thank you for the dress,”she whispered, too overwhelmed by the intensity of his closeness to get hervoice to make a sound. “It’s beautiful.”

         “Fitting, then, that it should be wornby someone as lovely as you.”

         Rey’s mouth went dry. He had neverspoken so frankly before. He had never let her know that he thought her to be ‘lovely’before. For a moment she didn’t know how to react to that, but then it clickedinto place and it all came to her in an instant, like an instinctual knowingjust coming to life within her.

         “May I—” He began to ask the question,but she didn’t need to hear it.

         “Kiss me.”

         Their mouths were tender and unsure atfirst as they worked together. They allowed themselves to warm to the delicatesensation of their lips touching in such an intimate way. Rey felt like she wasby an ocean, and the salty waves kept crashing down around her, leaving herrefreshed and renewed in their wake. She was barely aware of any part of herbody that wasn’t touching him which, admittedly, there weren’t many parts left.Her fingers fisted into his hair, her chest pressed firmly to his, and his armswrapped themselves tightly around her waist.

         The window was cool and solid on herback as he pressed her into it and deepened the kiss. Numb fingers worked atbuttons and zippers; not quite sure what to do but eager to do it.

In a perfect world, she could stay in hisarms like that forever, kissing him forever. But it wasn’t a perfect world, notby a longshot, no matter how much she wished it could be so.

         She had forgotten about the homingbeacon she had strapped to a garter holster on her thigh, along with anelectric dagger. As his hands explored her body they had discovered it andpulled it off of her. In an instant, her blood ran cold. The change in hisdemeanor was so quick it was dizzying. As soon as he looked down at the beacon inhis palm, he backed away from her. He rotated it to see its back, where hismother’s sigil was engraved. And of course, he would recognize it anywhere.

         He looked at her, and she watched allthe emotions he had been withholding pass over his face at once: lust,confusion, realization, hurt, and mounting anger. His expression darkenedconsiderably until he was glaring at her, his entire body shaking.

         “Why do you have this?” he asked, hisvoice deadly quiet.

         Rey was almost hyperventilating. Nobreath felt good enough; her lungs were so tense it was like they wererejecting air, unable to expand as her entire chest seized. She thought shemight be sick.

         “I swear, I can explain! Ben—”

          He threw the beacon so hard into a wall itshattered, its blue light slowly fading until it was gone. Now, if the Resistanceneeded to find her, they’d have a much harder time doing so. Rey knew that heknew that, too.

         His hands were trembling fists at hissides. His hair was tousled from her fingers but he didn’t bother to fix it.His eyes were underscored with anger, but they shone bright with hurt, nomatter how hard he may try to hide it.

         Through gritted teeth, he chewed outthree words that brought Rey’s world crashing down around her.

         “Who are you?”