#like all the far away or up high shots. think about the level of coordination that would take

[skitskatdacat63]

Cred

Also this video is a good representation:

[heybluez]

two ghosts standing (in the place of you and me)

summary: the war is over now, and you had promised on your dying breath to wait for him.

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

tags/warnings: character death (but its ok cause its set in the afterlife), you literally are just waiting for your bae to join you in the afterlife and he does, this is ridiculously sappy, angst with a happy ending

a/n: hi this is the result of me FORCING myself out of a writers block by making myself come up with an idea and write it in one sitting and here she is a little drabble/one shot. enjoy!

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When he wakes up, the air smells faintly of autumn, thick and full as he takes an easy breath in. Cracking his eyelids open and turning his head to the right finds him at eye level with blades of green grass, the early morning dew still not yet having left them as they shake gently with passing wind. Shades of purple and pink, yellow and orange compromise the sky above him as he blinks to take it in. He should be afraid, he realizes. Just moments ago, he was falling asleep. But he’s not afraid. Wherever it is, it’s almost silent. Almost. Somewhere in the distance, he recognizes the sound of crashing waves upon a shore, a sound synonymous to easy and effortless joy. He hears that same sound hit the wooden docks outside his window every morning, on the mainland far away from the island that raised him. He hears that same sound in memories, but it's often accompanied by sounds of high pitched laughter and the feeling of warmth and adoration.

He gets up from the ground, and begins to walk to where he hears the water.

The feeling of stretching his legs, letting his feet guide him, and the muscles of his legs supporting him is foreign. He missed it. He missed this. So much of his life relied on his legs, but that life seems like eons ago as similarly as it seems like moments ago. He was always running, always chasing. 

In happier memories, he’s walking to the ocean in the same way he walks to it now, but in his memories, he’s not alone. It was dark then, the summer air having cooled into the nighttime, but that same sweet sound, the monotonous rhythm of the water hitting the ground, played the same way he’s hearing it now. There were so many stars. He remembers even now the constellations that you pointed out, relaying to him stories of fallen heroes and star crossed lovers who found their way to the skies after their tragic downfalls.

He used to be in love, he remembers now as he walks. He doesn’t really think that that love ever went away. He thinks of you every single time he’s by the water, even if it's just on the docks of the Marley port now instead of the sandy beaches back home. He remembers the way you looked that night as you both snuck away from duties, if only for a few hours. Two abandoned green capes traded for soft linens and towels until you had to return when the sun rose.

He had always believed his love for people is what drove them to their demise. Anybody he had ever let get too close was snatched away, and always due to his reasoning. Bad judgment calls, 

fear, poor timing. He was always just moments too late when it came to saving those he loved. And you, for all of your strength and prowess, fell to the same fate. You had never promised him you would live long in the life you had chosen as a Scout - because it would be wrong to promise the impossible - but you could promise him he helped you live well . You always talked about moments. That the small stuff was the important stuff. He can fondly recall many late nights reading where you couldn’t put down your book, early mornings of you curled into his chest as he drank his tea and got a headstart on paperwork. Racing through wooded training grounds on ODM gear, sneakily stealing the bread off his tray in the mess hall when you thought he wouldn’t notice (he always did), the coordination between the pair of you in battle, exploring the cities within the walls you called home. Waking up with your hair in his mouth and his arm slung over your waist. Practicing dancing in his office for military banquets, hearing you hum quietly in his adjoined bedroom as you got ready for bed while he finished work in his office. 

And oh, god, how he would have given anything to grow old with you. To shift the moments you had to become memories and make new moments, make enough to last a lifetime.

But war takes.

War doesn’t care who somebody is to the people around them. War doesn’t care that the losses that it leaves in its wake were people . 

And he often tries not to think about it, but the memory catches up to him sometimes. His step falters even now as he thinks about warm blood as it pools under his knees and he’s screaming at you to please damn it, don’t leave me too just keep your eyes open stop it stop -

"I'll see you soon." You had uttered it like a promise. 

The war itself may be the thing that stole you away, but he was, as always, merely a moment too late.

Thinking about you and him on the beach is a much more pleasant scene in his mind. He likes to remember you like that.

The air doesn’t smell as crisp as it did now, giving way to the scent of salt as the terrain under his feet changes, his feet giving way now with each step he takes in the sand. The crashing waves are tangible now, deep green and blue and always moving, the sound roaring, a cacophony of ebbing and flowing.

He knows who he will find here before he even sees them. He quickens his pace, if only slightly.

He walks closer, close enough that he could reach out and touch, and moves to sit down, no discomfort aching in his joints now as he crosses his legs neatly upon the sand, and takes in the person beside him as they watch the crashing waves. A sweet, familiar smell joins the scent of the salty air, and his lips quirk.

Maybe this is what home is supposed to smell like, he muses. 

He turns his head. You’re dressed in soft clothes, laying on the sand, turning your head to meet his gaze with a soft, ever knowing smile.

“Hey you! Much to catch me up on, huh?”

[from-a-reckless-writer]

because, i think it's stupid that lena wouldn't have a back-up plan after alex took the device from her...

“Hey, Alex,” Lena calls, jogging to where Alex was putting her jacket on. Everyone was already gearing up to go home and she’s been thinking about this for the past hour. 

So, Lena shoots her shot.

“Yeah?” Alex turns to her, motor helmet in hand and already clad in her leather jacket.

“I was wondering if I can bring home the tracker? I know it’s a long shot but I was thinking maybe if I get another look at it, I can reverse engineer some of its properties and try to come up with a another way to get Kara back, I know Nia’s already doing the time-travel the but it can’t hurt to-”

Alex mercifully puts a stop to her rambling and puts a hand on her arm to stop her nervous fidgeting.

“I left it on top of the workstation.” She smiles in reassurance. “Of course you can take another look at it. Anything to help Kara.”

Lena lets out a relieved sigh. After everything that’s happened today she’s still a bit wary of stepping on anybody’s toes. That showdown with Alex was really something not to mention that talk after.

“Okay, okay. Thank you.”

“Alright. Good night.”

She sprints to the lab--which looks like more of an awkward gallop in her high heels--and snatches the tube-like device from the table.

She doesn’t even realize she’s hitching an elevator ride with Nia and Brainy—too caught up with planning out what to do with the device—till Nia speaks up, “Hey, that wasn’t bad for a first day.”

Lena looks up from the device in her hands, meeting Nia’s eyes.

“What’d I tell you, Nia Nal? Lena has always been extraordinary,” Brainy states, pressing for the ground floor.

“T-thank you,” she says, voice shaky and shy, but who can blame her? She isn’t used to this kind of appreciation. She still can’t believe they’ve accepted her like this, even though she very nearly ruined the whole mission by choosing Kara above everything else. 

It was a good thing Alex was there to call the shots.

Nia gives her a small smile before slowly closing her eyes and resting her head against Brainy’s shoulder.

They say their goodbye’s at the door and then Lena’s speeding her way to her apartment.

***

The device worked with Kara’s DNA before it got recalibrated, if, and that’s a big if, Lena thinks.

If she can extract Kara’s DNA, replace the core of the device, and input it in, then she can recreate the same tech she did earlier.

She already knows she’s not going to get any sleep tonight.

She pulls up in front of her building and heads straight for her penthouse.

Kara hasn’t been here for a year, what with their falling out and everything that’s happened with Lex. They didn’t even have a chance for one last movie night before Kara disappeared.

Her eyes start to sting with unshed tears at the thought, but knowing the work she has to do tonight, she quickly pushes it down.

Despite Kara not having visited her home recently, Lena knows there are many traces of her in this place. Namely, the lavender hairbrush living in her second bathroom drawer, the one she didn’t have the heart to throw away even during their fight.

She quickly makes for her bathroom, throws open the drawers, grabs the brush and puts it in a clean zip-lock, one she pulled from the kitchen.

She didn’t even bother changing clothes.

She was too busy outlining tonight’s lab work in her head to bother with something as trivial as changing clothes.

There are more important things to do, like busting inside the LuthorCorp tower, and down to what used to be her private lab. Lex hasn’t changed security. This, she knows. Therefore, she also knows that Mr. Johnson still works the night shifts and if she plays her cards right, she can sway him to open the door for her and keep it discreet.

Of course, you must be wondering why doesn’t she just use her private lab at home, instead? The reason being, her private lab is strictly an engineering and physics lab. What she needs right now, is enzymatic reagents and buffers; a gel electrophoresis machine and a PCR machine.

All of which can be found in LuthorCorp’s cutting-edge Biochemistry laboratory.

***

Turns out, she was right.

Mr. Johnson still does the nightshift and he was only a tad bit surprised to see her there. Already used to Lena staying holed up all night long, in her lab in the past.

He tells her he’s on her side despite the bad news about the Luthor Children’s Hospital, tells her that most of them here dearly misses Miss Luthor and hopes that Lex as CEO is only a temporary thing. He also tells her thank you again for the thousandth time for Lena saving his daughter’s life. Lena smiles warmly and asks if he can keep this visit under wraps if he doesn’t mind, to which he immediately agrees. Lena fights the urge to let out another sigh of relief.

See, Lex? It pays to treat people kindly.

It’s 11 pm when Lena reaches the labs. It was already dark, save for the lights of the big freezers. She knows there’ll be footage of her little excursion here but that’s an easy enough problem to solve when you have a Twelfth-Level intellect as back-up.

When she said she isn’t going to sleep tonight, she really genuinely means she isn’t going to sleep tonight.

See, it’s already 11 and she needs at least an hour to sterilize all equipment, another hour to sift through the clump of hair in the brush and look for an intact hair shaft. Then, she estimates 2 hours for extracting the DNA from the hair shaft using enzymes and she knows all too well how long a time it takes for a pipette to find the right fit during electrophoresis, not to mention the PCR machine can take 2-4 hours.

And even then, Lena still has to test the device, link it to her transmatter portal in order to open a portal once she gets Kara’s coordinates and after all that she isn’t really sure if this is going to be effective.

She has half a mind to call Brainy here and run her through all the probabilities.

But she knows this is something she needs to do alone.

***

It’s been so long since she’s had to do anything with physiology that she has to spend at least 30 minutes reading up the lab manual.

Extracting cattle DNA like she did back in college was an easy enough task with someone with the brains as hers, but a Kryptonian’s?

Lena had to do some extra calculations on what temperature to set and how much solution to use to get through Kara’s hair of steel.

In the end, she figured it out and soon enough the hum of the PCR machine becomes her only companion. It took a while to denature Kara’s DNA, she had to double the amount of Taq polymerase before actually getting it to the PCR machine.

It’s 4 am now, and she only has two hours before the LuthorCorp employees show up; two hours before her brother pulls up.

Thank God, for state of the art PCR machines that get things done in under an hour.

***

She’s been actively avoiding thinking of Kara throughout all of this.

But now, she’s home and in her private lab with Kara’s DNA strands in vials inside the LuthorCorp sterile container.

If she pulls this off, if this works, Kara would be home.

She won’t have to talk to holograms anymore, she won’t have to dream about bloody capes, she won’t have to feel incomplete anymore. Kara would be home. She can bring Kara home.

With a newfound determination, she sets on recalibrating the device. She takes out a vial of Kara’s DNA; gloved hands carefully inserting it unto the core of the device.

Now, onto the second part; linking her transmatter portal to open up at the exact coordinates the tracker points.

The whole process took her at least two hours. By the time she trudges to her bedroom to test the device, the sun was already peeking up from the horizon.

She opts to do it in her bedroom, granted that her physics lab was nothing more but the size of two small rooms mashed together. Her bedroom was more spacious and in the event that Kara needs to lie down, her bed would only be three steps away.

The device feels heavy in Lena’s hand, it actually feels alive. Lena supposes, it is. 

It does have Kara’s DNA in it after all.

She feels like this is one of those moments where it will be ingrained in your brain for forever. That small in-between in the middle of the Before and After. The realization of how important this moment is clears up her mind.

So, with sweaty hands she raises the device, clicks something on her wristwatch, watches as the tube fills with a blue hue getting brighter and brighter, till a streak of blue-white light beams out from the device and from a single point starts to form the beginnings of a portal.

Lena’s seen one too many portal openings for a lifetime to know in the next instant that this is it, it works.

She fucking did it.

***

A gust of ice cold air is the first thing that hits Lena once the portal fully opens.

The next was the sight of Supergirl. Kara. She was slumped against a boulder; cape tattered, hair dirty and face begrimed. She looked tired, exhausted, and in those first few seconds, Kara had her eyes closed.

Before it hits Lena all at once, Kara’s right there! She’s right there! She found Kara! Kara is right there, just three steps away—

“KARA!” She shouts, runs to the portal and into the Phantom Zone.

Kara jerks at the call of her name, squints her eyes at the bright blue portal before she realizes a figure is barreling straight for her, screaming her name.

A figure she knows all too well, a voice she knows all too well.

Before she knows it Lena’s crashing unto her place on the ground, two arms wrapping at Kara’s neck, sobbing, “It worked! Oh, God, it worked, I found you! I found you, I found you-”

All Kara could do was mutter a Lena in response, still suspended in disbelief.

Lena pulls back to touch her face and Kara finally takes a good look at her. Lena knows her hair was a far cry from her prim ponytails, she’s been tugging at it since midnight, her face was blotchy with tears and her eyes must’ve screamed exhaustion. But she couldn’t care less about her appearance, because Kara was here, she found Kara.

Kara was here and she’s crying too, also bringing a hand to Lena’s face and wiping at her tears.

They were crying and smiling and sobbing in each other’s arms.

“You found me.”

Lena leans in to Kara’s touch, both hands cradling Kara’s hand on her cheek, smiles in between sniffles and nods.

“I did, Kara I did. I found you. I'll always find you.”

“Take me home, Lena.”

***

Alex picks up on the third ring.

“Lena?” she answers, voice still groggy with sleep.

“I found her, Alex, I found her, she’s home.”

“What? Who? Lena what-”

“Kara. Kara’s home, Alex.”

The next thing Lena hears were sobs. She passes the phone to Kara, who was still in her filthy supersuit, sitting on the edge of Lena’s queen bed probably making it dirty beyond saving but Lena cannot find in her to care.

“Hi, Alex.”

She exits the room to give the Danvers sisters some privacy and also to prepare Kara a shower, grabs a couple of Kara’s clothes from when they still had sleepovers and left it in the bathroom counter.

By the time she comes back again, Kara’s put the phone down, still sitting on the bed and fiddling with her thumbs. Kara looked small like this and there’s nothing more Lena wants to do than to embrace her.

So, she does.

“Hi,” Kara says, as she holds Lena close, Lena straddling her lap, foreheads pressed together.

“Hi back,” she whispers, smile in her voice, Kara’s blue eyes were filled with exhaustion but still beaming bright just for her. “Would you like to take a shower? I’ve prepared the bath for you.”

Kara nods, refusing to pull away, “Okay, okay, great,” she mutters even though the both of them make no move to pull away from each other, choosing to remain in this quiet existence of overwhelming love for each other’s presence, instead.

There’s still so much to say and so much to do, but all of that can wait, everything can wait, there’s no rush.

Her hero is finally home after all.

***

When she opens the door, Alex crashes into her with an embrace so tight, Lena had trouble breathing. Kelly closes the door for them, they drove here still in pajamas Lena notices, as Kelly gives her a smile from over Alex’s shoulder.

“Where is she?” Alex gasps out, tears springing from her eyes at the sight of Kara’s supersuit on the floor, right next to her grimy red boots. Concrete proof that her sister really is home, that Lena really did the impossible.

“In the shower,” Lena murmurs, giving Kelly a cup of tea as Alex paces in anticipation, Lena was half-afraid she’d wear a hole in her hardwood floors.

“H-how?” Alex asks, too emotional to let out a full sentence.

“Well,” Lena begins, and takes them through the entire process of what she had done the night before, how she didn’t sleep, how she kind of needs Brainy to scrub clean the LuthorCorp surveillance system, how she replicated Kara’s DNA as substitute for the life force in that crystal, how the portal had opened in her bedroom.

Alex took all of this in with quiet tears streaming down her face and Kelly’s hand tight in hers.

“Thank you, Lena. Thank you.”

***

The sight of the Danvers sisters reuniting was something that would make even a grown man weep.

Alex collides into Kara, before she even gets the chance to say her name.

“Rao, Alex, I missed you.”

Alex couldn’t respond to hearing her sister’s voice again for the first time, so she just sobs into the embrace.

Lena has to wipe away a stray tear or two before turning around, feeling like this moment was something too precious to intrude on.

This moment belonged to Kara and Alex, not her.

Kelly did the same and asked Lena if it would be okay to use her kitchen, she wanted to fix Kara her first breakfast.

***

“Are you sure you’d rather stay the night here?” Lena murmurs unto the crown of Kara’s head.

They were both laid in Lena’s bed, she doesn’t why she asked, when the both of them are already in pajamas and are two seconds away from slumber still Lena can’t help but ask.

Surely, Kara would want to spend her first night back in her own bed rather than here, right?

“M’sure, I’m right where I want to be,” Kara says around a yawn, pressing close to Lena, and nuzzling into her neck. She was clearly wearied, which was totally understandable, hell the both of them were. Lena’s been up for 24 hours. She’s amazed her body hasn’t knocked her out yet.

After that emotional morning, Alex insisted Kara be checked in The Tower. And so they did, everything was fine with her vitals, though they all still insisted she stay a couple of hours under the sunlamps. All of them knows, there was no sunlight in the Phantom Zone.

Nia, Brainy and M’gann all had teary reunions with Kara. Although, Nia’s was the most amusing one, “I’m sorry, in advance,” she said between sniffles, “But I just couldn’t think of anything and- and- Andrea was grilling me so I just said you were with Cat,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay, Nia,” Kara laughs, “We’ll work on it together,” she promises.

Seeing Kara back with everyone, seeing her in her pastel clothes, seeing her without her glasses; laughing and soft and safe has Lena crying quietly again at the memory.

“Hey? Why are you crying? This is a happy day, remember? I’m home. You brought me home. No more crying, okay?” Kara tells her from her place in the bed.

“I know.” Lena quickly wipes a tear, “I’m sorry, I’m just happy. So, so happy.”

She is. She really, really is. Especially right now, finally laying in bed with Kara after a long two weeks of lonely nights.

Kara requested to be held tonight, asking Lena shyly, “C-can you hold me? For tonight? Please?”

Lena was powerless and now here they were.

“For the record,” Lena says, “I’m right where I want to be, too.”

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villian-Sicle | Part 2

I didn’t expect to get such a crazy response to the first part of this. Here’s part two! I’m always open to continuing this, I love hero/villain whump. Thanks for reading! I hope you like it.

Find part one here.

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, environmental whump (kinda), hypothermia, hospital setting, death mention, delusions, torture mention, pet whump mention (but not really)

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

Villain’s fingers burned.

It was quite paradoxical-- a caveat of the confusing structure of organs known as human anatomy. When cold got great enough, the nervous system somehow interpreted it as intense heat. Tricking itself into believing that warmth might finally be coming, maybe.

Villain knew that such a wish was hopeless. Warmth was a far off memory, as far as they were concerned.

They tucked their knees closer to their chest, pressing their forehead against them and shoving their hands in their pockets, for whatever minimal heat it would provide. As their teeth began to chatter, they gritted them together and closed their eyes. The shelf they leaned against dug into their spine.

“Take stock, and understand your situation.” The brief training they had been provided at their former place of employment sprung into their head, stupidly cheery voice and all. “A level head is more important than any weapon.”

Stupid voice, stupid seminar, stupid job, stupid heroes.

Villain did their best to take a deep breath-- though it did little but fill their lungs with frigid air.

Take stock. Understand your situation. Keep a level head.

The computer in the next room over chipperly reported that they had been in their current predicament for just over five minutes. Five minutes, thirteen seconds, twenty-two milliseconds, and six hundred eight-six nanoseconds, to be slightly more precise. That was the time that had passed since the Heroes had chased them into their own freezing cold tomb.

The moment replayed again in their mind; a series of panicked moments and thoughts, all kaidoscoping into a brilliant moment of word association. That was what had landed them here. Their own stupidity. Not that it wouldn’t have been a problem if the Heroes hadn’t chased them in the first place! Why did they even care about the Serum?! What was it to them?!

Why did Villain have to die for it?

They didn’t know exactly how long it would take for the cold to kill them. The computer beeped and spat out all the medical facts it could, but the fact stood that hypothermia affected everyone differently, dependent on a thousand different factors.

That wasn’t the real question. They knew that. They didn’t care if their last breath would be in five minutes or a hundred. All that mattered was that, in all probability, dying of cold would be quicker than dying at the hands of the Heroes.

In their pockets, they balled their fists. They didn’t notice they were crying until a tear dripped onto their neck, sending a horrid shiver through them.

It was just a stupid bottle. A stupid chemical. It was that fucking chain of atoms that had left them here--between a rock and a hard place. Between dying of cold and being tortured to death. Hell, both ways were torture! Everything was!

Why could nothing ever go right?!

With a coordination they didn’t realize they had, Villain shot to their feet (though it wasn’t exactly a graceful movement.) The tears brimming in their eyes didn’t help their vision, but they didn’t need to see. They didn’t need anything! What was the point, if they were just going to die?!

A sweeping hand aimed itself at one of the wall-high shelves, sending a line of bottles crashing to the ground and shattering in an explosion of glass snowflakes. Their contents spilled out on the tile, and whatever remained of their containers was quickly smashed under Villain’s shoe. They whipped around, attacking another shelf in the same way. Again, they reached for their next strike, but found only steel shelving. Another paradoxical burst of strength sent the whole shelf careening to the ground, sending a blizzard of shattered glass into the air.

Villain unballed their fists, panting, their lungs gasping in the frigid air. Their adrenaline rush finally wore off, sending them to the floor.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leader’s words were cut off by a resounding crash.

They whipped around, sputtering out a last few unintelligible syllables as their attention focused on the steel door. Nerves glittered in their gaze as they clenched their jaw.

“Shit.” They muttered. “Medic?”

“Sounds like one of the shelves fell.”

“Dammit. I suppose they’re not quite sedated yet, then.”

“Cold isn’t the quickest.” Medic shook their head. “At this temperature, real hypothermia shouldn’t set in for about five more minutes.”

Leader sighed, turning back to the rest of the group. There weren’t many of them-- just Leader, Medic, Hero, and Counselor. The rest had been dispatched, on Leader’s orders, to the rest of the hospital, ensuring that none of Villain’s accomplishes had accompanied them. Regardless, the four of them would be more than enough to overwhelm Villain, when they came out.

“You’re saying they can only make it five more minutes in there?” Hero asked, their hands fidgeting at their sides. Small sparks of power appeared along their fingertips-- a surefire sign of their nerves.

“No.” Medic deadpanned. “In approximately five minutes, hypothermia will start to set in. It won’t be fatal for quite a while. I’d say we have an hour, at least.”

“Villain will give up before then.” Leader reassured. “I’ll...”

They swallowed and approached the steel door separating them from their captive. Captive? Was that the right word? Maybe. Villain had, in all truth, sealed themself in the cold storage. There was no lock on the outside. They could leave whenever they so chose. Right into the Heroes hands, of course, but still.

Leader hadn’t exactly expected Villain to stay in the room. They had expected them to turn around as soon as they entered, to keep up the chase. Yet, they hadn’t.

They had to give up soon. They were surrounded. They were stubborn as all get out, but they weren’t stupid. It was death by hypothermia, or surrender. The better of the two was pretty damn clear.

Taking a sharp breath in an attempt to raise their own confidence, Leader knocked on the door.

The response wasn’t verbal. Rather, it came in the form of a panicked yelp, and the scrambling of someone backing away.

Leader exhaled. They supposed that they would have to do the talking, here.

“Hello? Villain?”

A muffled swear came from the room. That was all the greeting they had really expected.

“You’re going to need to come out of there, before you’re in danger. You’re not equipped for those temperatures, you know that. No one is gonna hurt you.”

Leader nearly fell backwards at the sudden crash of an object against the other side of the door. It seemed that negotiations weren’t going to go very far, just yet. With a sigh, they turned back to their gathered team.

