#and it gets worse in kotfe since he sees his time in the carbonite as 'not being alive' therefore is he is still 27 while theron is 34

[chaoticstrata]

WIP Chapter 3

Posting more of Chapter 3 because whenever I'm stuck on something and I post a little snippet of it, it seems to help me write more. Pfft. The fuck if I know why. XD -------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t tell me you fell back asleep standing up, old man,” Aketho’s voice teased from the doorway, Imperial accent fully back in his voice now.

“Who are you calling old?” Theron scoffed and cracked open an eye to playfully glare at the Chiss.

“The handsome man I see in front of me,” the younger spy said smoothly, walking in and right up to the human, wrapping his arms around his waist. “And like I said last night, you’ve aged like fine wine.”

“Thanks,” the human chuckled, leaning in for a quick kiss. Reaching up, he tucked some hair behind Aketho’s ear. “The caf’s brewing, I take it?”

“It is,” the Chiss confirmed. His crimson eyes searched Theron’s for a moment before he asked, “Is everything alright?”

A small smile spread across Theron’s lips as he replied, “It is, just thinking.”

“Second thoughts?”

“Stars, no,” he responded, kissing Aketho’s forehead. “I wouldn’t give up the time we spent together for anything. That includes every moment from when we first met to now.”

“I…um…good to know,” the younger man said, visibly flustered--Theron had to admit he felt a bit of smug pride that he managed to get that reaction, especially with how flustered Aketho usually made him feel. And the blush that spread across the Chiss’ cheeks was delightful--a lovely shade of reddish purple on his cool blue skin. Suddenly, red eyes narrowed in a half-hearted glare, and before Theron could question him on it, a sharp pinch to his rear had him yelping in surprise. 

“What the hell!?”

“I can see that smug look; you’re terrible at hiding it,” Aketho sassed, backing them into the spray of the shower. He continued to do so until Theron’s back was flush against the tiled wall. A shiver ran through the human at the shock of cold porcelain on warm skin.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it,” Theron chuckled, pulling the Chiss in closer, wanting to feel his skin warm against his own. “And can you blame me? You’ve had me flustered since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Fair enough,” the younger man said, grinning and leaning up to kiss Theron, bringing his body flush against him. 

When Aketho’s tongue slipped past his lips, skillfully taking his breath away, Theron moaned and pulled him in closer. He reached up and cupped the back of the Cipher’s head, fingers weaving into slightly damp hair. Cool hands explored his body, pulling more soft noises from his throat while lightly calloused fingers danced over his skin. The Chiss stepped away after a moment, leaving Theron to chase those soft blue lips. 

Aketho was smirking as he reached over for one of the bottles sitting on a shelf in the shower. He poured some of the clear viscous liquid inside it into his hand before asking, “Would you mind getting your hair wet for me, please?”

Theron bit back a moan, knowing what the other man was planning--Stars, he always knew he loved having someone play with his hair, but with Aketho it was just…better. He couldn’t explain it. The former Cipher seemed to know what to do to drive him wild with those fingers of his. And the thought of the other man washing his hair…fuck. Quickly he stepped under the spray and soaked his hair, running his fingers through it for good measure. As soon as he stepped out of the spray and turned back around to face the Chiss, sud covered fingers were in his locks, lathering them up as his scalp was massaged. Theron did moan this time, leaning into the touch as Aketho washed his hair.

“Fuck.”

“I must say, Theron, I rather love how much you enjoy having your hair messed with,” Aketho said, voice soft as he gently nudged him backward to rinse his hair. “You must be a delight during a haircut.”

#strata wip #swtor #swtor fanfiction #theron shan #aketho #theron shan / imperial agent #imperial agent #enjoy the snip! #should I post my theron headcanons? #yes aketho calling theron old is going to be a strange love language thing for them #and it gets worse in kotfe since he sees his time in the carbonite as 'not being alive' therefore is he is still 27 while theron is 34 #despite the fact that's not how that works #I'm pretty sure anyways. #lol

[rainofaugustsith]

I’ve been debating posting this because I know it may lead to anger (hell, I already walk on eggshells posting anything critical of a certain faction), and I don’t want that. On the other hand when I’m thinking about skipping characters and i will never skip them past certain expacs because of this, I feel like it’s worth discussing.

Arcann. And why I will never save him. It’s not a discussion of his morals or what he did or whether I like him or not, and it’s certainly not a commentary on whether YOU should like him, save him, romance him or create an entire fanfiction universe where your OC and Arcann rule.

This is just why I won’t.

I really don’t like the word “redeemed” or the way it is handled in SWTOR. “Redeemed” seems to mostly mean “be a Jedi/LS” which rather reminds me of certain religions that say you’re only “saved” if you accept their particular belief system, regardless of what you do with your life or what you believe or adhere to. 

