#And is something I've been rotating in my mind for a long time

[saints-who-never-existed]

Look, I know this is very random but thinking about Manson and his Shetland origins brought me back to this video concerning Shetlandic/Shetland dialect, and I thought perhaps others might be interested to see it too.

It features Christine De Luca, who not only has an incredibly lovely, mellifluous voice but is also a celebrated poet who was made Edinburgh's Makar in 2014 and has long been an advocate for Shetlandic.

[cohlecosa]

what if i was editing cohlehart to sleep token. what then

[velvetures]

Got Me Snoring

A/N: One of my favorite things inspired by all the Ghost/König cosplayer TikToks using that one, song audio. Summary: Ghost admits getting head is boring. Reader isn't happy with that idea and goes about changing his mind. T/W: NS/FW 18+ Only, blowjobs, deepthroating, size kink if you squint, spit?, cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and it's been a long ass time since I've written full-on smut.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if she calls again, I’m not about to answer.” Soap’s voice carried from the living space of the hotel room to the kitchenette where you stood microwaving some rice from a convenience store down the street.

After-mission talk always leads to the most strange conversations. Maybe the adrenaline or the high of getting almost killed got everyone in a talking mood. However as the Captain slid behind you to go grab more ice outside in the hallway, you couldn’t help but shoot him a questioning look. They’d been talking about their previous accomplishments and failures in the bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, and thankfully they’d not roped you into the ridiculous conversation but with the Captain leaving out of the room, it drew their eyesight right to you standing patiently for your instant rice to finish cooking.

“What about you, huh?” Gaz was the one to poke a little. “Have any horror stories from the bedroom?” His eyebrows raised in mischievous curiosity as all three men sat staring at you with great intent.

“I’ve faked it plenty of times.” You reply offhandedly, waving a hand at them and going back to staring at the small plastic cup rotating around in the microwave.

You overheard the men pass through the moment of silence with low laughs, most noticeably, Ghost. Who’d apparently found something very funny and decided to grace everyone with the sound of deep and resounding chuckles. With a gloved hand, you take out your food and rejoin them in the room, finding a spot on the corner of one of the beds and crossing your legs to hold the bowl while you watch and listen to more of their recounted stories.

Soap complained more about the one night he’d met up with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and drank himself into oblivion to try and ease his nerves. The only problem was, that when he finally had enough liquid courage to make a move, he couldn’t get it up. Even watching him recount the tale now, you could see his embarrassment. You couldn’t imagine just how beautiful that woman had to be for Soap to give himself whiskey-dick so bad that to this day he regretted the memory and undoubtedly wished he could take it back. Gaz got pressured into retelling the story of the woman he met in Russia just for you since you’d never heard it; Detailing just how she’d been absolutely obsessed with him right from the get-go.

She couldn’t stop fawning over his accent and just how downright good-looking he was. Gaz on the other hand felt very embarrassed and never really tried to take things further on that trip. Fortunately for him, on a trip back a few months later for pleasure, he ran into the woman again and this time around she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Soap and Ghost laughed, poking fun at how utterly exhausted Garrick was when he met up with them in London. His shit-eating grin was more than enough for them to surmise that his little Russian vixen had taken him for a hell of a ride.

Then there was Ghost.

He didn’t have much to say in the way of his own successes, but did share one or two small comparisons with the other two as they kept pulling out detail after detail about the many people they’d met over the years and how they either felt they’d left their mark… or totally fucking missed it. All of it came to a very interesting topic that you suddenly became very interested in when Ghost uttered one single statement that left your mouth hanging open and staring at him almost in disbelief.

“I don’t like someone blowin’ my cock,” his voice sounded flat. Totally unbothered and nearly sleeping at the idea. “Never cared much for it when half doesn’t fit.”

You couldn’t help but insert yourself into the conversation after a long hour or so of sitting like a viewer at a movie. “Wait a second… You mean to tell me you don’t like getting head because you're too big?” The gasp in your tone was obvious, and even Soap and Gaz looked at him a little strangely as if they didn’t truly believe the idea either. It gave you a bit more reassurance in your belief that almost all men enjoyed it. Sure, there was the odd chance that Ghost just didn’t like it at all, but you really wanted to hear his explanation if he’d give you one.

The Lieutenant turned to look at you and nodded stiffly. “Yeah, ‘bout always puts me to sleep.”

It was at this point you felt the slightest urge to tell him he’d never had someone give him a legitimately good blowjob before. But before you could even say something to the contrary, a thought crossed your mind. Ghost didn’t seem like the kind of man who attracted ill-experienced women. Especially when he had already proven throughout the evening that his previous encounters were much more interesting and expansive than even that of yourself. Something a bit… jealous rose inside of you at the thought.

Imagining your Lieutenant laying on his back and hardly making any sort of sound while someone pulls out every single trick in their arsenal to make a blowjob somewhat entertaining or arousing. You didn’t necessarily profess yourself to have a crush on Ghost, due to just how grey the line between operators and anything felt when you spent so much time together under high-stress environments. There was bound to be some level of emotional attachment that devolved past… professional. And for whatever it was, knowing that Ghost had such a bad opinion on the receiving end of pleasure became a challenge you wanted to overcome.

About that time, Price returned with half-melted ice and a half-smoked cigar hanging between his lips.

“Finished talking about chasin’ tail yet?” He grumbled, walking past the group of you still sitting around each other like a bunch of kids getting caught staying up late by Dad at a sleepover. “Wanna go to fuckin’ sleep.”

He dropped the ice bucket down on the dresser with a little thud before settling himself down on the pull-out couch with his hat covering his eyes and both arms resting behind his head with that cigar still puffing smoke rings into the air. Ghost was the first to stand up, making his way out of the hotel room without as much as a comment about when he’d be back or where he was going. Your eyes trailed over his shoulders tapering into a slim waist before giving way again to thick and muscular thighs enhanced by all of gear still strapped to his body. His kit did leave a lot to the imagination. And god did your mind start to wander as both Soap and Gaz began winding down, settling themselves down to sleep for the night or at least lay somewhere quietly so the Captain didn’t lose any more of his patience and kick someone out or force them to pay for their own room. Not nearly tired enough with all of the questions and thoughts about Ghost now floating through your mind, you didn’t care the least bit about laying down or pretending not to care about the fact of the matter and headed out of the hotel room after the Lieutenant as Soap turned out the final lamp in the corner of the room.

The air was a bit cold outside without your jacket, breath materializing in front of you in light wisps of fog with every exhale as you looked down both ends of the hallway hoping to see some sign of where Ghost might’ve gone to. Down on the far left side, a larger cloud of smoke blew past the breezeway entrance and you knew right away that Ghost would be at the end of it. And when your eyes peeked around the corner, you weren’t the least bit surprised to see him with a shoulder resting up against the wall; his back to you with enough of his mask pulled up so that he could smoke a cigarette. The sweet vanilla and cherry smell hit you like a wall, reminding you that Ghost preferred rolling his own cigarettes and used pipe tobacco instead of buying packs of anything else.

Leaves no trace behind… He’d explained without prompting one night after noticing that you’d been watching him.

“Followin’ me now?” His voice heavy with smoke and unhindered by his mask landed directly on you, not even needing to turn around to know you were the one tailing after him.

“Couldn’t let you freeze to death alone.” You reply with a little smile, taking it as your chance to go ahead and walk -slowly- over to him giving him the privacy to smoke without needing to fuss with keeping his face covered.

By standing just at his back leaning against the wall, he knew right where you were, and it put the weight of conversation on him for the moment. He gave you a gruff sort of sound and took another drag off his cigarette before turning just far enough to offer it to you. You take it from his gloved fingers carefully, licking your lips a little in slight nervousness. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a hit, but it was the first time you’d ever actually taken him up on it. Seeing the damp rolling paper on the end made you shiver a little; Hopefully, the cold weather would be a good enough excuse to keep him from recognizing your sudden anxiety around him. Wrapping your lips around it and inhaling, you’re a little more than guilty for noticing the taste of Ghost instead of the vanilla and cherry. With a quick glance to your side, you saw his mask was pulled back down over his mouth and his dark eyes were focused right on you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth and back in through your nose. Attempting to hand it back, he just shakes his head.

“You didn’t come out here to be cold,” He finally broke the silence. “What’d you really want from me?”

No matter how long you spent around Ghost, you never got used to just how miserably direct Ghost could be. Like nothing was truly surprising to him or worth being the least bit delicate over. Even if it concerned someone -like yourself- at least attempting to be a little more discretionary. Yet you sighed and took another drag before tossing the rest of it down on the concrete, putting out the ember with the toe of your boot.

“Were you lying earlier?” Your question falls a little short of confident, giving Ghost the impression right away that you were nervous. For a split second, you thought you saw the phantom of a smile under the cover of his mask before it was quickly hidden back under late-night shadow and white paint. Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and gave a sigh, making more fog swirl around and through the woven material around his mouth. Another thought of what his mouth looked like flashed through your failing mind.

“Why would it matter?”

You licked at your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to word this without sounding desperate or downright shameless in front of your commanding officer… you shouldn't be thinking about doing this in the first place. So many more bad outcomes could come of this than the one good one. Even then, it was risky. Leaving you a bit dazed and staring at Ghost.

“Asked you a question. I’m expectin’ an answer.” He pressed forward, a slight swagger in his hips as he got closer to you, resting a hand on the wall and tilting his head a little to the side. Damn near mocking you for being so much smaller and easily intimidated. You look down at your boots for a moment, deciding to just put your money where your mouth is and take the hit no matter the outcome.

“If you weren’t lying…” You look up, internally screaming at how heavy his eyes look down on you. “I’d like to try and change your mind.”

A deep chuckle comes from the Lieutenant in response followed by his heavy hand resting on your shoulder, almost totally engulfing it.

“You’re jokin’,” His voice lowered with humor that made you almost shrivel up and die inside. “Why would I let you do that?” You give a frustrated sigh and take a step back away from Ghost. Mentally and physically distancing yourself from the slight Ghost had given you by accident or otherwise.

“Never mind.” You give a short nod and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel room and find somewhere to curl up on the floor or in a bed with someone and try to sleep off your damaged ego.

Yet five steps away from Ghost, you’re stopped short with his arm snaked around your waist tightly and his mouth resting against your ear with a heavy and hot breath fanning against your neck. His palm spreads over your stomach and squeezes almost aggressively at the soft flesh under your shirt. Tall and wide, Ghost yanks your back flush to his chest as a silent threat.

“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” His low growl makes you shiver. “I’m not finished with ya.”

In an instant, you’re spun around and hauled aggressively with your back against the nearest wall with Ghost’s chest holding you from fighting back. His legs limit your ability to try and escape out from under his arms, and while one hand is flat against your chest, the other restricts both your wrists above your head. Breath evacuates your lungs with the sudden shock of your back against the wall, but your eyes are locked on Ghost’s as he glares at you harshly through the wavering mist of his breath in the cold air.

“Now I’ve got you pacified…” His smirk was clear in tone, outright mocking you by pressing those massive thighs tighter against yours. “Let’s continue shall we?” The gloved hand pressed against your heaving chest slides up to grasp firmly at your chin and jerk it up to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you be a good little thing and tell me why you think you could change my mind, and maybe… I won’t punish you for talkin’ shit to your superior officer.” He spat loudly, his face less than an inch from yours, eyes flaming with aggression.

“Sorry Lieutenant…” You mutter stiffly through the struggle of his hand against your jaw. “Thought I could do better.” You add a lot weaker, averting your eyes as far from Ghost as you can.

“What was that?” He made dark fun of you, terribly obvious, and downright happy with himself. “Say it again.”

You squirm in his grasp, only to get your wrists slid up higher on the wall and a thigh shoved between your own to lift your feet almost totally off the ground. Toes tapping the ground, Ghost holds you totally of his own power without the slightest effort needed to keep you held right where he wanted you to be.

“Thought I could do better.” You repeat yourself louder, and more clearly, feeling utterly stupid for enduring such pathetic treatment. Only you knew it was your fault for letting such a pipe dream of an idea come to reality by prodding Ghost about his sex life so confidently. The masked man hummed lowly, tilting his head as he inspected your face lighted only by a small sliver of moonlight creeping around the corner of the hallway.

“Better, huh?” Ghost chuckles darkly, this thumb tracing over the bottom curve of your lip carefully. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone so small.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Size has nothing to do with it.”

Ghost barks laughter, grumbling something under his breath before dropping his hand away from your jaw and releasing one of your hands to press against his groin. You can’t miss his meaning from the massive erection pressing back against your hand and twitching impatiently when your Lieutenant squeezes your hand around it tighter. A growl escapes his throat and he looks up at you with almost evil eyes.

“Still think size doesn’t matter, little one?” He questions, one eyebrow raising above the hemline of his mask.

Your mouth falls open in shock. Not only because of the sheer girth of Ghost’s cock pulsing in your hand but realizing that he was actually taking your proposal seriously no matter how aggressive his mockery of you was. It shouldn’t have been so damn surprising when taking into account just how large of a man Ghost is. Surely everything would be proportionate, and his erection was proof of it.

Your face is enough to make Ghost chuckle. “That’s what I thought…”

It’s enough of a dismissal that thaws your speechlessness and throws you right back into the present with enough of the guts to speak up for your own desires.

“I can do it,” You blurt breathlessly, fingers tracing along the curve of Ghost’s dick and earning a lusty growl from him. “I can make it good. I’ll make it fit.” You nod your head feverishly in an attempt to keep your chance open. Ghost’s eyes widen at your desperation and his cock twitches hard in your palm with the sound of your shallow breaths and pleading eyes.

“You want it, huh?” He questions, mask moving like he’s grinning under it.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

The moment his hands release you, you feel yourself sliding down the wall until your knees make a bruising thud against the concrete floor in front of Ghost. Your hands holding on his thighs without the slightest care that you were standing in the middle of a hotel breezeway where anyone could see you. A weight settled in your lower stomach with the idea of anyone coming out of their room and witnessing such a sight.

“My belt.” Ghost instructs a bit pinched, looking down at you with his chin almost touching his chest.

You’re frantic yet shaking as your hands slide up his thighs and begin pulling his belt loose, hearing that metallic clink as you pull the two sides apart with a watering mouth. No instruction is necessary for you to know where to go next, and as you unbutton his cargo pants, your free hand palms his cock as you pull down just enough of his waistband to expose him but not make him cold. Ghost’s hands help just a little, settling extra material where he prefers it, almost patiently holding up his own hoodie and t-shirt out of your way as you slid your hands under his boxers.

“Fuck…” Ghost mutters quietly, tensing when your fingers wrap around his base and free him from his underwear.

Your thumb smears over his swollen head soft enough to not make him jerk away with sensitivity, and you lick your lips at just how wet his cock already is from sheer anticipation. Hell, you were turned on too, practically dripping in your underwear at the sight of Ghost with nothing but a perfect dick exposed and ready for your mouth. The first lick is a teasing one. Flattening it over his head just because you couldn’t wait to taste him, gathering up his arousal, and making it a point to swallow with your eyes locked right on Ghost’s. You're certain it’s enough to affect him just by the way he grunts and rests both of his hands against the wall behind you to steady himself.