“Hero, go get some blankets. One of those electric ones, if you can. This isn’t looking good.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Pourquoi pas niquer le sérum si tu l’aimes ainsi.” Villain swore under their breath.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and thirty two seconds and- and who gave a shit. They’d been stuck in this damn room for fifteen minutes.

The shivering had only started about three minutes ago. It was nothing like normal shivering-- that incurred when waiting for a bus in the cold. The tremors were far more violent than that, shaking their body. They felt their mind to be knocking around their head with the sheer force of it.

The chattering of their teeth had become normal to them, normal, though it was just as violent and just as uncontrollable.

Outside, their killers spoke in hushed voices. Villain wasn’t sure if they even wanted to know what they were talking about. Probably about how to torture them first. Knives, or fire, or electricity, wouldn’t that be ironic! Jokes on them, dammit! They wouldn’t get the chance. Nope, no, no chance for them... no chancy chancy.

Without thinking about it, or hardly even noticing, their blue-tinted fingertips fumbled at their jacket’s zipper, until they were finally able to undo it. They slipped the garment off, throwing it across the floor.

Much better.

Still, why did they feel so hot...?

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“Will this be enough?” Hero appeared from around a corner, nearly giving Leader a heart attack with just how suddenly they appeared. In their arms was piled a heap of blankets. They were thin, just enough to keep a patient warm as they fell under anesthesia, but Hero must’ve had at least ten of them.

“I sure hope so.” Leader nodded, gesturing for them to put the pile down. As Hero did so, Leader turned back to Counselor and Medic.

Medic cleared their throat, continuing their throat from before Hero had scared everyone half to death with their appearance.

“Hypothermia is generally thought to occur in three stages. The first is the most mild-- consisting mainly of mild shivering and numbness of the peripheral digits. Stage two is when things start to get... dangerous. Shivering becomes violent, and the patient may be unable to perform finer motor functions. It’s at this stage that the cold begins to affect... mental capabilities. Irrational behavior is common. Hallucinations and delusional states aren’t unheard of. And stage three...”

They hesitated for a moment, until Leader raised an eyebrow.

“Shivering stops. The patient will generally fall into a coma before their heart gives out.”

“We can’t let that happen.” Counselor’s voice sounded as though they were on the verge of tears, which was a very real possibility. Still, the determination in their tone won out over any fear. “Can I talk to them?”

“Be my guest.” Leader nodded.

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“Villain?”

The tone was quiet. Soft. Whimsical and moving and whisping like a... like a whisper.

Villain looked up. Their cell was tiny-- an eight foot by eight foot construction of corrugated steel. A chain hung limply from the ceiling, from which a light had once hung. That’d been removed, after Villain had made it explode upon their Trainer. Their cot had gone with it, leaving the room bare, with nothing but four walls, a floor, and a ceiling.

“Villain, I’m Counselor. I don’t know if we’ve really met. I know you’re scared, and I can’t blame you. But if you stay where you are right now, you could get really hurt. I know I can’t force you to come out, but... what are you worried about? You can talk to me. I won’t even tell any of the others, I promise.”

The door opened, flooding the room with light. Villain scrambled backwards, hitting a wall that wasn’t where it should be. The two figures that entered were blank-- their faces featureless, nothing but expanses of skin, lacking eyes or anything of the like. One clipped a leash to the ring hanging from Villain’s collar, while the other lifted them from under their armpits.

“Please no I don’t want to go please I’m still healing please I can’t go for that long again I’m still healing. I won’t be of any use please just give me a bit more time.”

That was what they had meant to say, at least. The words came out in a stream of nonsensical syllables.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that. Do you speak English? Um... Voulez-vous un traducteur ? Un traductor ?”

Villain struggled to their feet, lacking any other choice with the tight grip the figure held upon their leash. The tiles clicked beneath their feet, which didn’t make much sense, as the floor of their cell was made of steel.

The figures led them outside of their cell, into the wider facility. Other figures hurried around, faces equally blank. Preparing for a mission, Villain could only assume.

Someone called out to the figures escorting them. They turned. They felt the grip on their leash loosen.

Their heartbeat drummed in their head at the realization. The facility was so busy. Everyone was so distracted... what other chance would they get?

Villain took the risk.

A quick jerk of their neck sent their leash flying from the figure’s hands. They turned to run, but found something blocking their way. They couldn’t see it, but they felt something in their hands...

“Yeah! Come on, Villain, that’s it. Just turn the lock. It’s gonna be okay, alright? Just turn the lock.”

Turn the lock. Turn the lock. Behind them, the figures were already shouting. For a moment, their fingers fumbled around at the contraption, before, at last, they did it. They turned the lock.

The door burst open, and a gust of freezing air with it. Counselor was practically thrown backwards with the sheer force of it, sending them stumbling.

Before Villain, three more of the faceless figures approached, seeming as though they had been in the middle of something. Within a moment, they had turned to them, grasping desperately in a flurry of hands.

With clumsy strikes, Villain did their best to bat them away, but found a pair of strong hands pushing them to their knees, and then onto their face.

Why was everything so white? No, the facility didn’t look like that. It was so bright. They blinked. Where were they? With an absentminded hand, they reached to their neck, feeling for their collar, only to find nothing but frigid skin.

Just as quickly, their hand was pulled behind their back, along with their other arm. The cuffs were soft, fabric, rather than the biting hold of metal. A moment later, more fabric was piled on top of them as a blanket was draped over their shoulders.

Where were they?

Again, they blinked, only to find the facility replaced with a bright, sterile hallway. Where had they gone. Had they gone unconscious? They tried to struggle, but found themself unable.

“It’s okay.” The voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away. “You’re okay. The doctors are going to be here any second. Just hold on. Hold on. It’s going to be okay.”

It didn’t make sense, but right about now, nothing did. The screeching wheels of a rapidly approaching gurney were the last thing Villain heard as they collapsed into blackness.

[snarky-badger]

Snapshots 4/5

Grievous Fuckery part 4! This time with Smut! Lmao.

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Snarling, Grievous closed a hand around the thug's throat and shook him violently, vaguely aware that two of his Magna droid bodyguards had moved to flank him, electrostaffs held up in warning to the marauder's companions. "What did you do with her?!"

The thug clawed at the metallic hand that was cutting off his airway. ".....d-desert...! W-we dropped h-her.....-hrk!- ...desert!"

Bright yellow eyes narrowed in anger and worry. Being dropped into the deserts of Tattooine was a death sentence. Daytime temperatures were known to reach deadly levels. Dehydration could occur in less than an hour, death in two. Any person who ventured into the deserts unprepared was, more often than not, either found dead, or never found at all. And that was only if the vicious tribes of Sand People didn't come upon them first.

And his taisilee had been dumped into the heart of it.

"Give me the coordinates of her last known location, and, perhaps, I'll rethink my decision to have you all killed."

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His shuttle touched down three klicks east of the coordinates the marauder leader had provided, throwing up clouds of sand as it settled in the lee of a rocky outcropping. The ship's sensors were on maximum, struggling to find any life signs amongst the dunes. Topographical maps didn't encourage hope. While they had landed near a series of rocky mountains and outcroppings, the surface temperatures were well above dangerous levels. Dry gusts of sand laden wind were doing a good job of stripping the shuttle's outer hull of it's markings - Grievous didn't want to think about what it could do to unprotected skin.

He left two of his Magna droids at the shuttle, with orders to continue scanning for any signs of life. The other two flanked him as he descended the ramp, his rarely used white cloak billowing out behind him. The heat meant little to him, and even less to the Magna droids. The sand, however, was a different matter. Sand could damage sensitive joints, and in his case, irritate his still organic eyes.

But there was no telling how long the winds would last, or even how much time he had before an inevitable sand storm hit. He had to find Kyra. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

"You two, spread out," he growled to his two guards. "Search the outer ridges. Kyra wouldn't have strayed far from the shelter of the rocks. If she's here, the scanners may have difficulty finding her signal because of interference."

Grievous spun away as he finished speaking, his own sensors stretched to their limits as he sprinted towards a small canyon, stabilizers struggling to compensate for the shifting sand under his feet. Scans had shown a series of caves lining the shallow canyon's walls, the perfect shelter from the overwhelming heat and biting sands.

It was only when his talons hit stone that he stopped, his cloak whipping around him as he let his gaze cut across his new surroundings. Dark shadows dotted the sides of the canyon, outcroppings and shelves of stone making the walls look sharp and unforgiving. The wind buffeted his back, the sensation of sand grating across the back of his skull making him wish his cloak came with a hood.

He was just about to pick his way down to the canyon floor when something caught his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he walked over to crouch in front of a smooth boulder. There, etched into the reddish stone, was a rough copy of the emblem that was on the grey cloak he usually wore.

She had been here! Maybe, was still here.

"Kyra?!" His voice echoed through the canyon, even as he haphazardly jumped from outcropping to outcropping, darting from cave to cave. "Answer me! Kyra!"

Through the echoes of his calls, Grievous caught the telltale howls of hunting Sand People, the sound pulling a snarl from him as he rose his gaze to eye the horizon warily. Knowing time was short, he sped up his search, chemsensors and scanners tuned as high as they would go as he searched for the slightest sign of her, keen eyes cutting across his surroundings for any other possible etchings.

He was halfway through scouring the north side of the gorge when the calls from the Sand People turned into a completely different sort of feral cry. They had found prey. And judging by the sound of blasters, armed prey.

Curious, the cyborg climbed up onto the ridge, keeping low to hide his profile. Using the rough terrain as cover, he darted from boulder to boulder, slowing once he got within visual sight of the fire-fight. Five Sand People were taking cover behind a dune, only reappearing to take shots at a hidden opponent. Grievous narrowed his eyes at the second dune, catching sight of a barrel of a crude blaster before a very familiar glint of fire-red hair sent a shiver of recognition through him. "KYRA!"

She ducked as a shot grazed her cheek, rolling onto her back as she wiped sweat and dirt out of her eyes. The tribe of Sand People had been hunting her for days, having spotted her when she had headed into the canyon hoping to find shelter. While the caves there had given her an advantage - there were mazes of interconnected tunnels in the deepest caves - something had prickled her Force senses, drawing her out of her shelter.

It had been a stupid move. Kyra knew the Tribe had been watching her. She knew they were waiting for an opportunity to catch her. And despite that, she had let her Force instincts draw her out. Even now, while she was dodging blasts, her Force sense was still niggling at her. Though, considering that she had barely slept, and had gone without food for four days, and without water for two, it was possible that she was hallucinating.

With a tired sigh, Kyra rolled back onto her stomach and dared to poke her head over the top of the dune again, her index finger lightly tapping the trigger of her stolen blaster. A shocked gasp left her seconds later when she spied a familliar burnished white form moving amongst the Sand People, four lightsabers whirling with deadly precision.

Grievous dispatched the five tribe members in as many seconds, kicking the final body in disgust before he resettled his lightsabers into the hidden pouches in his cloak and turned towards the sound of shifting sands. Seeing Kyra rushing towards him, Grievous spun and loped down the lee of the dune, heedless of the unstable terrain as he ran over to her.

He reached her just as she stumbled, not slowing as he scooped her into his four arms, taloned feet digging deep into the sand to slow their momentum as he nuzzled his mask into her hair. "Taisilee."

Kyra wrapped shaking arms around him, curling her fingers around bits of his back armor. "I knew you'd find me," she whispered, hearing his low purr/growl as he brushed the lower part of his mask against her forehead, then against her cheek, his upper right hand rising to brush tears from her skin. "I knew you'd come."

"Always," he growled, his voice a low husky rumble. "Always, my taisilee."

Concerned at the pained tint to her scent, Grievous leaned back and really looked at her, a shocked curse leaving him when he saw the horrible sunburn that covered every inch of exposed skin. The marauders had stripped her of everything except a thin tank top and her pants and boots. She looked exhausted, dirty and dehydrated, with little cuts, bruises and scrapes marring her badly sunburned, and sand-grated skin. That she had managed to survive for a week without adequate coverings or water was nothing short of a miracle.

With a protective rumble, he shifted his hold on her, then sent a silent message to his guards, requesting a pick-up. "My shuttle is on it's way," he told her, meeting her gaze. "I made sure to stock some supplies for you."

She leaned into him, feeling him tighten his hold on her. "They took the lightsaber you gave me," she admitted softly, wincing a little when he tensed, a low snarl leaving his vocalizer. "I'm sorry."

Grievous jerked, surprise pushing thoughts of killing the entire lot of marauders from the forefront of his mind. "And why, my taisilee, are you apologizing for something that isn't your fault?"

"....feels like my fault," she murmured sourly.

"Kyra, I saw the state of those thugs. I know you fought them." When she frowned, he ducked his head and gently brushed the lower part of his mask against her chapped lips. "They drugged you, my taisilee. I found the darts they shot you with and had the contents analyzed. With the amount they gave you, you shouldn't have been able to move, never mind fight like you did. You killed three, and wounded seven before the drugs took effect. It was a lost battle that you were forced to fight, my taisilee, and even so, you still fought to the last. It is very..... attractive."

She shivered at the lust in his voice and eyes, blushing when he chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers. Deciding that two could play that game, Kyra lightly brushed a hand across his chest, using a bit of her waning energy to send a teasing thrum into him.

Another chuckle rumbled out of him. "When I get you home, I may just pay you back for that," he purred, snickering when the redness on her face and neck darkened. "All this time, and I can still make you blush, my taisilee."

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She passed out the moment Grievous gently set her down on a medical berth, and it took him several tries before he managed to pry her iron grip off of him. Once he was free, he busied himself with carefully slicing away her filthy clothing, tossing it into a waste compartment as he did so. Only then did he do his best to clean the dirt and grime off of her, scowling at the raw, and badly sunburned state of the skin on her face, arms, upper chest and shoulders. Every inch of skin that had been left unprotected to the elements was damaged, and by the sound of the soft whimper that left her, extremely sensitive. The rest of her body was decorated with sporadic bruises, and once he tugged her boots off, he found that she was sporting a badly sprained ankle.

The little first aid supplies he had weren't going to be enough to treat her raw and sunburned skin, and Grievous smothered a growl at the realization. Disgusted at his lack of insight, he settled for dosing her with painkillers and setting up an intravenous drip of saline to combat dehydration. Her body absorbed the water at a frightening rate, making him set up a second bag of the liquid, this time adding a liberal dose of vitamins and minerals that would help boost her recovery.

At the end of his medical knowledge, Grievous sighed and undid the clasp of his cloak, draping the material over her to hide her nakedness. Even though there were only droids on the shuttle, he wasn't about to let anyone other than himself see her without clothing. She was his. And he wasn't above admitting his possessiveness.

The medical scanners gave a warning chirp, and he spun to stare at the readout, hands clenching into fists. Her body temperature was dangerously high. Only one degree higher, and there would be a very serious chance of brain damage.

Cursing, he yanked his cloak off of her, talons shaking as he started to reach for her, only to hesitate mere centimeters from her skin. There was nothing on the shuttle he could use to lower her temperature. And if it edged just one degree higher.....

He whirled and barrelled out of the small room, storming up to the bridge, where two of his Magna droids were piloting the shuttle, eyes narrowing when he realized that they were barely out of the planet's atmosphere. "Why aren't we in hyperspace yet?! We need to get to my Citadel!"

One of the Droids turned crimson optics onto him. "We had to circumnavigate a sandstorm. We'll be in hyperspace momentarily."

"Re-route energy from the shields and weapons," he ordered, giving the console a quick glance. "Push the hyperdrive engines to maximum."

The second guard visibly stiffened before glancing at him. "Lady Kyra?"

Grievous didn't know if he liked the fact that his bodyguards had picked up how much Kyra meant to him. "She requires urgent medical attention," he answered gruffly, barely able to hold back a growl when the droid nodded and turned back to the controls. "Advise me when we land."

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He burst out of the shuttle before the ramp had fully lowered, clutching a still unconscious Kyra to himself as he darted into his Citadel and headed for the medical ward, bellowing for his Doctor as he ran.

The medical droid looked rather annoyed at being yelled at, until it spotted Kyra in his Master's arms. Whatever snarky remark it was preparing to give was wisely put aside as it stepped aside to avoid being run over. "Where did you find her?"

"Tatooine's badlands," Grievous answered, pushing past the Doctor and rushing into the cleaning area he usually used to wash the dirt, grime and blood off of himself after a battle. The cloak he had wrapped around her sailed out of the room, landing on the droids head and blocking it's view as the cyborg activated the water jets and lowered the temperature to as cold as he could stand.

It worried him to no end when Kyra didn't even twitch as he angled her under the freezing spray.

The Doctor knew better than to even think about looking at a disrobed Kyra, so it turned it's back to them, scanners running. "How long has her temperature been at such a level?"

"Exactly twenty-one minutes. I administered two intravenous saline drips, a single dose of painkillers, and a vitamin cocktail as soon as I got her onto the shuttle," Grievous told it, grimacing as the cold water seeped into his joints. But he pushed his discomfort aside and kept Kyra's body under the jets, tilting her face against his shoulder to keep her from accidentally inhaling any water. "She lost consciousness as soon as I brought her onboard. I haven't been able to wake her."

"....it has been documented that some Sith and Jedi can enter a sort of healing trance when they are wounded. She may have fallen into such a trance as soon as she found herself safe enough to do so. By doing so, she may have kept her temperature from rising any higher."

He mulled that over for a second. "What are the chances that she contracted brain damage?"

"Statistically? Twenty-five point two percent. However, my scans show an increase in brain activity, and there is a significant rise in theta waves."

"Theta waves? That's not Force related, is it?"

"Unknown. I do not have other scans to compare with. Though her body temperature has dropped oh-point-seven degrees since you arrived. I estimate that another ten minutes under the cold water will bring her core temperature back to a safe level."

Grievous felt some of the tension leave his frame at the information and slumped a little under the stream of water, holding back a curse as the frigid spray hit him in the face. Hissing, he shook his head, blinking the cold water away as he returned his attention to the woman in his arms, frowning down at her worriedly as he split his arms into four.

Three arms cradled her while he rose the fourth to her face, lightly brushing her soaked hair aside and panicking a little when his talons got caught in her tangled locks. With a dismayed growl, he carefully extracted his fingers, then cast his gaze around the cleaning area, grumbling when he couldn't find anything that was safe enough to use on delicate human skin.

"Here, sir."

Blinking, the cyborg glanced towards the medical droid, quirking a hidden brow when he saw the liquid soap container being held out to him. Grunting, he snatched it out of the Doctor's grip, re-adusting his hold on Kyra until his upper hands were free, his lowers keeping her cradled against him.

He spent the following ten minutes washing out her hair and gently scrubbing dirt off of her skin, taking great delight in running his upper hands through the fiery locks once he had worked out all of the tangles and knots.

And when his Doctor announced that Kyra's core temperature was only one degree above normal, he fairly launched himself out of the spray of water, nearly taking out the medical droid in the process.

A distinct lack of towels had him grabbing his cape once again, giving it a rough shake before he wrapped it around her, snarling at the droid in warning when it moved the edge of the cloak aside to look at her sunburn. "Don't even think about putting her in a bacta tank."

"But--"

"No."

The droid let out something very close to an exasperated sigh. "Then I'll prepare a bacta-infused salve for her burns."

"Good." He carefully reintegrated his arms back into two, then held Kyra tighter against him. "Is she stable enough for me to bring her to our room?"

"For the moment. Though I suggest you bring a portable medical scanner with you."

Could have mentioned that before I reintegrated my arms. Stupid droid. With a growl, Grievous split his left arm into two, snatched up the offered scanner, then stalked out of the medical bay, trying very hard to ignore the urge to behead the droid with a lightsaber.

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Slowly, being careful of her sunburned back and shoulders, Grievous lay her down on their bed, pausing to brush her hair out of her face before he turned to fetch a roll of elastic bandage from her things. Once he had found one, he moved to the end of the bed and started to wrap her sprained ankle, plasteel talons glaringly white against the dark bruise.

When he had it wrapped to his satisfaction, he returned to her side, stretching out beside her and lightly brushing the fingers of his right hand across her cheek. Now that there was no audience, and thus no reason to hold back any longer, he gingerly slid his arms around her and gently rearranged her onto her side, curling his raptorine body around her as he tucked her as close as possible.

He murmured her name, one hand stroking her cheek as he stared at her face, practically willing her to wake up. "Please, taisilee," he whispered, brushing his curled fingers across her skin. "Please. Wake up."

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Moving silently, Grievous slid into the steam filled bathroom, barely managing to hold back a predatory growl as he edged towards the enclosed shower, and the woman within. Her soft humming hid the low click of his plasteel talons opening the shower door, and he struck, cackling at her shriek of laughter as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her further under the stream of warm water.

"You--!" Laughing, Kyra smacked him on the shoulder, knowing full well that the hit wouldn't harm him in the least. "Don't scare me like that!"

He chuckled, holding her to him with one arm while he playfully flicked her wet bangs out of her eyes with his free hand. "Where's the fun in that, my taisilee?" he teased, gently pushing her back against the tiled wall before he ducked his head and nuzzled his masked face against her neck. "Mm. Besides, I thought I'd help you clean up."

"Oh, is that your reason for pouncing on me?"

"I never need a reason to pounce on you," he retorted playfully, chuckling as he lifted her and carefully interspersed himself between her thighs, groaning happily when she tightened her legs around him, her knees snug against his sides. The stream of water poured over his back, the warmth seeping into his armor and joints as he used his body to keep the droplets from blinding Kyra. He shifted his stance a little to better support her, taloned feet finding purchase on the slick tiles. His hands dropped to massage her buttocks as he closed his eyes to focus on the sensations the sensors across his body was bombarding him with. "Ohh, taisilee...."

Smiling, Kyra wound her arms around his shoulders, placing a kiss on his mask just over his vocalizer and sending a little thrum of energy into him. His eyes shot open, a low growl leaving him as he met her sapphire gaze before his arms split into four, two continuing to support her while he rose the other two to frame her face with his hands.

Purring, he pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes again when she lightly stroked one of the sensors on either side of his head. "I want you," he growled, skimming his hands over her shoulders and frowning when he felt her tense, her breath leaving her in a pained hiss.

"Sorry," Kyra grimaced, dropping her eyes from his worried golden gaze. "My shoulders are still a little sensitive. I didn't mean to ruin the moment."

He rumbled and shook his head. "You've ruined nothing," he murmured, brushing her wet hair back so he could study her sunburned skin. "I can wait the few minutes it will take to treat your burns." At her curious look, he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her chest flush with his and shivering as the sensors in his armor sang with pleasure. "I have a new batch of the bacta-infused salve for your burns. All this changes is that I'll treat your skin earlier than I had planned."

"Oh, really?" A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And what else did you plan?"

Another chuckle left him. "Oh, this and that," he said evasively, snickering at the pout she gave him. Her fingers stroked the hidden seams in his chest armor, her touch activating rarely online cybernetic sensors and pulling a deep moan from him. Groaning, he nuzzled his face into her neck, his upper hands moving to knead her breasts. "Mmm. Shower's over."

Taking her breathy moan as agreement, Grievous shifted his lower arms and held her more securely against him, bringing her with him as he carefully stepped out of the enclosed shower. He paused only long enough to shut off the water and snatch up a couple of towels before he carried her out of the attached suite and into the bedroom.

It was only when he was standing at the end of the bed that he gently set her on her feet, brushing his mask against her lips before he knelt in front of her. He locked his arms back into two, glancing up at her playfully as he started to dry her off, starting at her ankles and slowly working his way up her body. He caressed and nuzzled spots of soft skin as he worked, delighting in the growing scent of arousal he picked up from her.

A purr rumbled out of him when she skimmed her hands over his shoulders, and up his neck to his masked face, sending little eddys of power dancing across his sensors.

"Keep your hands to yourself, taisilee, else I won't be able to hold back long enough to treat your sunburns," he chastised her, shivering when she smirked and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'll tie you down if you don't listen."

"I'll get loose," she sing-songed, meeting his burning gaze when he surged to his feet and advanced on her, gently pushing her backwards until she bumped into the edge of the bed.