Anyway, though, redemption and forgiveness do not mean you are obligated to interact with the person again. Or, they shouldn’t.

This is the major issue I have with Arcann. I am not going to get into all the “but Arcann did this” or “this character is worse” or “he does or doesn’t deserve redemption” because those conversations just piss everyone off and lead to fights. Arcann will never be saved in KOTET on any character I play for one reason: I do not think my Commander should have to be in close contact with her former assailant.

Arcann’s “redemption” or “second chance” or “justice” or whatever the fuck you want to call it should not be tied to you welcoming him to your Alliance or becoming his friend. Arcann could also have been “redeemed” or given a “second chance” or sent to prison far away from you. 

That’s not how the game sees it, though. You don’t have a chance to say “I’ll let you go, but I never want to see your face anywhere around here again.” The game sets it up so that in order to “redeem” Arcann, you are forced to give him a central place in your Alliance. You are expected to work side by side with someone who caused you direct and lasting physical harm and harmed your loved ones. 

You are expected to give him and his mother the places of trust that were held by your close advisors. Lana and Theron have been there for you since you met in your faction and on Manaan, which is seven or eight years by the time you get to KOTET, but they are brushed aside in the final chapter for Arcann and Senya.

And if you say “no, please, I really don’t want to work with someone who literally stabbed me and threw me into carbonite for five years” and “no, I really don’t want my assailant to take the place of the advisors I trust implicitly, who have never raised a hand to hurt me,” the game acts like you kick puppies for fun. They don’t even have you settle things directly with Arcann at first, you have to go through the scenes of Senya pleading for her son’s life, which makes it even worse.

That’s not fair. Not that life is fair, or games are fair, but I really don’t like the way this seems to suggest that a survivor of violence who decides they do not want to have a close personal relationship with their former attacker is doing something wrong.

Of course, they do this with Koth and Vaylin, too. I love Lana, but I think it’s very, very shitty that she brings Senya on board without asking anyone else for their input, knowing full well that Senya hunted and tried to hurt Koth. There’s no warning, there’s no discussion, boom, there she is. When Koth expresses anger, unease and suspicion of Senya, it’s blown off and he’s depicted in a negative light. He’s told, in no uncertain terms, to get over it. After all Senya’s not trying to hurt him now so it should all be water under the bridge, or so the game says. Never mind that this is a person who, in his words, “hunted him like a dog” for years. He’s supposed to be cool with her presence. 

Vaylin will not go with her mother at the end of KOTFE. Why should she? She has no reason to trust Senya, nor is she obligated to forgive or reconcile with her. Vaylin getting help should not have depended on Vaylin trusting or going with Senya and Arcann.

And from that we get “you’re beyond redemption” and humiliating Vaylin in front of the entire galaxy on live HoloNet by using her keyword, and the game doesn’t even give us a choice about that. Because she won’t make nice with Senya and Arcann there’s no way out for her, and that’s just not right.

I feel like we often, in fiction and in real life, put more pressure on the victims of violence to forgive and reconcile than we do the attackers to face the consequences of their actions. The consequence might mean that even if it’s family, they don’t want anything to do with you anymore. They should have that right.

#swtor critical #anti Senya #Anti Arcann #SWTOR

[riajade01]

Do you ever think of the moment where Quinn is on DK when the Outlader/SW visits Acina? The moment when he tried to reveal himself, only to realise that he couldn't face her ... what if she doesn't love him anymore?

Oh, Nony. Yes I have. I’ve thought about it so much I decided not to make it canon. Something about the five years in carbonite pushes all of my personal abandonment buttons in a way that makes it completely unfun to write, so my post-SoR universe looks very different in the mainverse. But if it were canon, this is how I imagine it went. I’m so sorry - KOTFE is basically my second-bleakest AU. 

Trigger warning for mentions and descriptions of PTSD flashbacks, depression, thoughts of self harm, and general trauma apply.

Quinn hurried through the halls of the Citadel, gut aflutter with excitement and terror.

She was here. The Fury - her Fury - had landed five minutes ago. For the first time in six years they were in the same city.

His boots sliced through a long rectangle of sunlight admitted by a floor-to-ceiling window and he flinched back, eyes screwed shut against the glare, cursing internally. Months since Empress Acina signed his release forms and still he had to prepare himself for contact with sunlight.

It wasn’t the only physical challenge he’d taken with him from prison. Six years of sleeping on a barely-adequate bunk - Imperial prisons were designed to exact a toll on their occupants during all activities including sleep - meant his back ached constantly, now, twinging when least expected even after two months of physical therapy and a steady diet of painkillers. It would get better with time. He hoped. He was nearly fifty; injury was more persistent now than it had been once.

He shoved that thought away as violently as he could, focusing instead on her. He had no idea how to prepare himself for seeing his wife again. He’d longed for her desperately, and now… his own troubles, coupled with knowing what she had gone through… he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to hold himself together.

