#hydrostuff

[hydrospanners]

#swtor #swtor gif #jedi knight #hydrostuff #hydrogifs #hydroswstuff #hydroswgifs #the velaran legacy #nirea velaran #rossa skyfall #rip to rossa on babysitting duty again

[hydrospanners]

DARK ROMANCE

an interview with @meonlyred​‘s Lucwayn Tal Sivron for Port & Planet Magazine

(click images for full size; full text of interview under the cut) Thank you to @meonlyred for collaborating with me on this project. She is responsible for the character, and posing for the pictures, and the answers to all the interview questions. I had the time of my life making this with you.

You may know him as a Wrath, as a warrior, as the handsome shadow behind the Alliance Commander -- Sith Lord Lucwayn Tal Sivron is all of these things, but as I learned in the peculiar intimacy of a hangar bay photoset one early autumn afternoon on Odessen, he is not only these things.

 The secretive Alliance base is a place where legends come alive, and Lord Lucwayn is no exception. Shrouded as he is in stories of battle and bloodshed and some of the most salacious gossip this side of the Perlemmian, it’s easy to be surprised by the raw, seductive humanity of the man who met me in that hangar bay with a lazy smile and a bottle of Zakuulan wine.

 Already styled for his later photoshoot, Lord Lucwayn arrives to our interview harnessed in gold and draped in luxurious scarlet, a tantalizing garment perfectly designed to accentuate the hard planes and ripe swells of musculature across his exquisitely sculpted form. He is a vision of temptation, a forbidden fruit you can’t help wanting to taste, and the coy glint in his eye suggests he knows it.

 He is a man who drips with confidence, whose every languid movement is full of promise--a promise that could be for pain just as easily as for pleasure. I am immediately captivated by him, as is everyone on the set that day..

 For a Sith, Lord Lucwayn is patient with me as I remember how to form words so I can ask about the human being and his very human (or Twi’lek, as it were) connections beneath the glamor and the legend. The following interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

 PORT & PLANET: It’s been a busy couple of months here on Odessen. Do you and your wife have big plans for the Festival of Love or are you going to keep things lowkey this year?

SIVRON: Vette and I take every opportunity we can to have celebrations. The Festival of Love is a particular favorite of ours. Since we had to be apart for so long, there is a lot of celebrating to catch up on.

 PORT & PLANET: How are the two of you planning to celebrate?

SIVRON: [Smiles devilishly] Music, wine, and fine food. Then a very long evening privately, maybe with an extra friend or two.

 PORT & PLANET: So the rumors about you two having an open marriage are true?

SIVRON: It's funny how many people assume we're kidding. It's been part of our relationship since the beginning. Something we have communicated with each other extensively. I might have been with many but I have only ever loved one, my wife.

 PORT & PLANET: Do the two of you have any… frequent guests?

SIVRON: Not as many as you might think. And not the ones you might think. Usually it's one time appearances.

 PORT & PLANET: Anyone in particular you’re courting for The Festival of Love?

SIVRON: [Winks] That remains to be seen. Have to talk it over with Vette first.

 PORT & PLANET: There are lots of rumors that you’ve had the Commander of the Alliance in your bed. Any truth to that?

SIVRON: The Commander is a lovely and bold woman. Anyone would be lucky to be invited to her bed. But I won't sully the reputation of a Jedi or that of our leader by answering that.

 His words may be coy, but the smile that creeps across Lord Lucwayn’s face as he speaks of the Commander is so genuine I’m almost moved by it. It’s clear to see where the rumors of their sexual relationship come from--there’s a deep fondness there, an even deeper respect--but it seems he would be playing a different kind of coy if there was any truth to them. If the Commander is sleeping with someone on her staff, it probably isn’t Lord Lucwayn Tal Sivron.

 PORT & PLANET: Then what about her rumored lover? People say you’ve had him in your bed too.

SIVRON: [Mutters into his wine glass] Not for lack of trying. [Aloud] Our spymaster seems to be too in love with his work to have time for extracurricular activities.

 He gives the spymaster’s “work” such a particular emphasis, with such a twinkle in his eye, I can’t help wondering if this is yet another thing Lord Lucwayn is trying to say without saying. I can’t help wondering if he cultivates this air of secrecy for his own protection, for the Alliance’s protection, or merely because he knows how much more irresistible the air of mystery makes him. I find the reasons don’t matter; I’m drawn in by all the things he isn’t saying and desperate to hear him not say more.

 PORT & PLANET: Any names of note you can drop that have been guests in your bed? Before or after your marriage. You’ve got quite a reputation.

SIVRON: If you know my reputation then you probably already know that answer. Some like to brag and some like to lie. Allow them to keep their boast.

 PORT & PLANET: Alright, alright. Point taken. But I’ve been speaking with some of the former Imperials around the base and they tell me you were married once before Vette. Is that true?

SIVRON: Not entirely correct. I was engaged to be married. My family was very traditional even among the Sith and arranged a marriage between the Sivrons and the Novarrs for political and lineage purposes.

 PORT & PLANET: But then you met Vette?

SIVRON: I met Vette on Korriban. She was instrumental in helping me complete my trials there. I don't think I would have succeeded without her.

 PORT & PLANET: That’s a pretty powerful statement for a Sith. When did you first realize you loved her?

SIVRON: As with all good things it took time. It was a gradual realization that came from a thousand little things.

 PORT & PLANET: When did you tell her you loved her?

SIVRON: Short answer: when the moment was right. With the position I'm in, I wanted to make sure it was something I was ready to say and she was ready to hear.

 There is a weight to his voice as he tells me about the history of his romance with his wife that suggests yet more being left unsaid, both things that trouble him and things that delight him, but pressing Lord Lucwayn for details doesn’t make him any more forthright. And there’s probably a reason Vette declined to join us for this interview.

 PORT & PLANET: Did you ever worry about your relationship being used against you?

SIVRON: Within the Empire there are many things that can be used against you. I didn't get in the position I’m in by being unable to circumvent or quell such obstacles. I also know that Vette is more than capable.

 PORT & PLANET: Which one of you proposed? Did either of you have cold feet? What was your wedding like?

SIVRON: [Chuckles] I proposed but it was Vette who told me to do so. No cold feet, only swept ones. As for the wedding, Vette wanted a traditional Twi'lek wedding. It's a long ceremony that took most of the day, consisting of a ritual bathing, tea service, and a sermon given in Ryl. Truly I think the Twi'lek take the honor of having the most elaborate weddings.

 If the sudden sincerity in his smile when he discussed the Commander was a surprise, then the way Lord Lucwayn seems to melt when he speaks about his wife is downright shocking. His words about Vette are tender, but cannot even begin to capture the softness in his eyes or the earnest affection in his smile. It’s an incongruous sight on a man who ripples with barely restrained power and drips with sexual energy, but it’s no less magnetic than anything else he does. I can’t look away.

 PORT & PLANET: So what are your favorite things about Vette? What makes her the match of a Sith Lord?

SIVRON: [Grins] Vette is as adventurous as I am both in the bed and out. I can always count on her to get us into the most delightful trouble.

 PORT & PLANET: And if we asked Vette, what would she say she loves most about you?

SIVRON: I think she would tell you that I have the best ass in the galaxy.

 PORT & PLANET: The two of you spent five years apart while you were held prisoner by Zakuul. What was it like seeing each other again after so much time?

SIVRON: [Smiles fondly] I had tried to be romantic, launching into something about crossing the span of stars and time to be by her side again. But my love had other plans for me.

 PORT & PLANET: So you like making grand gestures. What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for Vette?

SIVRON: Vette has a passion for reclaiming Twi'lek artifacts. There have been many times I have helped her "persuade" art dealers to part with some of their ill-attained collections.

 PORT & PLANET: What’s the most romantic thing she’s ever done for you?

SIVRON: I'd like to give a vague answer about everything she does being romantic to me. It isn't too far from the truth. It is a wonder that she has chosen me.

 PORT & PLANET: It sounds like the two of you have a really great relationship. Any advice for the newlyweds out there?