Unable to think of any restraints that wouldn't cause her harm, Grievous effortlessly tore the towel into strips, chuckling at her shocked look. "I did warn you," he teased, laughing when she tried to make a run for the bathroom. He lunged after her, cackling at her startled yelp as he slung her over his shoulder and carried her back to the bed, treated to a lovely view of the curve of her thigh when she tried to struggle free.

"I didn't think you were serious!" she protested, hands scrambling at his back armor as she tried to push herself upright.

"And who's fault is that?" he mused, snickering as he dropped her onto the bed and pounced on her before she could make another run for it. Crouching over her, Grievous deftly caught her hands and wrapped a strip of the torn towel around her wrists, leaning down to brush the lower part of his mask against her lips before he gripped her hips and flipped her onto her stomach.

"Oof!" Kyra tossed her head to get her hair out of the way and glared at Grievous over her left shoulder as he straddled her hips. The cyborg looked entirely too pleased with himself, eyes shining as he met her gaze and gave her an lecherous look, his hands already starting to caress her bare back. Grumbling, she focused on her bindings, giving an annoyed curse when she didn't recognize the type of knot. "This is massively unfair."

He chuckled and reached out to carefully move her damp and curling hair off her partially healed sunburned shoulders. "Behave, and maybe I'll let you go when I'm finished treating your burns," he offered, playfully trailing his plasteel talons down her spine and growling softly as he watched goosebumps break out over her skin.

Moving gingerly to avoid hurting her, Grievous braced himself and reached over the edge of the bed, picking up the jar of salve he had set there earlier before he resettled himself on his knees, still straddling Kyra's hips. The salve, he had discovered, had little to no scent, which, to him, was a boon. He had never understood why some humans obscured their scents with perfumes and chemicals. Certainly, he was glad that Kyra didn't use such things; he liked her natural scent.

"That stuff doesn't stink does it?" Kyra asked curiously, further endearing herself to him without even knowing it.

"No," he assured her, rubbing a hand down her back to calm her when she cast a wary look over her shoulder. "I would not have approved of it otherwise. You know how much I like your scent, taisilee. I'm not about to put some horrid smelling concoction on you. Now, lie still. I don't want your hair getting in the way."

She sighed and lay her cheek on her arm. "I really should cut it."

"Don't you dare," he scolded as he opened the jar and scooped some of the salve onto two fingers. Setting the jar to the side, he reached out to run his free hand through her hair, the locks curling around his digits. "I like your hair, too."

An amused chuckle left her. "Yeah, but you're biased."

He growled happily. "When it comes to you, my taisilee? Always. Now brace yourself, this is rather cool."

"You haven't actually touched my shoulders, have you?" she murmured wryly, shivering when Grievous rubbed the cold salve across her burned skin. The relief was almost instant. The heat and tightness vanished, the aching tension in her muscles easing. Even the painful over-sensitivity calmed, turning his gentle massage into something pleasurable instead of something she needed to endure for her own well being.

The blissful sigh that left her made him purr as he worked the bacta infused cream into her skin, feeling her relax under him. Every patch of skin that radiated heat, he covered with a thin layer of salve, lightly massaging her neck and shoulders. He used the opportunity to explore her back and sides, finding which spots made her bite back laughter and wiggle in an attempt to get away and which pulled pleased moans from her.

Only when he had treated every inch of burned skin did he fully indulge himself, splitting his arms into four and bracing himself on knees and lower arms as he leaned over her, growling as he nuzzled the nape of her neck. His upper hands slid up her sides and under her, to cup her breasts, his growl deepening to a guttural purr when she gasped out his name and arched her back, giving him better access to the side of her throat.

He rubbed his mask into her hair, drinking in her scent. "I have something I want to try," he rasped, shifting his weight back onto his knees so he could free his lower arms, hands brushing over the small of her back before he wrapped his left lower arm around her waist and tilted her pelvis up against his. His right slid around her, fingers finding her core, a low growl rumbling out of him when she mewled and rocked her hips into his hand. "But I want you to promise me that if you feel the slightest bit uneasy, that you'll tell me."

She moaned as he slid a finger into her, his uppermost hands still kneading her breasts as he pressed his chest against her back. "G-Grievous...."

"Promise me, taisilee," he purred into her ear, trying hard to hold himself back, despite how wet and hot her core felt around his finger. He could already feel an echo of her own pleasure starting to warm his innards, her thoughts brushing against his, building the odd loop of pleasure that let her bring him through his own completion.

"I promise!" she said breathlessly, hearing his low chuckle as he slid a second finger into her, slowly pumping his hand against her.

"Good. Now let me feel." Growling, he quickened his caresses, gripping her breasts as he pushed her down into the bed again, grinding his hips against her buttocks to push her pleasure higher, shivering when an echo of what she felt rippled through him. "I want to feel you, taisilee. Now."

Kyra gasped, struggling to reach out with her Force powers, brushing her thoughts against his and shuddering at the want and lust he openly sent to her. "Grievous!"

He hissed in pleasure and closed his eyes, fingers sliding deeper. "Yesss. Now."

A cry left her as her orgasm crashed through her, dimly aware of Grievous' arms tightening around her as her climax echoed into him. He snarled, a shudder wracking him before he moaned and hugged her, gasping for breath.

She was still trying to catch her breath when his comforting weight vanished, listening as he darted over to a small trunk and rifled through it. "Grievous?"

"One moment, taisilee."

Dazed, and with little aftershocks still going though her, she blew her bangs out of her eyes and tried to see what he was doing. That effort was thwarted when he caught sight of her and rushed over to toss a blanket over her head. "Hey!" She struggled to free her head, pausing when she heard a click followed by his low moan of pleasure. "What are you--?"

"J-Just a moment."

Frowning at the odd tone of his voice, Kyra used a bit of power to Force Push the blanket off of her, gasping when Grievous suddenly flipped her onto her back and stretched out on top of her, his eyes fairly glowing with excitement. "What was that all about?"

"I'll show you. But first," he playfully brushed his mask over her lips, all four hands exploring her body. "Eyes closed."

She blinked, but when he didn't elaborate, sighed and closed her eyes, shivering when he gently coaxed her legs open. She was still sensitive, unable to hold back a gasp when he leaned down to nuzzle her abdomen, sliding two fingers into her, going right for her g-spot.

"I wish I could taste you," he growled against her skin, breathing in lungfuls of her scent and purring in pleasure. "Even this won't fully make up for it."

"What--?" Kyra cut herself off with a moan when he grasped her hips with his lower hands, his uppers returning to her breasts. Instinct had her rolling her hips towards him, a startled cry leaving her when he chuckled and copied the motion, something long and hard sliding into her, stretching her.

Her eyes shot open, locking onto Grievous' burning gaze as he held himself above her, fairly trembling as he stared down at her, eyes wide. Unable to help the blush that spread over her cheeks, Kyra glanced down at their linked bodies before looking up at him again. "You didn't."

"Best technology available, after myself of course," he purred, bracing himself on his upper arms as he leaned down to nuzzle her. "It's connected into my neural net. And, oh, it feels so real, like I remember.... And you, ohhh taisilee, you feel incredible." He gently moved his hips against hers, growling at the sensations that shot through his body as his new 'member' was caressed by her core. ".....want you. So beautiful. Want to take you...."

Kyra gasped, automatically moving to meet his thrusts as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up until she was straddling him. Talons tore through the bindings on her wrists, letting her grip his shoulders for stability while he nuzzled his face against her cheek, panting heavily. She clung to him, crying out when he put a hand to the small of her back and changed the angle of his entry, hitting the spot inside her that nearly tipped her over the edge.

He growl/hissed and closed a fist in her hair, watching her face as he canted his hips to hers, shouting when she caught his gaze and smirked, tightening her muscles around him. It felt so real. As if his cock was flesh and blood instead of carefully crafted plasteel and circuitry. And, oh, the embarrassment of getting it made was worth it. It was perfect. Kyra was perfect. And his. Wholly his.

A snarl left him. "Mine," he hissed, tightening three arms around her, the fourth still gripping her hair. "Mine."

"Yours," Kyra echoed breathlessly, hearing his growl as he snapped his pelvis to hers, going even deeper into her. "G-Grievous! Please!"

He leaned further back onto his knees, legs slightly spread, lower hands going to her hips to pull her onto his thrusts, groaning when he felt her curl her legs around him. She was clinging to him, mewling his name as she leaned her forehead on his shoulder. He felt the familiar sensation of her Force abilities brush against his thoughts, and welcomed it, a shudder wracking him when he felt the echoes of her own pleasure.

Half a dozen more thrusts and Kyra cried out, arching her back as her inner muscles spasmed around him. The feeling sent shock waves through him, a strangled howl ripping it's way out of his throat as his 'attachment' sent overwhelming sensations into his neural net. He convulsed against her, eyes clenched shut at the long-missed sensations of true - if artificial - physical, completion.

Gasping, his breath coming in rasping pants, Grievous rose a shaking hand to brush his fingers across Kyra's cheek, meeting her warm gaze when she rose her head to look at him. "Taisilee."

She smiled weakly, still shivering as little aftershocks washed through her. "....I love you, too," she whispered, placing a kiss on his mask, just under his left eye and gasping when he pressed a hand on the small of her back and smoothly rocked his pelvis against hers. He growled and cupped her face in his upper hands, locking gazes with her as he started moving within her again, his lower hands holding her hips, encouraging her to meet his movements.

"You've given me back what I lost," he murmured, golden eyes staring into sapphire. "I accepted the changes to myself, but I trapped myself in the process. I lost everything. All I had was my rage, and my hate." Purring raggedly, Grievous pressed his forehead to hers, keeping up his slow thrusts into her. "You showed me that I wasn't just what I had become. That I didn't have to.... to limit myself. That I could have more. So, so much more." He punctuated the last word with a strong slide within her, rubbing up against the spot in her that made her gasp, her eyes darkening.

"You never treated me as anything but Kaleesh, never a cyborg, never a droid. You've given me everything I thought out of my reach. Friendship, a mate. That you'd let me touch you, let me find pleasure again..... trust me enough to even touch your thoughts to mine...." He slid his upper hands into her hair, gathering the wild locks into his fists and brushing the lower part of his mask across her lips. "I will never let you go, my taisilee. Never."

She shivered when he growled, expressive reptilian eyes fairly glowing as he pushed her down into the blankets, his hips churning against her, the new angle meaning that every deep thrust brushed her g-spot. He stretched out over her, hissing when she wrapped her legs around him again, letting him drive himself into her. Gasping for breath and mumbling Kaleesh endearments, Grievous locked his arms back into two and grasped her hands, pinning her arms above her head.

Her inner muscles fluttered around his cock, the sensation pulling a deep growl from him as he stared down at her, watching her as he drove her closer and closer to climax. She bit her lower lip as she met his gaze, sapphire eyes glittering, even as she brushed her fingers against his, sending a wave of energy dancing up his arms and across his chest. The pulse went straight to his innards, the pleasure echoing through him in an ever-growing shockwave until it was too much to endure.

He arched his back, roaring as his climax ripped through him, hips jerking against hers, dimly aware of her own cry of pleasure as her core spasmed around him. A long, drawn-out moan left him at the sensation, his heart hammering in it's protective gutsack.

Stunned by the overwhelming pleasure, Grievous slumped on top of her, face buried in her hair as he wheezed, struggling to regain his breath. Limbs twitched with aftershocks, each little movement accompanied with a small flash of bliss. Kyra was trembling under him, gasping, warm breath tickling the right sensor on the side of his head. Still dazed, he regained enough coordination to release her hands, sliding his palms down the length of her arms and across her shoulders in calming strokes.

After a few long minutes, he gently pulled himself out of her, murmuring endearments at her soft moan. Knowing he wouldn't be able to rest while it was tied into his neural network, he carefully reached down and, with a hiss at the pleasure his own touch caused, unlocked and slid the plate the sex-tool was attached to out of the thin groove of his pelvic armor.

He reached back to set the alloy tool on the bed behind him, grimacing when he set it down only for it to roll off and thunk to the floor. Kyra shook against him then, burying her face against his chest, and he glanced down at her, chuckling when he found that she was struggling not to laugh. "You won't be laughing if it's damaged," he teased, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her close.

Kyra snickered. "We made do before you got it," she smiled, placing a kiss on his chest. "Not that I'm complaining."

"No," he purred, brushing a hand across her shoulders and up to stroke her hair. "No complaints." He gently slid his free hand between them, palm pressing against her abdomen. "Did I hurt you?"

She reached up to press the fingers of her right hand to his mask, just over his vocalizer. "You didn't hurt me. Trust me, with how close our thoughts were, you would have known. You're not the only one who lost control for a moment there."

He gave a pleased, very male, growl and nuzzled her cheek, wrapping his arms around her to pull her into the curve of his body. "Good." Purring gutterally, Grievous curled his raptorine body around her, tugging a fur up over her bare back and shoulders to help keep her warm.

.

.

.

tbc

[disgruntledspacedad]

in defense of Din’s subdued reaction to losing the kid...

gif by @quantam-widow

I know we were all thinking it. We got a 2 second reaction shot to the destruction of the Razor Crest (may she forever rest in peace), but then, Grogu gets taken, and... nothing?

What the fuck, Din? we all protest. That’s your baby on that ship! Don’t you care? Scream, curse, kick a rock, cry, make a fist, something!!

I will acknowledge that so far, the show has been excellent with giving us emotional payoff, am I right? I mean, just today we got Din laughing, twice. Twice in a row. I honestly never thought we’d see that. There have been so many excellent, precious soft!Din moments this season, and they all feel deliciously earned.

So, from a meta POV, I guess I’m saying that I have faith in the writers to get it right, and in Pedro to deliver. Duh.

In universe, though, I think it’s fair to point out the obvious - that Din is a pretty reserved guy. He’s much more of a thinker than a feeler. He’s used to keeping things bottled up, and I would even argue that his life often depends on his ability to dissociate from his emotions. Din’s entire journey so far has been about how one little baby yodito shakes his worldview to its very foundations. He’s getting there, but it’s a slow process. 

And also, consider this - we haven’t seen Din alone yet, not since Grogu was taken. For a guy who lives a guarded life literally encased in fucking armor, any display of emotion is going to be carefully protected until he’s in private.

But anyway, Din is detached, rational, a little emotionally constipated, and definitely comfortable in a stressful situation. A true ISTP if you ask me (yeah, I know you didn’t, but whatever). Often, it seems that these cool headed, logical types who have never ruffled a feather over anything in their lives are the least adept at handling genuine fear. In other words, when panic does strike, it strikes them hard. 

And guys, Din was definitely panicking during this episode. 

He’s clearly unsettled from the jump - that outburst of “dank farrik!” in the cockpit sells it, and his distress only becomes more obvious from there. Talking out loud, trying to convince himself that the best thing for Grogu is for him to be trained as a Jedi. Reminding himself of the creed. His overt caution as they approach the seeing stone. His impatience, “Are you seeing anything??”

Then there’s the effects of long term stress. Sure, a bounty hunter in the outer rim doesn’t exactly live an easy life, but Din is definitely used to the drama being on his terms. Compare Din’s body language in the opening scene of season one to when Boba confronts him in chapter fourteen. You can just feel the anxiety, the weariness, the frustration. Din has been on the run for months now, constantly looking over his shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. Notice how he even startles at Fennec’s voice? Season one Din would never have given that much away, regardless of the situation. Long term stress has clearly taken a toll on him.

So we have unsettled, stressed out Din in an emotionally charged situation. He’s exhausted, he’s scared, he’s desperate. This scenario is a recipe for even the most level-headed of adrenaline junkies to loose their cool, and that’s exactly what happens to Din. He panics, and he makes some pretty big fuckups because of it. Leaving Grogu unprotected, twice. Trying three different times to break through that “force field,” even when he knew he couldn’t. Dropping that jetpack and then just forgetting about it (I know we were all screaming about that one, or at least, I was).

So, fear is a positive feedback loop. Those neurotransmitters that do us good in a bad situation - raising heart rate, narrowing focus, shunting blood to the muscles - can also be detrimental if we get too high of a dose - tachypnea and tachycardia, inability to think critically and see the big picture, lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. Epinephrine, in particular, even inhibits the laying down of new memory pathways. In other words, stress leads to poor performance, and poor performance leads to more stress, which leads to... you get the idea.

Then, in the middle of all this chaos, they fucking blast the Razor Crest.

More epinephrine, more cortisol, more stress. 

By the end of it all, Din is a fucking shitstorm of stress hormones and pent up emotions. Notice how he seems to be on autopilot in the immediate aftermath, robotically scanning the ashes of the Crest for anything that might be left intact. Notice how empty his voice is when he says, “the child is gone.” This is a dead man walking. Din has nothing left. His whole life has just gone up in smoke, and he can do nothing about it. 

Guys, Din is holding onto his sanity by a fucking thread in this scene. “The child is gone,” he says, like he’s reminding himself, grounding himself in his shitty reality. He’s stunned. 

And helpless. There’s literally nothing he can do for Grogu. He has no ship, no credits, no resources, nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer. Din literally cannot allow himself the luxury of feelings right now. He’s just got to focus on surviving this very shitty day.

Then, Boba Fett upholds his end of the deal, and suddenly, Din has something to hold onto. An ally, a badass friend, some hope. I don’t think Boba shows Din that chain code in order to verify his claim on the armor - he’s already wearing it, for godssake. I think Boba shows him the code in order to catch Din’s attention - hey friend, I know you’re hurting, but I’m a man of my word. When I make a vow, I keep it. Let’s regroup and go find your kid.

And Din would totally latch onto that. A fighting chance? Din fucking leaps at it. There’s a job to do. A kid to save. All of those stress hormones are going to keep on stewing, because Din has never really come down from his adrenaline high. 

It’s like this in real life, too. There isn’t time to be afraid. There isn’t time to be sad, or second-guess, or say, oh how terrible, or wonder what if it doesn’t work? There’s just you and the job, and if you are the only thing standing between life and death, you will put everything else aside and do what you have to do, for as long as you have to do it.

And that’s where Din is at this moment. He’s running on the fumes of his adrenaline, all tempered focus, all strategy and no bullshit.

Emotional shock, my therapist buddy calls it. Apparently, it’s normal. Expected, even.

But guys, the fallout of this kind of crazy ass adrenaline high is insanely intense. I’m talking collapse to the floor, legs won't hold you, trembling, crying so hard you sling snot, shuddering breaths, stare dead-eyed and spent at the ceiling because you’re just too wiped out to even sleep kind of intense. 

And then, after the breakdown comes the angst. The detailed thinking. The oh god, what if this had happened, or, should I have done that instead? It seems like every emotion that gets put on the back burner in the moment comes back to bite you with twofold intensity when all is said and done. 

In other words, Din is definitely going to feels some things .A lot of very intense things. A reckoning is coming, my dudes. Trust me. It’s just not quite here yet.

That being said, here’s what I can expect from Din going forward:

Just like he’s is slow to acknowledge his growing parental feelings for Grogu, I think Din’s going to be slow at processing his grief at Grogu’s loss. In the next episode, he’s got plenty to distract him - getting together his hit team to take back the kid and coordinating an attack on the empire. 

However, I do think we’ll get a slow moment with Din, probably sometime at the beginning of next week’s episode if the pattern holds. I doubt it’s the full-blown breakdown that we’re all needing, but I’m willing to bet money that we’ll see Din grappling with the fact that his kid is gone. I also think that badass beskar murder machine Din from chapter three will resurface. Stress and desperation make us do irrational things, and anger is one of the stages of grief that Din will inevitably have to work through (I think he’s flickering between denial and bargaining for now).

But then, after Din gets Grogu back? I think that’s we’ll have our big, dearly earned emotional payoff. 

For one thing, Din won’t be able to deny his feelings anymore. He wants to keep this kid, it’s so very obvious. Losing him just forces it all to the forefront. 

And then the relief/joy/regret/guilt that Din is going to feel once he’s got Grogu back? Not to mention the physical exhaustion? All of the fear/terror/angst/grief that he ignored in favor of just going pedal to the metal, guns blazing, get the kid or die trying? That shit’s going to crash into him with all the subtly of a fucking tsunami. I guarantee you, we’re going to get some sort of confession, or adoption vow, or face revel, or other sort of profound softness from Dad!Din in the falling action of this season (At least, I hope we get it at the end this season but I wouldn’t put it past them to kick it into the premier of season three, just for pacing reasons, but then again, I obviously have trust issues).

Personally, I would love to see Din grappling with the long-term fallout of losing Grogu - night terrors, guilt, paranoia, etc. That’s probably the stuff of fanfiction - mandalorians don't have nightmares on screen, surely - but still, some lingering effects Grogu’s kidnapping would be realistic, and I would absolutely live for it.

[generalfoolish]

Partaylir

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: lots of bad space language, Dagobah is dangerous, Luke gives a really bad nickname (that's my hc: Luke gives nicknames and they're horrible), helmet less!Din

Word count: ~1K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: Two Mandalorians and a Jedi Master walk into a swamp on Dagobah...

A/N: Hey babes! This is number seven of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. A little shorter, forgive me, it's my anniversary! I will be taking Din's helmet off as often as I can, I'm a sucker for that face! Enjoy 💕

This may be just misplaced hubris, but if you want to be tagged let me know! I'll be working on a proper Taglist, but in the meantime I can do it manually :)

Masterlist | Aay'han | Mavar

The night passed without incident, but you noticed that Mando kept his distance from you. For your part, you felt that you had played your hand. He knew your face. It didn’t get much more honest than that for mandalorians. If anything, you figured, you should be mad at him. He was still lying about Bo-Katan. Luke had all but confirmed that he had the darksaber. A truth you couldn’t believe. Another myth busted by this mysterious man.

The noises of the swamp kept you from sleeping too deeply, so at dawn, you pulled yourself out of the hut. The air seemed less muggy, but you were surprised that the heat level remained quite high.

“Morning!” Luke cheerfully greeted you. He was already up, his robes ditched for a grimy short sleeve, and he seemed to be simply meditating. Mando had taken Grogu to the ship, as Luke’s hut was smaller. You hadn’t minded being further away from his anger.

“They’ll be by shortly.” Luke explained. “Want to help me gather breakfast?” He flashed a toothy grin, and you couldn’t deny him. You had pulled your beskar off before bed, and you remained without it as you moved through the swamp. You tried not to think about why you felt so comfortable with the Jedi, and why you felt so uncomfortable with the mandalorian.

In your lessons, your buir had always spoken of the hatred between mandalorians and jedi. It was why mandalorians wore beskar, the only thing their lasers couldn’t slice. Luke seemed to sense you deep in thought, not watching the swamp before you.

His arm shot out quickly, grabbing you by the waist and keeping you from taking another step. Confused and annoyed, you pushed his arm away, only to see the pit you almost went in. Luke held his hands out, in a calming move, and you cleared your throat.

“Thanks.” You grumbled, hoping to leave Dagobah soon. Luke offered you a small smile, and you helped him collect various fruits. As you, carefully, made your way back, you took your opportunity.

“Luke, do you know where we can find any holdouts of the Empire?” You kept your eyes on the trail, but you felt him searching your face.

“Your thoughts betray you, scrange.”

“Scrange?” You asked, eyes narrowing. He chuckled, and turned to you with bright eyes.

“It is a creature here, quick-striking and easily hidden. I think you are not unlike this species. You hide beneath your beskar, and are quick to attack, but your thoughts betray you. You say you want to find the Empire, and I assume it’s so you might lay waste to those who have brought you so much pain. But, your thoughts lie elsewhere. Even now, you are thinking of Mando and Grogu, and even me, safe in this swamp.” You felt heat rising to your face, and you walked a little quicker. You were a fool to leave the beskar behind, it was a valuable tool, and you were far too exposed.

“I’m sorry, that was...too bold.” Luke offered his hand out, and you were already regretting it, but you took it for a moment. He grinned and dropped his grasp. “Now, Scrange, I do know of some Empire holdouts. I will get in contact with my sister, and she should have a better idea. She works closely with the New Republic.” You nodded, and wondered if his sister was the same as he was.