When your lips wrap around his tip and slide down towards his base slowly, you hollow your lips and suck hard. Almost mimicking drinking through a straw with both hands wrapped around his thick base to restrict blood flow, adding to his sensitivity. You feel his feet flex in his boots next to your thighs and another low grunt. It spurs you forward, sinking down further and massaging your tongue on the underside before raising back up to lick at his frenulum and repeating the process with quiet whines each time he’s unable to hold back some sound.

“Shit-” He hisses after no more than a couple of minutes, jerking his hips back away from you and moving your hands out of the way so he could tighten his own fist around his cock with a heaving chest.

He stays like that for a few moments, undoubtedly trying to stave off the pleasure you’d been giving before his eyes meet yours again and they’re downright hungry and raging with fury that you’d brought him so close without any extra fancy moves or those fake moans that porn always showed. With one quick movement, he stepped closer and tilted your head back until it gently rested against the wall behind you, his cock smearing your own spit and his arousal over your open and awaiting mouth.

“You look pretty like this…” He muttered, rubbing his length over your face and tapping it teasingly against your mouth. “You hungry for more?” You’re sticking out your tongue and nodding right away, earning you a tense chuckle and the feeling of Ghost’s dick sliding into your mouth while his hand cushions the back of your head from the wall.

“Let me feed it to ya,” He grunts. “Shove my fat cock in your mouth and fuck your throat..” He adds with a feral sort of sound mixing with an ever-thickening accent.

You moan around his length, feeling your jaw muscles begin to start aching when your nose just barely grazes his pubic bone and his tip touches the back of your throat. He’s thick enough to qualify as the largest you’ve ever experienced, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about whether he’ll be able to fit. You know he’ll make it fit if nothing else.

And him utterly pounding your throat sounded so hot that you tried pushing further down on his shaft yourself. Eager to feel Ghost as deep in you as possible. Ghost obliges you, and rocks his hips forward slowly, easing his thick head past that ring of pressure at the back of your throat and cursing under his breath when a wet, gurgling sound vibrates around his shaft as you begin swallowing around him.

“Bloody, fuucckk yes…” His groans punch through the quiet air, far louder than he should be risking in such a public space. But he’s only getting started with this experience as your nose presses against his pubic bone, and his hand flattens against the wall.

“So tight… doggin’ me right where anyone can see.”

It’s the thought that had you so eager, and right away you felt just how much it turned Ghost on too. Because the second he said it, he pulled back just a fraction and pushed himself back down your throat, beginning tight and quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back. He kept a furious pace, growling and holding tight to the back of your head until you tapped at the back of his thigh a few times, and he pulled out with a loud grunt, giving you a moment to breathe. You panted, seeing a thick web of spit connecting your mouth and his tip before watching it break and drip down your shirt.

You’re about to tell Ghost… something. But you instantly lose thought of it when he’s bent down with his mask rucked up just far enough to smash his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth and practically eating you from the inside out. You can still taste the salty edge of his skin, and it’s almost heady to have his mouth mingling with yours and sharing his arousal between soft moans and heavy breaths. The kiss is long and feverish, but not near long enough before he’s standing back up and stroking his fist up and down his cock right in front of you like an unreal kind of dream somehow coming to life.

“Please.” You mutter a bit hoarse from the rough treatment of your throat, totally unsure of what you really want most. Between his mouth, words, and dick there’s so much more than just one you desired, but at least one of them needed to be delivered to you to attempt satisfaction.

“Open up, little one…” Ghost whispers face re-masked already, and it makes you whine pathetically, having naively believed he’d allow you just one glimpse at the mouth you’d just tasted. “Need to have more of you.” You’re totally happy to resign by leaning your head back against the wall with your tongue wetting your lips in the cold air.

Ghost starts painfully slow, holding your head on both sides of your jaw and teasing his head against your tongue and the textured roof of your mouth; indiscernible words falling from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. You would’ve thought it was nothing more than your Lieutenant just taking his pleasure as offered. But the way his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and his fingers would occasionally rub over the stretched muscles in your jaw gave you the feeling that he was well aware of what you were surrendering to him. As well as how thankful he was to have you on your knees, and looking so fucking angelic swallowing and spitting on his dick like a dirty little whore.

“Let me - Wanna…” His rising breaths and steady strokes begin to falter the longer he thrusts inside your mouth, meticulously avoiding forcing himself deeper in disappointment; resulting in your whining and muffled complaints and pleasure. Had his hands not been purposefully holding you back to prolong the session, Ghost probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

“P-patience…” His stammer made your chest clench in satisfaction. “Don’t - don’t wanna finish in your mouth…”. That breathy comment nearly struck you stiff as concrete.

You couldn’t believe that after this entire ordeal, Ghost was actually trying to end a blowjob without you finishing it the way you honestly believed it should always end. With you swallowing every last fucking drop that the Lieutenant gave you; wearing a goddamn smile bigger than anyone has ever seen. If he hadn’t been lying and head never impressed him, there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were going to let him finish anywhere that wasn’t down your throat. In a split second, you were shaking your head no and pulling back off his cock with a slight gasp.

“No, finish.” It’s the most demanding and certain you’ve sounded all night. “Finish in my mouth, Ghost.”

His eyes say it all.

They’re wide with his pupils blown at impressive dimensions and his thick eyelashes flutter as his shocked expression forces him to blink over and over again to make sense of you. Mouth and chin covered in spit, on your knees, and literally begging him to come in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking filthy…” He mutters aloud, watching intently as you slide back down over him one more time and begin doing what you wanted to from the very beginning.

Bring Ghost to his knees.

It’s a moment before you have him cursing and holding onto the wall with both hands again as you push deeper and deeper until you're teasing the tip of your nose against him yet again. Unwilling to let him pull you off this time or prolong this. Deserving this release was the bare minimum. Not only did you want to provide him ultimate pleasure where no one else had, but you enjoyed every single bit of it. You needed this as much -if not more- than Ghost.

Heavy and twitching in your mouth, Ghost was teetering on the edge of his orgasm with stuttering hips and one hand sliding down to rest on your head. Not pushing this time, just laying at the crown like your movements were too much to feel with only one part of his body. Short pants were cut short by unintelligible words and strained attempts to say what you already knew.

As if giving your final approval of the idea Ghost had found unacceptable, you push him as deep as you could one final time; Hearing his loud shout echo down the breezeway as both of his hands grabbed harshly onto the sides of your head. Pumping stream after stream of his hot release down your throat you moaned deeply, feeling him gently rock his hips against your face as he rode down his high on shaky legs. You gagged a little as he pulled out, feeling your throat begin to burn in an unfamiliar way that had never followed you sharing a moment like this with another man. Only one look at Ghost’s cock right in front of your face was more than enough to reassure you he’d just been the one who gave you enough of a delicious stretch to feel for days to come.

Your eyes met his and a small little shy smile crossed your sore lips, contrasting the absolutely deplorable -and punishable- act you’d ever committed with a superior officer. Wordlessly Ghost tucked himself back into his underwear and neglected to button his pants back up before dropping to a knee right in front of you and pulling up his mask again to brush his lips against yours.

“Want to taste,” He whispered ever-so-softly, hands holding your head gently.

“Need to taste me inside your mouth.” He added, licking your lips before closing the distance between you for a second time. This kiss was still intense. Ghost controlling the pace and just how much dominance you had, which nearly came to zero when he licked into your mouth, groaning shamelessly. He could taste his release coating your mouth as he utterly overwhelmed you with kisses, licks, bites, and more moans that fell like honey on your ears.

You were the first to pull back for a gasp of air you’d gone full minutes without, feeling your own mouth and body beginning to feel a little weak with exhaustion not typical of a well-conditioned soldier like yourself. Your Lieutenant took note right away and rested his head against yours reassuringly, his nose touching yours.

“You’re too cold to be out here like this.” He whispered, pulling your cheek affectionately and wrapping the other arm around you. “Not gonna let you freeze after that.” He chuckled a bit sluggishly, kissing you again long and chaste.

He pulled his mask back down and gave very little effort to pick you up off your knees and into his arms without question or hesitation. Leaving you feeling like a treasured prize he’d won and refused to let out of his sight for more than a moment. Safe and protected, you couldn’t care one bit about the cold nipping through your thin clothes and resting your head against Ghost’s shoulder as he carried you back to the hotel room the 141 had already retired for the night in.

Expertly avoiding Soap and Gaz laying on couch cushions on the floor and covered with extra bedsheets, sliding around Price’s bed without bumping it, all while carrying you Ghost sat you down on the edge of the bed he’d been keen to claim as his own right when you’d arrived. You were nearly asleep just sitting there when he unlaced your boots enough to tug them off, pulled your shirt off over your head, and replaced it with one of his hoodies. Finally, he takes off your pants and nods for you to move up to the top of the bed, acting just as he would normally. But as he climbed into the bed next to you and tugged you back against him tightly, you realized you’d gotten a lot more than you bargained for.

Sure you might’ve changed Ghost’s mind about getting head… but you weren’t finished yet. Because Ghost was curling his arm around your waist and burying his masked face in between your shoulder blades like cuddling with you at night was the usual way of things. His fingers innocently traced the waistband of your underwear, and he radiated body heat that melted away the fringe sensations of cold on your body easily.

“I’ve made a decision,” He whispers very quietly so as not to wake the others. And you wiggle back a little closer to him, nodding your head as a silent acknowledgment for him to go on. Expecting him to say that you did -in fact- change his mind about getting blown.

“You’re mine now.”

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

[pretty-little-mind33]

Ice Hockey James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You wait for your boyfriend after his game — In the same universe as Suburban Legends

Genre: Fluff <3

Warnings: muggle au, college au, swearing

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You stand in the lobby of the rink, your arms are crossed across your chest and you're cursing yourself for only wearing his jersey instead of something warmer. Still, you smile. How can you mind when you can remember how happy James looked when saw you in the stands?

You pace around, waiting another few minutes until you start to become impatient. All his teammates have left the rink, which is something you know because you've counted each of their high-fives.

You have only been dating James Potter for a month now, but his teammates act like they've already taken you in as one of their own. 

"I didn't think you'd wait for me this long." you hear him. His voice is a little hoarse and he's rotating his shoulder around as he grimaces.

"Is your arm okay?" you ask, standing up and meeting him in the middle of the lobby. He was shoved pretty hard into the plexiglass and you look up at him, concerned. 

His lips curl into a little smirk, "Worried about me, Y/l/n?" He whispers and leans in close.

"As your girlfriend, I feel like if I wasn't worried then we'd have a problem," you chuckle and roll your eyes at his insistence to continue calling you by your last name. He says it's a habit but you're convinced he just likes to see you flustered.

"Come on I'm starving," you take his hand and try to lead him towards the door. 

"Shit," James groans, "I forgot my gloves in the locker room," 

You drop his hand and turn around, crossing your arms. "Are you seriously making me wait for you longer than I already have?" 

He shakes his head with a smile, "No. You're coming with me this time." It's his turn to take your hand and he practically pulls you to the locker rooms. 

"Jamie, slow down," you say.

Suddenly, you're pressed against the wall of the empty hallway as James's arms cage around your head. His hockey bag had fallen onto the ground and he leans his head downwards so that you can look into his eyes. His eyes shine and he's giving you the most obvious, "I wanna to kiss you," pout. 

"What are you doing?" you feign coy behind a laugh as he slides his hands down to the side of your head and cups your cheeks in his hands. He's so close it's incredibly intoxicating.

"Kissing you?"

You smile, nodding, and he leans down to kiss along your neck. His hips press into mine and you think I've finally lost all sensibility. "You drive me insane — you and my fucking jersey," he whispers as his kisses move upwards and his knuckles skim the fabric of his jersey near your breasts.

"You're the one who wanted me have it."

"Yeah, to wear around your dorm—not during my games," he says and his hands climb up the wall again as you look up at him, "If your plan is to distract me when I'm supposed to be paying attention to the game, you should know it's working more than it should…"

You grin and stare at him with wide eyes. You make sure to chew on your lower lip so that you're doing exactly what you know turns him on. "Seems like a misunderstood then," you say, "Still, I didn't think you would have a problem with everyone knowing I'm yours, James." 

Something snaps inside him and that's when he kisses you. 

It's raw and rough, but the way his strong arms wrap around you waist to pull you closer is gentle and you melt into his arms. Wantonly, you run your hand through his hair. The dark brown locks are slightly messy from being under his helmet and when James feels me pull on them, his breath jumps in his throat,

"Everyone already knows you're mine." He whispers and then continues to kiss you.

You pull him even closer and with his good arm, he wraps one of my legs around his hip. You're both so engrossed in our activity you, unfortunately, don't hear footsteps until, James's coach clears his throat,

James stops kissing you and carefully lowers your leg onto the ground. He hides you behind him as you turn around, his cheeks crimson from embarrassment, as you attempt to calm your internal panic. 

"Hey," James says, weirdly casual.

"Rink is closing, Potter. Go home." His coach says and you peek at him from behind James's shoulder. He sees me and sighs, "You too, Y/n."

"Will do, sir." James says. Quickly, he lifts his bag back onto his shoulder and holds your hand. You mumble a small, "sorry" as you walk by his coach but you don't think he hears you considering you can't even bear to look at him. 

Once you're back in the lobby, you bury your head in your hands, "I'm so embarrassed," you groan. James laughs and rubs your shoulders.

You look up at him and frown, "This really isn't funny."  

"Coach doesn't care. I promise." James reassures you.

"Why? Is this not the first time he's caught you kissing someone here?" you ask, sounding more jealous than intended.

James's expression softens and, holding your hips, he pulls you close enough to kiss your forehead, "How many times to I have to promise you I'm not, and have never been, a player?" 

You nod, smiling guiltily, "Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have asked that, I'm sorry."

"Water under the bridge, Y/l/n," James jokes and kisses your temple. He swings his arm around your shoulder, "I remember someone said they were hungry, shall we eat now?" 

"Wait, what about your gloves?"

James grins wolfishly. "Oh, those are in my bag, I just wanted to make out with you."

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg (pretending like i didn't just forget this until now!!)

[maximotts]

♱ 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖒 ♱

♱ 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑: priest's daughter!Wanda Maximoff

I missed writing her and since it's been a year since @furys-eyepatch dropped this wonderful idea in my ask box, it felt right to start October off with one of my favorite squishies!

confessions of wanda maximoff AU. kinktober masterlist. 18+ only, minors dni. you don't need to add community labels, I've put adequate warnings below. wc: 3.9k. cw: innocent!Wanda/constantly horny!r. sex in a church. fingering. fucking from behind. strap-on use. begging. semi-public sex (no one is around). everything you shouldn't be doing in a place of worship. r thinks saying vulgar things to wanda and seeing her blush is peak entertainment.

