Star Wars: As It All Burns: Watching all these angels fall

@lilyrose225writes @norcumi @queenkit

Because you know why I’m tagging you in porn. Without plot. Mostly.

Fandom: Star Wars
AU: As It All Burns
Word Count: 845
Characters: Cody | CC-2224, Ebra (OC)
Ships: Cody/Ebra

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content

All Cody wants is to wipe the nightmare from his mind again, and keep it gone for a while.

The nightmare is always the same, full of the stench of blaster-burnt flesh. His finger on the trigger, firing into the unsuspecting back of his Jedi’s Padawan. Cutting down a girl only half again his age.

Waking up is a blessing, even if it’s with one hand over his mouth, and the other at his throat, sharp nails digging into soft flesh. Cody surges against the person holding him down, trying to throw them off, and they only move with him, and he feels invisible hands grab at his ankles and his wrists, clamping down hard to hold him in place. Reminding him where he is.

“No screaming.” It takes a moment to place the voice as Ebra’s, to remind himself where he is and stop fighting the invisible bonds. When she removes her hand from his mouth, he doesn’t scream, just lunges up to catch her in a harsh kiss that’s all sharp teeth and the taste of blood in his mouth.

The hand at his throat shifts, sliding around behind his neck, and Cody can feel Ebra’s nails digging into his skin. There are tender welts on his throat and his cheek, and he knows there will be more to find later. Right now, he doesn’t care. Just wants to wipe the nightmare out of his mind, and this is the only thing that’s proven effective for longer than the activity lasts.

“Still your scourge, is it?” Ebra uses her free hand to undo the pressure seals on his shirt, shoving it back over his shoulders while he nips at her throat, tasting clean sweat and the faint hint of soap.

Cody doesn’t answer in words, just forces his hands to undo the clasps of her jacket through the trembling. Untying the shirt beneath, and leaning in to press hungry kisses down the line of golden-brown skin revealed. All he wants right now is to immerse himself in the scent and taste and sound of the here-and-now, in the reminder that the Jedi are not fallen, that he will not murder any and all he meets.

He feels the quiet chuckle as much as hears it, and Ebra moves away enough to stand up, shedding shirt and jacket together. Bare to the waist, standing between his knees as he sits up on the bunk. Cody presses a kiss just above her navel, and another below, hands busy with the clasps on her trousers. Shoving them out of his way as he slides off the bunk to kneel at her feet.

Ebra hisses as he leans in closer, nose brushing over her clit. The heady smell of her fills his nostrils, and Cody presses an open-mouthed kiss to her clit. Listening to the sharp hisses and gasps that he elicits with tongue and teeth, at the hungry keening as he drives her higher. Letting the sounds of desire wipe everything else from his mind, until there’s nothing but the demands of desire.

Letting himself simply be, here and now, focused on his partner. Grinning against her stomach as she tugs at his hair, pulling him away from over-sensitive flesh after she’s shouted her satisfaction to the bare ceiling of their shared cabin.

“Get up.” Ebra drags him to his feet, dragging him with her until she’s on the edge of the tiny desk. Scrambling for the small bottle of lube, slicked and callused fingers wrapping around his hard flesh. Cody lets her guide him, lets her slide down on him, heat and slick. He nips once more at her throat, at collar and down to nipples, soothing abraded flesh with his tongue after.

Rolling his hips at her direction, deep and slow and stretching out the moment for as long as he will last. Hands at her hips, sliding back to knead at the soft flesh of her ass. Warmth and hunger, and he can feel the gentle press of her mind against his now, offering and sliding in when given glad invitation. Letting him feel the echo of his movements, feel her own hunger and building pleasure.

The feel of being penetrated in slow rolls of the hips, the faint burn of friction from hair against bare skin, against sensitized flesh. Teeth on her skin, and the thrill each nip sends down her spine. The delight at his own desire, his own pleasure, his delight in the feel of her hands on his back, the score of her nails along his back.

Building between them with each touch, each thrust, and Cody loses track of time, of everything but the movements between them. Knows only this moment until he feels it crest, buries himself deep as he presses his face into the hollow of Ebra’s shoulder. Letting himself go, and letting her take full control, to find her own release soon after he has his.

Nothing in his mind now but static and satisfied hunger, and Cody lets himself be directed to the fresher to clean up, and from there back to their shared bunk. Perhaps now he’ll sleep through the night cycle.