You shrugged the thought off, what were the odds that more than one person in a family had the abilities Luke had. Luke seemed like the most powerful being alive, and you had trouble reconciling what type of person his sister could be.

You stumbled back into camp, your armful of fruit barely contained. Grogu’s eyes lit up when he saw the pair of you walking back into camp, but when he immediately grabbed the food, it was unclear what he was most excited about. Mando nodded in your direction, but remained on the edge of the camp.

“Let me contact Leia, and see what she can scrounge up for you, Scrange.” You all but rolled your eyes at Luke as he slipped into the hut, chuckling and biting into one of the bright fruits. You felt Mando watching you, and when you turned his helmet was cocked at you. You shrugged, and bit into one of the fruits yourself.

Grogu made his way back to Mando, and started grabbing at his helmet. You saw Mando’s hand twitch, you felt his hesitation.

“I can go…” You told him quietly. He cleared his throat.

“No, uhm, thank you. That’s very considerate.” You shrugged again. Without warning, he slipped his helmet off. Your eyes widened at first, and then you looked away quickly. He didn’t pay attention to you at all, so you slowly slid your eyes over to his face.

He was handsome. Under all that metal, he was handsome. Dark features, a prominent nose, and the depth of his eyes seemed infinite. What you hadn’t expected, was the scruff. It defined his jaw, and led you to his plump, soft lips.

You were stuck on the grossest planet with two beautiful men. There was a joke in there, you were sure. Two mandalorians and a jedi...you would think of a punchline later. For now, you were happy to admire the man you had become reluctant partners with.

“Ah, guys! Leia has some intel!” Luke came jogging out of his hut, and he nodded at Mando.

“Nice to see you, Djarin. Now, it’s a bit out of the way, but Leia found some holdouts that are sympathetic to the Empire." You looked to Mando, or Djarin, and waited with baited breath.

"Give me the coordinates, and we'll take care of them." He looked to you, his eyes dark and fueled by a flame you weren't sure you understood. You nodded back to him, and then looked to Luke.

"Scrange, remember what we talked about. How do you say 'remember' in Mando'a?" You smiled.

"Partaylir." He said it back to you, in a practiced tongue.

"Find us again, after. Grogu will do well to see you often, Din. And Scrange, take care of yourself. May the Force be with you."

[tigerkirby215]

5e Ahri, the Nine-Tailed Fox build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Katie “TeaTime” De Sousa and Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

Happy new year! For the start of 2021 we’ll be making a build that I spent all of the later half of 2020 thinking up. Yeah of all the characters I couldn’t figure out Ahri was the one who truly stumped me. Regardless we’re finally going to be rounding out the K/DA crew with yet another character that pushes that T for Teen rating.

GOALS

Find me; find yourself - Along with traditional damaging abilities we need to be able to put on a pretty face and lead out prey in. And Evelynn calls you a skank?

They've exhausted their use - Ahri’s lore has changed like 16 times but her abilities have remained constant: drain the life from your foes for some lane sustain.

Spirits follow wherever I go - Of course the most important part of playing Ahri is her Spirit Rush. Three dashes to use in a teamfight... or are they blinks? Gah translating LoL abilities to D&D is hard; can you believe there was a point that I was originally going to make this a Rogue build?

RACE

This is the part where I call a Vastayan a furry! You’re a Shifter because that’s the “half beast” race in 5e. All Shifters get Darkvision and their Shifting ability that lasts a minute and grants some Temporary Hitpoints along with an additional feature based on their subrace. Speaking of subrace we’ll be going for Swiftstride for some foxy agility!

NOTE: Wildhunt works too if you want more utility, and are willing to swap starting ASIs around with Tasha’s rules.

You get a +2 to Dexterity and a +1 to Charisma, and are Graceful to get proficiency in the Acrobatics skill. Finally your Shifting Feature gives you an additional 10 feet of movement when you activate it and the ability to move 10 feet away from an enemy that ends their turn near you as a reaction, just to make sure you don’t get caught by any melee-range stuns.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - Ahri’s main ability is to charm people so much that they fall right into her murderous arms. She was essentially the founder of K/DA as well.

14; DEXTERITY - Ahri’s other main trait is her swiftness which means I can properly justify some DEX for her, especially with the +2 from our race.

13; CONSTITUTION - Sapping the life out of people means that you are pretty sturdy yourself.

12; WISDOM - Call it Vastayan magic or common sense but you need to know your way around both animals and people.

10; INTELLIGENCE - Riot finally decided to just give you amnesia, meaning that you don’t remember your math class.

8; STRENGTH - It’s on your bodyguard to do the heavy lifting, as well as any other buff allies you may meet.

BACKGROUND

Ahri’s lore has been through the wringer so many times I don’t even know what it is anymore, especially since they copped out and wrote “amnesia lol” as her lore. But she’s certainly the odd one out so Far Traveler works well enough. You get proficiency in Insight and Perception along with a Musical Instrument or Gaming Set (Music Instrument makes more sense but you can pick whatever you like.) You also get proficiency in a language of your choice: Sylvan seems natural for a lost girl on the Ionian countryside.

Your background feature All Eyes on You will make sure that everyone watches the fox. Basically: people are interested in the Vastaya, and if you chat with them you might be able to get somewhere special, seeing how special you are~

(Artwork by Alvin Lee, Pan Chengwei, and Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting off as a Sorcerer because your magic is innate, after all. Also because Constitution saving throws are nice! Regardless you get proficiency in two skills from the Sorcerer list: how about the Charisma classics? Persuasion and Deception to be a master of honied words.

Sorcerers get to choose their subclass at level 1 and hey: wouldn’t it be funny if they made a Sorcerer that’s heavily based on Enchantment magic? Well the Aberrant Mind is exactly that, having Psionic Spells that can be from the Divination or Enchantment schools. Spells like Mind Sliver to get around heavily armored foes, and Dissonant Whispers which is good to freak out your foes. But we’ll be replacing Arms of Hadar with Charm Person because... hey! It’s a Charm!

You’re also capable of Telepathic Speech to coordinate ganks in team chat, or to tell Seraphine that her dress zipper is undone. You can make a telepathic bond as a Bonus Action with a creature within 30 feet of you. You can speak telepathically with the creature up to a number of miles equal to your Charisma modifier, though you must both share a language for this to work. The telepathic connection lasts for a number of minutes equal to your sorcerer level but it ends early if you are incapacitated or die, or if you use this ability on a different creature.

Oh but of course if you’re a Sorcerer that means you have Spellcasting! You can learn 4 cantrips as a first level Sorcerer:

For some harmless Fox-Fire take Dancing Lights to light up the night. For some more potent Fox-Fire Control Flames will let you make the fire grow!

If you need a quick charm and don’t care about the aftermath Friends will get you what you need.

To keep both traveling clothes and dancing clothes looking prim and proper take Mending. Those outfits are expensive you know!

You can also learn two spells of first level: full disclosure pretty much 95% of the reason this build has Sorcerer levels is so we can take Magic Missile to recreate Fox-Fire and Chromatic Orb for Orb of Deception. That’s pretty much three out of four (*five if we include her passive) of Ahri’s abilities at level 1!

LEVEL 2 - SORCERER 2

Second level Sorcerers have a Font of Magic, giving them Sorcery Points that for now don’t serve much purpose other than being able to convert 2 of them into a 1st level spell slot. Basically you have an extra spell slot for now. But you can also convert spell slots into Sorcery points at a 1:1 ration (3rd level slot = 3 Sorcery points, as an example), which will be important later.

You do get another spell though: basically I just wanted Mage Armor because a +3 to AC would be nice.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 1

Hey what if we multiclassed after 2 levels because we got 95% of what we wanted from those 2 levels? Hey guys it’s time for good ol’ Warlock! Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 and Pact of the Fiend Warlocks get Dark One’s Blessing for Temporary Hitpoints equal to your Charisma plus your Warlock level when you knock an enemy to zero.

You also get Pact Magic which is like regular spellcasting except instead of actual spell slots you just get Pact Slots that come back on a Short Rest. You do get two cantrips though so I’m going to recommend Eldritch Blast because it’s Eldritch Blast as well as Prestidigitation for all the special effects you want and MORE.

You can also pick up some first level spells like Command from the Fiend list for some more enchantment, but there isn’t really much else I want from the first level of Warlock. I dunno grab Hex maybe? But we’re going to swap it out come level 3.

(Artwork by Kienan “Knockwurst” Lafferty. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 2

But firstly it’s time for Eldritch Invocations to keep 닿을 수 없는 level. Agonizing Blast lets you agonize your Eldritch Blast, and Eldritch Mind from good ol’ TCoE is great to keep the magic flowing thanks to advantage on Concentration checks.

Oh and something something can learn another spell but like I said I want to wait for MORE spells from second level.

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get to choose their Pact Boon and you know: I don’t think we have enough cantrips! Pact of the Tome gives you three sparkly new cantrips to play with, and they can be from any class’ spell list! So you can take cantrips like Guidance for some help with your dances, Sacred Flame for some more Fox-Fire, and Thaumaturgy to be a spooky magic soul-sucking fox.

Honestly there isn’t much I want from Pact of the Tome but it’s the most in-flavor for Ahri. If you want to be a Star Guardian take Pact of the Chain and grab Keiko!

But you can also learn second level spells at this level like Enthrall and Suggestion for more charms, and Misty Step! For good ol’ Flash.

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement and what if we got roleplay abilities before combat abilities? Well the Skilled Expert Feat will give you +1 to any stat (hey look at that our Constitution is uneven!), proficiency in a skill of your choice (which will obviously be Performance), and Expertise in a skill that you already have proficiency in. (Choose between Persuasion or Deception depending on if you want to be the good fox or the bad fox.)

You can also learn another spell along with another cantrip! For your cantrip Mage Hand will let you dash something small from the high shelf into your hand, and for your leveled spell Mirror Image will make it all the harder to hit you instead of missing a skill shot where you just were.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 5

5th level means more Eldritch Invocations! In case of emergency be sure to bring Zhonya's, or rather Tomb of Levistus to negate burst.

And it’s third level spells time! You’re a Fiend Warlock so you know what that means? Cast Fireball and nothing but Fireball! Throw a Spirit Bomb like it’s Teamfight Tactics to level the playing field!

(Artwork by Kienan “Knockwurst” Lafferty. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Fiend Warlocks get 9 tails for 9 lives. Dark One’s Own Luck lets you add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest, so you can push your spirit for a bit more confidence in your plays.

You can also learn another spell but truthfully there isn’t much else I want from third level. There’s some that I like at second level but I’d recommend waiting for...

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 7

More Eldritch Invocations? Don’t mind if I do! Ahri has a lot of skins so Mask of Many Faces is great to play dress up. Are there better invocations? Yeah probably.

But you can also pick up 4th level spells like Charm Monster for a Charm+, or Dimension Door to pop your Teleport summoner spell.

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 8

Level 8 means more Ability Score Increases: we haven’t increased Charisma yet so we should probably do that.

You can also learn another spell, and while there are plenty of nice ones at this level if we wait just a little bit we can get...

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 9

9th level Warlocks get our last Eldritch Invocation: Ahri is shown floating in a lot of her promotional artwork and stuff so Ascendant Step is good to let you fly up with some fox magic! I mean, you could take Otherworldly Leap instead, I guess?

But you can finally learn 5th level spells, which means we can grab your ultimate! Far Step lets you teleport 60 feet, and spend your Bonus Action on subsequent turns to do it again! Definitely a step up from a regular old dash! But if you want a bit more damage along with some more essence theft then Enervation will let you do necrotic damage and also heal yourself by hurting others.

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 10

10th level Fiend Warlocks can get some Magic Resistance thanks to Fiendish Resilience. You can pick a damage type to resist, though this won’t work against magic or silvered weapons which most people probably have by level 12. So you won’t be able to resist swords and clubs but if a fire mage is trying to burn your tails just resist that! You can swap your resistance during a short (or long) rest if you need to deal with a different enemy.

Oh and did you expect to get another spell known? Nah screw you. You do get another cantrip though: I mean I dunno Toll the Dead can be good to kill secure?

(Artwork by Ryan Ribot. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 3

Finally done with Warlock. That’s good: I could use some coffee. Third level Sorcerers get Metamagic to alter their spells with Sorcery points. Quickened Spell lets you turn a spell with an action casting time to a bonus action, so you can have a cup of coffee and still cast Eldritch Blast. Or, you know: cast two Eldritch Blasts in a turn? If you’re sick of enemies dodging your skill shots Heightened Spell will give them disadvantage on their first saving throw, which is good to combo with spells like Enervation.

Oh and speaking of spells you can learn second level Sorcerer spells! Psionic Spells gives you Detect Thoughts which is pretty good but I’d suggest taking Tasha’s Mind Whip as your other Psionic Spell for some Hextech in your step.

Additionally Flaming Sphere was added to the Sorcerer list thanks to Tasha, and it’s a good spell to take for a little more control over your Orb of Deception.

LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 4

Level 4 means another Ability Score! Time to finally cap off that Charisma for the best casting we can get.

You can also learn another spell along with another cantrip, because we definitely don’t have enough cantrips. Sword Burst will give you some much-needed melee defense to cut through minions if you’re surrounded. As for leveled spells there honestly isn’t much I want from second level. We got most of what we needed from Warlock.

LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 5

Tasha decided that Sorcerers were weak so she gave them a 5th level feature called Magical Guidance. If you fail a skill check you can spend a sorcery point to reroll the d20. You must use the new roll, but along with Dark One’s Own Luck this gives you quite a bit of reliability when it comes to ability checks.

You can also now learn third level spells. Psionic Spells grants you Sending which is nice to communicate in team chat, but I’d replace Hunger of Hadar with  Incite Greed from good ol’ Acquisitions Incorporated to charm a whole group and make them slowly approach you with lovey-eyes like they do in LoL.

You can also learn spells like Melf's Minute Meteors for some less accurate but more deadly Fox-Fire, and Haste for some nine-tailed agility.

LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 6

6th level Psionic Soul Sorcerers get Psychic Defenses for resistance to Psychic damage and advantage against being Charmed or Frightened. You’ve seen it all and they’re not going to stop us! (They’ll try but they won’t.) But more importantly you get Psionic Sorcery: when you cast a spell (that isn’t a cantrip) from your Psionic Spells list, you can cast it with a number of sorcery points equal to the spell’s level. If you cast the spell using sorcery points, it requires no verbal or somatic components, and it requires no material components unless they are consumed by the spell.

How does this interact with Incite Greed which requires a 50 gp gem? My bet is that they just focus on you instead. But yeah this is obviously incredibly useful as you can cast spells like Detect Thoughts, Tasha’s Mind Whip, Dissonant Whispers, and Charm Person without any signal that you’re doing it. And there’s only more to come! To top it off: RAW if you don’t show any signs of casting you can’t be counterspelled!

Speaking of more spells as well as Counterspell I took Counterspell as a Sorcerer spell, because Banshee’s Veil is never not useful.

(Artwork by Jeremy Anninos. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 7

Eyyy 4th level spells! Both the spells you would’ve gotten from Psionic Spells kinda... don’t make sense? So grab Confusion to make a mess in a teamfight and I’m actually going to suggest Arcane Eye as your other Psionic Spell for some wards.

You can also learn 4th level spells like Polymorph to turn into a fox in the spirit realm. Just in time for the Spirit Blossom festival!

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 8

8th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score Improvement and honestly there are a lot of options now that your Charisma is maxed out: plenty of good feats like Tough, Lucky, Inspiring Leader, Mobile, Metamagic Adept, Warcaster, Spell Sniper, Elemental Adept, or an increase to Dexterity. (Those were listed in no particular order.) Honestly if you’ve reached level 18 you should be more than capable of making your own choices by now. Make your own character and be your own person.

Though I suppose I can still recommend spells: for a more potent and deadly Orb of Deception Storm Sphere will hit your foes with harsh winds and lightning!

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 9

9th level? That means you can get your 5th level Psionic Spells! Honestly there’s a lot I like from both the Enchantment and Divination schools but both  Rary’s Telepathic Bond and Telekinesis are great in their own right, and I’m fine with keeping them.

That doesn’t mean I’m not going to take Synaptic Static because... well it’s Synaptic Static! I love this spell and you can’t stop me from taking it. It’s got all the power of a Fireball along with a great negative effective that makes it harder for the enemy to kill you.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 10

At long last our capstone is... another metamagic option. By this point your spells pack plenty a punch so if you want to make sure not to hit your allies Careful Spell will disable friendly fire... Though alternatively if they’re keeping their distance Empowered Spell will let you make sure you get the maximum kick out of your spirit.

You can also learn one more spell, and one more cantrip to round out the absolute slew of cantrips you have. After a long match you can make a Teleportation Circle to go back to base, and for your cantrip? Wouldn’t it be funny if I suggested True Strike? Okay but memes aside take something else other than True Strike the world is your oyster and True Strike is bad just attack twice.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Indulge me - Ahri is arguably the most flexible caster I’ve made so far. A pure 50 / 50 split between Sorcerer and Warlock means that you’ve got a huge variety of spells, and two big spell slots that come back on a Short Rest which you can melt down into Sorcery points. Not to mention that Psionic Spells gives you an absolutely insane amount of spells known and the ability to cast several of them using Sorcery points instead of Spell Slots. And to top it off you have an absolutely ridiculous amount of cantrips, capping off at a whopping fourteen cantrips!

They're mine now - It also turns out that the coffeelock is really potent in its own right. Sorcery gives you a lot of options to make your spells even stronger, notably Quickened Spell letting you shoot out some Agonizing Eldritch Blasts after casting a regular spell.

Run faster! Ehehe! - You’re also no pushover for survival either. You have good health for a spellcaster, damn good mobility, and plenty of abilities to bolster yourself against danger... as long as you don’t mind a bit of Essence Theft.

CONS

Lingering spirits lose themselves - Even if your health is strong your defensive stats aren’t great. Poor saving throws (minus Charisma and Constitution) and bad AC (Shield is a good spell you should probably get it) means that while you can take a hit and lifesteal it back you’re still pretty easy to hit.

Don't you trust me? - You may be the queen of charms but you’re not that great outside of Charisma. Almost all your proficiencies are in Charisma skills which means you won’t be able to do anything like find hidden treasure or spot incoming danger.

Mortals have two choices; follow me, or don't - Ever heard of the concept of choice paralysis? Well with your absolutely bloated spell list it can be hard to choose what to do with your spell slots, and even harder to choose what spell to Concentrate on. Both your best moves and simplest tricks take your Concentration.

But with all your strengths what girl could want MORE? You’re a swift and dangerous mid lane mage with enough Vastayan magic to do whatever you desire. Dash in and show them what you’re made of! And be sure to be back at the studio in time to show the newbie the ropes. Don’t want that drum going dumb.

(Artwork by Horace Hsu and Esben Lash Rasmussen. Made for Riot Games.)

[fandomrewrites]

Chasing Butterflies: Day Trip

Hello all! Sorry for the late update but I’ve been pretty busy today. As always I hope you all enjoy this chapter and constructive criticism is welcomed. Let me know if you want to be added to any of my taglists or if you have any requests. 

Season 1; Episode 8: Day Trip Pairings: OC x OC Best Friends, no love interests chosen yet Warnings: swearing, character death, guns, being high Word Count: 3,435

Season 1 Masterlist

Clarke and Nova sit in on a council meeting using the video chat that Raven set up. Chancellor Jaha turns to address the girls, "Tell me about the Grounder. Can he provide any insight on how to survive winter?"

Nova loudly scoffs but allows Clarke to answer, "We're doing everything we can to prepare here. We're gathering nuts and berries, curing meats, digging for roots, but the truth is, we'll freeze before we starve."

Marcus speaks up, "There's good news on that front. According to civil plans from before the war, there's an old emergency aid depot not far from the landing site. Here are the coordinates." He sends the girls the coordinates as he finishes speaking.

"How do you know this place is still intact?" Nova asks.

"It was designed to withstand nuclear warfare."

"Alright, it's worth a shot." Clarke sighs.

"Chancellor, I have to object." Diana starts, causing Nova to roll her eyes. "Project Exodus is under way. The kids should sit tight in their camp until the first dropship launches."

"Listen lady, nothing you say or do is going to stop us from doing whatever the hell we want down here." Nova glares.

"Nova." Marcus starts to scold.

"What Marcus? What are you going to do? Try to send us to our deaths again?"

Jaha raises his hand to stop the argument, "Even if everything goes without a hitch, the hundred would die from exposure before relief arrives. I'd like a moment alone with Clarke and Nova, please, and I know there is a line of parents waiting to talk to their kids."

He waits for the council to filter out of the room then continues, "We are all very proud of what you two have done down there." He pauses, "Your parents."

"I don't want to talk about my mother." Clarke says.

At the same time Nova says, "I don't want to talk about my father."

"Please, it's time to forgive them. Let me schedule a time for you." Jaha tries to reason.

"I'm done with this conversation." Nova interrupts. She pulls off the headset and stands up, turning on her heel to leave the tent.

Nova moves to her tent, grabbing a bag and her bow. As she waits by the camp gates for Clarke she eats some of the nuts that the group has collected.

After a few minutes Clarke and Bellamy walk up to Nova. "You're coming too?"

"Don't sound too upset." Bellamy says with a smirk.

The petite brunette rolls her eyes and turns around, "Let's go." She says over her shoulder.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 As Elara was practicing with her bow she heard her name get called. She turned around to see Atlas walking towards her, "Hey. Your parents are waiting for you."

"I said I would go last." Elara states.

Atlas shakes his head, a smile growing on his face. "Elara go. We both know you've been dying to talk to them. And you do so much for all of us, you shouldn't have to wait any longer."

Elara quickly pulled the boy into a tight hug, "Thanks Atlas." She let go and ran off before he had the time to react.

Elara makes her way into the empty communications tent. She sits down, smiling when she sees her parents. She pulls on the headset, "Hi guys."

"Look at you! I've missed you so much!" Celeste exclaims.

"I've missed you both too! I was so nervous that I wouldn't see you guys again. Are either of you coming down on the Exodus ship?"

"No, it's going to be mainly guards to help with the Grounders. And Abby and Marcus of course." Jacopo replies.

Elara nods but both of her parents can tell she's slightly upset, "Hey, cheer up. We'll be there sooner than you know it." Celeste smiles at her daughter, which causes the teenager to smile back.

"How have you been down there anyways? Staying out of trouble?" Jacopo asks.

"Of course. You know me, I just want to help people." Elara states.

"Yes, but helping people is also what got you sent down there." Celeste scolds.

"And I still want you to be able to protect yourself, Elara. The Grounders are dangerous." Jacopo says, concern lacing his voice.

"Trust me, I know. But I'll be fine. I've been helping with the medical things and Nova made me a bow and arrows." Elara smiles, she holds up the bow to show her parents.

They both laugh, "Just like Robin Hood." Celeste gently shakes her head.

"I'm getting really good at it too."

Not getting the chance to reply, a voice on the Ark interrupts, "Time's almost up."

Jacopo and Celeste nod then turn back to Elara, "We love you and miss you so much. Please stay safe down there, okay?" Jacopo says.

"I will and I'll see you guys soon. I love you." Elara blows a kiss to the screen, her parents returning the gesture. 

"Fox is next." Celeste says, looking down at the list that says which delinquents still needed to talk with their loved ones. Elara nods, waves one last time then stands up to look for Fox.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 As Nova, Clarke and Bellamy trek through the woods Clarke breaks the silence, "You know, the first dropship is gonna come down soon. Pretty sure you can't avoid Jaha forever."

"I can try." Bellamy states.

Clarke sighs, "The depot is supposed to be around here somewhere. There's got to be a door." She pauses then turns to address Bellamy one more time, "Maybe he'll be lenient."

"Look. I shot the man, Clarke. He's not just gonna forgive and forget. Let's split up, cover more ground."  Bellamy glances at Nova, watching as she walks further away. He shouts to make sure he's heard, "Stay within shouting distance!"

Nova waves a hand, indicating that she heard him. She has her bow clenched tightly in her hands as she scans the area around her, looking for any threats or a door to the depot.

After a few minutes of surveying the land Nova hears Clarke call, "Nova, Bellamy. Over here. I found a door." Nova quickly makes her way to Clarke to see Bellamy and Clarke pulling open a door.