SIVRON: Communication is always the key to any relationship. Talk and be honest with each other about every preference you have, from food to sex. They say the Force brings people together, but it takes work to stay together.

 It isn’t until the interview is long concluded and the dazzle of watching him pose for the holocams has finally faded that I realize how little new information I actually got out of Lord Lucwayn Tal Sivron. He is a master of half-truths and distraction, wielding that charming smile and alluring gaze as expertly as he wields his lightsaber.

 All his powers of misdirection and secrecy still are not enough to overcome his passion for his wife. I can’t know if he meant to let me see the depth of his love for her, but it was impossible not to see it as he spoke of Vette. It was so present, so apparent in his every look and gesture, I could swear I fell a little bit in love with her myself.

  It’s reassuring to know that beneath the power that swirls around him like a storm, beneath the stories and the gossip and the duties of his position in the Alliance, Lord Lucwayn Tal Sivron is a man with a heart that beats for love, just like the rest of us.

#swtor #sith warrior #lucwayn tal sivron #swtor fic #swtor edit #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff #hydroedits #hydroswedits #hydrofic #hydroswfic #port & planet

[hydrospanners]

Hey, before we go. My new master, Tau? What can you tell me about her?

#swtor #swtor gifs #tau idair #arn peralun #swtor spoilers #swtor 6.0 spoilers #swtor onslaught spoilers #swtor onslaught #onslaught spoilers #hydrostuff #hydrogifs #hydroswtuff #hydroswgifs #nirea velaran #the velaran legacy

[hydrospanners]

an aging padawan, done with everyone’s shit

#swtor #nirea velaran #the velaran legacy #brain bad so i fucked around and did an art #just dicked around in the photoshop #10/10 got so wrapped up in glowing shit #i forgot to eat dinner #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff #hydroart #hydroswart

[hydrospanners]

a little help from a friend

the one where theron must choose between death or sharing body heat with his friend/nemesis. theron will wonder what he did to deserve this punishment. emotions will be tossed back and forth like a hot potato no one wants. friendships will be affirmed. nipples will be flicked. everyone will (probably) make it out alive. 

swtor; post-jedi under siege. slight spoilers. genfic; humor with a dash of friendship fluff. mostly f!jedi knight & theron friendship; f!jedi knight x doc discussed. 1800 words. ao3.

“This,” Theron says, shimmying out of his soaked trousers, “is your fault.”

  Rea’s top hits him in the face. “You’re welcome for your life.”

  “My life wouldn’t have even been in danger if you hadn’t--”

  “You have to take those off.”

  Theron, holding open the cover of the sleeping bag to step in, blinks at her. He only has one thing left to take off.

  “No,” he says.

  “You can’t warm up in wet fucking clothes, Theron. Don’t they teach you anything in SIS?” She gives him a look that tells him just how much she thinks of SIS training before throwing her wet bra in his face. Being that it’s at least as saturated with her blood as melted snow, it’s slightly warmer than her top was.

  “I’m not doing it, Rea.”

  “Stop being a little bitch and get naked with me.”

She strips out of her underwear and this time, he catches it before it slaps him across the face. “You’re a starsdamned menace,” he says. “Don’t look.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Like you’ve got anything I want to see.”

  Still, she keeps her eyes on the sleeping bag as she peels it open and slips inside. Theron keeps his eyes on literally anything else. Objectively attractive though she might be—and he’s gone through the personal messages of enough Alliance personnel to know she is—the idea of looking at her naked body turns his stomach. It would be like… looking at Satele. Like looking at a sister, he supposes, if he had one.

  It just feels wrong.

  “Will you get in the fucking bag already? I promise I’m not gonna look at your shriveled dick. And if I see it by accident, I promise not to laugh. It’s cold. It’s not your fault.”

  “I’m not—“ Theron stops himself. She’s just trying to provoke him and he’s not going to let her. After the shit she’s put him through today, he refuses to give her the pleasure of seeing him annoyed. “Scooch over,” he grumbles, and dives into the bag next to her.

  It is not, at first, very warm.

  Rea’s skin is cold as ice and slick with half-frozen blood and sweat.

  He forgot about blood loss.

  This is the thing about Rea that makes her so completely unbearable. Every single time you get angry with her, it turns out she was just pissing you off to distract you from your own hopeless misery, and that she did it while she was bleeding out from a blaster wound you didn’t even know she had. It turns out you’re the one being a fucking toddler while she’s over there sucking up a life-threatening injury like a champ.

  It’s hard to stay mad at her after that. Even if she is being an ass.

  So Theron grits his teeth and does the most he can for her: he wraps her in his arms.

  He’s petulantly satisfied when Rea goes rigid in his grip, clearly as uncomfortable with this arrangement as he is, no matter what she pretends. Blood loss or no blood loss, hypothermia or no hypothermia, this is just as fucking weird for her as it is for him.

  He wonders sometimes if he should be more offended that Rea, a woman who would put the moves on a lamppost in the right lighting, is so totally uninterested in him. But mostly, he’s too busy being relieved. The idea of her being attracted to him is nearly as repellent as the idea of him being attracted to her.

  It takes hardly a second for Rea to recover, to relax back into the bravado she wears like armor. Her tension releases and she snuggles into Theron’s embrace like they do this every day.

  It doesn’t bother him as much as he expected.

  He isn’t what you’d call an affectionate person. He can’t remember the last time he touched someone outside of trying to either save their life or take it. Or sex, but sex isn’t the same as this. Not the way Theron does it anyway.

  He can’t remember the last time he touched someone for comfort. For closeness.

  Rea wouldn’t mind it, he knows. She’s already touchy feely as hell with everyone else. She might not even give him shit for it. Terrible as she is, she seems to know which of his boundaries can be pushed and which can’t. She might spend twenty out of the twenty-four hours in a day giving him shit, but she almost never puts her hands on him if she doesn’t have to.

  He’s halfway to considering the possibility of allowing himself the smallest sliver of affection from this, the unlikeliest of sources, when she opens her mouth and fucks it all up.

  “Your nipples are like fucking knives.”

  It’s one of the worst sentences he’s ever heard. And then, one of her ice-cold fingertips pokes at his frigid nipple and that is easily one of the worst things he’s ever felt, which altogether makes this possibly the worst day he’s ever had.

  He hisses, and arches away from her as far as the sleeping bag they’re zipped into together will allow.

  It’s not very far.

  “Don’t touch my nipples,” he snaps.

  “You ever heard of moisturizer?” Rea asks, totally ignoring him and flicking his nipple with her finger.

  He would fight her if he wasn’t absolutely sure he’d lose, blaster burns and all.

  “You might have a condition,” she goes on, blithely. “When we get back to base, I’m sending you to Doc. He can at least give you a cream.”

  “I am not letting your husband touch my nipples,” Theron says. “And I’m done talking about it. Keep your hands to yourself.”

  He feels her shrug--she’s one to talk about sharp nipples, isn’t she?--and says, “Your loss. Most people don’t complain when I touch their nipples.”

  “If you say the word nipple one more time, I will kill you.”

  “You can try.”

  “We should’ve left you in carbonite,” he grumbles.

  His words are answered with silence. It lingers between them, the moment drawing out for endless seconds, growing heavier with every quiet breath, until finally Rea sighs. Until she whispers into the space between them, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear her say, “Probably.”

  And again he’s the asshole.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Theron tells her, a little gruffer than he means to be.

  He’s not good at comfort at the best of times, and having to get naked with the woman he reluctantly considers his best friend to combat hypothermia in the galaxy’s tiniest sleeping bag is not what he’d call the best of times.

  “I don’t know any other way to be,” Rea says. “Ask anyone.”

  “Rea…”

  “RonRon.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “SIS.”

  “Rea.”

  “Doc is so much more fun to get hypothermia with,” she whines, trying to snuggle closer. Like there’s any closer she could get without unzipping him and climbing into his skin.

  “Trust me, we would all be happier if he was here instead,” Theron agrees.

  What wouldn’t he give to be toasty warm and fully clothed in the medwing on Odessen right now? It sounds like a dream.