“This is kinda the last place I want to be on Halloween, Wands..”

Wanda looked over her shoulder for the sole purpose of giving you an eye roll before continuing to tug you along through the back of the church. “I’m only picking up something for my dad, it’ll just take a second. I did say you could wait outside!”

“And hang around out there by myself? No way, it’s almost dark and there’s a cemetery!” You’d been sidetracked on the way to Natasha’s party, a texted errand from Wanda’s dad bringing you to his office in search of the large bags of candy he forgot to bring home with him. You didn’t mind honestly, the older man was always so kind it was hard to resist any of his requests— much like his daughter, the girl currently standing in front of you grinning.

She cooed at you in the confines of her father’s office, rubbing your cheeks while you swat at her hands. “Aww, are you afraid of ghosts? How cute..”

“Stop it, Wanda!” You scoffed, brushing her off and crossing your arms. So what if you were a little superstitious, who wasn’t? And you certainly didn’t need to let Wanda know; she’d hold it over you like she’d won the lottery. “Just hurry up so we can get out of here…”

Wanda kissed you quickly, soft and placating; an apology for teasing. She always saw you as someone fearless, it was nice to see a concept as harmless as ghosts rattle you. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything get us. If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen anything creepy and Pietro and I used to spend tons of time here when we were kids.” 

Trailing off as she went about searching, you leant back against the wall with a pout, opting to watch Wanda while you waited. She had yet to change into her costume, insisting it be strictly for the party, but part of you theorized it was just to keep her outfit from her dad. Instead, her bunny costume lay folded up in the backseat of your car and her dress remained on, teasing you a little more each time she bent over. 

With the cooler weather, Wanda added tights to her wardrobe rotation, sheer black nylon hugging every curve from her ankles to her hips. You didn’t know what it was, but something about them left you drooling whenever you thought about the extra layer on your girlfriend for too long. In the past few weeks, you found yourself running your hands over her legs whenever she was close enough, often ending up playfully chided when you eventually grew too grabby during your shared lectures. But now, alone together with Wanda bent so far over the large wooden desk that you could catch just the barest hint of her underwear, you found it terribly hard to control your urge to grab her.

Hesitation gave Wanda enough time to shoot upright, victorious with heavy plastic bags in her tight grasp, “Candy acquired!” 

She made her way back over to you by the door, pressing her lips to the corner of your mouth as she passed, “Now let's get out of here before some big bad ghostie bothers you.” 

“I don’t think any ghosts want to be anywhere near us right now…” Try as you might, you couldn’t help yourself, eyes glued to Wanda’s backside as she led you back through the dark corridors behind the sanctuary. These weren’t proper thoughts right now, especially here, but it was Halloween… what better day to do something a little sacreligious.

“And why is that-” The end of her sentence was punctuated with a surprised oof, the shock of being shoved sideways into the wall cutting her short. Strong hands gripped her hips, balling the bottom half of her dress in your fists as you buried your nose into her long, dark hair. Instinct begged her to let the moan caught in her throat loose, but someone had to be level-headed here… or at least try to be. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I could ask you the same question, wearing this dress with no shorts and showing off.” You palmed her ass while she wiggled, sandwiched helplessly between you and the carved wood. Maybe you’d hoped that a simple bit of groping would satisfy whatever just took over, but it’d been wishful thinking; the more you touched, the more you wanted. “Did you know every time you bend over I can see your underwear? It’s not very nice to tease like that.”

“I-I didn’t know…” Wanda’s head was spinning, your sudden turn of mood rendering her flustered. Having never thought of herself in much of a sexual way, today’s lack of shorts was more of convenience rather than to tease. No matter how far she got from being a virgin, the intricacies of attraction and desire remained partially lost to her, always forgetting not only were you insatiable at times, but you wanted her. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” 

“No need to apologize, Wands, I’m not mad.” The last thing you wanted was to embed shame to how your girlfriend decided to dress; if anything, the uncharacteristic choice made the surprise more enticing. 

She shivered as you nibbled the shell of her ear, trembling more every second your hands continued roaming, exploring, groping her so shamelessly. “But you can make it up to me by letting me touch you.”

“We’re in a church…” Even so, it was just the two of you in the building, a fact confirmed by one quick glance out into the main room through one of the wall’s cutouts. All alone in the quiet, sacred space. Wanda knew she should protest harder, the mere idea should’ve been off putting, but it wasn’t. Nor was it the first time this scenario crossed her mind.

You’d be lying if you said the setting didn’t turn you on that much more and if Wanda’s shudder as you palmed over her covered sex was any indication, she wasn’t completely put off. Curious fingers poked and prodded, pressing against her in earnest until Wanda was gasping. “Why not? No one would know and it’d be fun.” 

You could practically hear the cogs in Wanda’s brain turning, working overdrive to come up with some answer where she could do the ‘right’ thing and keep those all too good sensations flowing from between her legs. “Maybe in the car?”

She’d expected the proposition to sound more convincing than it was, your contemplative hum against the nape of her neck showing Wanda she probably hadn’t swayed you either. Enticing as the car might’ve been in the past, it wasn’t what she yearned for right now. If you led her out, she’d follow and most definitely enjoy herself, but she’d think about this and what it could’ve been until this very rare opportunity presented itself again, if ever.

“Oh, but I want you right here, sweetheart. What if someone drives by and sees you outside? You know I like to keep you all to myself.” Wanda didn’t stop the hand sliding past the top of her stockings, fingers stretching the thin fabric in search of her panties— the second your fingertips grazed the embroidered cotton you groaned. 

Occasionally you caught her wearing the days of the week underwear she’d splurged on from some online boutique shop, something she bought with the mindset that no one would ever see them, but oh how wrong she was. Initially embarrassed for you to catch her wearing them, she was so relieved when you’d written it off as just another precious thing to love about her. 

“How are you always so pretty, babygirl? Makes it so hard to keep my hands off you,” Two inches further down, you discovered the beginnings of a wet spot, Wanda’s body giving her away despite her meekly suggested location change. “Especially when you get wet so easily. It’s my job to take care of that, being a good girlfriend and all.”

“I can’t help it,” she breathed out, trying to keep her breathing even for as long as possible. It was true, Wanda often found her thighs pressed together after a few touches or too long of a kiss; a fact she only recently discovered upon dating you. 

“I know, poor thing, let me fix it.” With your free hand holding the front of her dress, fingers splayed over her stomach, you held your girlfriend still as you moved the last barrier aside, sliding through her already slick folds as shamelessly as you would if you were in the privacy of your apartment back at home, laser focused on watching the girl in your arms go limp. 

The physical embodiment of a devil on her shoulder as you nudged her sweater out of the way, Wanda couldn’t possibly deny either of you further; the longer you waited, the higher the chance that someone else would wander in. Her cheeks burned red hot, unable to tell how much was from being manhandled mere feet behind the altar or the humiliation of how badly she wanted you to continue. “Please…”

“Please what, Wanda? Take you to the car?” Circling her clit almost did her in, knees buckling, hall echoing with the sound of the bags falling from Wanda’s hand to the floor. You let up and she whined pitifully, hips bucking in search for more of the fleeting pleasure. But if you were doing this, you needed your favorite part: her confirmation. “Use your words and I’ll give you whatever you want, baby.”

“Take me, right here…” She was nearly dizzy with need as she spoke, but the struggle was so worth it once your fingers began working her purposely now, promptly rewarding her acceptance. It was all too easy to forget any lingering worries and focus on her rapidly building orgasm, head and hands falling forward to brace herself as you slid two fingers into her. “Oh god, yes-”

You tutted mockingly, grinning into the crook of her sweet-smelling neck. “Now you know that’s not proper language for where we are. Mind your manners.” 

It was terribly hypocritical considering how lewdly you were stretching her open on your digits, letting her drip down your palm. You could pretty much count on her making a mess, but no matter how familiar of a sensation, it was all you could do not to fall to your knees and see for yourself; Wanda was the only person you’d ever felt so inclined to worship. “You feel so good on my fingers, sweet thing. I wish you could feel how tight you’re squeezing them.”

The poor thing did her best to keep up, but you were so fast, so determined to watch her walls come down in the place she should be doing the exact opposite… The most she could do was moan out her pleasure, heavenly music to your ears. “Can I cum? I’m so close-!”

“Go on, I want to feel you.” Wanda finished with a cry, muffled into her arm, still too afraid to be loud no matter how alone you might be. She shivered and shook, thighs trapping your hand in place as she rode out her orgasm. Even from behind Wanda was a sight, long hair falling over her shoulders as she tossed, hands clamoring for purchase anywhere on the wall she’d never look at the same way again. 

Satisfied with your work, thought she’d be done and more than ready to get out of here, but to your surprise, her hand grabbed your wrist before you could pull out. “What’s wrong, Wanda?”

“Nothing, it’s just..” Wanda couldn’t believe what she was about to say, but it’d be a terrible missed opportunity if she didn’t ask. Rubbing her backside against your front confirmed what she’d felt for a few seconds before, the telltale bulge in your pants providing Wanda the perfect setup to make one of her deepest fantasies a reality. She’d gone this far; what was a little more for the whole way. That’s what she kept repeating to validate this next want. “Do you think we could maybe, um..”

“Maybe what?” Her actions only gave you an inkling into what Wanda was hinting at, but surely she couldn’t be thinking what you thought she was. 

When it came to risky scenarios, you were constantly on the propositioning end, finding creative ways to present your new ideas for Wanda’s approval. What you’d just gotten away with was a giant push of luck, never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine she’d ask for it. “The rules are you use your words. You have to say it.”

Of course you wouldn’t let her off easy, not when both of you were on the precipice of doing something so scandalous. She appreciated how dedicated you were to her enthusiastic consent, but if she thought about what she was asking too hard, she feared she might fizzle into nothingness. “I was thinking if you were up for it, we might go again?”

“Yeah? With my fingers?” You goaded her with a slow curl of your long digits, guiding her back until you could easily grind your clothed strap on against her, the sharpest squeak bubbling from Wanda’s chest. As you moved this time, you were slow, too slow, knowing as nice as it was, it wasn’t what she needed. Not when she remembered how mouthwateringly full she was a few days ago when you’d last had her in your lap.

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, mousy and bashful. Her one advantage was facing away from you, fully aware she’d never have the courage to speak up that way unless you forced it out of her. “I meant with your strap…”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, as if someone else said them; anyone but the person she knew herself to be. But you heard them in her sweet, sheepish voice and something feral inside you snapped. You tore away from her unceremoniously, only for a second, just long enough to bend her a little farther, slapping Wanda’s ass once. 

“Fuck, I wish I could keep you here all night, just to see what else I can get a naughty girl like you to tell me what they’ve been dreaming up.” Ignoring her shout, you ripped a hole in her stockings, tearing wide enough that you could play with her from behind, shallowly dipping your fingertips into the hole you’d so cruelly left empty. 

“You’re all I want,” Neck straining over her shoulder to catch glimpses of you undoing your pants, Wanda’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the thick dildo set on your hips, only fluttering closed as you nestled the toy between her thighs, sliding it back and forth in an effort to wet it for Wanda’s comfort. Eager as you were, this one was bigger than she’d taken before and you’d never forgive yourself if you caused her any pain. “Hurry up before someone comes in..”

“Look at you, so impatient,” The tip teased Wanda awfully, drawing low moaned out pleas that were much too pretty to deprive yourself of so quickly. It wasn’t long until her wetness coated your strap, slick and ready for her as soon as you were ready to deliver. “Does my sweet girl want me to fill her up with my cock? Would that make you happy?”

“Mhm..so happy..” Something about being fucked left Wanda’s brain so.. empty, always coaxing her into a blissful relaxation. She supposed it had something to do with not only touch, but your words, sneakily dumbing her down until her only thoughts rested on you and when you’d give her what she waited for. 

Being taken in church was an idea she only allowed to appear in her deepest dreams, shaming herself afterwards for even daring to create such a thought. If anyone was going to give it to her now, it had to be you and to her credit, you’d started this. But logistics were way too much for Wanda to think about presently and, in a mission to make this impromptu sex as good for her as it already was for you, clearing her of any fears was your highest priority. “All I want to do is make you happy, Wanda.”

She knew that was true from the very first time you’d told her, those words only ever given with the most sincere honesty. Combined with the gentle patterns you drew over the sensitive skin of her lower tummy, Wanda let herself be lulled, trusting you to take care of her in the vulnerable state she so loved to fall into. 

“Spread your legs for me a little, just like that…” Everyone would be wondering where you were soon, Wanda’s father waiting on his Halloween candy delivery and Natasha for the drinks she asked you to get, but for this, for her? You’d say screw it all without hesitation to take your time and make this happen however she pictured. “Now beg. Confess to me, little church mouse.”

As you pushed the tip in and stopped, Wanda erupted into a fit of pitiful noises, fighting against your hold to feel that ever lusted after stretch, but you were stronger than her and wouldn’t budge. Being made to beg was equal parts hot and degrading; unfortunately you’d come to love to hear it, discovered it turned her on to do it, and now demanded it whenever the chance presented itself. “I need your cock, need you to fuck me.. please please!”

“There’s my good girl,” With one long push, you filled her completely, overwhelming the needy girl in all the best ways. You gave her just enough time to adjust, rutting into her tight pussy hard and fast as soon as possible. If she was wet before, Wanda was absolutely drenched now, making it all too easy to fuck into her as deep as you dared. “You look so pretty all fucked out, Wanda, begging to be fucked just outside of your dad’s office.. in a church, no less..”

“I.. I didn’t…” She truly hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but she certainly hadn’t objected too heavily either, especially not to this. Each time your hips met Wanda thought she was done for, that coil in the pit of her stomach tighter than she could ever remember it being. Her entire body felt like a livewire, every touch you provided almost stinging. As soon as you found her neglected clit, Wanda was panting, chest heaving in the small, restricted space between her and the wall. 

She devolved into an incoherent mess, pathetic and helpless noises echoing throughout the otherwise silent halls. In a selfish act, you covered Wanda’s mouth, cementing the impossible to ignore wet sounds coming from your girlfriend to memory. “Do you hear how wet you are for me, baby? I would’ve fucked you earlier if I knew you needed me this much.”