Once she is beside the other two Bellamy looks at the girls, "Really think this place hasn't been touched since the war?"

"A girl can dream. Come on." Clarke mumbles out.

"This is disgusting." Nova states, scrunching up her face when she nearly trips over a human skeleton.

"Hell of a place to die." Bellamy says, grabbing a hold of Nova's arm so she doesn't faceplant.

"So much for living down here." Clarke says, disappointment laced in her voice.

"It doesn't look like there's anything left down here." Nova states looking around.

"They must have distributed most of the supplies before the last bombs went off." She pauses as she opens up a container. "Hey, I found blankets."

"Excited about a couple of blankets?" Bellamy asks.

"It will help keep us warm during the winter. We may need to move everyone out of the tents and into the dropship at night. It will be crowded but the walls and so many people will help keep us warm." Nova says as she checks another barrel, finding more blankets.

Bellamy groans, frustrated. "How about a canteen or a med kit or a decent fucking tent?" He kicks another barrel over. The top pops off and guns and grease spill out.

Nova lightly laughs, "Jackpot."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Elara sits on the bottom level of the dropship, sorting through what little medical supplies the group has. She makes a mental note to get more of the seaweed they used on Jasper. 

She looks up as someone walks through the door. Octavia smiles at her then continues to the top floor. She's not even up there a minute before she makes her way back down. 

"Hey, E. I think I'm going to need your help."

"With what?" Elara asks, looking up at the brunette.

"The nuts we collected. They're making people hallucinate." Elara's mouth falls open.

"Okay." She pauses, "Well let's make sure everyone is calm and safe. We'll have to make sure nobody is eating anymore of the nuts." Elara stands up, "We can also start burning the nuts, there's no need for them to be here anymore."

Octavia nods as the two girls step out of the drop ship, "I'll start on this side and you can go the other way. Meet in the middle." Elara nods in agreement. The two girls separate, heading in opposite directions.

Atlas quickly spots Elara heading in her direction. "Wow, you look beautiful." He says to her, a lopsided smile lighting up his face.

Elara smiles back, "Thanks. How are you feeling?"

"Grrreaaattt." Atlas says, leaning closer to his ex. 

"Have you been eating these nuts?" She asks, placing her hands on his shoulders to keep him from tipping over.

"Mhm, they're really good. I do feel a little weird though."

Elara nods and wraps his arm around her shoulder, "How about we bring you to your tent? You can take a nap and I'll give you some water. You should feel better in no time."

As Elara gently helps Atlas sit on his bed, the male looks up at her, "You know I fucked up when I lost you. You were the best damn thing that ever happened to me."

Elara bites her lip, "If you remember this conversation and want we can talk about it later, but right now isn't the time."

"Do you still love me?"

"I'll always love you Atlas." Elara replies without hesitation.

Atlas smiles as his eyes start to close, "I'll always love you too." Elara sighs and blinks back the tears forming in her eyes. She takes a minute to calm herself then steps out of the tent. She quickly brings him some water and leaves it next to his bed so he can have some when he wakes up. She then moves on to help the next person.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Bellamy and Nova both reach down to pick up a gun. "This changes everything. No more running from spears." He holds out a gun for Clarke, "Ready to be a badass, Clarke?"

She hesitantly takes it, "Look. I'm not gonna fight either of you on bringing guns back to camp. I know we need them, but don't expect me to like it."

"We're lucky the rifles were packed in grease. The fact that they survived means we're not sitting ducks anymore. You need to learn how to do this."

As Clarke and Bellamy talk Nova bends down to start cleaning the grease from the guns as best she can. She turns briefly to see Bellamy try to shoot at a blanket that they hung up for target practice. "My bullets are duds. Try yours."

Clarke shoots the blanket then laughs, "That was amazing. Am I horrible for feeling that?"

"Try again." Bellamy replies.

"No. We shouldn't waste the ammunition." 

"People are going to need practice. when we bring the guns back. That includes you." Nova states, looking into another barrel.

"We need to talk about how we're gonna keep guns around camp, where are we gonna keep them, and who has access." Clarke says.

Bellamy ignores her and takes a shot at the blanket. "You left Miller in charge of the grounder. You must trust him."

Bellamy nods, "You both should keep him close. The others listen to him."

"We should keep him close?" Nova asks, kitting her eyebrows together in confusion.

"What's going on? You've been acting weird all day." Clarke continues. "All the rations you took. You're gonna run. That's why you agreed to come with us. You were gonna load up on supplies and just disappear."

"I don't have a choice. The Ark will be here soon." Bellamy states.

"What about Octavia?" Nova asks.

"She hates me. She'll be fine."

Nova rolls her eyes, "She doesn't hate you. She's your sister. She's just angry with you. There is a difference."

Bellamy shakes his head, "I shot the chancellor. They're gonna kill me. Best-case scenario, they lock me up with the Grounder for the rest of my life and there's no way in hell I'm giving Jaha the satisfaction. Keep practicing. I need some air."

The two girls exchange a look as he leaves. "I'm going to head this way and check for some more guns and blankets. I'll be back in five minutes tops. Take a few more shots." Clarke nods and watches as Nova heads down a hall.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Back at the camp Elara takes her time making sure the delinquents are safe. Finn and Raven have since emerged from their tent to help though Elara made sure that Finn's main task was to burn the jobi nuts so he didn't do too much and risk injuring himself further.

"Hey Harper, how are you feeling?" Elara asks sitting down next to her old cellmate.

"Hmm." Harper hums. She slightly sways to music only she can hear. "I feel a little funny, but good." She pauses, "Yeah, really good."

Harper's eyes stay closed as she talks to Elara. "Have you been drinking water like I asked?" 

Harper nods making Elara continue, "Good. Remember to stay here and keep drinking. I need to check on everyone else."

Harper nods once more as Elara stands up to head to another part of the camp. As she makes her way to the wall she makes eye contact with the grounder. "How did you-" She cuts herself off already knowing the answer, "Octavia."

The grounder just stares at her, unsure of what to do. "Well, go quickly. Before anyone else sees you. Though of course they'd probably think they were hallucinating. Be careful, okay?"

The grounder nods in thanks then continues out of the camp.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Nova looks up from a barrel filled with blankets when she hears a noise. "Clarke?" Not hearing anything back she hesitantly walks in the direction. Her eyes meet the face of councilman Abraham. 

She gasps, "You're dead."

Jericho laughs, "Yes, but you should know by now darling, you can't get rid of me that easily."

Nova clenches her jaw, "You may haunt my dreams but you got what you deserved. Hell I should have tortured you longer."

The man smirks as he looks down at the petite girl. "You know you grew up to look even more beautiful." 

Nova tightens her hands into fists. She squeezes her eyes shut and quietly starts to mutter, "Get out of my head. You aren't here. You aren't real."

"Come on now darling, I'm more real than you may think."

Nova starts lightly pulling at her hair, "Shut up, shut up, shut up." She mumbles over and over. Her quiet mumbles drown out the sound over Jericho. After about a minute of silence she slowly peels her eyes open.

She sighs in relief when the man is nowhere to be found. She bends down to pick up her bow and arrow that she discarded when Jericho showed up. Once she makes it to Clarke, she sees the blonde knocked out on the floor.

Rushing over she begins to shake her shoulder, "Clarke get up." As soon as the blonde's eyes flutter open Nova asks, "What happened?"

Clarke blinks and shakes her head, "I-I hallucinated then Dax showed up and knocked me out."

"Dax?" Nova asks in disbelief.

Clarke nods, "We need to find Bellamy."

Nova helps her up from the floor. Clarke picks up a gun then the two girls head out of the depot. "Split up, don't stray too far though." Clarke nods then heads away from Nova.

After a few moments, Nova circles back around and runs in the direction that she can hear fighting happening. When she makes it to the clearing in the woods she sees Dax on top of Bellamy, strangling him. 

Nova aims her bow and shoots. The arrow lodges into the side of Dax's neck. He tips over dead, Bellamy pushing him off of his body. He sits up gasping for breath. 

Emotionlessly Nova walks over and holds out a hand helping Bellamy up. The two move over towards Clarke who has propped herself up against a tree. 

The three sit in silence for a few minutes before Clarke decides to speak, "You're okay."

"No I'm not." Bellamy chokes out, "My mother... If she knew what I've done, who I am. She raised me to be better, to be good. All I do is hurt people. Elara was right, I am a monster."

"You saved someone today." Clarke begins, arguing with the boy. "You may be a total ass half of the time, but I need you. We all need you. None of us would've survived this place if it wasn't for you."

"I would have." Nova pipes in. Clarke turns to glare at her. "What? I'm just speaking the truth. But Clarke does have a point. The others trust you. They look to you when they need guidance."

Clarke continues, "You want forgiveness, fine, I'll give it to you. You're forgiven, okay, but you can't run, Bellamy. You have to come back with us. You have to face it."

"Like you both faced your parents?" Bellamy challenges.

"You're right. I don't want to face my mom or Nova her dad. All I think about every day is how we're gonna keep everyone alive, but we don't have a choice."

"Jaha will kill me when he comes down."

"Not if you explain why you needed to come down and everything you've done since to help us stay alive. Plus Clarke and I will both vouch for you." Nova says.

"We'll figure it out." Clarke adds.

"Can we figure it out later?" Bellamy asks, looking between the two younger girls.

"Whenever you're ready."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Nova, Clarke and Bellamy trek back to the camp. Their bags filled with blankets and arms loaded with guns. "He's gone. The grounder is gone." Miller's voice is heard from inside the camp walls.

"What if he brings other grounders back?" Jasper asks.

A few more voices are heard as the three step into the camp, "Let the grounders come." Bellamy's voice booms above the rest, the delinquents attention brought to the three leaders. "We've been afraid of them for far too long, and why? Because of their knives and spears. I don't know about you. I'm tired of being afraid."

The three drop the guns in front of them. Cheers start to sound from the surrounding group. "These are weapons, not toys, and we have to be prepared to give them up when the guard dropships come, but until then, they're going to help keep us safe." Clarke addresses the group.

"And there's more where these come from. Tomorrow Blake and I are starting training, and if the grounders want a fight, we'll be ready." Nova says, looking around at the delinquents faces.

A little while later Clarke and Nova sat in the communication tent speaking with Jaha. "He wants to talk with you. Set up a deal." Nova states.

"I'll go get him." Clarke mumbles as she stands up.

"I can still set up a meeting with your father, Nova." Jaha says as soon as Clarke is out of the video.

"I'll talk to him when he comes down. He can wait until then." Nova replies. Jaha opens his mouth to answer but stops when he sees Bellamy. 

"Mr. Blake, I've wanted to talk to you for some time now." Jaha says.

"Before you do, I'd like to say something." Clarke begins, "When you sent us down here, you sent us to die, but miraculously, most of us are still alive. In large part, that is because of him, because of Bellamy. He's one of us, and he deserves to be pardoned of his crimes just like the rest of us."

"Clarke, I appreciate your point of view, but it's not that simple."

"It is that simple. You're just making it more complicated because you're biased on the fact that the attack was against you." Nova states, coming across more snippy then attended.

Bellamy speaks up before Jaha has the chance to reply, "If you pardon me I'll tell you who on the Ark wants you dead."

Jaha pauses for a brief moment, "Bellamy Blake, you're pardoned for your crimes. Now, tell me who gave you the gun."

[runnfromtheak]

tagged by @icosagens!!! such an eloquent and stunning writer with a sharp sense of humor srsly go check him out on ao3! <3 Specifically check out his JayDickDonna fic, CHCl3 which is beautiful and painful and just E V E R Y T H I N GGGGG.

I'll put everything under the cut so there isn't a terrible amount of scrolling for those wishing to skip <3

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Anchors of Mortality

AKA my new passion project where Dick has a savior complex and no self-preservation skills featuring a Constantine who just wants to Tap That, a Zatanna who is tired and also wants to Tap That, and a host of resurrected characters because Dick can't let things lie or die. Ships include JayDick and Magic^2Dick (or Dick/Zee/Constantine)

Life ends and life begins in rain, at least as far as Dick Grayson is concerned. His parents died on a rainy day, ice-cold droplets seeping in through the bright, thick cloth of the circus tents. A drizzle, Haly had called it beforehand, telling them not to worry. But rain is an omen – a warning – of an uncertain future, of conflicting emotions and thoughts. It had been a sign he’d been foolish to ignore, a sign Haly had been foolish to ignore.

everything casts a shadow

AKA SladeDick with Slade being the Worst and Dick straight up not having a good time

Zatanna used to say that rain has a cleansing effect on the heart and the soul – and the cock, Constantine would always interject with a filthy leer of promise. Rain purifies negative energy from a space, murder or magic, and rain settles the anxious mind. The three of them had made love in the rain once, intertwining limbs and the glow of magic refracted throughout the cold droplets. Three hearts aligned in a crystalline world of skin and water, for a perfect moment.

a prayer for which no words exist

JayDick where Dick has issues and needs therapy. Like a true emotional support/projection character, he reads instead.

On nights he can’t sleep, he reads.

Dick’s always enjoyed books, had grown up with yellowed pages musty with the scent of age as comfort and entertainment, but he’d stopped reading frequently when he’d grown up. With everything else, with responsibility atop responsibility atop responsibility as he’d aged, he hadn’t the time or the mental capacity to love reading like he had before. He hadn’t been able to focus or concentrate, always oscillating between too keyed up and too exhausted. The words, when he’d try and sift through the neurochemical adrenaline high and sift through the luring temptress of melatonin and sleep deprivation, would float and float and float away like distant birds migrating to a new land.

i'm addicted to the way you hurt (i don't mind if you fuck up my life)

JayDick where Dick is a female and also depressed but not in a sexy way. Very Spuffy s6 vibes if ya know what I mean.

When she comes back to life, her world is a nuclear green.

She’s embraced by something; it cradles her, like she’s a precious bundle of jewels, like something perfect to be coveted. There’s warmth where she rests her head, breasts pillowed beneath her, and she’s held close enough to feel that rhythmic cadence like a siren call to life.

warning signs can feel like they're butterflies (i won't stop 'till i get where you are)

Johnlock fic because I got into the fandom late where Sherlock just can't say no and everyone is sad.

He shoots her blackmailer on Christmas Day on the front porch of a cold mansion.

It’s a good shot – clean, precise – with an entry wound and an exit wound. Bits of brain matter coated in blood spatter at Magnussen's back, a dead-eyed look of shock in his empty eyes.

hold your breath 'till we're in too deep (my love is a mood ring)

JayDick where Dick just wants to love Jason and people (*cough* Jason *cough*) make this a difficult venture.

The thing is: Jason Todd is dead.

The thing is: Jason Todd is holding a detonator in his right fist and a gun in his left, both pointed in Dick’s direction in a fairly menacing way.

The thing is: Dick’s vision is blurry from what may or may not be a concussion and there are little floating Batmen spinning around his head in diapers like a horrifying rendition of Cupid, so his assessments may not be entirely accurate.

i wanna waste my youth on you

DickDonna where Dick Grayson is a fucking simp for Donna Troy but aren't we all? (the correct answer is yes. if you said no, only god can help you now.)

He’s ten and she’s eleven and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved (running in circles now look what you've done)

Johnlock and Adlock where Sherlock picks sex over drugs and John is Not Pleased.

It starts right after the funeral dressed up as a wedding. Tables of decorations he’d picked, dishes he’d selected, color pallets he’d painstakingly coordinated and plotted. John and Mary’s song, weaved from his tears and his blood spilt like ink over the dancefloor as his violin grieves with him.

She’s pregnant. Sherlock smiles, as the best friend is meant to, and John smiles, as the father is meant to, and Mary smiles and it’s all normal and proper and Sherlock’s frozen before she pulls John away with something so horribly knowing in her eyes, before they kiss sweetly on a dancefloor he’d helped pick and lose themselves in throngs of friends and family.

light at the beginning of the tunnel (but he tells me that i'm dreaming)

Johnlock where Sherlock pines and does drugs post T6T.

He hadn’t intended to return. Victorian London holds its own sort of allure, delicious danger at every corner, nothing but pure intellect unaided by modern machinations to solve puzzles of every sort—

(a John Watson that still looks at you like you hung the sun and the stars just for him, like you’re the center he orbits, a gravity he doesn’t care to escape. A place where deductions still evoke tenderness, approval. Where John Watson still wants to hear your voice and cares for you, even with Mary.)

—but it had been dangerous. It had been utterly reckless, a calculated OD with no less than five compounds of varying effects, each boosting the others into a delightful failing of his heart that hadn’t lasted because his transport’s tenacity outweighed his mind’s desires. The fanciful realm where his life hadn’t gone to complete and utter shite had never been a conscious plan. Sherlock hadn’t intended for his brain to grasp for a chain, a link to reality in the form of delusions and hallucinations and awful attempts at honesty. He hadn’t planned for a did you miss me? Despite all his claims to the contrary at the time.

me and you are such a beautiful tragedy (in love with agony)

JayDick Jason wants to be a good person but he's horny. AKA the new pitch for evil: come to the dark side, we have great sex or your ex that can and will kill you if you don't.

The thing about the Lazarus Pit is it consumes you. It’s greedy, like Midas’s touch on a cellular level. It replaces the old with the new – with it – carving a home in blood and soul for its will. For its intentions, passive though they seem at first. Mental stability is only one cost of such a bargain, but it’s by far the worst.

I mean, I used rain as a symbol/parallel twice but mehhh. I don't think I'm super duper set in any formula as far as first lines go. I think my fave would either be the Lazarus Pit line or the nuclear green one. I love my Pit consequences, okay?

Tagging @boyblunder-thedarkheir, @behindtherobinsmask, @luthienluinwe, @stevieraebarnes, and @bitterleafs!! <3

[mcfanely]

A Mirror Image

Cole has always been aware of the Oni blood that ran through his veins. He didn't remember the exact moment when he'd been told that he wasn't entirely human, it just felt like he always knew. But he did remember the sheer about of training and time he put into perfecting the use of his inherited abilities. Shape-shifting? It was second nature, so easy to use that it was almost laughable. Yet, in battle or on missions, it became an invaluable tool. It was something he wouldn't shy away from using, no matter if the only other people who knew about his lineage was Sensei Wu and Zane.

5485 words

Sneaking through a near pitch black warehouse was never something that Cole would personally plan to do on a Saturday night, but it wasn't like he wanted to be stooping between wooden crates of presumably recently stored goods, or brushing specks of dust off his gi as he moved through areas that looked like they hadn't been swept in far too long. Which wasn't good, or very hygienic since according to the stock report he'd read a few days earlier, the crates that were towering high around him contained perishables. Foods; imported from some of the further reaches of Ninjago. 

Presumably. 

That doubt was the entire reason why Cole, along with the rest of the team, were moving through the shadows. Trying in vain to stay hidden when it felt like every footfall created a far too loud echo, which then flowed around the wide expanse of the building. If there were people inside - other people - then it was a minor shock that none of them had been alerted sooner. It felt like every drawn breath was pushing the silence of the environment, that the next exhale could bring down a wave of criminals right on top of them. 

Or maybe that was just past experiences talking, and all the training they'd all been through. In high stress situations such as a stake-out, their senses were bound to be heightened. Their hearing would be sensitive, especially to every minor noise that wound up being made. No one could be entirely quiet at every second, it just wasn't possible. The brush of clothes on clothes, light footsteps, even the beat of a heart just felt that little bit too oppressive; all unavoidable. Adrenaline ramped high caused hands to shake, even minutely. Made breathing heavier, caused eyes to track onto even the barest of movement such as a tiny dust mote that moved into his line of sight. 

Cole brought his hand up to wave the minuscule obstruction away before he thought better of himself and dropped it back down to his side. He needed to focus, keep his breathing measured and keep his eyes on where he was going, which thankfully wasn't all that hard for him. 

His team, wherever they were in the warehouse, they would be having a much harder time finding their way around. In what should be a closed off building, as the clock was more than close to chiming for midnight, it was dark outside with a waxing moon high in the sky. But inside? When they'd been peering through a shattered window not ten minutes earlier, Jay had remarked that he could just barely see the outlines of the wooden storage shelves that all but lined the entire building. 

Cole had just given a small hum of acknowledgement, peering through the window himself, before they'd moved on to their actual entry point into the building. 

There was no way that he was going to outwardly admit that he could see the darkened insides as easily as he could see his hand if he held it directly in front of his face in the middle of a sunny day. Or maybe not to that extent, but darkness had never really been an issue for him. Actually, he'd never acknowledged darkness as something that could pose a disadvantage until Sensei Wu had mentioned in passing that not everyone had the ability to see in the pitch black like he did. 

That; whilst some animals could also see well during the night, was an ability that was unique to Cole in regards to it occurring in tandem with his supposed humanity. 

Even though he wasn't entirely human to begin with, and he could thank his grandmother for that. For the fact that whenever he moved past the towering walls of stored products, he could see them easily. Everything may have been sharply tinted with a monochrome grey and just that slight bit blurred along the edges, but he could thank her that he wasn't totally blind like everyone else who was also currently, hopefully, successfully finding their own ways through the packed building. 

Jay and Nya had entered through the far side of the warehouse to where everyone else had come in, and were ideally edging their way towards the centre. Kai and Lloyd had taken the ceiling rafters, hopping from beam to beam and providing the birds eye view of the situation below. Zane was doing the same as Cole, working solo, moving in to where he was sure he could hear whispered voices floating up from a few aisles to his left. 

Cole paused for a second, his eyes slipping closed in silent frustration and realisation that maybe… Maybe it would have been a good idea for me to have taken the ceiling, since I can actually see, and Lloyd and Kai can't… 

That wasn’t a smart move. 

It was a brief mental chiding, but he hadn't intentionally given them the risky part of the job. He would never put someone in danger. Ever. It was just something that had slipped his mind, and either way, if the plan went off like it was supposed to then in the next few minutes the warehouse lighting would be back in action and they all would have clear vision as they moved in and carried out their respective roles. 

It had started with a call from Ninjago's Police Commissioner regarding some unusual activity that some of the officers had been noticing, within the warehouse district of the city. Groups of people coming and going in the cover of night, slipping into the giant buildings through small gaps that had corroded into the metal clad walls or by forcing their way inside with bolt cutters to traverse the industrial locks and chains that were used to secure the imports overnight. Cole had spent a good portion of his morning earlier that week on the phone, sat at the dining table in the Monastery with a notepad in front of him, a pen being worried between his teeth and a group of nosy and curious brothers poking their heads not so subtly around the door. All to see what the situation was. Talking with the Commissioner, writing down information as it was provided, along with determining the issue at hand and what was going to be done to address it; it had been a long and busy few hours. 

Overall, the problem had been easy to summarise for the group of ninja as they had all but piled into the room when they'd finally heard Cole's professional, "Yes, of course. Thank you for calling, I'll start planning right away and give you a call over the next day or so, so we can coordinate a joint plan of action. Right. Yes. Got it. Goodbye."

The phone hadn't even been moved from his ear before he'd basically gained a lapful of Jay as he'd come barrelling inside with an excited and sing-songed question of, "Is it a ninja problem?" 

Cole gave a short nod, before he began to spread his few pages of notes out over the table for them to be read. "The Commissioner has reason to believe there's a gang, or a group of people, breaking into the storage buildings west of the city and stealing some of the products… Or--" 

"Or?" The question was asked far too quickly, even though Cole had been about to finish his train of thought. He shot Kai a pointed look, and a raised eyebrow. Though everyone's excitement was understandable. The past few weeks had been fairly quiet, so anything vaguely interesting was more enough to break up the monotony. 

A joint operation with Ninjago PD? That was exciting. 

"Some Officers seem to think that these people aren't taking stuff, but leaving things hidden. Inside the crates." Cole carded a hand through his hair slowly, "I need to make a plan, but the basis is we all move in and apprehend the criminals, and then the police move in and make the arrests, scout the area, crack the case. And all that." He waved a hand loosely. "We just go in and make sure no one gets hurt. Easy."