  “I almost brought him with us,” Rea says.

  Theron raises a brow. “To do recon?”

  “Stupid right? Best doctor in the galaxy and I’m gonna drag him away from the lab to the frozen asshole of space for what? So I can look at him?” She shivers, and Theron doesn’t think it’s from the cold. “I just keep thinking… What if he’s not there when I get back? What if he’s finally done waiting on me? Every single time I leave him behind, I get so scared about it I almost can’t breathe.”

  It’s not something he thinks she would ever admit in the light of day. But there’s something about the night, something about the yawning, too-quiet darkness of it that has a way of drawing truths out of people.

  Or maybe it was their shared brush with death.

  “Have you, uh, talked to him? About it?” Theron can’t imagine a worse person to be giving relationship advice, but there’s no one else here. And he has a sneaking suspicion he’s the person she’d talk to even if there was. He has a sneaking suspicion Rea reluctantly considers him her best friend, too.

  “Kind of? We always get distracted.”

  If Theron is translating right, ‘get distracted’ is Rea-nese for ‘feelings are complicated so we fucked instead’.

  “I’m not really an expert, Rea, but it seems like if he was going to run out of patience, he would’ve done it years ago.” If he was going to run out of patience, he probably never would’ve married Rea in the first place, but Theron doesn’t say that part.

  “I know,” she sighs. “Archiban said the same thing. That’s what’s so fucking annoying!” She knocks her forehead against his shoulder in frustration. “He says he wants to be here. He says he wants to be with me. And I believe him! He wouldn’t lie about it, and it’s not like he’s one of those people who don’t really know what they want. But none of that stops me from freaking out every time I get on a transport without him. It’s totally irrational and I just… I have no fucking clue how to stop it.”

  If Theron were a good best friend, he’d come up with something comforting to say. He’d tell her it’s going to be okay, tell her it’s normal, tell her it’ll all work out in the end.

  Theron laughs at her instead.

  “Hey,” Rea scowls, poking him hard in the gut. “I’m trying to talk about real shit like a normal fucking person, you asshole. Stop laughing.”

  “I’m sorry,” Theron says, not meaning it. “It’s just… You’re mad cause you can’t control your feelings.”

  “So?”

  “It’s a pretty Jedi thing to be mad about.”

  “You are such a dick.” Rea kicks him as well as she can with both their legs trapped together in the narrow taper of the bag, but it isn’t long before she’s laughing too.

  It’s nice to be on the other side of this equation for once. To be the asshole for a good cause. He understands, a little, why she works so hard to put herself here.

  “I hate you,” she grumbles at him, once their laughter fades.

  “Sure.”

  “You’re supposed to be nice to your friends, RonRon. Don’t they teach you anything at SIS?”

  Unbidden, Theron’s mind drifts to Jonas. He shudders. “The SIS isn’t big on friendship,” he says.

  “Well fuck the SIS,” Rea says. “You’re Alliance now.”

  “Yeah,” Theron says. “I am.”

  “You know what else you are?”

  “A dick?” He guesses.

  Theron can feel Rea’s smile against his shoulder. “Yeah, but you’re my dick.”

  “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  She just laughs, that stupid deep belly laugh she does when she isn’t laughing to cover something else. It feels good to hear it. Feels like a win.

  He might not be so bad at this friendship stuff after all.

#swtor #swtor fic #theron shan #jedi knight #nirea velaran #the velaran legacy #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff #hydrofic #hydroswfic #TWO new fics in just TWO days?!?! #these truly are the end times #as they were foretold #anyway rip to all of rea's brothers #from another mother or otherwise #im having a good time tormenting you all

[hydrospanners]

#imperial agent mood

#swtor #swtor gifs #imperial agent #got back into this class story finally #and the mood all the time is just #well this might as well happen #hydrostuff #hydrogifs #hydroswgifs #hydroswstuff #ealai sarturus

[hydrospanners]

fic masterlist: swtor

at the request of literally no one, i’ve created a masterlist of all my swtor fic. first is a chronological collection of all the swtor fic i’ve written in my “canon”. it’s broken up into snippets of time relative to the events of swtor. aus and gift fics are at the end. this is more for me than anything else, but if you have a bunch of time on your hands and want to read some fic--enjoy!!!

i am the most self-indulgent author known to man so there are numerous fics that don’t feature any canon characters in any significant way. i’m not sorry, but i did mark them with an asterisk for everyone’s edification. i also wrote actually vaguely descriptive descriptions instead of whatever bullshit i put in the descriptions on ao3. all links go to ao3 because tumblr was not designed for reading and it shows.

53 fics below the cut... what a trip, y’all.

backstory these fics are about things that happened before the opening of the class story. 

* a very velaran life day - snippets of different life days in the velaran family history. no canon characters in it yet, but maybe this christmas i’ll get to some fics that aren’t solely about my own ocs.

* the shape of things to come - the story about how rea finally joined the jedi at the ripe old age of sixteen.

* a dimming star - the first steps on rea’s jedi path. they aren’t fun ones, lads!

* necessary sacrifice - like three years down the timeline and still no canon characters! rea continues to struggle with this whole being a jedi thing, and it continues to struggle with her! this one features a haircut as a symbol of a turning point in the story.

bars and stripes - canon characters??? in my fic????? its more likely than you think. this is a shameless ripoff of an episode of m*a*s*h masquerading as doc backstory. does it have cameos and/or mentions of other healer companions? maybe!!!

prelude these are fics set during the prologue of the class stories, everything that happens between the start and completing the capital planet missions. 

* memories - rhese? do you finally get a say in all this??? this is the moment rhese and rea finally see each other for the first time since they were recruited to the jedi, set at the very start of the class story.

attachments - kira and rea talk about rhese. that’s it. that’s the fic.

act one all the stories set between killing tarnis and beginning preparations to capture the emperor (everything after coruscant ending and pubside balmorra starting). rip orgus. one day ill finish all those wips about how sad it was when he bit it. in the mean time, can i interest you in some gifsets?

lessons - now rea’s padawan, kira reflects on how bad rea is at teaching, though maybe without as much clarity as i just implied.

a tangled web - so stupid it’s basically crack, kira has to rescue rea from an embarrassing situation.

of flowers, failure, and the virtues of friendship - kira and rhese start to bond over the shared torment of having to be around rea. rivals to friends (one day i’ll write the “to lovers” part that comes after).

act two all the stories during the time when the knight is prepping for the assault on the emperor’s fortress and then assaulting it. everything between pubside balmorra starting and breaking free from the emperor’s fortress after that super successful plan to bring him in alive. great job jedi!

filling the table - is that shipfic????? the reason i started writing swtor fic in the first place??? this is rea being thirsty disguised as me sewing seeds for the eventual doc x rea romance. pazaak themed for some reason? (doc x rea)

when the wicked play - this is me being obsessed with the translation of video game violence to vaguely realistic circumstances posing as doc feeling some kind of way about rea murdering a whole bunch of dudes who wanted to hurt her but weren’t powerful enough. not primarily romantic but definitely some setup for their relationship.

night shift -  everything is doc x rea and nothing hurts. rea’s got work to do but who can work when there’s a horny mustachio’d doctor trying to persuade her back to bed??? it’s not love it’s just good sex!!!!! honest!!!!(doc x rea)

these nights never seem to go to plan - rea isn’t yearning for affection, she’s just too tired to get out of doc’s bed after so much boning. okay maybe this is about slightly more than good sex after all... doc x rea TENDERNESS.

somewhere we’ve not been before - this is the good shit lads!!!! doc x rea!!! first dates!!!! shenanigans!!!! honest to goodness falling in love between all that fucking that do!!!!!!!!!!!! (doc x rea)

no better taste - a sequel to the last fic featuring the morning after!!! some post-horniness introspection!! tenderness!!!!!! hints of yearning!!! god i miss the days before the mind control and the carbonite when the problems were normal things like commitment and abandonment issues. (doc x rea)

heart - rea sends doc a rocking “thanks for the great sex” gift!! rhese is disgusted by every part of it! this is comedy folks!!!! (doc x rea... i guess)

interruptions - rea takes a work call while she’s boning doc. that’s the whole fic. i think this was my first spicy fic?? i can’t remember. (doc x rea)