Your teasing was too much for Wanda to bear; your crude words, being forced to listen to how aroused she was. Part of her still chalked this up to some insanely vivid dream. The moment your fingertips slid past her lips Wanda was sucking on them, albeit sloppy and lazily, reflecting how little focus she had as your strap hit her at the perfect angle. She was losing it fast, muscles threatening to give out the closer her second orgasm came. “P-Please, can I-”

“Of course you can. Poor thing, you just need to cum so badly,” Wanda’s pulse raced under your lips, but you kissed her there so sweetly it nearly felt like a joke. Below, your hips moved at a torturous pace, quick and brutal in time with the circles you rubbed into her almost too sensitive bud. If you could just see her come apart one more time- “Cum for me, I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s jaw fell open, spit covered fingers giving her slight reprieve while she bucked and twisted wildly, only managing to stay upright with the help of your strong arms. Fucking her through it all quickly became more for your pleasure, bottoming out to let you grind your own clit against the back of the toy at the join of your hips, clinging to Wanda’s trembling form as you came with a groan into the back of her hair. “I would’ve helped…”

“Trust me, you did more than enough,” you mumbled, nibbling the shell of her ear as you caught your breath. You’d never given much thought to the joys of a joint orgasm until Wanda, finding something special in sharing your highs. Always one to prove how useful she could be, Wanda loved being allowed to touch you, to see how good she could make you feel before you reached your end, but this time she was in no state to do so nor did you need it; watching her was more than you would’ve ever asked for. “You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”

Wanda wanted to say something back, couldn’t remember if she’d actually spoken out loud or not, but also couldn’t focus hard enough to think that deeply at the moment. She felt like she spent an eternity there, swimming in some cloud high above the church while your touches turned gentle, stroking over her hips and stomach until Wanda finally started to settle down. 

Thankfully the church remained empty so you let her take her time, holding Wanda steady while you pulled out. Careful as you were, she still whimpered, body worn out and tired, “Shh, you’re okay, pretty girl.”

Turning around let Wanda slump against your front as you leaned into the wall, green eyes hazy and heavy. She drew you into an almost sleepy set of kisses, thanking you with sticky, lip gloss smudge marks along your jaw… until she remembered exactly where she was. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we just did that.. We have to get out of here now!” 

Fumbling terribly, your girlfriend snatched the fallen candy bags from the floor in one hand and your arm in the other, dragging you as fast as her strength would let her. “Be careful, Wanda, or you’ll trip!” 

“I’m fine, just open the car!” She didn’t know if she should be mortified or terrified, praying to every power in the universe no one ever found out about this. Wanda’d never sped out of church in such a flurry, as if the quicker she moved, the longer she could escape the anxiety gaining on her. 

Unfortunately for her, you had no such issues and her inner turmoil only made you laugh. “Don’t forget you liked it. I’m pretty sure you were the one begging loudest-”

“You made me!” To you, Wanda would deny her enjoyment for a while and she’d never think of doing it again, but as silence settled in the car and you turned your attention to the road, she struggled to keep still and not squirm too obviously as she replayed your Halloween havoc.

[dindjarindiaries]

You reblogged that starter list and before I even saw your message, this one SCREAMED Din to me:

❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be.

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You looked up at the expanse of stars overhead and let out a soft breath. The slight sting of the night's chilled air nipped at your nose, but the way it filtered through your lungs felt relieving. This was the open air; it was much more freeing than the ship you had started to feel trapped within.

It was that ship's boarding ramp you were sitting on, and as you took a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw its owner watching you from within the cargo hold with a worried tilt to his silver helmet. Having been caught in the act, his armored chest rose and fell in a breath as he started to walk towards you. Your gaze returned to the sky above as you sensed his approach.

"I thought you were charting another course," you said as Din took his place alongside you. "We can't spend too much time here."

Din shrugged in your periphery. "An extra rotation won't hurt."

Your head snapped towards him as your lips parted in disbelief. "A rotation?"

Din's visor was stuck on the stars, but after a moment of you staring, he returned your disbelieving glance. "What?"

You chuckled and shook your head, returning your attention to the night sky. You closed your eyes as your heart began to beat more rapidly. The question you wanted to ask screamed within your mind, but it came out as a mere whisper. "Why?"

There was a pause before Din responded. "Why what?"

You reopened your eyes and kept them on the stars. Looking at Din would make you lose your resolve. "Why are you bending your rules?"

When Din remained silent for a long moment, you quickly glanced over at him. His visor was fixed on his gloved hands as he picked the orange-colored material on his fingertips. "We can afford the time, for now." When he continued, his modulated voice was even lower than before. "And you're happy here."

You furrowed your brow at him. "I'm happy regardless."

Din gave his helmet a brief tilt. "Sure. But..." he paused, as if musing upon something, "not like you are on planets like this one."

You didn't know what to say to that. The sweet inhale of the crisp air you took was enough to prove his words true. As you continued to stare somewhat dumbfounded at Din, he added more.

"You don't like being on the ship."

You instantly shook your head and willed the words to come, but they wouldn't. Your throat had closed up around your wildly beating heart as the truths you tied to each atrium and ventricle came closer and closer to freeing themselves.

Din took your silence as a much more disappointing reality. Even his modulator couldn't hide his hurt. "You don't like being with me."

"No." You couldn't have gotten the word out faster if you'd tried. "That's not true."

"It's okay. I understand." Din's arm rested upon his propped-up knee as he looked at the stars yet again. You watched his visor reflect them with fond admiration. "My lifestyle isn't meant to keep people around for long." He nodded, as if he was still convincing himself of such a truth. "I've grown used to it."

His words, a genuine and honest reflection of himself, shattered your heart enough to let the shards escape through the barrier your throat had attempted to create. Each beautiful truth began to spill out in a stained glass mosaic of the image you had crafted over the past few months. "Yet I'm still here."

That caught Din's attention. His visor found your gaze as you pieced your art together.

"I've felt trapped, yes, but not by you or your ship." You exhaled and watched your hand as you set it on the metal of the ramp beside you. It was just inches from Din's own. "It's a feeling. One that consumes me, really. And while it's centered on you, it's not because of you that I feel so trapped. That's only because I know the truth. I know your guard has to stay up."

You huffed and shook your head at yourself.

"It sounds ridiculous to say out loud, honestly, but... you deserve to know." The corners of your mouth pulled up in a sad smile. "Even if there's nothing you can do about it."

Din's visor never left you as he sat in the heavy silence that followed. Eventually, his visor lowered, his focus moving to his gloved hand as it closed the distance to your own. Only part of his hand covered yours on the boarding ramp as he spoke in the most beautifully honest tone you had ever heard from him. "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

You shook your head, your gaze also fixed on your hands as you did so. "If you were any different, you wouldn't be the person I've grown such feelings for."

You were delicate in the way you laced your fingers through his, allowing him to pull away at any point if he so wished. He made no such move, instead letting his armored chest rise and fall in a careful breath as your hands became fully entwined. After a few more quiet moments, he spoke up once again. "I can learn."

You looked back up at his visor and hoped your expression wasn't betraying your strong glimmer of hope. Din offered a determined nod.

"I will learn."

Your smile couldn't be stopped as you looked upon him much more favorably than you ever had the stars. "Yeah?"

Din nodded once more, resting your entwined hands on his armored thigh. "Yeah."

[absolutebl]

These Weeks in BL - This Is Very Late, Or Right on Time depending on where you sit on the temporal debate team

Sorry I got distracted by work. In my defense: I was paid.

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 1 & 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube grey) ep 12 fin - Unfortunately, there was singing. But what can we do?

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth, with no-fuss execution from a consummate team and an OG lead pair proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up. Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it still stands. This is a great show, a solid adaptation, and a pleasing take on the original yaoi. I personally like it better than the Japanese live action, but I think that’s because I just really like Thai BL and I LOVE TayNew. I doubted them for this and I shouldn’t have. They did a great job, as did the sides. I will say all the kissing was both present and better than any other iteration. As it should be. Definitely one for the rewatch rotation. 9/10 

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 1 of 8 (10?) - Damn it, I love it. And I don't want to. It’s more classic BL than I thought it would be, and far less Only Friends or Playboyy. (Thank fuck.) We got a big cast and a lot of tropes going down out the gate, including SMITTEN popular hot guy versus nerd with secret identity. (Incidentally, Khem did drop into rude / informal when arguing with his Aunt and defending his ma. Bratty boy.) The leads have good chemistry (First always does), and everyone is very pretty. The main boy reminds me of J-Min's role (and look) in Love Class 2. I am entertained. (And faintly wonder why this isn't a MosBank vehicle.)

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) eps 1-3 of 8- High school sweethearts who had a bad break up reunite a decade later when both of them have full time jobs (celebrity & doctor). Dr Ji is a familiar face (hi Dream it's been a LONG time) and everyone is way too old for high school, but I guess I prefer this to child actors?

I'm enjoying it, actually, the cast may be older but they're solid as a result and the chemistry is on point for a pulp. Whether our celebrity is on the DL or cheating or something else remains to be seen but he sure is smitten. The way he LOOKS at Ji = hawt.

Frankly? Celebrity/doctor is a good pairing and this is a solid Thai BL. I hope we have a nice angsty reason for the break-up and we're not in another Promise situation. I like the sides too. Carry on, little show, I'm disposed to be pleased with you.

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) eps 5-6 of 12 - I am enjoying it, actually. It’s incredibly silly. But I don’t really mind. STOP SINGING. 

1000 Years Old eps 3-4 of 12 - I love that these kids basically adopted a vampire pet. And one of them accidentally got a vampire boyfriend. This suddenly turned from a PNR into a family drama about domestic gays opening a food stall and I'm not mad about it. Nothing makes sense and I don't care because... rainbow umbrella!

A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV grey) eps 1 of 10 - I don’t love it. I make no bones about the fact that a pining uke rarely works for me, especially if he’s younger (cute supportive besties not withstanding), the power dynamic isn’t good. I always like Kimmon, he’s a stiff actor but v pretty. (I shallow af.) Still it’s time he started acting his age… literally. Having to watch ads again as well… for this? Ooof. I'm not sure I'm strong enough.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 6 fin - It was very cute. I liked that there was uke instigated kisses. However I have some reservations on this one, much as I enjoyed it.

Adapted from Mayo Tsurakame’s manga, production team included Tadaaki Horai (My Love Mix-Up!) and Takeshi Miyamoto (Old Fashion Cupcake). Essentially Perfect Propose was about finding hope in a person when all other hope is gone. This show focuses on apathy, and perforce is somewhat apathetic and un-engaging especially as the pacing was off (and with only 6 episodes? now) However, this is countered by great visuals, good archetypes, and a clean story of childhood sweethearts reuniting after loosing their way in life. I landed on 8/10 mostly for a demanding younger seme and some great kisses. 

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube) eps 2-3 of 11 - Oh it’s great. I love it. I’m still worried by how gritty and "Taiwanese short-esk" it feels, but wow does this hit all my favorite taboo tropes and buttons. I also adore the little found fam, they the cutest gay older bros ever. The younger one who wants so bad to grow up and take care of the older one and pushes himself because into self sacrifice that’s the only model of love he has. ARGH. BOYS. Why so much pain, just smooch already! Sheesh. It's on YouTube for some of us, here's the schedule.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) eps 6-7 of 10 - They remain questionably cute, and that is probably going to be my ultimate review of this show. Awe cameo! (Hi babies, hope the ghosts are leaving you alone.) The irony does not escape me that the person in the relationship with the most emotional acumen is, in fact, the robot and not the human. I'm sure that's meant to be deep.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 6 - A tortured second chance romance featuring a reported and a successful celebrity(?) academic. The kid actors look nothing like their adult counterparts, but they do look much younger. So, okay. Ah the utter embarrassment of first love. Oh I like it a lot, so very messy Japanese emo. Sigh. Here we go again.

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) eps 8-9 of 10 - They are a cute couple. They both trying so hard and so confused and awkward and polite in trying to understand each other but TERRIBLE at communication. 

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) eps 3-4 of 8 - I don’t know how I feel about this. But I do know it’s not my thing because it’s not BL. I’ll finish it because it’s short but… meh. 

It's done, ready to binge, but I have no time

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master (Vietnam YouTube) - I will try when I have a window of time.

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will watch eventually.

It's airing but...

Dead Friend Forever (Thai iQIYI) - finished it's run and I won't be watching it. It's horror with BL elements and the ending, well, let's just say that's a "no thank you" from me.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… no. I'm not watching this. I dislike this franchise.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

Takumi-kun (2023) movie version AKA Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari no Hajimari no Asa released on FOD 3/5/2024. The original project was a 6 ep series. Having seen all the previous iterations and read the (terrible) yaoi I admit to being intrigued. If anyone finds eng subbed please let me know with a link in comments or in a DM? For those intersted in this show, probably the world's first true BL franchise I chat all about it here.

Gossip

James Supamongkon has withdrawn from the series Love Upon A Time and the NetJames pair is no more. Net Siraphop will continue with the historical BL project alongside a new partner. Can I interest you in Tod Techit... almost as pretty, legs for days...

The Complete Chronology of the Assault Case Against GMMTV Actor Win Pawin

I'm merely directing your attention to these articles, I do not wish for discussion of this content on this blog. Please don't ask for further info, I don't know the answer, follow the link that's why it's there.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Still Coming

3/21 Two Worlds (Thai IQIYI) 10 eps - announced here. One of those "he's dead Jim so time travel" thingames staring MaxNat. I'm over them but Asia flipping loves this trope and I do adore MaxNat. Phupha (Gun) and Khram (Nat) love each other but Phupha is murdered. Then Khram is pulled to a parallel world where, 12 years ago, Khram and Tai (Max) were in love. However, Khram was killed by Thai’s dad. Now Tai finds alter-Khram apparently alive. But then there is ALSO an alter-Phupha (played by Gun Thanawat who is Khom the repressed butler bodyguard from Unforgotten Night).

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

How flipping adorable is this vampire with his big gay umbrella? SUCH A DORK and we got more vampire dorks coming.

Thailand has found its vampire line and it's awkward and geeky and quite cheerful. 'Bout what we expected, to be fair. It's a good look for them.

And vampires.

In other news...

That's your random moment of thirst, Lim Jimin shirtless AKA my Just B bias (I mean, I could talk about how good his extensions are and how I love a husky voice in Kpop but really, just LOOK at him). I'm very very very shallow, remember? Full vid is here.

Why am I mentioning Lim Jimin (aside from the obvious)? If Just B doesn't break soon, I could some of them transitioning to BL. Jimin in particular would be a win for us, obvs.

Also, can we talk about Bain (my bias wrecker) KILLING it on Build Up? I had no idea he was that good. Anygay, this has been your Kpop end note.

Seriously tho, is ANYONE else watching Build-Up?

(Last week - well, 2 weeks ago)

Streaming services are listed how I'm (usually watching) which is with a USA based IP

The tag bragade: @doorajar

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will. Easy peesy.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty-One: Cascade

Chapter WC: 10,188

Chapter Warnings: um? general emotional turmoil

A/N: This one kicked my ass. Like genuinely probably the hardest chapter I've ever written, and I'm not sure why. But I'm very much looking forward to next week's chapter!

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

Yaddle's lightsaber hovers in the air before you, the blade humming softly. It's been a week since the Council's decision, and you've yet to leave your rooms. The lightsaber has become a focal point, a symbol, a reminder of what was taken from you. It's also a comfort.

Your connection to her.

Your eyes narrow, and you focus, the energy gathering in the pit of your stomach, the power building. The saber spins, the green blade rotating slowly. A bead of sweat drips down your forehead, and your hands begin to shake, the exertion taking its toll. 