It had taken a few days, and many calls and scribbled notes on post-its, torn pages of notebooks and maybe one or two sleepless nights, but Cole had a plan in place, and the Police on standby outside acting as a surrounding force. No matter what, the people inside the warehouse? They would be leaving in cuffs. All it would take was for Cole's plan to go down without a hitch. 

Easy. 

Everyone knew their job, what they had to do, it was just a matter of time. 

Cole paused mid-step just as he was turning a corner around a small pile of boxes, a sharp drag of air through his teeth ended in a clamped mouth, held breath as his eyes focused on a small group of people in front of him. Three people, two males and one female, all fairly well built and each armed with their own blaring flashlight in one hand, and an assortment of weapons in the other. Namely from what he could see, a couple baseball bats and one length of what seemed to be rusted rebar that must have been laying around. Cole's fingers itched to reach back and pull his scythe from its sheath, to have a proper fight, but that wasn't the plan. 

The plan was no injury. Jay would find the fuse box, he and Nya would get it running again and actually light up the area. Then by that time, everyone else would be in positions where they could hem in the criminals that were dotted around the building and incapacitate them until the police moved in. Simple enough. 

Cole had found his targets, his pupils shrinking to adjust for the sudden change in light levels as he kept to the shadows and observed from a careful distance. The warehouse lights turning on was the cue to move in, and that hadn't happened yet. So he waited. Listened. 

A minor huff of air came from one of the men, dressed in a loose fitting hoodie which did a good job of hiding any possible muscle underneath, though the way he wielded the rebar displayed experience and curated strength. Light swings, accompanied by a woosh sound as it sliced through the atmosphere. 

"I can't believe we're here for no reason." He groaned in a whisper, his head tilted back and eyes closed. "One person. Maybe two, that's it. Send them in, get them to retrieve the goods. Done. Sorted." There was a pause, then in an almost whine, "But no, we all have to be here."

"Because apparently there is a lot more to get than what we'd initially thought. Either way, we're not doing anything." The woman gestured around the group, "We're just here for numbers."

"Numbers?" The word was forced out around laugh, though it definitely had an air of frustration. It was as if the man wanted to be anywhere else but in that warehouse at that very time. Cole could understand that, but for a different reason. He could have been in bed, sleeping, but instead he'd spent the past week stressing out over multiple possible scenarios that could occur should the plan have to change. Or trying to make sure what he had in place would work and be effective, that each member of the team would be doing the right job, in the right place, had the right skills. 

Taking the lead was never easy, but it was rewarding. 

Yet, this man rotating the metal bar slowly in his grip with a smile on his face, where else would he be if not there? Committing another crime elsewhere? Sleeping? Either way, the only place he would be going after this night would be the police station. 

Cole found himself cracking a brief grin from where he was crouched behind a crate, his head poked just over the top to continue observing the group. The knowledge that these people were going to get what was coming for them, and they didn't even know, there was something vaguely satisfying about the situation.

All that there was between their freedom and their arrest was a well planned--

The lights flickered on. The warehouse awash so sharply with artificial white light that his widened pupils snapped so sharply down to a near pinpoint size that it made his vision bright with glare. His surroundings, moving from a pallet of greys and blacks to coloured, browns of the wooden storage boxes, reds and blues of the painted metal shelving units where everything was situated and sorted out. Now, he could see the sheer amount of dust that flowed over the floor, marked areas where people had been moving around presumably during the day, tyre tracks from heavy machinery that did the jobs that people couldn't do. 

Then, just as quickly, the lights were off again. Cole's attention immediately snapped up towards the ceiling as the orange glow of the faded bulbs finally transcended into darkness. 

What the hell? Jay, you were supposed to leave the lights on, what did you--

"Wait." 

One of the men's voices came out as a whisper, his footfalls falling into silence as Cole blinked his eyes rapidly, forcing them to get used to the light levels again. There was always that brief period where his vision was impeded, as apparently everyone experienced; but when his eyes took in light in a different way, when they took in so much more? Sudden shifts from dark to light was never a good thing. 

Though something in the tone of voice. Maybe it was the surprise? Or the shock? Or the fact that the word was said so carefully and warily that as soon as Cole had some semblance of vision he was peering over his small hiding spot and, like anyone would do, froze. 

The man, the one armed with the rebar, was staring directly at him. Sure his gaze was wandering, a little unfocused but it was definitely in his general direction. Far too close to where Cole was crouched to be anything of a coincidence, enough to make his muscles tense and adrenaline spike as he, under the cover of darkness, met eyes with the man. He stopped breathing. 

"What?" The other man asked, his tone questioning. "This place is old, lights are probably--" 

"Shut up." He spat out quickly, "I saw someone."

Now, the woman spoke up, and Cole was just observing with climbing adrenaline flowing through his muscles. This wasn't good. "What? Who? Where?" 

The next thing Cole knew, there was the bright beam of a light directly in his field of view, his eyes wincing and vision whiting over at the visual feedback the torch gave. There was a dragged breath, and a yelp from someone else, then the warehouse lights turned on. 

Cole stood quickly from his hiding position, coming face to face with the group of three who were now fully aware of his presence, though none of them seemed to be reacting immediately other than staring in his direction with wide eyes, weapons held in a lax grip and torches still on, drooping towards the floor. 

That was all in the space of a couple seconds, before darkness descended again. Now, the group decided to react to the change in circumstances. Torches whipping around widely, the sound of a baseball bat tapping hard against the floor as if one of the people were deciding to prime a swing into the oblivion of nothing that was now before them. 

Even if they had planned to attack in the general area that he'd been standing in, Cole wasn't there anymore. As soon as he had the cover of yet another impromptu power cut, he'd quickly moved from where he'd been standing without much second thought. Staying where he'd been hiding, that would be a stupid move. His presence there had already been compromised, but he had other pressing issues to contend with. 

Namely, the sheer chaos that was quick to follow. 

A shrieked, "Holy shit, what the-!" Only for the shout to be cut off by a sheer flash of blue light, and the smell of ozone quickly taking over the entire warehouse floor in under a second. Cole looked up, the far side of the building illuminated by cracks and arcs of electricity weaving out into the open air, whips and sharp retorts of discharge echoed around the warehouse and in that moment, Cole realised that his plan was going out the window rapidly.

Jay, and presumably Nya, had partially succeeded in getting the lighting on only for it to die away into an intermittent and unpredictable flickering mess. All it took was a glance up, the lighting shuddering and fluttering between being on and off, rapidly so. They were most likely reacting to Jay's element, the power of it, the present voltage. 

Then there was the situation of Cole's position in the building being compromised. He had to think, he needed to think. Only, that was easier said than done. The sounds of people delving into a fight bouncing off the walls from different sides of the warehouse. Clangs and scrapes of presumably makeshift weapons, shouting and grunts of pain and effort met Cole's ears in a layered cacophony of information. 

No, no, he had to figure something out. He couldn't stay where he was, since that group of three people knew that there was at least someone close by; lurking in the shadows. Being on the receiving end of the rebar or even a bat was not high upon his list, but neither could he leave them unattended. There were sounds of battle, sure, but Jay and Nya could more than handle themselves. Cole could too. 

Which possibly meant forgoing a plan, and just working on instinct. Assessing the situation, reacting to what was happening in the now and not what would need to be done later. He let out a short breath, and unclenched his hands from fists and let them hang loosely as he traversed around a small area of boxed products. Cole kept the three people in his line of vision at all times, the torch light shifting rapidly from surface to surface as they presumably searched for him. 

"Did you see that?" a man screeched, his torch fixed on the crate that Cole had been behind. 

"The guy?"

"No, the eyes! Did you see the eyes?" He exclaimed, yelped even. 

He was shocked, confused. Scared even. Apparently, a length of rebar didn't provide a sense of security. 

After a brief pause, the woman's voice added, "They glowed." 

"They glowed!" 

Tapetum Lucidum. The term Zane has used. Eyeshine, a result of Cole's night-vision. Not natural in humans, by any means. The group of three seemed to be plainly aware of the impossibility of the scenario they were faced with. 

Words laced with shock, pacing and hard footfalls, they all echoed and distracted, but Cole even could come up with the most basic plan if the situation needed it. What the Earth Master knew was that he needed a little more time than he currently had. He needed to focus, needed silence, and three criminals having a minor freak out in front of him didn't help one bit. 

He needed them all to just pause, which was easier said than done. With the overhead lights flickering intermittently and out of sync, the movement of torches, the three people realising they were in a situation where they couldn't even make sense of who they were facing? It wasn't a recipe for calm. 

It caused heavy breathing, spikes in heart rate that Cole could barely hear around the sharp echoes of their footsteps as they turned around. The flickering bulbs provided some form of vision, cascading over the room in spasming and extremely brief washes of white and along with it, mere milliseconds where the ninja could properly take in the environment in a way that wasn't awash with black and grey tones. 

He needed clear vision, he needed to be able to take a proper look at someone. On a normal day, outside in the sunlight, it was second nature for Cole's attention to go straight up to someone's face. It was a regular social cue, to make eye contact when talking or interacting but there was always that little bit more to it than being polite. For Cole, at least. It was how his powers functioned the best. Normal days provided time, he could watch the person walk, the way they held themselves; listen to how they spoke and the mannerisms they favoured, the light lilt to their voices. Did they favour their left or right hand? What were they wearing? 

There always tended to be time, but in that moment? In the warehouse where he was keeping his steps as quiet as possible, a fight raging somewhere off to his left and absolutely no plan to fall back on other than dealing with the small group in front of him, to then go find and help his team? With limited significant visual input? 

There wasn't time. There wasn't even time to think. 

The lights kept flickering. 

On and off. 

On. The man with the rebar was wearing a grey-- no, a blue hoodie. 

Off. He'd had brown hair? He'd seen it before, when the lights had been fully on. 

A flash of lightning. Ripped jeans, black sneakers. 

His face? Cole had seen it. It had been a couple of shocked seconds being caught in his hiding spot by the man's wandering gaze. It was there somewhere, in his memory. He always remembered faces. Blue eyes, pale skinned, shaven beard--

Screw it, there isn't time to be overthinking! 

On. 

The group of three fell quiet in an instant. Or at least, two of them did. The woman, and the man wielding a baseball bat. Their eyes were wide, comically so, but Cole wasn't laughing. He was just staring back at them. 

They weren't moving. Only standing there with their weapons held by their sides, mouths hanging open just slightly. No one was saying a word. No one seemed to want to even risk drawing a breath.

They were both staring back at their rebar wielding friend, who had a much tighter grip on his strip of metal. Their gaze flicking from the left to the right in silent confusion and sudden shock. 

Since it wasn't just their friend staring back with an alarmed expression. There were two of them, where the well built man in the blue hoodie stood, just a few mere paces back from the original, there was an exact carbon copy. Dishevelled light hair, blue eyes reflecting the light, expression carefully neutral. 

Or was the one standing closest to the pair of criminals the fake? 

The silence echoed nearly, and it was exactly what Cole had needed. A pause, a minute distraction. He was well aware that he could analyse more in a few brief seconds than anyone, and that single second of staring around the group and their joint expression of something that was bordering on fear, taking in their stances and their tensed muscles that indicated they were ready for either a fight or to run, Cole was ready. 

Then, again, when the lights predictably flickered out for the umpteenth time, he moved. 

First to the man he had shifted into; and to be honest it had been clear who the original was. The immediate reaction for gazing at a mirror image of one's self was surprise, and the man's face had been a picture of it. It wasn't as if he'd been trying to act like the man. There hadn't been time, or the need, the purpose was just to form a plan. 

Now he had one, more or less. The details were vague, but coming together slowly and surely. He needed to reduce the group size, starting with the one who was the biggest threat. 

The man with the rebar was taken down, with the cover of darkness providing a much needed advantage. Between a scythe still strapped to his back, and a meter and a bit of metal already primed for a swing? Cole hadn't liked his odds with a one on one fight. 

Now, all he had to do was deal with the other two. 

There were shouts of alarm from the two remaining thugs, trying to correlate an attack when they probably couldn't see their hand in front of their face without their torches to aid them. They must have been discarded somewhere.

Cole stepped over to the woman next, his gaze set. This time, he'd do a better job. The sensation of the familiar cold purple fog shuttered rapidly over his chest, down his limbs and clouding over his sight for a single brief instance. It tousled his hair, and brought a minor sense of disorientation that righted itself in an instant. The sensation of shifting always brought a wide smile to his face, even in the current tense circumstances. The cascade of change, the way it was so easy. There wasn't a way to explain it, it just happened. Like taking a breath, like lifting an arm. 

The warehouse lit up. The hanging lights the brightest they'd been, the crackle of lightning ceasing and the sounds of the fights drawing to a close. 

Then, one raised baseball bat later, and a calculated strike to the side of the woman's head with the butt of the carved wood and she crumpled down to the floor in an instant, eyes rolled back into her head. 

There was a laugh, just to the left hand side. The last man was still standing with his own bat held tightly in his grip. It was easy to tell the source of his glee, even though seemingly two of his companions were laid out unmoving on the concrete floor. 

It was the fact that the woman, chest heaving deeply, long blonde hair dishevelled, drooping forwards over her face and partially shielding her eyesight was still standing. 

And in front of her, on the floor, with a pale pallor and a reddened welt already forming rapidly on the side of her head was the doppelganger. Taken down by a single lucky swing, and a successful one at that, since it had been executed when they'd been surrounded by darkness. 

"Take that you-- uh, thing!" she jeered after a second, taking a small hopped step forwards, lifting one foot to tap at her own mirror image's shoulder. When there was no immediate response other than the prone body to rock slightly to the side, she stepped back with a wider grin.

Though, her tone was questioning when she squinted and cast her gaze over the body, "What even are you? You're… you looked human." She mused, turning back to face the only standing man with a small smile and a look of accomplishment. 

Yet all that she was met with was a gaze now filled with distrust and wariness. 

"I mean, you saw him right? That guy? Do you think it's him or something else?" 

The only thing her question was met with, was pure silence and a furrowed brow. Even, a searching expression that switched rapidly between the prone form on the floor, and the visage of the same person still standing. 

She took a step closer to her friend, bat draped lazily over one shoulder. 

"Wait." the man said. 

She stopped. 

Then after a second, a frown marred her own features. "What?" she moved the bat again, energy dissipating out through fiddled movements and an inability to stand still. She rested it against the floor, propping her weight up onto it. "Are you really going to stand there," She gestured with one hand, "and ask me if I'm me?" It was a question one that held a tone of slight sarcastic shock, at the sheer absurdity of the situation that they'd both found themselves in. All it was, was moving some goods. They weren't even important to the overall task and it seemed as though everything had gone wrong anyway. 

"No, well," The man forced out a breath, his gaze flicking between his friend who was standing just a little in front of him, his male compatriot behind him, and the fourth person on the floor. He cleared his throat heavily, "You saw that thing." 

"Yeah, the guy following us. And you saw the lightning." She added after a moment, nodding loosely to the far side of the warehouse where the impromptu lightshow had come from. "That guy probably didn't come alone." 

"You think?" 

She rolled her eyes at that, "We should get going. If there's more than just that one guy here, we should leave. What if there's other people who can do that?" The question was poised with a second prompt glance to the man, as if scrutinising him. The expression was returned, but not maintained, since all too quickly their eyes fell to the unconscious male. 

"What the hell even happened?" was mumbled, the man's tone disbelieving. "He turned into Mikey. Like, exactly into him. Or," He paused, "Was it even that guy? What the hell can do that?" 

"Well, whatever. The guy-- thing. Whatever it is, he's going to be out for a while. Let's go head back to the others." She shrugged, one finger tapping absentmindedly on the side of her leg as she started to walk away from the scene. 

Only, the other man didn't move from where he was standing, shuffled steps leaving grooves in the dust covered floor, his fingers wrapping just a little too tight around his bat. "What's my name?"

"What?"

"My name. You tell me it, and I'll know it's you."

There was a brief pause, and a huffed laugh. "Really? You're doing this right now? We've just been attacked by who knows what; from the sounds of it the fighting that was happening is over and I highly doubt we've won, otherwise we would have already left, right?" she raised an eyebrow, and when she didn't get a reply she scoffed. "Come on, man, we need to go. The cops are probably crawling around this place."

"I'll move when you tell me my name."

"How do I know that you're you? You could be asking for your name so you can sell the lie more." She said, her voice climbing an octave at the statement, but the man didn't seem to budge. He was just watching, staring. 

He wasn't budging. 

Eventually, the woman's expression fell just that little bit. It was barely anything, just a slight drop to the shoulders, a tilt of the head. She lifted her free hand and ran it through her hair, her expression changing minutely as she ran her fingers through the strands, as if the length of them was slightly surprising. Though the action looked so casual, so carefully normal.

The biggest change though, was her voice. It took on a slightly vexed tone, almost as if she was let down by the turn of events. 

"Why does everyone always ask that question?" She questioned, "Is it James?" 

"Elijah." came the clipped and quiet reply.

"Man, so close."

Between one second and the next, the resounding sound of air parting as the momentum of the moving bat picked up rapidly, and a satisfying thwack sound as the wood came into contact with the man's cheek, sending him crumpling to the ground. The only woman in that group was the one laid out on the floor amongst, now, her two equally unconscious friends.

Cole just looked over the group for a second, a tiny lick of blackened smoke finally tumbling off his hands and dissipating into nothingness, the rush of his power fading to a low adrenaline fuelled hum in the back of his head as if it was itching to be used again so soon. He took a minute, moving from person to person. First, checking that they could and were breathing, then using a pocket full of zip-ties to fasten their hands behind their backs when he was content in the knowledge that other than superficial injuries, the knocks to the head weren't anything significant. He stepped back. 

His foot knocked against the baseball bat he'd discarded beforehand, rolling lazily over the floor. 

"So much for no fighting." Cole mumbled as he cast his attention elsewhere in the warehouse. Overall, it was silent. No shouting, no nothing. 

Which could either mean good things, or bad. 

He carded a hand through his hair and pulled his scythe from his back, rolling the wooden handle in his hands before he set off walking through the brightly lit building. 

"Always that question."

-

AO3

[big1ron]

The Venator “Resolute” had jumped right into a separatist trap. Somehow a virus infecting the main computer has scrambled the hyperspace jump coordinates, and now the companies on board were outnumbered and without reinforcements, deep in separatist space. A few last, desperate SOSs to nobody, and the ship was quickly overwhelmed with fire. The Resolute was going down. But not before each of the escape pods could be jettisoned.

————- Chapter One: Podrace. -————

The planet was thick in foliage and deep with caves. The contrast of the yellow pods on the blue stalks of many of the plants would have been beautiful, if they had time to admire it. The planet was currently in its night cycle. And the two Jedi’s escape pod had landed atop a rather high peninsula. Anakin climbed out of the smoking pod and coughed as he waved the smoke out of his face. He surveyed the ground far below him.

“I don’t see any enemy encampments, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. It’s impossible to see anything with all these crazy cliffs and caves. They’ll no doubt be sending hunter squads down shortly. How are the comms snips?”

“Fried master. The beacon too. Must have been destroyed in the landing.” Ahsoka climbs out after him, and steps up beside him, looking over the landscape below.

“Alright then let’s try to find another pod. Maybe a separatist base or some kind of settlement. We need to get off this rock.”

The escape pod crashed into the planet. Hard. All three passengers were thrown around pretty badly and Rex knew that would leave a mark. The impact had destroyed most of their equipment, and he had hit his shoulder against the wall of the pod. He knew it would bruise but it didn’t feel broken. He opened his eyes which he had squeezed shut on impact. He stirred to get up, and assess the other two men. One of the two, Echo, was doing the same. But the other, Kix, wasn���t moving. Rex gestured for echo to open the hatch while he climbed over to Kix and took his pulse, relieved he was alive before gently trying to shake him awake.

“Hey Kix, can you hear me? I need you in the here and now trooper.”

Kix groaned in response, pulling himself upright and rubbing his temples “wha’ ya need cap’n?”

He must have hit his head pretty badly, but he was awake, and that was a good sign. Rex hands Kix his bucket and turns for the hatch. Echo had already gotten it open and had been surveying their landing site. But before he could get outside the pod he hears Kix falling down behind him. He turns quickly to see Kix pulling himself to his feet again. That hit he took combined with the uneven floor of the pod made it hard for the medic to keep his balance. Rex took pity on him, and let Kix lean on him for support as Rex put an arm around his waist and practically dragged him out of the pod.

“This is u’necessary sir, ’m fine.”

“Define ‘fine.’ How badly did you hit your head?”

“Good.”

So, pretty bad rex guessed. The situation outside wasn’t looking too much better, as the pod had crashed though the ceiling of some kind of cave system upon landing. And it was rather dark in the caves with only the (admittedly pretty bright) moonlight from their entry hole, so rex switched is visor to night vision. Echo had already done the same.

“Two tunnels to the east, left one angled up, right angled down, and one tunnel to the north. Headed down. No sign of any hostiles.” Echo reported. “How’s Kix?”

“I’m fine.” With that Kix tried to stand up a little straighter, and away from rex to prove his point. But rex only pulled him closer, as if he was afraid he was going to fall again.

“He’s not fine. It looks pretty bad. But I’m no medic, and I don’t trust ours to give a proper diagnosis. Looks like we’re pretty close to the surface. So let’s try southeast.”

Echo took the lead, pistols in hand. But it soon became clear they were alone for now

“Hey Rex, do you think maybe you’re being a little overprotective again?” Echo asks as Kix trips, almost falling but held up by the captain.

“I think that’s proof enough that I’m not.” But as the ground levelled put slightly Rex hesitantly removed his supporting arm from kix. Which proved a mistake as echo, immediately overcome with the urge to pester, gave kix a light shove which sent him diving directly to the ground.

Fives stepped out of the escape pod, followed by Hardcase and Tup. Their pod had landed deep in the forest valley. Layers of escarpments and cliffs towered around them.

“The comms were sabotaged. Can’t get a message out.” Says tup, the last one out of the pod.

“We’ll just go find Rex. He has to be around here somewhere right? He’ll know what to do.” Says fives, who really has no idea what to do but has immediately assumed charge anyways.

“We don’t even know if Rex is out there. What we need to do is find some sort of communication, get a signal out. This is a separatist controlled planet right? So we find and take a base. We’ve still got guns, and they probably have communications devices”

“With just the three of us? Forget it. This is hopeless. I bet the others have already been shot down... I wouldn’t count on getting off this rock.” Hardcase falls silent at tups remark. He’s right, they are deep in separatist space with no ship, few rations and no communications. They’re probably going to be permanent residents. If they don’t run into and hunter droids of course.

But fives immediately contradicts. That’s no way for a republic soldier to think. “We have to at least try something. We can’t just give up. Let’s see if we can climb up to.... that ridge, and see what we can from that vantage point.” Fives points to one of the higher cliffs facing them, as they have no heading and he’s got to start somewhere.

“I don’t know, might be a better idea to stay put and wait for the hunter droids to find us. They might have salvageable communications devices”

“Really hardcase? I thought you were all about doing and hyperactivity” fives waves his blaster towards the cliff “you really just want to stay put? Wait for us to just die like tup does?”

“Hey! that’s not what I-“ Tup starts

“No, I don’t! But what I do want is for us to get off this rock and I think that’s our best option!”

“You know you wouldn’t be able to sit still that long so let’s start making time before we waste it. Move it troopers, let’s go.”

Ahsoka poked at the ground with a stick. They had traveled a fair ways away from the pod by now, and had stopped along a ridge. Her master was sitting cross legged and mediating. Actually meditating! That’s how you knew he had no clue. Anakin skywalker never meditated.

“You know it would probably help if you tried too” anakin opened one eye to look at the padawan. He had never been good at reading the living force, but even mediocre skill combined with his absolutely massive force signature had to account for something, right?

“What are you even trying to do anyways?”

“I don’t know, sense If there are any clones or droids around maybe? It’s not working anyways.” He sighs and gets up, turning in a seemingly random direction and stars walking. They need to find some sort of communications if they want to-

“Wait, master” ahsoka ignites both her lightsabers and anakin does the same

“I sense it too.”

Suddenly the engines of two speeder bikes are heard, and headlights wash over them in the dark, as two mounted commando droids rush towards them. The droids open fire and-“Ahsoka wait!”