* where you go to rest your bones - sibling tenderness!!!! their relationship is super complicated, but rhese is reminded that underneath all the bullshit rea really does love him a lot.... it’s both sad and not sad at the same time. schroedinger’s sadness.

gifts - the crew tries to plan a gift for rea, but what do you get for the woman who’s banned from everything?? so dumb it’s basically crack and i’m not sorry for it.

crapshoot - the crew takes bets on what rea’s next Bad Idea TM will be. she shows them you can’t predict chaos. basically crack but i don’t care.

spoonful of sugar - vignettes about the jedi knight crew dealing with sickness. almost entirely comedy and/or fluff. doc x rea content is present and rhese x kira content is suggested.

a little eggstra - grocery shopping gone awry, based on an old tumblr text post. hella stupid, yet hella fun. doc x rea is in the background.

to break our bones for kindling - you thought we were just having good times??? you’re a fool. doc’s job is to heal people and rea’s job is to break them. sometimes they have work-related disagreements!!! be sad with me. doc x rea.

* when a problem comes along, you must whip it - i can only stop being stupid for so long, so here’s the story about how rea came to possess her lightwhip, the stupidest weapon known to man. these events do not go well for rhese.

things unsaid - a dumb doc x rea drabble about stupid shit rea says when she’s been mortally wounded. if doc were to just let her die, no one would blame him.

* the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one - a bit of a character/relationship study about what rhese is willing to sacrifice for love of his sister, no matter how complicated things are between them. a second chapter about what rea sacrifices for rhese is in my wips and will be completed... .eventually. 

lovesick - doc x rea ship content. my interpretation of that one conversation where doc’s like “hey would your jedi powers tell me if im going crazy also do you love me? check yes or no. i will not elaborate.”

* the things we left behind - oh no lads.... we’re building up to the fortress shit.... our good times are over. rea does some underhanded shit to make sure her brother doesn’t go on this mission to capture the emperor cause the plan does not seem like a great one.

act three wow wasn’t act two fun??? so much silly nonsense and love. now get a drink assholes it’s Time To Be Sad. act three covers everything in the class stories after coming back from that super successful assault on the emperor’s fortress (great job jedi!) to finally stabbing the bastard in the dark fortress and hoping that gets the job done at last. (spoilers: it doesn’t!!!!!) aka stories from belsavis to the final assault on dromund kaas.

everything we left there - it’s trauma time!!! rea’s fucked up from the fortress and feeling the pressure (thanks for the prophecy scourge!!! love that!!!!) so she hurts people she cares about to protect them. it’s her signature move!

the only thing that’s real - rea continues to be fucked up from what happened on the fortress but hey... at least she isn’t fucked up alone??? sad doc x rea content.

into the jungle - the gang is on belsavis and no one is having a good time! since rea isn’t herself, doc tries to pick up the slack and reassure kira that it’ll all be okay! it goes about as well as you’d expect.

interlude now that i’m looking at it, there are some serious gaps in my fic coverage. anyway, sad hours are over, the emperor is (kind of but not really) dead and there may still be a war on but things are looking up! this covers everything between the emperor’s death and the beginning of kotfe, including forged alliances and the shadow of revan.

hands too hungry - doc finally takes rea on that honeymoon she didn’t really care about in the first place! tragically, rea is way too horny to be impressed by what an amazing vacation he planned for himself them. peak rea x doc content.

no kind of romantic - it’s doc and rea’s one year anniversary but they are both working on opposite sides of the galaxy. sad! it’s doc x rea fluff disguised as angst.

a little help from a friend - rea and theron are worst/best friends and i recycle romance tropes into annoying friendship ones. this is the least sexy sharing body heat fic you’ve ever (not?) read. bite me.

retirement - rea has some feelings about her very violent, stressful job and how it interferes with her husband doing things that actually help and heal. doc x rea content.

the dreaded kotfe content these are sad hours!!! this is everything from arcann’s invasion on, cause i’m not breaking it up by post-carbonite storyline you bastards. i don’t know why i’m being so hostile no one asked me to do this.

every doubt we had - after watching what may have been his sister’s death by exploding starship, rhese is having trouble sleeping. no one is more surprised than him when seeks out doc for comfort! doc & rhese brothers by marriage solidarity. carbonite angst...

love is a waiting game - rea’s been MIA for six months since the ship she was on bit it and her crew is finally making some changes. doc is sad about it. doc & rhese brothers by marriage solidarity again. doc x rea angst.

waiting - some time has passed and now rhese is the sad one again!!! grief is so funny isn’t it??? hahahaha haha hahahaha why is no one else laughing? doc & rhese brothers by marriage solidarity yet again.

the greatest distance - rea’s back baby!!!! oh but this isn’t a celebration. she’s taking a tour of her long lost ship now that all the people she loved aren’t in it. it’s a sad one, fellas. 

* when the stars are the only thing we share - rea tracks down some people from her past to help her track down her brother since he went missing while she was having a nap. no canon characters were used in the making of this fic.

leave her sleeping a little longer - rea has a dream and wakes up missing doc even more than she was before. sad hours. doc x rea angst.

take back what the kingdom stole - after theron pulls some Shenanigans (you know the ones) his friendship with rea is in peril. they both break character and actually talk shit out for once.

a wish your heart makes - rea dreams a dream. so does doc. it’s a wet one. this makes it sound lighthearted but actually it’s angst with a side of porn. doc x rea supreme spicy/sad content.

overserved - back to crack baby!! rea gets drunk and acts a fool based on a joke made in a discord server. this is the best shit i’ve ever written.

thrusting back into my skin i feel anew - the band is back together again and everything is fine!!!! just kidding -- actually people change a lot in six years and rea and doc are having some trouble fitting back into the marriage they had back then. doc x rea angst but with a hopeful ending!

non-canon fics i’ve written a couple of things with my dumb characters that are too stupid even for me to put into their canon story or are otherwise aus. these are them, listed in no particular order.

the lies we tell ourselves - a sadder (yet possibly more realistic) take on the ossus reunion and what follows. a bit experimental. doc x rea angst au.

archiban frodrick’s kennel - a romance au where doc is a vet and rea has a pet with a health issue, inspired by my own stupid dog whom i love very much. doc x rea. spiciness suggested but not detailed; sorry horndogs.

fallen - a fun au where rea’s shittiness as a teacher and everything being bad leads to kira falling to the dark side... its angst lads.

the new recruit - rusk’s squad adopts a kitten. that’s the fic.

cruel - ever wonder how things would have turned out if rea was never smuggled off eriadu and got plucked up by the sith?? no??? well i have and i wrote about it. the self-indulgence never ends.

fill my lungs with sweetness - a gift fic for @hoiist; flower-themed vignettes about doc expressing his love for hoiist’s knight, vii. this is some real soft shit, lads.

remember me, love - another gift fic for @hoiist; this time some ossus-flavored angst about doc seeing through vii’s eyes in his dreams. what he sees is not comforting!!! all aboard the angst train--choo choo!!

#swtor #swtor fic #jedi knight #hydrostuff #hydrofic #hydroswstuff #hydroswfic #this was.... a lot

[hydrospanners]

rubetha jaine mae taggart ... but her friends call her ruby

#the pipe wrench is called lyn #we're doing an eberron campaign bois!!! #dnd #artificer #hydrostuff #hydrodndstuff #hydroart #hydrodndart #rubetha jaine mae taggart

[hydrospanners]

no better taste

an ordinary moment after a very extraordinary first date; or, doc and rea experiment with tenderness. a sequel-of-sorts to somewhere we’ve not been before; can stand alone. swtor act two. f!jedi knight x doc. fluff. no spoilers.1100 words. ao3.

By the time he slips from the blackness of Rea’s quarters, the night has turned to morning has turned to day. Shafts of light slant into the hallway from the large viewports of the cockpit, and it would be beautiful if the light wasn’t mostly neon and flashing.