You're not even sure what you're doing. You're not practicing. Not really. You're just...playing. Trying to distract yourself. Trying not to think.

You've been doing a lot of that lately.

The hilt tilts, and the blade nicks the side of the chair, slicing through the metal. You curse and lower your hands, and the lightsaber clatters to the ground, its light extinguishing. The sound echoes in your rooms, and you grimace, running a hand over your face.

"Kriffing hell," you hiss. You sigh and cross the room, kneeling to pick up the lightsaber. 

You're getting worse. You're barely sleeping, the stress taking its toll, and your emotions are all over the place. You can't seem to focus. It's as if everything you touch, everything you try, is doomed to fail.

You've never felt more useless.

You run a hand through your hair and slump, dropping onto the couch, your head falling into your hands. The tears sting, but they won't come. They haven't for days. There's a hollow ache in your chest, a dull pain that refuses to fade. Your throat is tight, and the guilt is threatening to swallow you whole.

You don't know what else to do. For so long, all you've wanted was to bring justice for Yaddle. To find the truth. But now that the truth has been uncovered, and justice has been denied, there's nothing left. Nothing except this hollow, empty ache. And a lingering feeling of betrayal.

You know you were out of line, but you can't bring yourself to regret it. Obi-Wan shouldn't have kept quiet. He shouldn't have just stood there and watched, his eyes averted, his face impassive. He could have said something. He should have said something. Anything. Instead, he did what he always does. He went along with the Council, playing the dutiful Jedi. Never challenging, never questioning, never speaking his mind. Always keeping his mouth shut. Always toeing the line.

The line of thinking that had been torturing you for days doesn't bring with it the usual anger or frustration now. There's nothing left. No emotion, no energy. Nothing. Just the cold, numbing pain.

You've never felt more alone.

Obi-Wan had tried to reach out, had tried to contact you, had even come to your door. But you hadn't answered, and you know the lack of communication is hurting him. You can sense it. It's a constant nagging at the back of your mind, a tugging in the Force.

The bond between the two of you is frayed, the threads pulled taught, the strain threatening to snap. But still, you can't bring yourself to speak with him. He's reached out to you countless times, and you've refused him. Each time, he's recoiled, the pain and confusion radiating through the bond. It's a physical blow, and each time it hits you, it knocks the wind out of you.

You know it's hurting him, and that hurts you, but you can't bring yourself to end the silence.

Rex has called, too. You haven’t answered. Not once. He doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know what went wrong. He hasn’t stopped trying, though. 

Every day, multiple times, calls and messages coming in over and over, the light of the screen flickering in the dark of your rooms. After the second day, you buried your comm underneath a pile of dirty laundry. By the third day, the battery had died from its constant use, and the room was cast into silence. You've heard nothing since then. Still, the guilt lingers. And the longing. And the regret. You miss him. You miss him, and you want him here. You want him next to you.

You know what you’re doing. It’s a reflex at this point, as easy as the basic combat forms drilled into you, as mindless as running. Pushing people away. Drowning your feelings. Hiding.

Running away.

Your eyes flick to the saber in your hand, and you run a finger over the hilt, tracing the intricate design, the ridges and curves, the dips and angles. It's familiar. It's comforting.

A part of you is still clinging to the hope that the Council will change their minds, that they'll realize their mistake, that they'll come to their senses and seek justice. It's a foolish hope. A childish hope. But, it's the only thing keeping you from giving up completely.

The truth is, you don't know what else to do. You're at a loss.

Your gaze moves past the saber, your eyes focusing on the viewport, on Coruscant's skyline. The buildings are a blur, a mass of lights and colors, a sea of endless noise. It's beautiful, in a way. An ever-moving, ever-changing kaleidoscope of life. But it's overwhelming, too. A reminder of what's out there, of what you're missing.

You've been cooped up in your rooms for too long. The walls are starting to close in on you, and you can feel your anxiety building, a low thrum in your chest. You need to get out, to go somewhere, to do something. Anything.

You stand, and a wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to grab hold of the back of the couch, steadying yourself. You're weak, and lightheaded, and exhausted. You've barely eaten, and you haven't slept, not really.

Not since.

Since.

The images flash through your mind, unbidden, unwanted, and your stomach lurches, bile rising in your throat. You swallow, forcing down the nausea, and the tears well up, hot and burning.

You can't stop it, can't control it.

"Fuck," you hiss. You throw the lightsaber across the room, the hilt bouncing off the wall with a satisfying thud. It clatters to the floor, and you stare at it, breathing heavily, the anger and frustration boiling over. "Fuck. Fuck."

It's not enough. Nothing is.

Your hands ball into fists, and you clench your jaw, a surge of fury coursing through you. It's like a drug, and it's an instant rush, a brief respite from the pain, but it brings with it a shift in the Force. A tremor, a vibration, a change in pressure that's too intense to ignore.

You close your eyes, and you focus, reaching for the energy, letting it flow through you. But the more you focus, the more you grasp, the stronger the energy becomes. You're not controlling it. It's controlling you.

It's too much.

Your eyes fly open, and you cry out, your hands moving of their own accord to the sides of your head. The pain is intense, white-hot, blinding. It's as if someone has pressed an iron spike through your skull, and you scream, unable to hold it back. You can't move, can't think, can't breathe, can't see. All you can feel is the pain, the agony, the torture. And it's everywhere, consuming you, tearing you apart.

One of your hands pulls away from your head, and you watch it happen as if in slow motion, as if through a fog, as if through the eyes of another. The criss-crossing pattern of scars on your palm seem to pulse and glow, the flesh reddening, the skin rippling and bubbling. You stare, mesmerized, transfixed.

And then you turn and release it all. Directed outwards, away from yourself, the Force is a violent blast, a burst of raw energy. It rips through the room, shifting furniture, shattering a lamp, and knocking a shelf clean off the wall. The items go flying, and a vase explodes on impact, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor. You don't notice. You're too focused on the destruction, the release, the relief. It's like a high, and the euphoria is overwhelming, a heady rush of adrenaline and endorphins and power.

"Fuck," you gasp, the word coming out a strangled hiss. You take a step back and stumble, the pain finally subsiding, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Your knees hit the couch, and you slump, falling onto the cushions, breathing heavily. The anger has ebbed, and the adrenaline is fading, leaving behind the familiar emptiness, the bone-deep exhaustion, and a new wave of guilt. 

You've haven't lost control like that in years, and it frightens you. This…whatever it is, this thing that’s been building inside of you since Dooku attacked you a decade ago, it's getting worse. And you have no idea how to stop it. No idea how to contain it. If this is what's going to happen every time the pain becomes too much...you can't keep doing this.

You need to get out. You need fresh air.

You need help.

The thought makes your skin crawl, and you grimace, pushing it away, refusing to acknowledge it. You don't need help. You don't want help. You just want this all to stop. To go away. To be gone. But, the Force isn't listening.

"Get ahold of yourself," you mutter. "You're better than this."

But, you're not. Not anymore.

The words are a familiar mantra, something you've repeated over and over, day after day, since you were a child. Since you first began training. It's not enough. You're spiraling, and you know it, but there's no one to pull you back, to ground you, to keep you from falling.

You grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms, forcing yourself to breathe. In, out. In, out. You will yourself to picture a serene place, a calm place. Somewhere peaceful. A forest. A lake. A field. None of them work. The images are hazy and distorted, and the pain is still there, a low throbbing ache. You can't make it go away. Can't make any of it go away.

The golden field from your dreams is suddenly thrust to the forefront of your mind, and a strange warmth settles in the pit of your stomach, the pressure slowly easing, the tension ebbing away. You haven't had the dream since Saleucami, and you haven't thought about it since. Until now.

The sun is warm on your skin, and there's a breeze, and you can smell grass and flowers and dirt. The scent is familiar and calming, and it fills your senses. It's real. More real than it's ever been. There's the murmur of voices, children laughing, someone calling your name. You look around, searching for the source, but no one's there. Only the field, the sun, the breeze. And the sense that, somewhere, something is waiting. Someone who needs you.

You feel a hand settle on your shoulder, warm and gentle and strong, and you turn to face the figure beside you. But, the moment you do, the sun fades, and the warmth is gone, and the voices are muffled, the laughter muted. And, then, everything goes black.

You open your eyes, and you're met with chaos.

Your rooms are a mess. The broken lamp is lying on its side, the cord dangling. The shattered remains of the vase are strewn across the floor, the water from the flowers spreading, soaking into the carpet. The shelf is in pieces, and a datapad has joined the mess of objects that were previously displayed. There's a dent in the wall where the hilt of Yaddle's lightsaber struck it, and the door to the refresher is open, the lights on and flickering.

It's a disaster.

You slump, the exhaustion setting in. You're not even sure how long you've been cooped up here, alone. It's been days, at least. Maybe a week, maybe longer. It's hard to keep track. Time seems to lose all meaning when you're locked away like this.

Your gaze lands on Yaddle's lightsaber, and you wince, guilt gnawing at your stomach. She'd be disappointed. She'd tell you to pick yourself up, to get back out there, to move forward. She'd remind you of the Jedi teachings, of the Code, and she'd tell you to embrace the Light.

But she'd also tried to leave. She'd tried to get away from the Order, from the Code, from the war. She'd wanted something else, something more.

Something better.

Your eyes narrow, and the decision settles in the pit of your stomach, sinking deep into your bones. Maybe it's time to do the same.

It's not like you have anything to lose. Obi-Wan will survive. He has Ahsoka and Anakin. And Rex...Rex will be okay. He'll be fine. He’ll be better off without you, anyway. He doesn't need the drama. He deserves better. You'll miss him. A part of you will always long for him. But, he's not yours. And he never will be.

It's a coward's move, and you know it. It's selfish. But, maybe that's what you are. Maybe that's all you've ever been. Maybe that's all you'll ever be.

Maybe it's time to accept it.

You've just finished packing when a knock sounds on the door. You frown, and your eyes narrow as the sound echoes in the room. You weren't expecting anyone. There's no way Rex could get inside the Temple without clearance, and you would've sensed Obi-Wan before he got close enough, even in your state. But the person behind the door is radiating concern, worry, fear. You know that signature, know the energy. It's one you'd recognize anywhere.

The door slides open without your prompting, and the light from the hall filters in, blinding you. You wince and squint as a figure appears in the doorway, a shadow against the light. 

"I locked the door," you say flatly. 

Anakin snorts. "And?"

He steps inside, the door sliding closed behind him. His gaze travels across your room, and his eyes widen, taking in the destruction. You've done what you could to right everything, but there's still evidence of your tantrum. There's water on the floor, a few pieces of glass, a dent in the wall, clothes discarded on the table. You grimace and run a hand through your hair, pulling at it.

Anakin’s eyes fall on Yaddle's lightsaber on the floor, and you quickly summon the weapon, the hilt flying into your palm. It clatters onto the desk in front of you, and you turn, avoiding his gaze.

"And, what are you doing here?" you mutter.

"What am I doing here?" Anakin repeats, and he walks forward, his eyes wide, his voice incredulous. "What are you doing here? You weren't answering my calls. Or Obi-Wan's. Or Ahsoka's. Or anyone's. I thought something might've happened."

"I'm fine," you say stiffly. "Nothing happened."

"Clearly," he deadpans. He reaches down and picks up a piece of glass, and you watch as he tosses it into a small trash bin. "Other than a complete breakdown."

"I didn't have a breakdown," you snap. You wince, and your voice softens, dropping to a whisper. "I didn't."

He raises an eyebrow, and his eyes scan the room again, pausing on the dent in the wall, before moving back to you. The judgement is obvious, and you glare at him, daring him to speak. He doesn't. He just stares at you, his eyes boring into yours, the worry evident. After a moment, he sighs, and his shoulders sag, the concern radiating through the Force.

"I didn't," you repeat. You cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself.

"Then, what happened? And why is Rex, of all people, asking me if you're okay?" Anakin asks. He gestures around him, his gaze landing on a pile of dirty dishes, an overflowing laundry basket, an open duffel bag on your bed. "Or, better yet, why are you packing a bag?"

The mention of Rex's name sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you flinch, trying to hide it.

"I'm not," you lie, and his expression turns to exasperation.

"Right," he says slowly. Anakin leans against your desk, his arms folded, his gaze never leaving yours. "Because we both know you're just standing here, in front of a packed bag, for fun."

"Shut up," you mutter as you return to packing. You shove a shirt into your bag, not bothering to fold it, and you turn away from him, heading for the refresher.

Anakin's eyes widen, a strangled sound escaping his throat as follows after you. He rushes to block the door before you can get any further, and his arms cross, his body a wall.

"Oh, no, no, no. You're not getting out of this," he says.

"Anakin, move," you order.

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Move," you repeat, and you raise a hand, shoving him aside with the Force. He stumbles, and he lets out a noise of surprise, his eyes wide, his mouth dropping open. You step into the refresher, and you grab the rest of your toiletries, tossing them onto the counter, your movements sharp and jerky.

"Okay," Anakin breathes. His eyes narrow, his gaze darting around the room, taking in the mess. He spots a broken perfume bottle on the floor, the contents dripping down the wall, and he winces. "That bad, huh?"

You're silent, ignore him and returning to packing. The bag is almost full, and you curse, realizing you'll have to take a second. You didn't think this through. You should've started packing yesterday. Or last week. Maybe last month.

"Where are you going?" Anakin asks. He's leaning against the door frame, watching you with an intensity that's unnerving. "Are you going somewhere? Where?"

"Leave me alone," you snap, and you turn, shoving him away, but he catches your arm, stopping you. His grip is firm, but gentle, and he holds you there, his brows knit together.

"Look, I'm not here to fight. I'm not here to yell at you, or lecture you, or whatever it is you think I'm here to do," he says softly, his expression sincere. "I'm here because I care. I'm here because Ahsoka cares. And Obi-Wan—"

"Stop."

"—is worried sick about you," he finishes, ignoring your interruption. "Whatever's going on, whatever's happened, we can help. Just talk to us. Tell me what's going on. Please."

You look away toward your desk, your eyes falling on Yaddle's lightsaber. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you swallow, fighting back the tears.

"Come on," he urges. His hand moves, squeezing your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin.

You let out a shaky breath as your defenses crumble. You're tired of holding everything in, tired of hiding, tired of pretending. The fight drains out of you, and you deflate, your shoulders slumping, your eyes falling to the ground.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice low. "You're not usually...this. At least, not lately."

"No," you agree.

"So, what is it? Did you have a fight with Obi-Wan?"

"No," you say, and you wince. "Yes. Not exactly."

"Then, what is it? You can tell me," he says. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter how much of a pain in the ass you are."

You scoff, the noise muffled by your sleeve as you wipe your eyes, and a smile tugs at your lips. "Asshole."

"Brat," he replies, and his hand drops from your shoulder. "Now, talk."

"It's not that easy," you mumble. You sniff, and your gaze flickers to him, taking in his expectant expression. "There's just...a lot. I don't know where to start."