Ok. Wow. So, someone utterly and completely missed the point of a comment, in that “Well, anyone who makes me lose my temper, I dump” is not even in the same airspace as “These are reasons men yell at people that have nothing to do with being ‘provoked’ into losing their temper”.

Not to mention, maybe the solution to losing one’s temper is learning how to control it, not blaming other people for your faults, and cutting them out of your life because of it. I mean, I can see that it’s probably better for them not to be around you, because blaming them for your actions is a problem, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less a bag of dicks.

/vagueblogging

Breakfast, packages in the mail, vet appointment made for Jessamine for Friday, doctor’s appointment dealt with (and I still am absolutely fucking terrified of needles, but new coping mechanism is indeed helping, yay), made appointment for different doctor’s appointment for next Wednesday, got groceries. Ate a can of pineapple chunks.

Only thing I planned to do today that I have not done is grab a new filter for my water pitcher. I may manage that later, or I may not. Either way, it doesn’t involve going out, just going down to the house.

Hugs for EVERYONE*

morgynleri:

*hugs you all* Because today is a day for hugs, and I’m going to run out of spoons if I go putting hugs in everyone’s ask box.

Feel free to reblog this to give a hug to every one of your followers.

*who is comfortable with being hugged. If you do not like hugs or are uncomfortable with physical contact, or even just prefer not a hug from someone not a mutual friend, cookies or other snacks suitable for your dietary needs and restrictions.

Star Wars: All Her Daughters: Home

princesspotpourri:

morgynleri:

AO3 | DW

For @theotherguysride, because you sparked this.

@norcumi, @lilyrose225writes, @queenkit

Fandom: Star Wars: Prequel Trilogy
AU: All Her Daughters
Word Count: 500
Characters: Tree | CC-0623 (OC)

Tree takes a moment to watch the sun set and the stars come out, and to reflect on the unexpected direction life has taken.

The house is a sprawling thing of interconnected rooms and large windows and skylights, difficult to defend but full of sunlight and the bright laughter of small children. On top of a hill next to a small lake, with trees that come just too close for an ex-soldier’s comfort. Nothing like they’d thought they’d have after the war.

Of course, they never thought they’d be alive at the end of the war.

Tree sits on one of the flat sections of roof, watching the sky turning from 501st blue and white to 212th gold and Coruscant scarlet and the violet willow of his own discarded armor. Alone for the moment, but that’s why he’s up here. Everyone has their own way of finding a moment’s peace, and everyone knows not to pester those who have sought such privacy.

Looking away from the first pinprick of stars in a steadily darkening sky, he turns his attention to the wide swatch of grass between the house and the lake, where there are still children playing. The older younglings, watched over by Generals Kenobi and Secura – no. Not Generals. Master Kenobi and Knight Secura. Jedi, only Jedi, and nothing more.

The younger ones will already be inside, fed dinner and pestering Master Yoda for bedtime stories. The little green troll had shown up soon after they’d finished the initial building of the house, and Kenobi had let him stay. It seems to be working out well enough, and Tree knows that it helps to have another person to watch out for the younglings, born and adopted.

And maybe having Yoda here is why the Jedi Order hasn’t come calling to try to scoop up any of the younglings, even the ones who could have been taken. Tree doesn’t really know, and for all that the clones were made of the Jedi, he doesn’t want to know. It’s enough that their children will stay here, with them, all of them.

Tree shakes his head, a small smile crossing his face as he tilts his head back again, watching the stars as the light from the sun vanishes over the horizon. He never visited most of them, though he could name them, the ones that were once part of the Republic, with worlds spinning around them. Some of them still are, and those that aren’t, well. It’s not his job to spy on them, or the job of his Jedi and his brothers to bring them back into the fold.

It still feels strange, to not have all of that weight on his shoulders, even if they were made to bear it. All he’s responsible for now is this house, and those within it, and he has plenty of help with that.

He watches the stars for a long moment more, listening to the clatter of younglings being herded back inside, before he lets out a long breath, and pushes up from his chair, heading for the trap door and the family waiting for him.

Notes:

Tree has mostly only existed on the periphery of Butcher and River so far, but he’s half of the commanders – Mouse is the other – of the group of SpecOps clones that were mixed Jango-clones and Shmi-clones (because if you try to clone Anakin, you get Shmi instead).

This is such a beautiful description of a moment in time. And such a hopeful AU! I’m off to ao3 to see if there’s more.