  Maybe it’s just the night he had, but Doc thinks it might be beautiful anyway.

  He gathers his shoes and jacket into one hand, attempting to fasten the button of his pants with the other. He isn’t what you’d call modest, but he’s in a generous enough mood to tuck away anything Red or Junior would be really upset by. He’s got no idea where his underwear got off to, but he doubts he’ll ever see it again. Or his shirt. Or his socks.

  It was a hell of a night.

  A hell of a night that saw him waking up in Rea’s bed for once.

  He’d have a good time with her anywhere--they’d had a good time just about everywhere last night--but stretching out in the captain’s bed is a hell of an upgrade from the complicated knots they have to tangle into below deck, down in his cramped little cot in his cramped little room. He doesn’t know why she insisted on it before, just like he doesn’t know what’s changed her mind now, but he’s got a good feeling about it. A really good feeling. A feeling so good he’s not gonna ruin it by looking at it too closely and finding something he might not be ready to see yet.

  “Hey.”

  Doc jumps nearly out of his skin.

  Rea is leaning against the door behind him, her arms stretched overhead, crossed at the wrists and resting against the frame, looking six kinds of languid and twelve kinds of sexy. She’s wearing nothing but an oversized, threadbare tanktop--stolen from Junior if he’s any guess--that dips across the tops of her breasts and skirts along the crease of her thighs in the most tantalizing fucking way.

  His mouth goes dry, and even though he knows--he absolutely, unequivocally knows--the fuel in that particular tank is all used up, there’s a part of him that wants to reach for her anyway. To slip his hands beneath the hem of that shirt and run them up her sides just as slow as he can stand, to devour, just one more time, that cut statue of a body he’s done nothing but worship all morning and all night.

  His eyes rake up and down her body, up and down the lightyears of leg, of taut muscle and warm, brown skin. His eyes make her body a million promises that his hands and his mouth and his cock are all too tired and aching to make good on.

  For now, anyway.

  “You trying to sneak off on me?” Rea asks, and he finds her smiling one of those knowing smiles once he manages to bring his eyes up to her face again.

  (Not that her face is any less tempting, with those plush, bruised lips and bright, laughing eyes; with the kind of smudged makeup and mussed hair that just screams sex.)

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Gorgeous.”

  He doesn’t say how he didn’t want to wake her cause he knows she needs the rest. That kind of thing is doctor talk, and right now he’s just the man shuffling from her bed, barefoot and commando after a marathon night of mischief and sex. The kind of man who notices the exquisite sculpture of her ass, not the dark circles under her eyes.

  The line between the two, he’s found, is important to Rea. It’s not a balancing act Doc is good at, not one he even likes--he’s always been more of an all in or all out type--but he’s not about to teeter over the edge now. Not after a night (and morning and afternoon) of perfect, simple pleasures.

  Rea laughs, dropping her hands from the doorframe to his shoulders, her thumbs caressing the sharp edge of his clavicles. Her smile is warm and easy as ever, but there’s something about the way she’s looking at him that he can’t quite read. Something new.

  She runs one hand along his shoulder, settling it in the nape of his neck, her long fingers toying with the downy hairs at his nape. It’s so gentle, so light, so different from every way she’s touched him before--a shiver runs down his spine. A sweeter kind of tingle than he’s used to, more pleasant heat than electricity.

  “I had a good time last night,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Me too,” he says, a little stupidly.

  It just feels so absurd, having such an ordinary exchange with a woman who couldn’t be more out of the ordinary if she tried. To be having it about a date so unusual, so delightfully and deliciously abnormal, that most people wouldn’t even recognize it for what it was.

  He wants to laugh. And from the look on Rea’s face, so does she.

  Instead, she leans in, eyes fluttering shut, and presses the sweetest of kisses to his lips. A kiss so soft, so brief, so chaste--the kind of kiss normal people share after a normal first date. A kiss that’s all tenderness and promise.

  The surprise of it, of tasting such gentleness on Rea’s lips, nearly brings him to his admittedly already-kind-of-trembling knees.

  He’d be more embarrassed by it if she didn’t pull away looking just as winded as he felt. If he couldn’t see her skin puckering up in gooseflesh to match his.

  The moment stretches out between them, languid and warm, and Doc just lets it. It never even occurs to him to make a joke, to say something vulgar or ostentatious that will warp things back into a more familiar shape. It just doesn’t feel like the kind of tension that needs breaking.

  Rea steps back first.

  Once the moment is stretched thin and the quiet starts to bear weight; once her throat starts to close around a feeling she can’t even begin to describe.

  Rea steps back, and reality snaps back into place. Her smile turns coy and her eyes glitter with mischief and Doc likes that so much he can’t even be sad it cost him whatever had just been growing in the space between them.

  He can’t be sad about anything right now.

  Rea runs her thumb along his jaw one last time before she takes her hands off him completely. Before she steps back across the threshold of her door, before the shadows of her room flow across the dips and curves of her silhouette, seeming to swallow her up.

  The last smile she gives him is pure playfulness, raising her hand to her ear in a gesture he’s seen a million times before on a million dates with a million different people. “Call me,” she mouths, just before the door swishes shut between them.

  Doc spends the walk back to his bunk wondering how soon he can do just that.

#swtor #swtor fic #jedi knight #swtor doc #archiban kimble #jedi knight x doc #nirea velaran #the velaran legacy #hydrostuff #hydrofic #hydroswstuff #hydroswfic #i did not edit this i am not about that life #all that matters is i wrote it #and it isnt sad #not everything has to be tinged with sadness #a 2020 mood #for now

[hydrospanners]

anyway doc has a mind trick kink prove me wrong

#swtor #swtor doc #archiban kimble #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff #hydroart #hydroswart #i would apologize if i was sorry #but im not fuckin sorry

[hydrospanners]

t-3 minutes until that dress is covered in whiskey, blood, or both

#i wanted to dick around with some stuff #and i did it all in the same drawing #and i hate it #but it was educational and fun and that's what counts #anyway here's wonderwall #nirea velaran #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff #hydroart #hydroswart #the velaran legacy

[hydrospanners]

#swagger

#swtor #swtor gifs #nirea velaran #the velaran legacy #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff #hydrogifs #hydroswgifs #im just out here #creating gratuitous oc content #for the only audience that matters #myself

[hydrospanners]

when a problem comes along, you must whip it

when an explosion rocks the palace where they're staying in the night, jedi siblings rhese and rea handle the situation with their usual grace and efficiency. this is a very serious fic. swtor act two. genfic; f!jedi knight x doc mentioned. no spoilers. 2700 words. ao3.

Crack that whip Give the past the slip Step on a crack Break your momma's back When a problem comes along You must whip it Before the cream sits out too long You must whip it When something's going wrong You must whip it

-- whip it by devo

In the end, Rea does more property damage than the bomb.

  A year ago he might have let himself shoulder some blame for that, but now--Now Rhese is older. Rhese is wiser. And Rhese knows that his sister would’ve found her way to bringing the place down whether he’d done what he did or not. He has no bearing on Rea’s destructive inevitability, and he sleeps better at night now that he’s made his peace with it.

  He doubts if the Duke will ever get a good night’s sleep again. Not everyone is used to being stirred from sleep by explosions in their rotundas.

  Rhese can’t remember the last time he went more than a week or two without having his sleep interrupted by an explosion of one kind or another. He isn’t sure what that says about his life except that Rea is back in it.

  The building was still trembling from the blast when his feet hit the floor, and he barely took the time to slide his lounge pants on before he went chasing after that familiar pulse in the Force, the powerful thrum of Rea’s presence, knowing she would already be wherever the trouble was.

  He has regrets about that now. You’d think he’d know by now to never go anywhere Rea is without his lightsaber. You’d think he’d know to at least put on some underwear. But he was sleeping deeply and he’s always been a little slow to wake up. It’s the only defense he has for himself, for running into a clusterfuck like that half-dressed and unarmed.