"Start at the beginning," he says. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, I'll listen."

You walk away and settle back on the couch, and Anakin follows, sitting next to you. He watches you and waits, his silence urging you to speak.

You take a deep breath, and you begin.

You tell him everything. Starting from the moment you met him on Naboo, ending with the Council's decision, the entire story tumbling out of your mouth, the words flowing freely. The only thing you leave out is Rex. Your friendship with him, the attraction, the connection. It's too personal, too private, too intimate. That secret will stay between the two of you.

Anakin listens. He doesn't interrupt. He doesn't speak. He doesn't offer advice or suggestions. He doesn't say anything. He just sits there, letting you speak, listening to every word, hearing every syllable.

Somewhere along the way, you start to feel it again. The anger and the frustration rising up, threatening to break free. It's only when it's nearly pouring out that you realize it's not just your own feelings. Anakin's anger is mingling with yours, and his face is dark, his jaw clenched. The shadows in the room seem to lengthen the longer you talk, and he's breathing faster, his hands curling into fists, his muscles tensing.

By the time you're finished, you're both fuming. The energy in the room is thick, the anger almost tangible. You feel your skin crawl, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, and you shift, trying to alleviate the discomfort. Anakin's gaze is fixed on the floor, and he's staring, his eyes hard.

"This isn't the first time the Council's done this," he says quietly. "Taken credit. Made decisions behind our backs. Put their agenda ahead of ours."

"I know," you murmur, and you run a hand through your hair, a bitter laugh escaping. "It's not just me. They're always like this. Always."

"That's not how it's supposed to work," Anakin growls. His eyes are narrowed, and he shakes his head, his frustration seeping through the Force. “This is bullshit. All of it. I can't believe they did this to you."

"I shouldn't have expected any less," you sigh, and you shake your head, the tears starting again. You scrub at your face, and your hands fall to your lap, fingers twisting together. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I knew better. I know better.”

"Don't," he snaps. His head turns, his gaze finding yours, the intensity of his eyes almost startling. "Don't do that. This isn't your fault."

"I just...I thought that bringing evidence would make a difference. That it would mean something. That it would actually count," you mutter, and you look away, staring out at nothing. "I didn't want to give up. I didn't want to quit. But it's not my place. It's never been. I'm not..."

Your voice trails off, and Anakin scoffs. 

"If you're about to say you're not good enough, I'm going to punch you," he threatens. "Hard."

You snort, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "You're so violent."

"I'm serious," he says, and his eyes narrow, his face turning solemn. "Don't let them do this. Don't let them push you around, or guilt trip you, or whatever it is they're doing. You're a Jedi. Just because they're not willing to fight for justice doesn't mean you can't."

"They're not going to change their minds," you say. You rub your eyes, and a shuddering breath escapes. "They won't."

"So what?" Anakin argues. He turns toward you and leans forward, his hands braced on his knees. "So what if they don't? Who cares? You said it yourself. She was a mentor to you. And now, her killer is out there. Free. And you're not going to do anything about it?"

"It's not my place," you repeat, avoiding his gaze. "She's dead. She's gone. Nothing I do is going to change that. What's the point?"

"The point is she was your Master, and she was murdered," he says sharply. "You can't let this go. You can't just walk away. You can't leave it like this."

"Why not?" you mutter. Your fingers twitch, and you clench your fists, trying to calm yourself. "It's not as if there's anything I can do."

"There's plenty you can do," he argues. He sits forward, his hands braced on his knees. His face is flushed, and his voice rises, his words growing more and more passionate. "They gave you a whole legion of troopers, ships, unlimited resources. They gave you everything. So, use it. Do something. Anything."

"They did it because they thought I needed a distraction," you say. You can't look at him, can't meet his eyes. It's too much. "Because they were worried I'd do something stupid."

"Or, maybe they just finally realized that you're more than capable," Anakin counters as he sits back, his tone softening slightly. "They wouldn't have given you a position of power if they didn't think you were worthy of it."

"Worthy?" You scoff, and you shake your head, a humorless smile forming. "That's a first."

Anakin lets out a frustrated noise, and he slams his hand on the table, the noise reverberating through the room. You flinch, startled, and he sighs, running a hand over his hair.

"You're being difficult," he complains.

"Yeah, well, that's me," you say. "Difficult."

"This is serious," he says firmly. His expression is grave, and his eyes find yours, holding your gaze. "Look, I'm not going to force you to do anything. But, I think it's a mistake if you don't."

"I know," you admit. "But, it's not as easy as you think. I can't just go after him. I have no idea where he is, or where to even start looking. Besides, I have a job to do. I'm a general. I'm supposed to be leading my troops into battle, not hunting down one man.”

"And, who said you can't do both?" Anakin asks. He arches an eyebrow, and a smirk spreads across his lips. "It's not like you haven't done it before. Besides, he's made it pretty clear that he wants to get your attention. You might not have to look very far."

You frown, and you bite your lip, mulling over his words. It's true, and you both know it. Dooku's not trying to hide. He's practically taunting you, his presence lingering in the background of every encounter. It's only a matter of time before he crosses your path again, whether you like it or not.

"I can't," you say, but your voice lacks conviction.

"You can," he insists. He's leaning forward again, his elbows on his knees, his face close to yours. "You can, and you should. You have a choice. You can do something, or you can run away. Which is it going to be?"

"Anakin," you say, but you can't manage more than his name, and it falls flat.

"I'm serious," he says. "Make a decision. Right now. Stop sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, and do something."

Your hands ball into fists, your nails digging into your palms. You stare at him, your gaze darting over his face, taking in his determined expression. He's right. He's absolutely right.

"Do something that matters. If not for you, then for her," Anakin presses, his voice quiet, his eyes fixed on yours. "She deserves that much."

"Anakin—"

"What would she want?" he asks, cutting you off. "If she were here, right now, what would she tell you to do?"

You're silent, your mouth opening and closing. Your eyes fall back to Yaddle's lightsaber, and a knot forms in your stomach. You don't have to think about it. You already know. You've known for years. She would've done whatever she could, no matter what. 

As much as you'd like to believe she would've walked away from this, you know that's not true. She wouldn't have turned a blind eye, wouldn't have ignored her duty. She would've fought, tooth and nail, until she couldn't fight anymore. Until she couldn't draw another breath.

And she did. She died fighting. You know that much.

Anakin is watching you, waiting for your answer, and your throat tightens, your eyes burning. You swallow hard take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You're still angry, still hurt, but you can't deny his words. Can't ignore them.

"You're right," you whisper. You close your eyes, and you take a deep breath, centering yourself. "I want to help. I have to."

"Then, do it," he says, his tone resolute.

You open your eyes and find him smiling, a gleam in his eyes. You can't help but grin, a spark of hope igniting in your chest. He's right. You can do this. You have to try. You owe it to her to keep going.

"Thank you," you murmur, throwing your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Anakin stiffens, and he awkwardly pats your shoulder, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably go crazy," he jokes, and he pauses, adding, "Crazier. If that's possible."

You laugh and pull back, shaking your head. "I'm serious."

"I know," he chuckles. He slaps his hands on his knees and stands, a grin lighting up his face. "So, do you need a ride to Kamino?”

"Yeah,” you sigh. “I'd appreciate that."

"Consider it done.” He looks around the room and nods. "We're heading back out tomorrow anyway. Gotta pick up some more men before we head out to Bothawui. You can come, meet your troops." He smirks, his gaze dropping to the saber. "See how they measure up to the 501st."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll do just fine," you say dryly. "Thank you."

"Anytime." 

Anakin gives a nod and heads towards the door, his movements smooth and quick. He reaches for the pad, but the door slides open before he can touch it. You sense him at the same time Anakin does, and both of your heads snap to the left, toward the hall.

Obi-Wan freezes, and he takes a step back, his eyes widening as his gaze falls on the two of you. You hold your breath as he scans the room, taking in the bags on your bed, your disheveled appearance, and the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. 

His face turns white, his expression stricken, and the bond between the two of you begins to hum, the energy buzzing. It's overwhelming, and it makes your stomach lurch, a lump forming in your throat.

"Ah," he says, his voice tight. "Am I interrupting something?"

Anakin glances at you, and his eyebrows raise.

"No, no. Just leaving," he says quickly, his voice bright and cheerful. He moves forward and claps Obi-Wan on the shoulder, and he glances back at you, giving you a quick nod. "See you tomorrow, Goldie. Bright and early. And, uh, sorry about the lock. I...I'll pay for it."

"Uh-huh," you mumble. Your gaze never leaves Obi-Wan, and his doesn't move from yours. You can feel his anxiety, his tension, and it's a weight in your chest, a physical pressure. Anakin's voice filters through, but his words are lost, and you don't bother to listen. He's moving past Obi-Wan, heading down the hall, and the sound of his footsteps fades until all that's left is silence.

You stand, and Obi-Wan inhales sharply, his eyes flickering around the room, finally landing on Yaddle's lightsaber. You're suddenly hyperaware of the mess, the state of your clothes, the darkness under your eyes, and you cringe, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He walks into your rooms, his steps slow and cautious, and he stops, a few feet away.

"I..." Obi-Wan starts, and his voice trails off, his mouth open. He closes his eyes, his brows furrowing, and he takes a deep breath, collecting himself. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. For a week."

"I noticed," you mutter.

"I came by, a few times," he continues. His hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck, and his eyes flicker around the room, looking anywhere but at you. "I wanted to talk. About...about what happened. What I said."

"Nothing to talk about," you say, and his eyes meet yours, a flicker of anger in them.

"Nothing?" he asks, and his tone is incredulous. "We haven't spoken since—since it happened. The Council's decision, everything, and now, I find you packing a bag? I would think there's plenty to discuss."

"I'm not—" you start, and you bite your lip, stopping yourself.

"You're not what?" he snaps. He gestures around him, his hand waving at your bags, his gaze darting from your desk, to your bed, to your wardrobe, and back. "Packing? Leaving? Running away? Which one is it?"

"I'm not running away," you say, and you can't hide your annoyance. Your shoulders straighten, and you square off, facing him, your hands falling to your sides. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Not my business?" he repeats. Obi-Wan's eyebrows rise, and he scoffs, shaking his head. "Of course, it's my business. You're my friend. You're my—" He cuts himself off, and he winces, his mouth twisting. "I have a right to know what's going on. What happened."

"Why? So you can run and tell everyone else?" you shoot back, and his eyes widen. "So, you can report back to the Council and let them know how unstable I am?"

"Don't put words in my mouth," he hisses.

"Then, stop making it so easy," you snap.

The two of you stare at each other, neither of you saying anything, and the anger builds, the tension rising. You can't tell who's more upset, him or you, and the bond between the two of you is humming, a steady vibration, the energy almost tangible. It's making your head hurt, and you wince, rubbing your temple. His gaze softens, and he takes a step toward you, but stops.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, his tone low and concerned. "What are you doing? Packing a bag, shutting yourself in here, not answering my calls, not speaking to anyone? Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe I have," you growl, and his eyes narrow, his mouth falling open, as if to argue. You cut him off before he can. "But, maybe it's none of your business. Maybe I can take care of myself."

"Clearly," he says, and his eyes move over the room, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes, you seem to be doing quite well on your own."

"Obi-Wan," you groan. Your fingers press into the side of your head, and you close your eyes, breathing deeply. You can't do this. You can't. You don't have the strength, the energy. You're exhausted, and you just want him to go away. To leave you alone. "Just leave."

"Not until you explain yourself," he argues. Obi-Wan moves closer, his arm reaching out, his fingers brushing against yours. "This isn't like you. I know things haven't been easy, and I'm sorry, I really am. But, this isn't you. I thought you were getting better."

"Better?" you scoff, and his jaw tightens, a muscle twitching.

"You know what I mean," he says stiffly. "The nightmares have been less frequent, the visions. You've seemed more stable. Less volatile. Or, at least, not as bad. You haven't had an episode in months." He pauses, his gaze searching yours, and his fingers tighten around yours, squeezing. "What happened? Tell me."

"Maybe I'm not getting better," you say quietly. You shrug, and your gaze moves past him, staring out the viewport. "Maybe I was just hiding it. Pretending."

"You're not," he says firmly. His voice is steady and sure. "I would've noticed."

"You've noticed a lot of things lately," you mutter, and your eyes find his again, the pain flaring. He winces, his shoulders sagging. "And you've done a great job keeping them to yourself."

"That's not fair," he says quietly.

"Isn't it?"

"It wasn't my decision to give you your own command," he replies, shaking his head. “I know you think it was, but it wasn't." His eyes move over your face, and his voice lowers, a note of regret coloring his tone. “For months, I tried to change their minds. For months, I argued, pleaded, fought, everything. But, nothing I said or did worked. The decision was made. I’d only succeeded in delaying the inevitable.”

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, your voice breaking, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I was trying to protect you," he says softly, and his eyes close, his face turning away from you. "You'd just started feeling better, and I didn't want to upset you, or set you back." His jaw clenches, and his eyes open, his gaze finding yours, the pain visible in his expression. "And, I was worried you'd do exactly this."

You let out a humorless laugh, and you step away, his hand dropping from yours.

"So, what? You thought ignoring the issue would fix it?" you say, your voice rising, and his eyes widen, his brows furrowing, confusion written across his features. "Keeping me in the dark was going to help? What did you think was going to happen?"

"I don't know," he sighs. He runs a hand over his hair, and his hand falls, gesturing weakly. "I was hoping...that maybe if I could stall long enough...maybe they'd change their minds. Maybe the war would end, or you would find the closure you needed." 

His eyes meet yours again, and the regret is plain on his face, his words coming out a whisper. "I was trying to give you a chance."

"And look how well that turned out," you mutter bitterly, and you can't hold his gaze, your eyes dropping to the floor. You turn and walk toward the window, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield yourself from the cold.

“It was a mistake," Obi-Wan admits quietly. He lets out a frustrated noise, and the room falls silent. After a moment, his footsteps approach, and he appears next to you. “But you can’t leave. Not now. There's a war going on, in case you haven't noticed. There's too much at stake."

"I'm not leaving," you insist, and his expression turns skeptical, his eyes narrowing. You roll your eyes, a bitter laugh escaping you. "Not that I hadn’t thought about it."

"You can't," he says firmly. "Whatever it is, we can work through it. We'll figure something out. I promise."

"There's nothing to work through," you say. You run a hand over your hair and glance at him, avoiding his gaze. "Anakin talked some sense into me. He...he helped."

"What do you mean?" he asks, and his brow furrows. He looks confused, his expression bewildered, and he shifts, crossing his arms. "What did he say?"

"Just...that I can't leave it like this," you mumble. You look away from him and out the viewport. You can see the sun beginning to set, and the sky is painted with hues of orange and red. "I have to do something."

"Something," Obi-Wan repeats, his tone wary, and you nod, avoiding his eyes. "Like what?"

"I'm not sure yet," you admit. “But for now, I’m going to Kamino. I’m picking up my troops. I’m doing what you wanted. I'm getting back out there. Back in the field. That's something."