A New Year’s Eve well spent, IMO. 🙂

Thank you!

There is more to the AU, though I’m not sure all of it would count as being as hopeful as this. Though except for The Butcher and the River, they all work toward this end, plotwise. (The Butcher and the River sets a few things up for this, and then veers off into Time-Travel and a very messy variation of fixing a few things, because they’re Butcher and River, and messy is kinda their trademark.)

Star Wars: All Her Daughters: Home

AO3 | DW

For @theotherguysride, because you sparked this.

@norcumi, @lilyrose225writes, @queenkit

Fandom: Star Wars: Prequel Trilogy
AU: All Her Daughters
Word Count: 500
Characters: Tree | CC-0623 (OC)

Tree takes a moment to watch the sun set and the stars come out, and to reflect on the unexpected direction life has taken.

The house is a sprawling thing of interconnected rooms and large windows and skylights, difficult to defend but full of sunlight and the bright laughter of small children. On top of a hill next to a small lake, with trees that come just too close for an ex-soldier’s comfort. Nothing like they’d thought they’d have after the war.

Of course, they never thought they’d be alive at the end of the war.

Tree sits on one of the flat sections of roof, watching the sky turning from 501st blue and white to 212th gold and Coruscant scarlet and the violet willow of his own discarded armor. Alone for the moment, but that’s why he’s up here. Everyone has their own way of finding a moment’s peace, and everyone knows not to pester those who have sought such privacy.

Looking away from the first pinprick of stars in a steadily darkening sky, he turns his attention to the wide swatch of grass between the house and the lake, where there are still children playing. The older younglings, watched over by Generals Kenobi and Secura – no. Not Generals. Master Kenobi and Knight Secura. Jedi, only Jedi, and nothing more.

The younger ones will already be inside, fed dinner and pestering Master Yoda for bedtime stories. The little green troll had shown up soon after they’d finished the initial building of the house, and Kenobi had let him stay. It seems to be working out well enough, and Tree knows that it helps to have another person to watch out for the younglings, born and adopted.

And maybe having Yoda here is why the Jedi Order hasn’t come calling to try to scoop up any of the younglings, even the ones who could have been taken. Tree doesn’t really know, and for all that the clones were made of the Jedi, he doesn’t want to know. It’s enough that their children will stay here, with them, all of them.

Tree shakes his head, a small smile crossing his face as he tilts his head back again, watching the stars as the light from the sun vanishes over the horizon. He never visited most of them, though he could name them, the ones that were once part of the Republic, with worlds spinning around them. Some of them still are, and those that aren’t, well. It’s not his job to spy on them, or the job of his Jedi and his brothers to bring them back into the fold.

It still feels strange, to not have all of that weight on his shoulders, even if they were made to bear it. All he’s responsible for now is this house, and those within it, and he has plenty of help with that.

He watches the stars for a long moment more, listening to the clatter of younglings being herded back inside, before he lets out a long breath, and pushes up from his chair, heading for the trap door and the family waiting for him.

Notes:

Tree has mostly only existed on the periphery of Butcher and River so far, but he’s half of the commanders – Mouse is the other – of the group of SpecOps clones that were mixed Jango-clones and Shmi-clones (because if you try to clone Anakin, you get Shmi instead).

Stupid fucking cold. I had a three hour nap yesterday, and then four and a half hours of sleep. For a reasonable margin of error. It was barely after 0700 when I woke up, and could not get back to sleep, and I wasn’t able to get to sleep until sometime after 0200. Hopefully there was four and a half hours of sleep in there.

Am pretty certain I’m going to end up with more naps today. Hopefully I get enough sleep from the naps to cope, because I want to stomp all over this damned thing just for leaving me awake this damned early.

(Since I couldn’t sleep, I have now swept my stairs of snow, and taken out the kitchen trash. It seemed to be a good idea at the time.)

penbrydd:

Your periodic reminder that in people who have been subject to threats and punishment for having emotional responses or ‘inappropriate’ facial expressions, panic attacks look different.

They may look like the person has become calmer and less involved, dismissive, even. Some people become intensely subservient and silent. Some become catatonic.

Panic doesn’t always involve screaming, crying, and obvious signs of distress. It involves an extreme form of the person’s fear response – which can be altered by circumstance, ability, and what they’ve learnt to fear.

Which is to say, it’s not your place to decide someone isn’t having a panic attack, when they’ve told you that’s what’s happening.