  When he found Rea in the great hall, he could see she wasn’t any better prepared than him. She was messy-haired, empty-handed, and naked from the waist down, wearing nothing but a shirt too clean and too tight in the shoulders to be her own. It was pretty clear what she’d been up to; Rhese just hoped her evening’s entertainment didn’t rush down with as little consideration for appearances as she had. The situation was bad enough without trying to avoid eye contact with Doc’s erection.

  A dozen or so mercs and their assault cannons filled the hall with blaster fire like a driving rain, forcing them both to cover on opposite sides of the room, tucked behind the huge pillars that dotted the room. Normally a pair of Jedi wouldn’t even be inconvenienced by some hired muscle and a bit of blaster fire, but normally Jedi had lightsabers and plastoid armor.

  “Rhese!” He could hardly hear Rea’s voice over the torrent of blaster bolts screaming through the hall between them. She started pointing at him. “Rhese! Behind you!”

  He looked over his shoulder, muscles tensed for a fight, but no one was there. Nothing was there except the display case on the wall. The display case with the--the hilt of a--

  Shit. She couldn’t be serious.

  “I don’t know how to use that!” He shouted back.

  Even through the haze of red, he could see her rolling her eyes. He could feel her rolling her eyes, somewhere deep in his soul. “Throw it to me, dumbass!”

  Of course she was fucking serious.

  “You don’t know how to use that either!” He shouted.

  “Rhese!”

  Stars fucking dammit. He looked at the case then back to Rea, hoping he had somehow misunderstood what she wanted, but she was just gesturing for him to hurry it up. Because of course she was. Of course this was her actual, entire plan. Of course this was going to happen.

  Was one night of peace in a large, comfortable bed really so much to ask for?

  “Don’t look!” Rhese shouted, then dropped his pants.

He wrapped the fabric around his fist, cursing himself for forgetting underwear, and crept toward the case in a crouch. He didn’t see any obvious security measures and there wasn’t time for a more thorough check. The mercs were closing in. There was nothing to do but take the gamble and hope the Duke hadn’t installed anything more serious than a burglary alarm.

  Rhese punched the glass.

  It shattered, exploding in every direction, lashing his skin, leaving tiny cuts across his face and his arms and his chest and his legs. His fist burned as shards of it buried themselves deep under his skin, even with the fabric of his pants to protect it.

  He ignored the pain, too high on adrenaline and annoyance to care. The hilt of Rea’s No Good Very Bad Idea came free from its mount with a tug.

  It seemed to quake under his touch. There was something stirring inside it, something wild and alive. The feel of it coursed up his arm, racing across his skin like electricity, calling to something inside of him, to some dormant part of his--

  Fuck.

  Rhese tossed the thing like it burned him. The hilt hardly left his hand before he felt the tug of the Force pulling it away from him, drawing it into Rea’s waiting palm. Part of him wanted to pull it back, to feel the cool, unyielding metal against his skin, to be the one with his thumb on the switch.

  He smothered that part with a feather down pillow. Let her have it, he thought, a tremor running down his spine. I’m not the crazy one in this family.

  Maybe he should have warned her. Maybe he could have saved the Duke a few million credits and all of them a lot of grief if he’d just mentioned what he felt.

  But probably not.

  Rea’s never let things like total ignorance of what she’s dealing with or the threat of possession by a potentially evil incorporeal entity stop her before, and he doubts she would have started today. He doubts anything would have kept her hands off that thing once she realized she had an excuse to try it out. He remembers how she’d looked at it on their tour, with that hungry glint in her eye, the gears of her scheming little brain turning so fast you could almost see the smoke pouring from her ears.

  Things would’ve turned out the same, no matter what Rhese did or didn’t do. It was already too late for them the moment Rea laid her eyes on that thing.

  She barely closed her fingers around the hilt before the blade was igniting in a shower of sparks.

  If you could call it a blade.

  It was a rope of electric blue light that fell from the hilt in long coils, graceful and deadly, crackling as it melted through the carpet and into the marble floor beneath.

  Rhese had heard of lightwhips before, but never expected to see one with his own eyes, much less one that still worked. He hadn’t thought any still existed considering how badly the stories about them always end.

  And now they have another story for the list.

  Rea gave the thing an experimental crack, sending sparks flying as the thong streaked wildly through the air, a blur of electric blue that lashed across pillars and walls before snapping against a statue of the Duke’s great-grandmother, neatly severing the top half of her marble head. It shattered against the floor as the whip fell limp, leaving trails of lime scarring in the marble as it slid slowly to the ground.

  The flow of blaster fire stuttered, some of the mercs evidently asking themselves what the streak of light scorching its way across the hall might mean for their plans. He doubted any of them were scholars of esoteric plasma weapons, but you don’t survive long as a mercenary without some sense of when the winds of fortune have turned against you.

  Rhese ducked back behind his pillar before Rea made another crack. His night was bad enough without a firsthand lesson on the relative effectiveness of an ancient lightwhip against bare human flesh. He tried to shake the shattered glass from his crumpled pants, but it was no good. Tiny slivers were tucked so deep in the fabric he doubted he’d ever get them out.

  He wondered if he shouldn’t just put them on anyway; he wondered if a little pain wouldn’t be worth sparing himself the humiliation of going hand-to-hand against a dozen armed and armored mercs while his dick flapped in the wind. Then he remembered whose hands would have to dig all that glass out of his balls later and thought better of it.

  With another sharp crack, Rea brought the whip twisting back toward them, lashing wildly between walls and statues and--

  “Fuck!” Rhese swore, rolling out of the way just in time as the tip of the thong sparked against the pillar where his head had been not even a second ago. “Can you maybe try not to kill me?” He shouted.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Rea laughed, then paused, narrowing her eyes at him. “Where are your panties?”

  Rhese glared back, determinedly ignoring the blush creeping from his cheeks down to his chest. “You focus on the guys trying to blow us up. Let me worry about my panties.”

  “You want my shirt?”

  “No!” The only thing worse than going into a fight with his dick in the wind would be going into a fight with Doc’s shirt wrapped around him like a diaper.

  Rea shrugged.

  And then she was gone.

  She soared through the air, bare-assed and gleeful, cackling as she spun the lightwhip into a whirlwind of a shield. Blaster bolts bounced off it in every direction, blue and red blurring together into a haze of purple light that surrounded Rea like a halo.

  He’d had every intention of helping, of taking advantage of the distraction to drop some of their attackers as mercifully as possible, or at the very least without having to bisect them. But then Rea landed among them, whip lashing, and he watched in abject horror as it tore through their bodies and the walls as easily as if they were flimsi. He watched it snap and whirl and crack with abandon, striking like lightning at anything within twenty feet of his sister.

  Before Rhese could decide if saving people who’d come here to kill him was worth the risk of Rea cutting something from his body he’d much rather have attached, a terrible crack echoed through the hall. A column, gouged and abused by the slashing of the whip, crashed to the floor between them.

  The columns, as it turned out, were not entirely decorative.

  The ceiling groaned where the column had stood just moments before, large cracks splintering out like a spider’s web from the place where the column broke away. Dust and debris poured from the crack, and the alarms finally began to wail as other cracks echoed through the hall, the other columns straining under the load.

  Rea’s laughter and the sharp snap of the whip grew distant as the columns crumbled, and Rhese knew what was left of the mercenaries had tried to run. He knew she was giving chase.

  He dodged chunks of marble and bits of gilded metal as he scrambled through the collapsing room, columns and pieces of ceiling smashing against the floor in turn. His nakedness was forgotten, and he hardly even felt the shards of glass and broken rock buried deep in the soles of his bleeding feet.

  The nakedness is the thing he’ll regret most later, when he sees himself in the holos, dusty and bleeding and wearing nothing but a too-small censor bar over his genitals.

  He follows the path of destruction, hardly noticing the household staff and other guests scrambling past him to escape the building. Definitely not noticing the way they were noticing him, running through the halls with his wang in the wind, screaming bloody murder at his sister.

  It is not one of his finest moments.