"Is it?"

"Yes," you say, and the word comes out sharper than intended.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to reply, but his voice catches, and he shakes his head. His gaze drifts to the floor, and his eyes narrow, his forehead creasing, his expression conflicted. You wait, watching him, and you can feel his emotions warring with each other, the battle playing out on his face. It's a whirlwind, and you can't tell which one is winning. Anger. Frustration. Worry. Fear. Guilt.

After a long moment, his face falls, and he nods, his shoulders slumping, his muscles relaxing.

"Fine," he relents, and his voice is low, resigned. "Fine."

“Is that what you wanted to hear?" you ask sarcastically, and his jaw tightens, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes.

"What I want is for you to be safe," he snaps, and he turns, glaring at you. "What I want is for you to be okay."

"Well, tough," you mutter. You move away from the window and cross your arms over your chest, your fingers digging into your arms. "Because neither of those things is likely to happen."

"You have no idea how much I wish things were different," he says quietly, and his face falls, his expression solemn. "That none of this had ever happened. Despite what you might think, I do care about you. Very much. I want what's best for you."

"What's best for me?" you repeat. Your lips twist into a sneer, and a harsh laugh escapes. "I'm not sure that exists anymore."

"You don't believe that," Obi-Wan chides gently. He's staring at you, and his voice is calm and even. "You know better than anyone that the Light is always there, no matter how far you fall."

"I used to," you say bitterly. Your throat tightens, and a lump forms, tears burning your eyes. You can't look at him, can't stand the concern in his gaze. "It's not like it matters, anyway. The Council's made its decision. Yaddle's killer is still out there, and we're just going to pretend like nothing happened. Just like we've been doing for years."

"That's not true," he says softly.

"Isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be like this," he argues. His voice is quiet, and he steps forward, closing some of the distance between the two of you. His hand reaches out, and he gently touches your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin. You stiffen at the contact, but you don’t pull away, and his fingers move, trailing up to your shoulder, coming to rest there.

"The Senate is building a case," he murmurs. "They're gathering testimony, evidence, anything they can find. Once Dooku is captured, they'll bring him before a tribunal. There will be no denying what he's done. No escaping justice. It may take time, but it will happen. And, when it does, Dooku will pay for his crimes."

Your eyes narrow, and a part of you knows that he's telling the truth. But, it's not enough. You can't just sit back and do nothing, and a dark, selfish part of you wants him to suffer. To pay for what he's done. To hurt as much as he's hurt you. And, a larger, angrier, more violent part of you wants him dead. It doesn't matter if it's justice. Doesn't matter if he's brought to trial. Doesn't matter if he confesses. You want him dead. And if that makes you a bad person, so be it.

"He's a traitor," Obi-Wan adds. His expression hardens, his mouth thinning, his grip tightening. "He betrayed everything we stand for, and he deserves whatever punishment they deem fit. He'll pay."

"Will he?" you ask. You shrug off his touch, stepping back, and his hand falls to his side.

"You don't believe me," he states.

“I believe that it's what you want to happen," you respond, your voice quiet. You move around him, going to your desk and grabbing your lightsaber. You hook it onto your belt, and you reach for Yaddle's saber, your fingers curling around the hilt. The cool metal is comforting, and a feeling of calm washes over you. You take a deep breath, centering yourself, and turn, finding Obi-Wan staring at you.

"You want justice," you continue, and you pause, swallowing, pushing down your doubts. "So, do I. But, we both know how these things end. We've seen it happen, again and again. Dooku will escape, or he'll be released, or he'll plead innocent, or he'll disappear, or—" You cut yourself off, shaking your head. "It doesn't matter. The result will always be the same. He'll walk free. It's how these things work."

"You're wrong," he says, his voice hard. "Things are changing. The Separatists are growing bolder. The Senate is more unified than ever before. Even the Chancellor has taken a stronger stand against them."

"Forgive me if I'm not reassured," you snort, and his mouth twitches, irritation flashing across his face. "Chancellor Palpatine is a politician. A career politician. And politicians aren't known for their honesty or their integrity. Or their ability to put others first."

"Master Yoda believes it," he points out.

"Well, then, I suppose that settles it," you deadpan, and you can't hide your sarcasm. "If Master Yoda believes in it, then, it must be true. Because he's never been wrong about anything. Ever. In his entire life. Certainly not his Padawan. Right?"

Obi-Wan's expression hardens, and he crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Now, you're just being difficult."

"Maybe," you concede. "Or, maybe I'm being realistic. Maybe, just this once, I'm seeing things for how they are, instead of how I wish they were. Is that such a crime?"

"No, it's not," he says. His stance relaxes, and his arms fall to his sides, his shoulders slumping. "It's not. I understand why you're frustrated. You're allowed to be. But, this isn't like you. You're not usually this...this..."

"This what?" you ask, and his brows draw together, a crease forming on his forehead. "Say it. You'll feel better."

"Selfish," he snaps, and his gaze holds yours, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand. "Is that what this is? Are you angry because the Council decided not to pursue the killer of your Master? Because you didn't get to hunt down and kill him yourself?"

"What if I am?"

"Then, it's a good thing we stopped you from running away," he mutters, and you scoff, turning away from him. You pace around the room, trying to quell your anger, and his eyes follow, watching as you move, his mouth pressing into a thin line. "It's a good thing Anakin was able to talk sense into you."

"Sense?" you snort, and you stop, facing him. Your hands fall to your hips, and you lean forward, your gaze hardening. "How is this making any sense? How is letting a murderer go free make sense? How is sitting around and waiting for justice make any sense? How is any of this making any sense?"

"It's not," he agrees. "None of this is making sense. None of this is right. But we're doing the best we can with what we have."

"And, what if that's not good enough?"

"It's going to have to be," he says softly, and his head shakes, his gaze drifting to the ground, his expression weary. "That's all we have. All any of us has. It's the best we can do.

"I know," you mutter.

"Do you?"

"Yes," you sigh. You rub a hand over your face and run a hand through your hair, tugging on the strands. "I'm just...frustrated."

"I can see that," he says dryly.

"I want him dead," you confess. You can't look at him, can't meet his eyes, can't face his judgment. "I know that's not right. I know that's not how it should be. I know that I should want him brought to justice. But, I don't. I just want him gone."

"I know," he murmurs.

"But it's not going to happen," you continue. Your eyes find his, and his face softens, his gaze gentle. "Is it?"

"No," he admits. "It's not."

You nod and avert your gaze, your eyes falling to the floor. You can't keep looking at him. Can't stand the disappointment, the sorrow, the guilt. You’re exhausted, the conversation draining what little energy you have left, and your shoulders slump.

“You should go," you whisper. "I'm not good company right now. And I have a long day tomorrow."

"You need to eat," Obi-Wan says softly. His footsteps echo on the floor as he walks towards you. His hand brushes against your cheek, his palm cupping the side of your face, and he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. "And sleep. Please."

"Not hungry," you mumble, and you step back, breaking the contact. "Not tired either."

"That's not the point," he argues, and he takes a step toward you, reaching for your hand. "You need to take care of yourself."

"Don't," you snap. You move away, and his hand drops, his expression stricken. "Don't try to pretend like you care. Don't try to act like you know what's best for me. Because you don't."

"I..." Obi-Wan trails off, and he frowns, his jaw clenching, his eyes narrowing, his gaze darkening. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you, and he stares down at you, his face inches from yours.

"I do know," he hisses. "You're the most important person in my life. I've cared about you since the day I met you. I've fought for you. Loved you. Supported you."

"Obi-Wan," you start, but he cuts you off, his eyes blazing, his face turning red, his tone sharp.

"No. You don't get to pretend like I haven't been here, every step of the way. You don't get to act like this is all on me," he says fiercely. "Because it's not. This is both of us. This is our fault."

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to," he snaps. He's shaking his head, his voice rising, and his hand lifts, gesturing wildly. "You've made your opinion quite clear. You blame me. Fine. I can take the blame. But, you have to admit, this is partly your fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," he says. He's moving, pacing, his voice rising with each step. "We've been doing this dance for years. Going in circles. You and I. We've been playing this game since we were kids. Since the day we met."

"I don't—"

"Yes, you do," he cuts you off, and he stops, turning toward you, his eyes flashing. "You've been doing this, using me, for as long as I've known you. You know that."

"Using you?" you repeat incredulously. "I'm not the one who used our friendship as a tool."

"I never—"

“You mean you haven’t kept tabs on me? Or monitored my activities? Or reported them to the Council?" you snap. "Or tried to control every aspect of my life?"

"I have only ever wanted to help you," he insists.

"And, that's all this is, isn't it?" you mutter. Your hands fall to your hips, and your eyes narrow, your gaze fixed on his. "You're trying to fix me. You've always been trying to fix me."

"Of course I am!" Obi-Wan snaps, and his eyebrows rise, his expression incredulous, as if you've said something ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it's not your responsibility," you say through gritted teeth. "You can't fix me. And you certainly can't save me. No matter how much you might want to."

"Maybe not," he agrees quietly. His eyes find yours, and his shoulders sag, the anger fading from his expression. "But, that doesn't change the fact that I care about you."

"You say that," you mumble.

"And, I mean it," he replies. “You're one of my closest friends. My only friend, really. And if you're hurting, I want to be there for you. I want to help. I can't do that if you won't let me."

"You can't help me," you say, and his expression shifts, hurt and confusion crossing his face. You shake your head, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's not your fault alone. I know that. And you’re right. We’ve been playing this game for years. I've relied on you too much. But that has to stop. I can't let myself depend on you anymore. I have to...to fix myself. If I don't...if I don't..."

"What?" he presses.

"I'm going to lose myself," you finish. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. When you open them again, he's staring at you, a sad look in his eyes. “I think you know that already. That's what scares you."

"Of course it does," he sighs. He closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, fixing you with a firm stare. "I've seen what you're capable of. What you can become. What you're still capable of. I've felt it, and I'm not going to lie, it’s frightening. The things I've felt...from you...from within you."

"You're scared of me," you state, and it's not a question.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," you answer honestly.

"And, yet, here we are," Obi-Wan says softly. His eyes are locked on yours, and he shakes his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Neither of us can walk away."

"I tried," you murmur. "You can't imagine how much."

"I have a fair idea." His hands fall to his sides, and his shoulders sag. He lets out a weary sigh and shakes his head, his mouth turning down, his brows drawing together, a troubled look on his face. "This isn't...what I wanted. It's not what either of us wanted."

"What did you want?" you ask. Your voice is soft and low. "When we were kids. When we first met. What did you want?"

"You know the answer to that," he says.

"Tell me," you press.

"I wanted...more," he answers, his tone careful, measured. "I wanted us to be more than friends. More than...this."

"So did I," you admit.

"I know."

"Do you?"

"I hoped," he confesses. His eyes meet yours, and his mouth twitches, his lips pulling into a grim smile. "I hoped for a lot of things."

"Me too," you whisper.

"Things have changed," he continues. "I know that. I understand that. You're not the same person. And neither am I."

"No, we're not," you agree, and a part of you is sad, a bittersweet ache forming in your chest. "We're not the same. And I think it’s time we stopped pretending otherwise."

"I suppose it is," he concedes quietly.

The two of you are silent, neither of you speaking, neither of you wanting to break the spell, the fragile moment. The bond between the two of you hums, the energy vibrating, and you can feel his emotions, the conflicting feelings, the war raging within him. You wonder if he can sense yours. If he can feel the pain and sorrow and longing that's swirling through you.

After a moment, Obi-Wan clears his throat and runs a hand over his hair, straightening himself. He steps back, putting some space between the two of you, and he crosses his arms, his eyes meeting yours.

"You'll be careful," he states.

"I will," you promise.

"And if anything happens—"

"You'll be the first person I call," you finish.

He nods and looks away from you, his eyes finding the ground. His gaze falls to Yaddle's saber, his forehead creasing, a hint of worry flitting across his face. He stares at it for a long moment, lost in thought, and when he looks up again, his expression is resigned.

“Have you heard from Rex?" he asks, and his voice is light, his tone casual. It does nothing to assuage the sudden spike of anxiety in your chest.

"What?"

"Rex," Obi-Wan repeats. He turns slightly, facing you. "He cornered me after a briefing yesterday. Asked if I'd heard from you. He seemed very concerned. About you.”

"Oh," you mumble, and you glance down, your cheeks burning. You fiddle with your lightsaber, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, um, no. I haven't talked to him. Not since the diner."

"Really?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm, and your stomach flips, a lump forming in your throat. "That's surprising. You seemed quite...cozy, when I called on you."

"We were just talking," you say, and it's not a lie, not really, but the words sound weak, even to your own ears. "He...he knows about Yaddle.”

"I'm not surprised," he murmurs. "He was quite upset. It was almost amusing, watching him try to act professional and hide his concern." He pauses and gives you a pointed look, his eyebrow arching, his tone teasing. "You're lucky I didn't tell him about your propensity for running away."

"Lucky," you repeat weakly. "What did you tell him? About me. About what happened."

"Nothing," he replies. His eyebrows rise, and he shrugs, letting out a small laugh. “I told him you would speak with him when you were ready. Why? Did you want me to say something else?"

"No," you say quickly, and his smile widens, a knowing glint in his eye. You bite your lip, a sigh escaping you. "I mean, it's not that I don't...it's not that I wouldn't want..." You trail off, frustrated, and your shoulders slump. “He's worried about me. I get it. It's just...not necessary. That's all."

Obi-Wan stares at you for a long moment, studying you, his eyes narrowed. After a minute, his face softens, and he gives you a wry smile and shakes his head.

"You're an idiot," he declares, and you scowl, your mouth opening to argue, but he waves a hand, cutting you off before you can start. "Don't even bother. It's pointless. You know I'm right."

"I'm not—"

"If there's anything I've learned in all the years I've known you, it's that you are the most stubborn, single-minded, foolish individual I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," he says flatly. "It's exhausting, being around you sometimes."

"Gee, thanks," you mumble.

"And, yet, despite your many, many flaws, you have the uncanny ability to draw people to you," he continues. His gaze meets yours, his expression serious, and his tone turns thoughtful. "You've always had that. Even as a youngling, before the incident, you were charismatic, charming, and people gravitated toward you. You could make anyone like you. And I think it's the reason you have so many people that care about you. Including me."

"Obi-Wan—"

"What I'm trying to say," he interrupts, his voice rising, "is that I know Rex cares about you. Very much. That man is completely enamored by you, and has been for a long time. Anyone can see it. Anyone except you."

"That's not true," you argue weakly, but it's a lie, and the both of you know it.

"It is," Obi-Wan retorts. He shrugs, and he glances over his shoulder, checking the hall. When he speaks again, his voice is lowered. "You should talk to him. Before you leave. You might not get another chance."

"Why would I...I don't..." you stammer, and your hands fidget, twisting in front of you. “You know why I can’t—why it can't...why I can't do that. You know."