Too late. She had already deflected the bolts into the engine of one of the bikes, causing it to explode. Her master skillfully decapitated the other droid and used the force to slow the bike to a stop.

“You could have used that bike. Now you’re riding pillion.” He mounts the bike and pats the space behind him. “But at least you won’t crash this way”

“Hey I never crash!” Complains ahsoka as she climbs on behind him. “Besides, you don’t get to complain about my driving when you’ve crashed every ship you’ve ever flown”

The last pod had landed in a slightly more flat area, nearby a crude and thin path, that the group was now following deeper into the thick forest. The group was occupied by Jesse, who had elected himself leader and nobody had objected, Coric, and Dogma. They had been walking a while and everyone had been pretty quiet. Especially since tensions between Jesse and Dogma was still... weird.

“So are you two just going to give each other the silent treatment for however long we’re stuck here?” Asks coric, fed up with the silence

“No.” “Yes.” They answer at the same time, in the same tone.

“Alright Jesse, why do you refuse to talk to Dogma?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you. And you already know anyways. Nows not the time for this. Keep your focus on the road.”

“You know you can’t stay mad at him forever. We could be more effective if we work together”

“Actually, I can. Look I’ll talk to him when I need to, ok?”

‘I’m standing right here you know’ Dogma almost says. Instead he just goes with “I have no objections.” To remind them he is, in fact there.

“Of course you don’t.” Jesse grumbles “cause I have orders for you and you can’t function without those, can you.” Dogma looks to his feet and coric looks defeated. It’s true, having clear orders from Jesse is the only thing keeping him from low key panicking.

Suddenly four pairs of glowing eyes flick on in front of them, where four hunter commando droids had been lying in wait.

[samueldays]

What are your thoughts on the Jan 6 "Insurrection"?

I had a very long draft about that lying around for a while, so you're getting a long answer as I copy-paste and trim it into something publishable.

The Mandate of Heaven belongs to the winners.

The MAGA rioters of Jan 6th lost. They neither had nor seized the Mandate of Heaven; therefore, they are scum who deserved to lose. Boo them! Boo those monsters, those retards, those traitors! They have contravened the will of Heaven!

Does that sound exaggeratedly harsh? Do you prefer some other grounds for condemnation than mere defeat? Then let me add this charge against them: they had neither will nor plans to win. Also, they were stupid and wasteful.

It’s not just that they lost. It’s that they couldn’t have won. If there had been ten times as many of them, they would still have lost. It’s not a matter of getting close but unlucky. They were never close. They were utterly incapable of winning. I doubt they had an idea of what a “win” would even look like, let alone how to accomplish it. When they started getting shot, they didn’t shoot back - and I don’t think I can credit them with fine trigger discipline, so IMO the more likely reason is lack of killing intent.

Which leads into the question of what kind of intent they did have. There’s a bunch of takes ranging from cynical to downright mocking, suggesting that they were chimplike retards performing chimp dominance displays and got very surprised when the US Government was unimpressed by chimp dominance displays, or perhaps they were operating on habits learned from playing too many video game levels, “Capture the flag and hold out 15 minutes to win!”

My neoreactionary take is: This is your brain on liberalism. They were nominally right-wingers (setting aside eventual fed incitement for a moment), but they’d bought into liberal propaganda about the will of the people, the voice of the unheard, grassroots organizing, the power of protest, et cetera. In the liberal narrative, a protest is something like an extra-strength vote, a way of making politicians move. If you protest hard enough and your heart is pure...

In reality, a protest works if and only if it already has support in high places. The powers that be have wide discretion to pick protests they like or not, and then say: “this protest is the voice of the unheard that we have a moral obligation to grant concessions to; but that protest is a violent treasonous insurrection that we must prosecute as a national security threat”.

So, on the one hand, the MAGA rioters are idiots who deserve to suffer because they got into an ass-kicking contest with a horse. I would have supported the police gunning the MAGA rioters down, same as the BLM riots last year should have been gunned down.

On the other hand, the accusations of “national security threat” and “domestic terrorism” are grossly dishonest. The first because they weren’t a threat, as described above; the second because it’s not terrorism when you target Congress, assuming the rioters were targeting anything.

(I realize some definitions of ‘terrorism’ disagree. They’re dumb, but that’s a tangent from an already long post.)

---

What might a winning strategy have looked like? Hypothetically?

I have never executed a coup, so I cannot speak with certainty.

But let’s imagine that you were in charge of ten times as many MAGA rioters. (”Someone in charge” is another thing they lacked, and another reason their loss was inevitable.) In this scenario, they’re all armed to the teeth and able to coordinate. You lead your irregular bowel movement militia movement to seize the Capitol.

Point 1: The US Army still outnumbers you several hundred to one. If every one of you brought and armed every one of your friends, the US Army would still outnumber you several hundred to one.

Point 2: You control the Capitol. You don’t (yet) control any divisions, jails, courts, banks or TV stations. Your only means for punishing your enemies and exerting power are those you have here, on hand, right now.

Somehow, you need to parlay your control of the Capitol into control of the rest of the US, starting with the army. You can’t feasibly seize the jails or courts from here. You might be able to seize the US Army, though, via the congresscritters. So the first objective should be capturing congresscritters, aiming to catch a majority (technically, a quorum) so you have a pretense of legal grounding. Look to events like Pride’s Purge.

Notice how far this hypothetical is already getting from the Jan 6 mostly-peaceful-protest riot?

So. Assuming the men, the organization, the performance, and the luck of a quorum capture, you then have to coerce Congress into passing what you say. Looking back at point 2, you can’t coerce by any legal, political, social, or vaguely aboveboard means. You have the physically captured congresscritters, no other leverage. Which means that ‘coerce’ probably cashes out to ‘torture and murder’. Which the MAGA rioters didn’t have the stomach for. I infer this from the fact that an outlier-Democrat shot Steve Scalise (R), but the MAGA movement hasn’t even had a single outlier that’s outlying enough to shoot a (D) congresscritter since Trump came on the scene.

But suppose they did, since we’re this far into fantasyland. MAGA rioters hold congresscritters at gunpoint and say “pass and sign the Self-Denying Ordinance or I blow your brains out”, murdering the first few who resist until the rest comply, and get a Self-Denying Ordinance passed which amends the Constitution to dissolve Congress and vests all power in Donald Trump, or the QAnon Shaman, or someone. You did have something like a Self-Denying Ordinance written up beforehand, right? While you’re at it, expand the Supreme Court, and put twelve rioters on it to guarantee a majority to ratify your decisions. Get this all recorded and broadcasted, fast, wide, maybe using the Emergency Alert System.

Now you have a thin veneer of legality. Much like the Declaration of Independence - if you win, they’ll look back in the future and say this is when the new government was formed.

But in the present there’s still fighting to be done, and you might lose.

For example, if you let the congresscritters out, they might congregate elsewhere, and pass a “doesn’t count” motion on the Self-Denying Ordinance they just passed. Or the army might independently decide “doesn’t count” and come in to kill you all, since you’re at war with the old government. You’re going to have to keep the congresscritters as hostages under guard, and think of some way to keep the army out until it settles into your newly passed control. “Hope you get lucky” is one way; maybe the army will be confused or internally split about what to do. It’s not a very good way.

Do you know any regiments loyal to you? No? Any battalions, then? What about mercenaries, can you at least hire mercenaries? No, can’t afford it? Any foreign countries willing to send their army to protect you? No, that would probably piss off the US army even more.

But suppose, by plot device, the US army stays away or is kept away for a while, and you keep hold of your congresscritters, and eventually the Self-Denying Ordinance settles in as the new law of the land dictating who is supreme power.

Now, there’s still district attorneys letting off blacks for murder and charging whites for microaggression, and journalists inciting race war, and PayPal has partnered with the ADL to limit who gets access to the financial system, and there’s professors teaching How The White Cis-Hetero Patriarchy Stole Your Gender classes, and school certification boards requiring diversity commitments, et cetera, and these are the people who run the daily operations of your nation and teach your children and successors. Do you know the word lustration? Unless you lustrate these people, they’re going to reverse your coup, or simply never implement it in the first place. Following through on the coup requires lustrating millions of people wielding informal power.

In conclusion, the machinery of a modern government is huge, most of it not located in the Capitol. Storming the US Capitol is nowhere near a coup - let this be my message to both leftists, there’s no reason to panic about the allegedly attempted coup, and to rightists, you’re wasting time and lives if you don’t think about the next steps.

[sol1056]

wuxia: a general yet probably too verbose introduction to the genre, pt2

and now we get to the actual conventions -- although more accurately, these are just the ones that I either noticed the strongest or had the most difficulty adjusting to, when I was first getting into wuxia. 

Not all stories have these elements, and of course in a genre as varied (and as old) as wuxia, there are twenty exceptions for every rule. What’s more, one story’s mild admonishment (”well, X is frowned on, but I guess if you’re just low-key about it”) can become the next story’s worst taboo (”omg you did X, you must be shunned! SHUNNNNNNNNNNed.”). 

Like any other living genre, authors will shift/tilt convention as needed to drive a story’s conflicts. 

btw, it’ll probably be a few days before I can do an introduction to MDZS, which should give time to @guzhuangheaven, @atthewaterside, @dramatic-gwynne, @the50-person, @drunkensword (and anyone else) to point out everything I misunderstood, over-emphasized, misinterpreted, or just plain missed. 

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

1. Hierarchy still matters. A student’s respect for their teacher, a child’s respect for their parents, younger siblings/students to elder. You’ll see this in how people are called (ie 3rd uncle, elder sister, 2nd brother), but this doesn’t mean everyone goes around dutiful and obedient. Err, wuxia is actually more of the opposite. I mean, a good story requires conflict between characters, and what better way than someone overturning (or at least appearing to overturn) the hierarchy?

In that vein, creating new relationships that take precedent over old relationships is anywhere from disrespectful to a full-on violation of natural law. As in, learning from someone other than your teacher, joining a new family in lieu of your birth family, running away to get married -- hell, just running away! -- are all potential sources of trouble. At the same time, wuxia has a really strong comedic streak (all the martial arts also make for great slapstick). Squabbling families with headstrong, misbehaving kids who break the rules, well, that’s a classic that can be played for melodrama, comedy, or both.

2. Swordsmanship is the pinnacle (or the most prevalent) of martial arts. The protagonist is either going to be (or end up) the best swordsman (or swordswoman) ever, or they’re going to use a weapon that’s unlike any other -- and if the latter, they’ll either be reviled for it, or lauded.

3. Despite the fact that swords are heavy and a real pain to carry around, characters carry their swords. All the time. Everywhere. In historical dramas, swords hang from belts, but not wuxia. Plus, characters will place swords on the table, across their lap, lean them against chairs, put them on the floor, and it doesn’t seem to map to whether they’re among allies or enemies, on guard or relaxing. The sword goes with them everywhere, and is always within reach. (And again, this general convention can go strict in some stories, like MDZS, where the failure to carry a sword is seen as a major breach of etiquette.)

4. The general term for ‘members of a sect’ or ‘people who study martial arts’ is ‘cultivators’. To cultivate is to grow something: cultivating [internal or spiritual] fields to gain a [skillset] harvest. Cultivation isn’t just going to the practice hall and swinging a sword three hundred times; meditation, study, even copying out texts are also ways to cultivate. 

5. Wuxia characters may also be called swordsmen/swordswomen, wandering heroes, or martial heroes. If the story pivots on getting into a sect (or achieving some rank in a sect), then the characters will be considered cultivators (of a given path). If they’re introduced as just swordsmen, that seems to indicate it’s a story where sect politics plays less of a role. Or both terms may be present, to differentiate between sect-members/students versus people who defected (or are self-taught). 

6. Wuxia as a genre is remarkably egalitarian. Expect women martial artists to throw down with (and hold their own against) male opponents. Learn to fear the older women in wuxia; they’re often the most dangerous. Not to say there aren’t damsels in distress in wuxia, just that there are usually as many female warrior characters, too.

If the story has multiple sect leaders, usually at least one is a woman -- and if not, one of the men is married to a woman that everyone knows is the truly powerful/skilled one. Near-equal cast percentages are common, too, both in the foreground (and not always for the sake of pairing off for romance), and in the background, when you catch shots of the rank-and-file sect members.

Basically, you can expect the average wuxia to pass the Bechdel test with flying colors. It may not always pass all the other gender tests, but conversations (and deep friendships) between female characters are usually on-screen (not just implied), and often a strong part of the storyline.

7. The super-hero-like skills -- leaping from or to an extreme height, tossing someone a great distance, getting thrown far and getting up again -- are a good map to things like gunslingers who can shoot a playing card at eighty paces blindfolded. Or Robin Hood getting a bullseye through the arrows of someone else’s bullseyes. Wuxia tends to expect even superlative skills at a beginner’s level (so you’ll see student-characters doing such), but it’s all just ways to say, these characters have studied the sword while the rest of us were waiting for the translation team to release the next episode.

8. Those skills are not magic, which occupies a different category. Whether shown or implied, wuxia’s ‘martial arts’ (if exaggerated and unrealistic) are still studied. When magic shows up, it’s often derided, because it’s a shortcut. There’s an insincerity, a kind of bad sportsmanship. The reaction in-story is much like real world reaction to athletes using performance-enhancing drugs. It’s cheating, and it’s disrespectful towards your opponents, that you refused to match their efforts with equal effort of your own.

9. Every story has its own definition of what is, or is not, ‘magic’ and thus a shortcut. Wuxia is usually pretty good about making clear what the story considers ‘orthodox’ or ‘right’: look for characters introduced as authoritative voices in the story’s world, and what they do is probably a good indication of accepted skills (that is, not-magic). Well, unless the character cackles a lot, in which case they’re probably an example of magic/unorthodox approaches.

9. Qi -- energy -- is the root of a character’s power (or lack thereof). Plenty of wuxia only reference this concept in passing, but some codify it into a necessity -- as in, some people have the ‘right’ kind of qi, and some do not. Or that it takes years to develop so the hero is permanently behind until they finally get to doing the work. Whether nature or nuture, this qi is how a cultivator can leap high bounds while the background farmer or merchant characters must scramble to find a ladder.

10. Over the years of television, ‘manipulating qi’ -- shoving energy at someone through the hands/feet, a sword, a musical instrument, something else -- has developed its own set of stylized movements. It’s a lot of arm-waving and finger twirling and whatnot (often circular). I think of it like riding an invisible bike to charge the generator; releasing it means the TV has the juice to kick on. Or the tazer can release, or whatever.

11. There are a bunch of virtues being promoted by wuxia, from a tangle of daoism, buddhism, and confucianism -- things like loyalty, sincerity, honesty, humility, respecting one’s parents (or teacher), benevolence, and justice (or righteousness). Plus a disregard for wealth or glory for personal gain.

The good (or enduring) wuxia stories seem to be the ones that find a way to make a virtue into a point of conflict -- as in, loyalty to what/who, questions of what it means to be righteous in this circumstance or that, and so on. The virtue is still at the heart of things, the conflict lies in how it’s interpreted or applied.

12. Wuxia predates Confucianism and Buddhism (and possibly Daoism), so it’s got a long history of cherrypicking to mix and match as it pleases. Some things you might see, and the influencing source:

horsetail whisks, used for purifying a space and removing evil influences, traditionally carried by Daoist priests as a sign of their rank. 

an emphasis on Yin and Yang as driving opposing energies (sometimes good and bad, sometimes required to be balanced), also a Daoist concept.

most mystical elements are also Daoist influence: like qigong (coordinated posture and movement to increase/improve health, spiritual strength, and martial prowess), alchemy, astrology, etc.

mudras (hand gestures, cf Naruto) are predominantly Buddhist, meant as a way to focus oneself. When these show up in wuxia, the origin is still ‘to focus oneself’ but being wuxia, the result is usually a burst of visible power.

if a story revolves around learning to forgive/forget and to have compassion (over vengeance), that’s the Buddhist influence showing.

if filial piety, the observance of rites, or questions of ethics/morality are significant themes, that’s probably confucianism’s influence.

The lines are way blurrier than I’m going into, here. After all, the three perspectives have competed and coexisted for hundreds of years. There’s a fair bit of cross-contamination, as it were. 

13. A lot of wuxia -- and I mean a lot of wuxia -- can be boiled down to coming-of-age stories: a young hero faces trials and tribulations on his (or her) way to finding a place in society. Sometimes it’s working their way up through the levels to claim the top spot; sometimes it’s being rejected from the school they wanted, and continuing to fight that fate until they’re accepted and demonstrate they deserve to be there.

This focus on younger heroes also means that wuxia is rife with idol dramas, where the majority of the cast are young/first-time actors, chosen for their looks and their similarity to the character (so as to not require too much of a stretch for them, acting-wise). On the other hand, this does often mean the pretty is almost overwhelming, since it’s looks and not long-time acting experience that set the bar.

14. Compared to other Chinese literary genres, wuxia is somewhat unique in its emphasis on individualism, but this isn’t to say you should expect full-throated american-style rugged individualism. I’d say it’s less about the individual breaking free of social rules, and more that the individual must find a way to interpret those social rules and forge a compromise between what they’re required to be vs who they want to be.

The best illustration I can think of is a parental dictate of “I want you to marry and have a family,” that sets off the story’s conflict. By the end of the story, the now-adult child realizes the message wasn’t meant literally so much as a way to say, “I want you to grow up, have a place in this world, surrounded by people who love you.” The error wasn’t in the parents’ blindness to the child’s needs, but in the child’s interpretation of the parental message. 

(Unlike historical or modern dramas, which often have a lot of daddy issues -- thanks, Confucius -- wuxia is relatively free of that. Child-parent conflict is common, but truly dysfunctional on the level of modern melodramas, not quite so much.)

15. The fights are balletic and acrobatic; they’re meant as an abstract representation of a fight. You want reality, go watch an HK or Korean action movie/show. Wuxia is where you go for the twirling, the leaps, the spins, all the kinds of moves that no decent fighter would ever do, ‘cause turning your back on the enemy gets you killed -- but wuxia isn’t about that, it’s about the cool visual factor.

16. Historically and aesthetically, the costumes are closest to the Ming dynasty  -- layered and belted ankle-length robes with long, flowing sleeves. Partly because the Ming dynasty seems to be a favorite setting (for whatever quality of actual time period a story even bothers to identify), but also (at least, my theory is) because those big sleeves make for dramatic gestures when swinging a sword.

17. There are newer wuxia that show some Game of Thrones influence (or, in the movie adaptations like The Four, some grimdark-slash-steampunk influences) but for the most part, wuxia is rather brightly-lit. My theory is that it was traditionally designed to be visible on (literally) smaller TVs, out in rural villages and whatnot. Frex, the darkest things get in wuxia, visually, is a day-for-night blue, since filming at night for real makes for an awful dark screen. 

This is changing -- I’ve seen a lot more wuxia that are genuinely filming at night -- but the same show may also do day-for-night just cause they’re on a tight schedule and can’t sit around until it’s dark again to shoot the next scene, so they make do. 

18. Older filming styles still dominate in wuxia, and the one you may notice the most is a particular move where the speaking character turns away from whomever they’re talking to, walks towards the camera, and speaks in the direction of the camera. It’s just not something people normally do, but it happens all the time in wuxia.

I think it comes from the days of only having one camera, so either you took the time to reshoot to get reactions (not really possible on shoestring budgets with tight deadlines), or you made sure the frame could include the speaker and the listeners. (Or it might be coming from the stage, where the actor must face the audience to be heard.)

The basic blocking, lighting, and so on sometimes reminds me of afternoon soap operas from the 80s, done with videotape rather than film. Not cheap so much as lower budget. 

19. If you want historical authenticity, this is the last place to look. The costumes will be flashy, especially for the hero and his love interest: layered and embroidered, with modern fabrics in bright, sometimes neon!, shades and combinations (Nicholas Tse, I see you).

Older wuxia, the characters rarely got dirty, a wound from a fight was represented by a streak of clearly-fake (and somewhat diluted) pink syrup, and plenty of times a character will go through an entire battle and not even be sweaty or dirty. (Game of Thrones is changing this, too, though -- I’m seeing more dishevelment, though it’s still relatively minor compared to post-battle LotR or GoT.)

20. You can tell the budget from two things: how many costumes and how many wigs. A lower-budget wuxia (or one made at rapid pace) means characters go to bed in their day-clothes, with headpieces still on. Wigs are expensive, and a quickly-made wuxia means you get one wig, and that’s what you’re always wearing, rather than a wig for sleeping and another for waking. Same goes for showing characters in their day-clothes versus what they’d wear for night, or when relaxing, or whatever. (Or having two versions of the same costume, one pre-battle and one post-battle.)

21. About that historical bit -- at least up to the Qing dynasty, Chinese men usually wore their hair in a top-knot once they reached adulthood. Wuxia’s aesthetic is for everyone -- including elderly men -- wearing their hair mostly down with only a small top-knot to pull back their bangs. This just isn’t how anyone wore their hair, but it’s a massive visual clue that the story takes place in the jianghu, where normal society’s rules don’t apply.

22. I think I mentioned the Ming dynasty -- not sure why, but it seems to be the most favorite target. (You’d think it’d be the Qing, since they were outsiders, but nope.) The literary precursors of wuxia had a strong streak of ‘the government is corrupt and/or full of idiots, we’re better off doing our own thing over here,’ which led to various dynasties cracking down on wuxia as a kind of rebel literature.

It’s kind of ironic that wuxia’s history of overturning the natural order confucian principles (that is, treating individualism as an equal virtue, and elevating commoners to hero-status for *gasp* leaving their place of birth to wander around and do good deeds) is what made wuxia immensely popular during the cultural revolution, when China was busy deconstructing (often violently) so much of its cultural past. Wuxia stood apart, as something that had been quietly deconstructing all along, and thus shot up in popularity for finally being in tune with the zeitgeist.  

(Wuxia in all its forms has always, perhaps unsurprisingly, been massively popular among the common classes. Wuxia is not, never has been, a high literary form; watching wuxia means you’re watching the latest iteration of an ancient yet truly pop-as-in-popular-as-in-common culture.)

I get the impression the chinese authorities have an uneasier relationship with historical dramas (which can walk a fine line of implying that imperial past as a good/positive), whereas wuxia’s place in the mythical jianghu diminishes its ability to threaten via social commentary. This isn’t to say wuxia isn’t in dialogue with the social and political environment in which it’s made; all literature is, by virtue of being of its time. It’s just a bit more coy about it, and its loudest political-type trait -- of dismissing the imperial system/capital as corrupt, evil, or otherwise contemptible -- fits with a desire to see the dynastic past as something to be discarded and/or dismissed, not emulated.  

23. Oh, and one last thing: wuxia is very, very, very chaste. A lot of the romantic relationships are almost entirely implied -- a lot of longing looks, maybe the exchange of a significant gift, I mean, we’re talking a genre that considers holding hands to be pretty daring. I’ve seen entire series where you know those two will end up together, but if you can’t read the visual cues, you’d think they were just close friends (if not socially-awkward acquaintances).

That said, when wuxia breaks that so-chaste rule, it’s like having a table dropped on you. There’s a drunken makeout scene in The Legends that had my jaw on the table because holy smokes, that was unexpected. Mad passionate wild abandonment just isn’t a thing in wuxia.

[ETA: don’t get me wrong, wuxia in general is hugely passionate. Just not on a sexual level; it’s on the emotional level that wuxia will go to eleven, repeatedly.]

...okay, that wasn’t even in the neighborhood of brief. hell, it wasn’t even in the same state as brief, but I did warn you. Wuxia’s a huge genre, after all. An entire book might still only scratch the surface, but hopefully this suffices as a general introduction.

[maybe-your-left]

A Case In Need: A Night In

TW/CW: NSFW, violence (not against us) and general dirty talk. 

You and Ren had spent the remainder of the week working on an upcoming criminal case without issue. He had made no mention of the encounter you shared with Rey and didn’t try anything sexual with you aside from simple brushes against your thigh or the small of your back while in passing. In reality, it was like almost nothing had happened between the two of you. 