  He thought it wasn’t one of Rea’s either. As he was running through the halls, deflecting crumbling chunks of stone and durasteel with the Force, he was so sure she’d been possessed by the sweet pull of chaos he’d felt inside that lightwhip. He was sure that this time, she needed to be saved.

  As usual, he’d been wrong.

  Rhese heard a second explosion just moments before he spilled out into the palace’s rear garden, where the mercs and all their reinforcements were trying to clamber past each other through a hole in the outer wall that had not been there that morning. Rea was there too, strolling toward them almost lazily, snapping her whip in arcs so graceful she might’ve been making them her whole life.

  It’s only then Rhese notices how there aren’t bodies and bits of bodies littering the yard. Only then that he realizes he hasn’t seen a single cut up corpse since the mercs she dropped at the very start of the attack.

  It’s only then, standing in the courtyard ass naked and bleeding, with household guests and staff pouring in from every direction, their holocams live, that Rhese realizes what a complete and total dumbass he is.

  Rea was never possessed by some dark force of chaos trapped inside a lightwhip. She wasn’t murdering mercenaries left and right in a fit of uncontrollable bloodlust. She was putting on a show. With her lightwhip and her crazed laughter and bare-assed acrobatics, she was just trying to scare them off.

  And he fell for it.

  “Fuck,” Rhese swore. Again.

  Rea turned to him, a satisfied smile on her face as the lightwhip fell to the ground beside her in perfect coils “You okay?” She asked, the triumph in her eyes turning quickly to worry.

  “I’m fine,” he lied.

  A voice from the growing crowd shouted, “Yeah you are!”

  Rhese felt another blush rising, setting his chest and the tips of his ears on fire. Laughter spread through the courtyard as he stood there, paralyzed by his own embarrassment.

  Rea, taking pity on him for once in his life, stripped out of Doc’s shirt and tossed it to him. No one would ever laugh at her nakedness. He wasn’t sure what the difference was, but it probably had something to do with how she would never blush about it.

  Rhese’s entire body was flaming red by the time he managed to cover what remained of his dignity.

  And then, as they stood there together, filthy and bloodied and naked, the entire east wing of the Duke’s palace finally collapsed.

  Rea watched it crumble with a smile on her face.

  “You know,” Rhese observed, thinking of how gracefully she’d lashed the lightwhip back and forth when she was menacing the mercenaries out through the wall, “you didn’t have to destroy the whole thing.”

  “Don’t you wonder why the mercenaries came to kill him in the first place?” She asked.

  “To kill him?” Rhese stared. “I thought they were here for us.”

  Rea rolled her eyes. “They would’ve brought bigger guns if they were here for us.”

  That was probably true. Mercenaries didn’t stay mercenaries very long if they were stupid. “And you think they were after the Duke?”

  He was a foolish, frivolous sort of man who was easy to dislike, but Rhese had difficulty imagining what he might have done that would be worth killing over. He didn’t even have much of value to steal outside of the palace the mercenaries had clearly planned to destroy anyway. That and the lightwhip they likely hadn’t even known about.

  “You remember what he said this morning on the tour? About his family owning this place for centuries?”

  The Duke had bragged about that quite a lot, and the fact that he’d doubled the palace in size during his time at the head of the family. Rhese nodded.

  “He’s selling slaves,” Rea said, watching the Duke stare at his wrecked home in abject horror. “He used his own product to build the east wing. But our friend there’s not a very good salesman, and his supplier isn’t happy with him. This is what a negative performance review looks like in the slaving industry.”

  Rhese thought for a moment, frowning. “We were never here to negotiate for a listening base on his land were we?”

  Rea just grinned. 

#swtor #swtorfic #jedi knight #nirea velaran #rhese velaran #the velaran legacy #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff #hydrofic #hydroswfic

[hydrospanners]

vacation, all i ever wanted vacation, had to get away

#swtor #swtor gifs #archiban kimble #swtor doc #jedi knight #nirea velaran #velaran legacy #hydrostuff #hydrogifs #hydroswstuff #hydroswgifs #you're all welcome #ideally i would post this on wednesday but #time is an illusion #it's always wednesday in my heart #anyway talk about weird tan lines fam

[hydrospanners]

every doubt we had

"the force flows through all things. it surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together."

it's been years since he last saw his wife, but when doc starts experiencing strange sensations and having odd dreams, he knows it's the force bringing them together somehow. but trapped on ossus with no communications and no way out, seeing her again may bring as much pain as it does joy. SWTOR. Established F!Jedi Knight x Doc. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. 2400 words. AO3.

written as a gift for @hoiist featuring her knight, viios.

At first, he thinks it’s a cramp. Doc wakes from sleep with a clenched jaw, an echo of pain shooting up his thigh, and thinks maybe he needs to lay off the energy pudding for a while.

When it happens again, he figures it’s time to accept he’s not as young as he used to be. He figures he might need to work more muscles than the ones he’s building for the extremely athletic sex he hopes to have with his wife again some day soon.

Time waits for no man, he figures, so he makes changes. He eats whole foods, straight from the pilgrims’ fields, and he stretches with the Junior Jedi at dawn. He cuts back on the caf, drinks more water. He spends some quality time with his bunk. And after a few weeks, he thinks the problem is solved. He might not be immune to the effects of age, but he won’t be crippled by them either.

Then it happens again.

It happens again and it’s worse than before, liquid fire pouring through his veins that leaves him gasping for breath when he jerks awake. Awake, but blinking up at a ceiling that isn’t his, hearing the low murmur of voices he doesn’t recognize, with the feel of sheets softer than anything the Jedi have against his skin. Awake, but somewhere else. Somewhere different.

Someone different?

Doc drops back into his quiet, scratchy reality with no warning, and he barely has time to grab the bin before the wretching starts.

It goes on for a long time. Over and over and over until his muscles ache and his vision blurs and his throat’s scraped raw from the acid. Until he’s collapsed on the floor of his bunk, sweating and exhausted with nothing left to heave and echoes of a burning pain still pulsing through his leg.

He pings Nadia from the floor, too tired to get up. He might not know much about the Force, but he recognizes these symptoms, knows them like the back of his own hand, and he knows they don’t belong to him.

He must really look like shit because Nadia doesn’t tease him at all when she shows up at his door, clutching her robe against the cold and blinking sleep from her eyes.

Stars, but he hopes Force visions don’t go both ways. He hopes she didn’t see him like that, hopes the first glimpse she’s had of him in five years wasn’t sweaty and pallid with hair stuck to his forehead and bile crusting on his lips.

He tries not to think about how she has bigger problems right now than the relative sex appeal of her errant husband.

“I saw her,” he croaks, his throat raw and burning. “Vii. I saw her.”

Nadia does him the kindness of not looking at him with pity. It’s why he called her. She’s not going to give him that look the other Jedi sometimes do, the one that says he’s an object lesson in the dangers of attachments. She’s not going to doubt his sanity because of his heart. She just gets him a wet rag and a glass of water and asks for every detail of what he saw.

He tells her. All of it, every color and every sound, every agonizing sensation. He tells her everything he experienced and every worry it awoke in him. He tells her about Vii’s cybernetics, about the poison and the failures, about what he thinks it all means.

Nadia doesn’t have any answers; Jedi rarely do.

Doc figures he won’t need their answers if he can get them from Vii herself. If he can get to wherever she is. But no amount of pleading or threatening will move the Jedi to open communications. They won’t let him leave, either. They can’t risk the safety of the whole colony because he had a bad dream.

He’s trapped. Helpless. Vii needs him and all he can do is wait for her to reach out. Wait for her to sneak into his dreams and share her pain with him again.

He sleeps as often as he can. He gives up caf and energy pudding and every other stimulant that’s ever helped him get through the day. He meditates with the Jedi and when that isn’t enough, he medicates too. He sleeps more than he’s awake, always thinking of Vii, always waiting.

Days pass, then weeks.

Nadia starts looking at him with the same knowing pity as the rest of them, her eyes flicking from his too-long hair to the beard covering his jaw. To the streaks of grey at his temples and the bags under his eyes. No one who sleeps so much should look so tired, but here he is.