He slowed just inside the exit to the speeder pad, heart hammering in his chest.

And she was there. Clad in familiar armor - the last thing he’d seen her in - amber eyes luminous as she gave a brief glance at her surroundings, Mara looked as if she’d only been gone for an hour.

No. That was wrong. His heart sank into his stomach as he studied her. Oh, she was beautiful as ever, a cortosis pillar of strength. But her her hair was wrapped in a heavy-looking bun.

Aside from specific ceremonial functions, she’d only ever let her hair grow when she was too preoccupied to cut it. Now that he was looking, he could see the dark circles, the tension that said her straight back was borne of stress rather than pride. As he watched she cocked her head, as if listening, lip curled in a snarl that was gone almost before it started, and she took a step out onto the speeder pad.

Quinn lifted one foot to begin moving toward her… and Theron Shan stepped out of the hangar bay, eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings and muttered something to Mara, who rolled her eyes fondly and muttered back. The moment of near-levity fled as she frowned again, eyes darting about her in something far closer to panic than he’d ever seen from her. Lord Beniko stepped to her other side, murmuring low, and Mara relaxed fractionally, the panic fading to a sadness that was almost physically painful to see.

He seemed frozen in time as he watched them move toward the speeder. Finally, his feet obeyed his orders to move, but as he stepped forward he caught his reflection in the transparisteel glass, and froze again.

He hardly recognized the collection of deep lines and silvered hair that stared back at him. Jumping at shadows, too cowardly to move, plagued by chronic aches and nightmares he preferred not to think too deeply about…. Prison had not been kind to him.

Worse, he’d failed her. That brief flash of trauma…. His failure to find her consigned her to a terror that was probably similar to his own and not something he’d wish on his worst enemy - well, perhaps on Agent Shan - let alone the love of his life. It was his fault and if she found comfort in whatever form with the people who did manage to rescue her, how could he argue?

How could he interfere? He was a wraith, a pathetic version of his former self who had been too pathetic to help her in the first place.

He forced himself to watch the shuttle disappear behind the city skyline before he returned to his quarters and the bottle of whiskey that awaited him.

***

“You were my failed experiment,” Valkorion purred in her mind as she took in her first glimpse of Kaas City since joining Darth Marr’s expedition six years prior.

Only long discipline, and the surety that he’d just jump to whoever happened to be nearby, kept her from driving her own blade through her skull. Fuck you, you Mother-cursed pile of dung, she growled internally and stepped out into the Kaas City morning.

She was home; he didn’t get to ruin this for her. At least, any more than it was already ruined. Her father and aunts had been killed in the war - her aunt Reyna mere weeks before the surrender - and Mara had purposely kept her distance from what remained of her house, lest they catch the attention of Valkorion’s Force-damned children. Huelwen didn’t even know she was on Dromund Kaas right now.

“So how many years in prison will I get if I spit on the sidewalk? Or is that a capital offense?” Theron’s voice was almost painfully light, a clear attempt to lighten her mood.

“For you, Agent Shan, I’m sure Acina would arrange only the best firing squad,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She’d been more tempted than she liked to admit, in the year since she’d been rescued, to blunt some of her loneliness in a reprisal of their short-lived and extremely ill-advised affair. But she couldn’t. Not when there was the slimmest chance-

Something warm sizzled across her mind, familiar and so desperately missed it took her breath away. Suddenly she was on the Terminus again, Marr’s low voice barking orders as claxons blared and the deck shook hard enough to jar her teeth loose- and then nothing. Claustrophobic, choking nothing and something that should have been pain if not for that smothering emptiness-

She jerked back from the sensation as if it burned, her mind snapping back to the present. Valkorion’s low chuckle rumbled through her, ahead of a wave of thick sadness. A trick; another trick from the thing in her head. She wondered if he knew how effective it was, tying the memory of Malavai’s Force presence to her six years in stasis, then cursed herself for wondering; he was in her head, of course he knew.

“Commander, breathe.” Lana’s voice was soothing, and pitched low enough so none of the others, Force sensitive or no, would hear. “He’s not here; Acina’s people haven’t located him yet.”

“I know.” She wanted to find him herself; to tear through the Imperial fleet and Kaas City one chunk of durasteel at a time if necessary. But the galaxy, as ever, required something else. A breath and she raised her chin, falling back onto the courtly training that seemed like her sole thread to sanity most days.

Her eyes fell on the weaselly Minister Loreman. “Tell Empress Acina the Commander of the Eternal Alliance is ready to speak with her.”

#ptsd tw #self harm tw #trauma tw #ria answers things #swtor #malavai quinn #sith warrior #seriously y'all after running through exactly how kotfe would affect mara #i just couldn't #five years in carbonite is too damn cruel #Anonymous