But you knew. He knew. And that was enough to have you sink into a bottomless pit of guilt every night when you went home from work. How amazing it had felt when he touched you, caressed you, kissed you, fucked you. You couldn’t forget, no matter how heartbreaking it was to look at his sweet wife minutes after being impaled by his cock. She had no idea and it was killing you that you wanted his attention still. 

By the time Friday had come you felt like you had just dreamt the whole affair with Ren, you were packing up your bags in his office when you heard the door shut and lock behind your back. 

“How was your first week?” 

Ren. Of course it was him, he had barely spoken to you outside of prepping and you had hoped to keep it that way. 

You cleared your throat, “It was fine, I felt like I learned a lot.” 

“Oh did you?” 

Silence. 

“What did you learn might I ask?”

You set your bag down in your chair and turned to face him. 

Fuck he was handsome, he was dressed in a dark navy blue suit that hugged his frame perfectly. Everything he wore was coordinated, all the way down to his watch. You even noticed he had a little 5’oclock shadow coming in today, which made his face even more attractive. A small part of you was screaming to stop looking at him like that, he was married for god sake. But the louder and albeit dumber part of your brain wanted to play with fire. 

“Angel, are you going to answer me?” 

You melted. It had been so long since he had called you that. You had been replaying it over and over in your head every night as you masturbated to the thought of him. Wishing his mouth was the one bringing you to ecstasy instead of your vibrator shoved between your legs. Letting out a soft whimper you sat down at the edge of the chair and looked back at him. 

“I learned,” you gulped, “that you’re married, Mr. Ren.” 

“Hmm.” he started closing in on you, his hands clasped behind his back, dropping his voice dangerously low, “What else did you learn Angel?”

“I learned,” taking in a deep breath, “I learned that you’ve been a bad boy.” 

Ren chuckled and came in front of you, bending at his hips to be at eye level. His hands came around and caressed your cheeks.

“A bad boy?”

“Yes. A very bad boy.”

His lips brushed over yours while his fingers raked through your hair. Your eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure of them against your scalp. You accidentally let out a moan in response to his pets and he took that as an in. Rens lips crushed yours and began licking away for entry, rubbing his hands over your cheeks and hair, he moaned when your mouth opened to accept him. Your hands slithered up to his hair and tugged on the length, as he moaned into you. Both of you were swapping saliva and moans before Ren dropped one hand to your legs. 

“May I, Angel?”

You nodded in response and Ren dropped to his knees in front of you, spreading your knees and pulling your hips to the edge of the chair. Two hands snaked up your thighs and pushed your skirt to your hips. Hooking his fingers into your panties, he ripped them to the floor and began kissing up your right leg. Slowly and carefully caressing all the way up to your waiting core, until he switched sides and began kissing up the opposite leg. You were throbbing in anticipation, hoping that he would finally pay attention to your center. 

After kissing up to your thighs he brought your core to his mouth, harshly exhaling on the folds, clenching from his breath ghosting your folds. Glancing up to you he spoke, “Do bad boys get to eat your little pussy?” 

“I don’t know if you deserve it, Mr. Ren…”

“Hmm,” he dug his thumbs to your center, spreading your folds out in front of him, “Are you sure about that?”

You watched as his eyes were devouring your cunt, you were sure you could come just from the closeness of his face alone. Swallowing slowly you thought about what Ren could do to be a good boy, clearly, he was doing so many naughty things. But you also were playing right in his hands and it was clear he wanted you. 

“Angel, don’t make me ask twice.” 

You opened your mouth to respond to him but were interrupted by a hand smacking down on your pussy. Lurching forward you tried to push Ren away, tears flowing down your cheeks as you cried at his hit. “I don’t think you understand how bad I can be, Angel,” leaning down he kissed your folds, “So I suggest you take what I give you.”

At that he smacked your pussy again, hitting it in the right way to make your clit buzz from the sudden shock. Your scream turned into a moan as Ren began licking and sucking at your folds. Trying to memorize each piece to his memory. He was drinking down every juice that flowed out of you, his nose pressing onto your clit. Pulling away from your entrance he shoved two fingers in before diving towards your clit. Biting and sucking at it without relenting, making your squirm in your seat, begging for more. 

“Your moans are music to my ears, Angel.”

Ren was pressing his fingers as far as they could go inside you, in and out of your hole, stretching you for what was to come. He didn’t break eye contact with you, just staring at your pleasure crumpled face as he fingerfucked you. Suddenly he pulled away earning a whine from you. 

“Please Mr. Ren, I need more.”

“Oh I know you do,” he was up on his feet trying to quickly unbuckle his pants, “I can’t wait to sink into your tight pussy.”

He eagerly lined himself up and plunged in without any warning. Ren moaned into your shoulder before he started his pace, placing his hands on your hips to help anchor to your core. You were bouncing against the chair, clawing at his back and crying out for more. Ren’s lips crashed into yours and the two of you drank in each other’s pleasure, one of his hands dropped to your stomach and began pressing down. 

“Do you feel that, Angel?” he growled in your ear, “That’s my fat cock in you, ruining your pussy for anyone else.” 

Your eyes rolled back at his words, you wanted him to ruin you, you knew no one else could do this for you. He grasped one of your hands and placed it below his on your stomach, fucking into you harder. 

“Tell me what you feel, Angel.” 

Your mind was blank, all you could feel was the clenching of your pussy around his cock, punishing you with his brutal pace. 

“I feel your cock,” you swallowed thickly, pressing your hand down harder as he fucked your cunt harder, “You’re fucking me so deep Ren, please don’t stop.”

“You don’t want me to stop destroying your pussy?”

“Be a good boy and don’t stop. Please, Ren.”

Your begging turned into sobs when he started rubbing your clit, hurling you towards orgasm with each circle. 

“Yes, cum for me Angel, let me feel it.”

You fell forward and cried into his shoulder as it hit. Clenching around his cock you were gushing from his pace, nothing could stop you. The sensations of him deep in your gut was enough to make you blackout. Ren himself was moaning as you came down from your high.

His thrusts started to lose their rhythm until you felt it. His hot cum was pouring out of his cock into you. Pumping you full of his juices while he rested his forehead against yours. Staying there until he felt like he was spent from your cunt. As he pulled out he watched his cum fall down onto the floor below, wiping it with his fingers before pushing it back into you. 

“This stays in here, Angel. When I call you tonight you better still have my cum inside you, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Ren.”

He got up and tucked himself away before moving to sit at his desk. He had already checked out from the moment of passion the two of you had just been locked into. Leaving you swimming in a sea of emotions as you picked up your panties and slipped them on, careful to not lose any of his cum. 

“Have a nice weekend Miss (Y/N).”

-----

Finn and Rose had burst into your apartment at 7:30. Armed with bottles of wine and plenty of snacks for your weekly ‘wine and cheese’ time. A tradition all three of you had started when you met years ago and after your first week working for Kylo Ren, you needed a stiff drink. Everyone gathered around the coffee table in your living room before the questions started. 

“So (Y/N),” Finn took a swing from the bottle and set it down before staring at you, “find any jobs yet?” You choked on a cracker, shit, you hadn’t told them you started working for the First Order. Finn was not going to be pleased, he had hated his time and always vowed to never to stoop to their levels to win cases. He thought all of them were bastards that didn’t deserve licenses to practice. You wondered if he knew Ren or if he had joined the firm after Finn’s time…

“Earth to (Y/N), did you get a job?” 

“Oh, um yeah.”

“Ooo where at?” Rose chimed in. 

A deep breath, “At the First Order.” 

Silence. 

Finn was staring at the plate of cheese in front of him, Rose’s eyes were flitting back and forth between you and Finn. You could tell he was trying to keep it together. 

“What?” 

“I’m a paralegal, working under one of the lawyers there.”

“Who?”

You didn’t answer, you could feel his gaze, he knew something about Ren. Something that he wanted to hide from you. You looked over at Rose who was chugging from the bottle in an effort to stay out of it. 

“(Y/N). What. Lawyer.”

“Kylo Ren.”

Finn shot up and yelled/screamed at the top of his lungs. 

“WHAT!?” He started pacing, “I told you not to work for those people (Y/N), they are bad, and that man is the worst of them.” 

“You don’t know that Finn, I’ve spent the week with him and he’s been-”

“That’s just because he’s trying to get in your pants (Y/N)!”

You froze. There was no way Finn could know that you and Ren had been having an affair, you wouldn’t even call it an affair. It was like an attraction that you couldn’t stop, your bodies were drawn together, aching for release from one another. The thought of Ren sent you over the edge, remembering his words even just from this evening to answer the phone when he called. The two of you never spoke about what you did outside of the moments of passion so it was clear that Ren wasn’t making you his ‘mistress’ it just seemed like if he had the chance he would fuck you and if not he would leave you alone, no arrangement, no nothing. 

“(Y/N) did you not hear me?” 

You snapped up from the floor and met Finn’s eye line, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Finn, Ren has been nothing but nice to me this week, hasn’t even made a-”

“You know he’s married right?”

You narrowed your eyes at that, “Of course I know Finn. I’ve met her.”

Finn took a deep breath and reached up to grab your shoulders, “Have I ever told you why I left the First Order?”

“Yeah, you told us that you didn’t like working for them and wanted to help real people.” 

Rose let out a sigh, you shot a look over to her. Did she know something you didn’t? Finn had told you for years he left because of an issue between him and one of the lawyers there but never gave you the details, could the lawyer in question be Ren? “Sit down, I need to tell you the truth…” 

You sat down and waited for Finn reaching for your glass of wine, Rose had grabbed your hand and squeezed it for reassurance. 

“So when I worked there, I was a lawyer with Ren,” a big swig, “and things were great. We worked well together, I would even call him a friend at the time.” Finn let out a sigh, “But then I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see and he turned on me.” You gulped, what did that mean? Ren seemed like a reserved man, scary looking, but you never thought the demeanor he had was real danger. 

“I walked in on him and our paralegal having sex in his office, like a week after his wedding to Rey.” You gasped, Rose’s grip tightened in your hand, Ren had fucked his other paralegals? Were you a pawn in his little game or was he just so sex-starved that he threw himself at any woman other than his wife? 

“I ran out of there and tried to process what I saw when he caught me and threw me against the wall,” Finn started to tear up, “He told me that under no circumstance was I to breathe a word of what I saw or else he would take care of me himself.” 

“What happened Finn.”

“I told him that I was going to tell Rey, she was so sweet and she loved him so much I didn’t want to help him lie to her,” you walked over to Finn and placed a hand on him, he was trembling. 

“And the next thing I knew I woke up in a hospital bed, with Ren staring at me from a seat. He broke my arm (Y/N) and some of my ribs. He was so angry at me. Once I was awake enough he slid me a check and told me never to talk to him or Rey again or else he would do much worse.”

Finn started sobbing, he was so broken and scared. He trusted Ren, even thought of him as a friend, and he beat him. Beat him. You were so upset, what would Ren do if you told them about sleeping with him? Would he make good on his word with Finn? 

“I’m so sorry Finn. I didn’t know that happened, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe (Y/N), I used the money to fund the firm-”

Your phone started ringing. 

Oh fuck, Ren was calling you. In the middle of this bombshell. 

“Do you want me to get that (Y/N)?” Rose reached for your phone. 

“No,” you blurted out and lunged, “I can get it, I’ll be right back.”Shutting yourself into your bedroom you answered the call. “Hello, this is (Y/N)”

“Angel, I have five minutes,” you could hear his labored breathing, he must have been touching himself when he called you, “I need to hear your tight little cunt and it better have my cum in it.”

You gulped, “Yes Mr. ren, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to fuck yourself and tell me what you feel, Angel.” You heard him through the phone fisting his cock to the thought of your pussy still full of his cum. You locked the door to your room and got on the bed and slithered your hand down to your wet slit. Rubbing tight circles over your clit you sighed into the phone. 

“Oh yes Angel, tell me, are you rubbing your little clit for me?” 

“Yes Mr. Ren, I’m so wet for you already.”

“Mhmm.”

You traced a line up and down your slit before dipping a finger into your entrance, gasping when you felt your wetness. Your juices were mixing with the leftover cum he had given you, making it so easy to slip a finger inside. “Oh fuck.”

“Are you fingering yourself like I asked Angel? Is your little cunt swallowing you?”

You moaned again and set your phone on speaker and laid it down between your legs and started fucking yourself on your fingers, moaning so Ren could hear how wet you are for him. The slick slapping of your hand was filling the room, you were sure he could tell how close you were already. 

“Angel, after you cum you’re going to lick your fingers clean and tell me what it’s like.”

“Yes please, Ren can I cum, please.”

“Cum Angel, cum for me.”

You groaned as your orgasm hit, clenching around your fingers while you squirted on the bed. Fucking yourself with a mixture of both of your cums, it was euphoric. You heard Ren grunt and groan through the phone before saying your name while he came on himself. Pulling out you brought the phone back to your ear and made a big show out of licking yourself clean. 

“How is it?” he breathed through the phone.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” You heard his grin through the phone before he said goodnight. Leaving you to clean up and face your friends, the same friends who loathed the man you just came with. Should be a fun rest of the night. 

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads​ @morby​ @kirah36​ @clumsycopy​ @onlykyloscenes​

[jovialjuggernaut-draws]

Yo, anon from before. How about instead of the two fics, then maybe a short oneshot where Sokka and Zuko take a night walk and confess their feelings. If you don't want to do that then that's okay. Also, the art is really cool!

Hey so I took this and ran with it and ended up with over 2k words so! Enjoy your oneshot!

Zuko rubbed the sleep out of his eye, refocusing on the rolled parchment before him. He still couldn't tell if the character he was looking at had a stroke missing, or if it was simply a word he actually didn't know.

"Or," Sokka's voice drifted over his shoulder, startling him into dropping the scroll, "You're too tired to read. Come on, let's do something fun." 

Zuko yawned, retrieving the scroll and rolling it up properly. "You're not going to try to make me go to bed?" 

"Nope. Never works, anyway, you just end up staring at the ceiling and thinking about how much work you could be getting done, which kind of defeats the purpose."

Zuko couldn't help but huff out a short laugh. Sokka cracked that crooked grin he always got. "You know me so well. Well, what are we doing, then?"

Sokka presented him with a papier-mâché mask, pulling his own down over his face. The mask he wore was red and twisted, the mask of an evil spirit. He'd handed Zuko a blue one, reminiscent of his old Blue Spirit mask, but slightly different in its design. He imagined it was modeled for the same character. 

"There's a festival going on in town. It's winding down by now, but we should still make it in time for the fireworks." 

Zuko smiled, slipping the mask on and pulling a relatively casual robe from his armoire to pull on. 

"Ooh, fancy. Getting dressed up for me?" Sokka teased. He was dressed down in Water Tribe blues, the soft cotton out of place compared with Zuko's silks. 

"It's all I have." Zuko admitted, embarrassed. 

Sokka shrugged. "It'll do. Just try not to get mugged." 

"I'm more worried about getting caught by the guards. We're going to look like suspicious characters, sneaking out of the palace at night in masks." 

"Then we have to be extra careful not to get caught, don't we?" 

Zuko couldn't see his face, but he was perfectly familiar with the mischievous grin Sokka was undoubtedly wearing beneath the grimacing mask. Zuko's lips tugged into an answering conspiratorial smile. 

"Lead the way."

Sokka obeyed, tugging the Fire Lord through the servant's corridors and to a suspiciously uneven spot in the wall. He slid a brick out of place, revealing a mechanism beneath, and directed Zuko to send a pulse of fire into it, revealing one of the palace's many secret passageways. 

"How did you know this was here?" Zuko probed, padding quickly behind his guide. 

"Oh, Ty Lee showed Suki, and Suki showed me. Pretty nifty, right?" 

Of course, Ty Lee was perfectly familiar with the ins and outs of the palace. Azula never could sit still for long, not when there was trouble to get into, and never did so without someone to take the potential fall for her. 

"Useful, yeah." Zuko agreed. 

The air before them became suddenly cool, a breeze flowing in from the loose-fitting bricks in the flat wall. Sokka bent down, sliding his fingers between two of the bricks, and tugged on a hidden mechanism, sliding the other end of the passage open. 

The wall opened up onto a rooftop in the upper part of the city, affording them a view of the streets below. Citizens in their finest clothes, donning masks of all colors and designs, bustled about the busy paths. Booths lined both sides of the main thoroughfare, merchants hawking their wares, gamesmasters recruiting players, the scent of foods wafting out from here and there. 

Zuko had never attended a festival like this, personally. It would seem too common, and awfully unrefined, for a prince to be prancing about. They watched on from afar, once or twice, putting in official appearances, but even then… 

Zuko couldn't remember festivals in the capital city having ever been so exuberant.  People seemed joyous, unburdened, laughing openly and easily with one another, bumping into strangers without sparing a thought. 

It was odd, yes, but also comforting, in a way the Fire Lord couldn't quite articulate. 

"Come on! They're doing the fireworks by the harbor, we want to get a good view!" Sokka cut through his thoughts, as he was so talented at doing, and tugged him forward. 

They hopped between rooftops for a bit, avoiding the bustling crowds, until they came to an alleyway with boxes stacked high, an easy way to descend. Zuko hopped down in two long jumps, easily reaching the street level before his companion, who was delicately sliding down each box. 

"No fair! I have to be nice to my leg still!" Sokka whined. Zuko smirked back at him, hidden behind the blue mask. 

"I'll keep that in mind. I forget how delicate you are, Princess." 

"Hey!" Sokka punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You can't make that joke! You're an actual Prince!"

"I don't know if you've heard, but I've been promoted. I have a new title now." 

"Yeah, yeah, get a big head about it." Sokka grumbled in mock aggravation.

"Don't worry, I could never get a bigger head than yours." Zuko held a hand to his face to cover his smile at Sokka's dramatically offended reaction, forgetting it was already hidden by the mask. 

"Fine! I won't let you share my fire flakes, then!" Sokka stomped off, huffing. 

"Oh, don't worry. I can afford my own." Zuko responded loftily. 

"I changed my mind, actually! You're buying the snacks!" 

Zuko stifled his laughter, following Sokka's lead as the other boy led the way between stalls, picking up various spicy snacks and a couple of drinks Zuko wasn't sure he trusted him with. 

"Do you know how strong those are?" He interrogated. Sokka shrugged. 

"We'll find out, won't we? Come on, let's go get a good seat. They're starting soon." 

Sokka led the way through several alleys, away from the busy main street, until the crowd thinned. 

The building he climbed up was in minor need of repair, and the windows were darkened, leaving them reasonably certain it was empty. Zuko gave him a leg up, minding the mostly-healed injury, and passed the snacks up after. He ignored the hand Sokka dangled down to assist him, smoothly vaulting up the wall onto the roof next to him. 

"Show off." Sokka lifted his mask to rest on top of his head, revealing the dramatic roll of his eyes. Zuko followed suit, sliding his mask to the side, letting Sokka see his smirk. "Ugh, sit down already. And pass me the fire flakes." 

Zuko complied, resting next to the other close enough for their knees to brush as they dangled their legs over the side of the roof. Sokka munched the spicy snack, using his drink to cool his mouth down. Again, Zuko worried about its strength, sipping at his own. It didn't taste very alcoholic, but it was also deliciously tangy, which could be pretty deceptive. 

The whistle of the first firework pulled him from his musing.

The blast shot high in the sky, a sparkling array of colors scattering and shimmering against the dark sky beyond. The next blasts came in clusters, the explosions lighting up the sky in carefully coordinated patterns. Below, several master firebenders synchronised a dance with the fireworks, bending dragons of flame to follow the blasts. 

"Wow…" Sokka breathed next to him. 

Zuko understood the wonder. He'd seen fireworks before, sure, but they were never focussed near the palace. The noise alone was reason enough, and the soot left behind to clean up after solidified their location as far away from the nobility as possible. 

"You know…" Sokka murmured, leaning into Zuko, their shoulders bumping together. "I always thought of firebending as a scary thing."

Zuko hummed. "It can be. You had good reason."

"Yeah, but…" Sokka huffed, choosing his words. "When we first went to a festival like this, we saw the fire dancers performing just like that, fire dragon and all. I'd never even considered that bending could be used for something like that. Something beautiful." 

Sokka's eyes were trained on the display in front of them. Zuko searched them, looking for the further meaning in his words. 

"All bending is like that, I think." Zuko finally said. Sokka tore his eyes away from the fireworks to catch his gaze. The colors reflected so clearly in his icy blue eyes. "Both beauty and danger. I mean, just look at what your sister can do with hers."

Sokka winced for a moment, leaning away. He forced a laugh. "Yeah, she's pretty scary. Everyone thinks of waterbending as soft and healing but, hoo boy, can she do some damage."

Zuko felt like he'd missed something, ruined a moment he hadn't even known was happening. He simply nodded. "Exactly." 

They went back to sharing their snacks and watching the performance, a strange silence settling between them. 

Zuko cleared his throat, desperate to destroy the awkwardness he'd unwittingly dropped on them. "So… what's the festival for? Do you know?"

Sokka laughed, genuinely this time. "Shouldn't you know? You're the Fire Lord, right?" 

Zuko shrugged. Sokka smiled, looking out over the crowd a few streets away. "They're celebrating just to celebrate. Because they can."

"Oh."

Sokka nudged him, bumping their shoulders again. "We did this, you know. Even here, the people were scared. The war wasn't good for anyone. We made this possible."

Zuko shrunk into himself, familiar guilt settling into his stomach. Sokka set down the cup, nearly empty, and turned to face him fully, folding his legs under him. 

"You made this possible." He emphasized. "This is why you've been working so hard. Your people can celebrate like this, have fun openly in the streets, watch some fireworks! Did you see how many people from other nations were there, too?" Sokka reached out, tilting Zuko's chin to force him to look back at him. Zuko swallowed, overwhelmed by the emotion in Sokka's crystal blue eyes. "We fought so hard for this, and it's finally possible. This is… well, this is what I wanted to show you." He dropped his hand, looking away, embarrassed. Zuko felt his lips part in surprise, eyes wide. He looked out over the crowd, that strangely comforting feeling from before returning, and then looked back at Sokka. 

Compelled by an urge he'd felt many times before but never acted on, he leaned forward, reaching for Sokka's face. Cradling his cheeks in both hands, he drew him in, their lips finally meeting. Sokka's lips twitched into a smile against his, tilting his head properly and meeting the kiss firmly. Zuko felt like his brain had melted, unable to process the thought that Sokka was kissing him back, had so long ago convinced himself it was hopeless. Tentatively, he darted his tongue out, licking at Sokka's lower lip in a question. Again, Sokka responded positively, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

Zuko leaned forward further, bending Sokka back towards the tiles of the roof, crowding over him possessively. Sokka laughed against him, winding his arms around Zuko's neck. 

"A little pushy, are we?" He smirked. 

Zuko swallowed, pulling back as far as Sokka's arms would allow. "I, uh… I think, maybe, those drinks were, um, stronger than we thought?" He rambled defensively. 

"Oh, no. You don't get to blame this on the alcohol." Sokka tugged him down, drawing him into another kiss. "Besides, I got virgin drinks anyway. Completely alcohol-free. Like a good boy."

Zuko stared in shock, agape. "You didn't!" 

"I did!"

"You let me believe they were alcoholic!" 

Sokka shrugged. "You decided that, yourself. I just didn't contradict you." 

Zuko groaned, burying his face in Sokka's collarbone. "Ugh, it's the same thing!" He felt Sokka's laugh, shoulders moving against him. "I hate you."

"Well, I love you." Sokka grinned, nudging Zuko's temple with his nose, urging the other to meet his gaze again. "Hey. I mean it. I really do." 

Zuko swore his heart stopped. The air disappeared from his lungs. The churning of the chi in his gut stilled. He stared.

"I love you." Sokka repeated. 

Zuko swallowed. He buried his face in Sokka's shoulder again, rubbing his forehead against his collarbone. He couldn't meet his eyes when he said it. "I love you. Also." 

A hearty laugh bumped him off of Sokka's shoulder, and the tribesman held his face in both hands. "Get back to kissing me, you big dork." He ordered. 

Zuko had never been so glad to follow an order in his life.