And none of it matters.

There are no more cramps. No phantom pains, no voices he doesn’t recognize. No dreams. Nothing.

It’s just him and the weight of all his knowledge, all his skill that feels so fucking meaningless when he can’t use it to help her.

“If she isn’t reaching out to you,” Nadia tries to tell him, “it could just mean she isn’t suffering anymore. It could mean she’s fine.”

There’s another way her suffering could have ended, but Nadia doesn’t mention that.

“She wouldn’t want you to tear yourself apart like this,” she says. “Take care of yourself, Doc. Think of the good times.”

He does.

It hurts, like the way too-sweet food stings your teeth. It hurts, but it feels good too. It feels like relief, like warmth and sunshine and happiness he hasn’t felt in years.

They used to be so happy.

On the beach that day, one of the few perfect days in his life, no one had ever been happier than they were. Sand on their shoulders and salt in their hair--Doc closes his eyes and he can almost feel the heat of the sun warming his skin, can almost hear the crashing waves.

He opens his eyes and he can see it, can see everything just like he’s back there, like he’s living the moment all over again. Vii’s legs draped over his, ice cream cones in both their hands, the galaxy’s problems a million lightyears away. She looks just like he remembers, hair loose and tangling in the breeze, that ridiculous pineapple shirt falling off her shoulders. They bought a matching pair, but even the smallest size swallowed her. He made that hideous thing look good, but Vii--

Vii makes it almost unbearably sexy. Almost unbearably cute, too. It’s so unfair how she can be both at the same time. It’s more than a man can take.

He watches as her tongue slides along the curve of her ice cream, as the top scoop starts to slip from its perch. He watches her face, savoring every moment as she realizes what’s happening, as her expression pinches in utter betrayal, as the ice cream plummets right into the--

Into--

--her hand?

Doc blinks.

Vii smiles at the half-eaten scoop of ice cream melting in her sandy palm. “Not getting away from me this time.”

“Vii?”

She looks up at him and her smile melts into shock. “Doc?”

She reaches for him without thinking, her hand still full of ice cream when she rests it against his cheek. He can feel the cold of it just like it was real, like all of this is real and not just some distant dream. Like this isn’t just a memory warped by longing and sedatives.

He leans into her cold, sticky fingers. “Vii,” he sighs.

She’s looking up at him with her eye wide and her mouth gaping open, her perfect, plush lips rounded in a way that’s just begging to be kissed.

So he kisses them. Gently. Tenderly. His lips on hers, all sweet pressure and soft caress. All delicacy and longing.

Vii sighs his name into his mouth and he can taste the sweetness on her breath, feel the heat of it on his tongue. He shivers, his mouth opening for her as she pulls him closer. Closer and closer, their noses crushed between them, breathing as one, moving together, touching, tasting…

He’s never tasted anything better than Vii, salt on her lips and sugar on her tongue.

Her kiss isn’t as delicate. It’s hungry and urgent, all nipping teeth and gasping breaths and long strokes of tongue. She’s devouring him, desperate in a way he rarely sees her, her hands all over him, sticky and gritty where they drag across his jaw and through his hair, where they slide down his throat and his chest, where they dig into his shoulders and his arms.

She kisses him until he’s dizzy, until he’s breathless and burning, hard for her though she’s barely even touched him.

Vii’s fingers cup his jaw, drawing his forehead down to rest against hers as she brushes her nose alongside his, shallow breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.

Doc doesn’t realize he’s crying until she kisses the tears from his cheeks.

“I’m here,” she whispers. “I love you. I’m here.”

His thoughts are so hazy, swallowed up with lust and longing and love, but there was something he needed to ask. Something important. Something--

“Your leg.”

He looks down, his throat closing up as her leg changes before his eyes, as warm, supple flesh melts into unyielding durasteel. “Gorgeous,” he chokes. “Gorgeous, your--”

Her thumb brushes the tears from his cheeks as she shushes him. It’s absurd that she’s trying to comfort him when it’s her leg, when it’s her pain, but--

“I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers back. “I’m okay.”

But Vii’s never been good at lying, and she didn’t marry a fool. “If you were okay, you wouldn’t be here,” he says. “Gorgeous--” He gasps as phantom pain pulses in his hip, and Vii gasps with him, sagging against his chest, her hands clutching at his shoulders. It burns and it aches, stronger with every beat of her heart.

“Vii. Look at me, Beautiful.” She does. Her eye is glistening with tears, the color draining from her skin as she trembles, gasping shallow little breaths of air. He doesn’t need her to describe what she’s feeling because he can feel the echo of it, but he needs her to know what it is. He needs her to hear him, to tell whatever dipshit slapped this thing on her--”Your body is rejecting the implant, Vii. Something’s wrong and they need to--”

“I know,” she gasps, not quite looking him in the eye. “We waited too long and it’s not taking. I know.”

His heart clenches.

“I’ll be fine,” she insists, but the tremor in her voice does not reassure him.

“Tell me where you are, Gorgeous,” he pleads. “Let me fix this.”

“I can’t--” She winces, her lips pinching together. “I can’t think. I can’t remember.” Then another lance of pain strikes, and all she can do is bury her head in his chest, her fingers clutching at his shoulders tight enough to bruise.

He holds her. One hand on her back, gently stroking the places where hard metal meets soft skin, the other in her hair, fingers on her scalp, kneading and rubbing. He feels hot tears against his skin and presses kisses to the top of her head. It’s all he can do. All he can give her with so many lightyears between them.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

She trembles and she gasps and he keeps holding her, keeps whispering soothing nothings as the pain comes in waves like the water that laps at his feet. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, doesn’t know if the rules of time work the same here as they do in the waking world. But he holds her and she clings to him and eventually, the pain passes.

Eventually, Vii slumps boneless against him, drawing in a long, shuddering breath, and there is nothing but the two of them and the memory they share, nothing but melted ice cream and the ocean and the sand and the sun.

“I just wanted to see you,” she whispers, once she has caught her breath. “Everything hurt and I just wanted to feel--”

“Happy?” Doc finishes for her. He smiles despite himself, despite everything, and he can feel her smiling too.

She presses a sweet kiss to his chest and looks up at him, her face so full of longing he almost can’t stand to look at it. “Did you think of this too?” She asks.

He nods. “It was a good day.”

“The best.”

He wants to kiss her again, to run his hands and his tongue all over her body, to give her as much pleasure as she’s had pain, but there’s clouds starting to cover the sun and he knows, somehow, that their time is running out.

“We’ll have good days again,” Vii says. And this time she isn’t lying. This time she isn’t just trying to take away his pain.

This is a promise.

“We’ll have good days again,” he says.

And Vii kisses him. Sudden and hard, her lips pressing hard enough to bruise, her eyes screwed shut. His eyes are still open, surprised, when the clouds move in front of the sun and--

Darkness.

Darkness and quiet, a sliver of moonlight coming through the window of his bunk, his sheets scratchy and hot against his skin.

Doc sits up in bed, throws back his quilt and swings his feet to the floor. He rubs the sleep and crusted tears from his eyes, the wisp of a dream dancing at the edges of his mind. Something about the ocean…

He limps to the fresher, his leg aching again, and curses the Jedi for trapping him here, for not having answers and not letting him find his own. He flicks on the light and stares at himself in the mirror, not recognizing the man who stares back. Not recognizing the swollen lips or the bloodshot eyes or the purple bruises blooming on his shoulders. He touches his fingers to his cheek, to the tacky, blue something that’s stuck to his beard, that he can’t remember being there when he fell asleep. It smells sweet, and against his better judgment, he licks it from his fingers.

It tastes like ice cream.

#swtor #swtor fic #jedi knight #archiban kimble #swtor doc #hoiist #viios #hydrofic #hydrostuff #hydroswfic #hydroswstuff

[hydrospanners]

trick or treat

#the joke is his name is rhese #happy halloween from one clown to another #halloween 2k19 #rhese velaran #swtor #swtor art #the velaran legacy #hydroart #hydroswart #hydrostuff #hydroswstuff