"I do. But, maybe that doesn't matter," he says. His eyes meet yours, and a sad smile forms. "Don't forget, we're in a war. Anything could happen. You should be happy while you can."

"Obi-Wan," you mutter, your tone scolding.

"You should talk to him," he repeats. His gaze moves, scanning your rooms, and he nods toward your bags, his voice becoming softer. "While you still have a chance. Take it. While you can."

"You're a romantic," you joke, and he laughs.

"So, they say," he replies. He sighs, and his expression shifts, growing serious. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah, I'm set," you nod.

"Then, may the Force be with you," he murmurs. He looks at you one last time, and then turns, heading for the door.

You watch him walk away, a heavy feeling settling in your chest, and you open your mouth, about to call after him. To tell him that you'll miss him. That he's been the best friend you've ever had. That you don't know what you'll do without him. That you wish things could be different.

But, you don't.

The door opens, and he walks through it, disappearing down the hall. The bond between the two of you flickers, and a dull ache forms in your stomach, spreading outward. It feels strange, like an emptiness. A hollowness. You take a deep breath and exhale, pushing the feelings aside, and the ache dissipates, the pain fading.

You're not sure what you expected. This is how things are between the two of you. Maybe this is how it should be. Maybe this is what's best.

You're not sure. But, a part of you knows it's better this way. That, as much as you care about him, as much as he cares about you, the two of you have come to an impasse. He can't help you. You can't help him. And trying is only going to hurt the both of you.

You take a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Your eyes fall on Yaddle’s lightsaber, the metal glinting in the dim light.

Tomorrow, you'll pick it up, and you'll leave. You'll go back out into the field. Into battle. To save lives. To win the war. It's a noble goal. Something worth fighting for.

Maybe the Council was right. Maybe this is what's best. What's right. Maybe this is what's needed. What the Republic needs.

Maybe.

You can only hope.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano @floofyroro

@ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon

@heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy @bunny7567

@lostqueenofegypt @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky @captn-trex @feral-ferrule

@webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino

@silly-starfish @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @lordofthenerds97 @meshlajetii

@heaven1207 @808tsuika @aanncummings @lugiastark @maniacalbooper

@sensitive-shark @kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees @awkwardwookie

@sugarrush-blush @lunaastars @capricornrabies

[desideriumwriter]

hi! i saw you opened your requests and i have one :) i love fred, and i love angst even more. however, most of the angsty fred fics rotate around his death, which yes, it definitely hurts, but i'm looking for something else. i'm a sucker for unrequited love, maybe the reader could be pining after fred and he doesn't reciprocate the feelings or something along those lines. the only particular i'd like is hufflepuff!reader, other than that it's all up to you.

i love love love your writing, thank you in advance 💖💖💖

YES god yes, we all know i'll be on my hands and knees for any sort of angst, plus i've been thinking of writing one of these for awhile now. anyways, i hope you enjoy this lil blurb <3

wc: 682

“Something on your mind?” Fred’s voice ripped you from your daze as he began to walk beside you.

“Nope, nothing.” You shook your head reassuringly. Hoping he wouldn’t be able to see through your facade.

He did.

“Come on, you’ve been staring off into space.” He nudged you playfully, a small smile appeared on your face.

“Just thinking.” You shrugged and shook your head.

“Just thinking about what?” You mimicked your mumbled tone.

“It’s nothing!” You let out a breathy laugh, Fred stopped and stood in front of you.

“It’s something.” He grabbed your shoulders, his touch made it feel like there were fireworks bursting in your stomach.

“And you’re going to tell me.” He squeezed, tilting his chin down slightly to look you in the eyes. 

You sighed as you tried to decide if you should tell him the truth or come up with a lie he wouldn’t believe. It was a shitty shot in the dark, and you were going to take it.

“You.” The word came out muttered, yet Fred was still able to catch it.

“Me? Why me?” He smirked, removing his hands from your shoulders and crossing them over his chest.

"Because you're funny, and you know how to get me out of a mood." You fiddled with your yellow tie, not knowing what to do with your hands. “And you’re super smart and talented, you know how to make all these insane potions, you don’t care how others see you or if you get in trouble,” Your eyes darted around, looking everywhere but his face. You didn’t know where you were trying to go with this, but you continued on. 

“You’re charismatic and super handsome.” You sighed, you should quit talking now and cut this conversation short.

“And I just really like you Fred…I’m in love with you.” You scoffed in disbelief at yourself, by the time you were able to finally look at him, the smile had ranaway from his face. 

He said your name softly, pitfully. You both knew what was coming next.

“Look, I like you too. You’re a really great friend, you’re brilliant even.” He began, your gaze fell to the floor. 

You felt like an idiot, you felt humiliated.

You’ve been pining after him for so long, and now it feels like a moment of confidence has just ruined it all. You wanted to do so many things at this moment, you wanted to run, you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to slap yourself, you wanted to burst into tears.

Fred bit down on his bottom lip as his brows knit together, he was searching for the words.

“You’re talented and smart. And it’s kind of you to think of me like that, but...” He let out an awkward sigh, it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath your feet. 

 "I'm sorry, I just..I don't see you that way. I can’t say that I feel the same.” He gave you a tucked in smile.

A small, barely audible “oh” escaped past your lips. You nodded and tried to blink away the tears that were building up in your eyes.

It was quiet. So quiet and the look of sympathy on his face only made you feel worse.

“Well, uh, I better get going.” Your voice wavered, you tried your best to collect yourself. “I’ve got some papers to finish.” You sniffled and pushed past Fred, your steps speeding up as you walked down the corridor.

Fred called out your name once more, causing you to stop, you took a deep breath before you turned to face him.

“I really am. Sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have misinterpreted our friendship.” You gave a weak smile through watery eyes, turning away and continuing down the corridor.

Fred stood there, rubbing the back of his neck in guilt as he watched you quickly escape. George came out of his hiding spot from behind one of the stone pillars, giving his brother a rough pat on the back.

“Congrats mate, you’ve broken her heart.”

tell me what you thought!

[hellsite-proteins]

Hey guys, did you know that in terms of human companionship, Flareon is objectively the most huggable Pokémon? While their maximum temperature is likely too much for most, they are capable of controlling it, so they can set themselves to the perfect temperature for you. Along with that, they have a lot of fluff, making them undeniably incredibly soft to touch. But that's not all, they have a very respectable special defense stat of 110, which means that they are likely very calm and resistant to emotional damage. Because of this, if you have a bad day, you can vent to it while hugging it, and it won't mind. It can make itself even more endearing with moves like Charm and Baby Doll Eyes, ensuring that you never have a prolonged bout of depression again.

this is actually so sweet!

letter sequence in this ask matching protein-coding amino acids:

HeygysdidyknwthatintermsfhmancmpaninshipFlarenisectivelythemsthggalePkemnWhiletheirmaimmtemperatreislikelytmchfrmsttheyarecapalefcntrllingitstheycansetthemselvesttheperfecttemperatrefryAlngwiththattheyhavealtfflffmakingthemndenialyincredilysftttchtthatsntalltheyhaveaveryrespectalespecialdefensestatfwhichmeansthattheyarelikelyverycalmandresistanttemtinaldamageecasefthisifyhaveaaddayycanventtitwhilehggingitanditwntmindItcanmakeitselfevenmreendearingwithmveslikeCharmandayDllEyesensringthatyneverhaveaprlngedtfdepressinagain

protein guy analysis:

my first thought was just that this one looks like an accordion. the helices are arranged in something approximating a line, and this protein looks like it's been flattened. one end has a pretty long loop, but otherwise this has a good amount of secondary structure. its absolutely not hydrophobic enough to be a transmembrane protein, but for some reason this reminded me of some illustrations i've seen of GPCR receptor proteins. (i saw one picture that was a parody of the old magnificent 7 movie poster, with each of the people as a transmembrane helix, but i couldn't find it again to include in this post :/ ). now that i've made several loose comparisons, its time for my regular disclaimer that this still doesn't look like anything. the pLDDT colours are similar to the colours of this pokemon – which is to say very orange! none of this is real and it shouldn't be trusted in the slightest.

predicted protein structure:

cartoon representation coloured by pLDDT

cartoon rotated 90º

movie poster i referenced above

[starrylothcat]

My queen! May I humbly request to you a dialog burned into my skull for hunter ? I know you have a promt list but I have thought of hunter saying these lines ever since they came to me (I hope u don't mind a suggestion that's not on a list🖤🖤🖤)

"Do you have any idea how intoxicating you are to me? Do you even know what you Do me? How much you drive me wild?"

"Oh I think you do. Oh mesh'la, If I didnt know any better I'd think you like driving me crazy"

-I've had no thoughts other than hunter and his God damn inhanced senses and that scent kink 🙈 Nonthing but sinful smutty thoughts

Ofc my queen, you can go for whatever context you think fits. ☺️🖤🖤🖤

Essence

Summary: Your scent drives Hunter wild and his desire for you has been building. He’s been able to hold it together until a new scent from you pushes him to the brink.

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi Fem!Reader

WC: 4700 whoops

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Scent kink, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it yo), cunnilingus, cum eating, praise, Hunter being a horny beast. Takes place during TCW. Reader is a Jedi for fun, not really described.

A/N: Let me tell you, I have no THOTS other than Hunter and his senses either! Thank you so much for this request…this dialogue is DELICIOUS and you sent me down a rabbit hole. I do not mind at all! I got a bit carried away, but I hope this is what you envisioned! This is what I humbly offer in return! Enjoy~

Ever since you introduced yourself to him all those weeks ago, Hunter has been captivated. 

Whenever his mind was idle his thoughts drifted to you, the ghost of your scent always teasing his senses. He both wished he could be near and as far away as possible from you, your entire being taunting him whether you knew it or not.  

It wasn’t just your beauty that beguiled him or your skill on the battlefield, it was your alluring and downright intoxicating fragrance that overtook his senses any time you were near. 

Hunter was used to people’s smells, it was the downside of being genetically enhanced to notice such things. He often found other’s natural scents overpowering, learning to ignore them quickly.

But you, you were something else. 

Per the Jedi Council’s request, you were assigned to Clone Force 99 to assist with a  few delicate retrieval missions and had been given orders to train with them in the weeks leading up to the assignments.

His brothers grumbled, not liking having a Jedi on the team, even temporarily, thinking it was some sort of insult and insinuating they couldn’t handle themselves.

Hunter was skeptical too, but ever since first meeting you on a landing platform on Coruscant, your natural perfume ignited his senses like a newly formed star.

During missions, he could ignore it long enough to be successful and keep his mind clear. 

But when you were training, or on The Marauder, or just catching him in the halls of Kamino to say hi, he was tormented, and ached in silence.

You had just returned to Coruscant, having completed a mission successfully. You were back at the main GAR Headquarters and Master Kenobi wanted a debrief from you and Hunter. The war was picking up, and more and more Jedi and clones were needed in the coming battles.

Hunter was trying to clear his head before the meeting. He was stuck on The Marauder with you for a few rotations and his body was buzzing with need, his mind cloudy and spinning. He wanted so desperately to explore your body inch by inch, peel back your Jedi robes and become completely lost in you. 

It was all he could think about.

Every night, even when you weren’t near, he dreamt of the sounds you’d make as he took you apart and pieced you back together, how your curves would feel under his palms, desperate to be between your legs and drink at your source. Every morning he’d wake uncomfortably hard, hoping his hand would help him forget, but it only provided temporary relief.

Hunter was almost glad your time with them was nearing an end, not knowing how long he could suffer like this. 

Hunter had another problem, and it also had to do with you. He had been avoiding you the entire trip back to Coruscant and practically ran off The Marauder when you landed.

He knew you noticed, and figured you assumed he was angry at you. He watched as your face fell when you asked if he wanted to join you after the mission debrief for a drink, to celebrate the mission success. 

Hunter mumbled he was busy, not even looking you in the eye. 

How could he when he was seconds from wanting to taste your lips and fuck you senseless?

Hunter stood outside the door to the debriefing room, knowing you���d be in there. It was probably for the best if you thought he hated you. 

It wasn’t like you’d be able to be with him, anyway. 

You were standing in the conference room, knowing Hunter was going to walk in any minute.

You were trying to figure out Hunter’s increasingly strange behavior toward you, not knowing if you did something to upset him, or if something else was bothering him.

The mission was a success, no losses were sustained, and you and Clone Force 99 worked well with one another, so that couldn’t be it.

Your heart sank a little, thinking maybe he figured out your feelings toward him. He did have heightened senses, maybe he noticed something, and you weren’t as subtle as you hoped? You were trying your best to keep everything strictly professional, the mission always coming first.

You couldn’t deny your growing feelings toward the broody Sargeant though, his smokey voice, curly locks, broad shoulders, and thin waist just begging for you to grab on to. Those exact fantasies were going through your head just a few moments ago when you were in your quarters. 

You meant to take a nap and rest, but your mind wandered along with your hand under your panties. You didn’t mean to think about Hunter, but it was his face that was between your thighs in the dream, his deep voice whispering praises as he entangled his body with yours. 

The chirp of your commlink interrupted your “nap,” alerting you that the debrief was starting earlier than expected. Begrudgingly, you dressed and headed to the meeting, not satisfied and a little more frustrated than before.

Hunter entered the room, and his nerves were immediately on fire. You were chatting with another clone, a Commander from another unit. 

You glanced at him, nodded, and went back to speaking with him.

A new odor from you was assaulting his senses that wasn’t your usual exilarating aroma, this was different.

Very different.

It was arousal. 

Hunter bristled, fighting the sudden and intense urge to rip his clothes off and yours, taking you right then and there in front of everybody.

It was hard enough to ignore your usual natural perfume, but this was almost cataclysmic.

Obi-Wan’s hologram popped up, exchanging short courtesies with everyone, before diving into the topic at hand.

Hunter was barely paying attention, voices fading as he tried to hold himself together.

Why would you smell like sex? 

Hunter scanned the room, looking at the troopers and other Jedi that were listening to the debrief from Obi-Wan. 

Was it one of them? 

Jealousy stabbed his chest like a blade, imagining you in the throes of pleasure with a reg between your legs. You can do better than that. He thought bitterly. It could be me if you wanted.

Your demeanor was calm, listening intently to General Kenobi’s report, which was the opposite of what your pheromones were telling him. 

The other clones seemed at ease too, and Hunter couldn’t pick up the hint of your arousal on anyone else in the room.

Does that mean…?

If Hunter wasn’t sweating before, he was now. 

The image of you laying on your bunk in your quarters, touching your own body, and pleasing yourself was almost too much to handle in this public space. 

Jedi were people too, people with needs. And you were taking care of that need right before this meeting. 

Hunter glanced in your direction, your body radiating arousal, burning him from the inside out. 

You were horny, there was no denying it. Still horny, it seemed, as if your private time before this meeting wasn’t quite enough.  

Hunter’s body went into overdrive, picking up your needy pheromones as they wafted to his nose. 

Was this purposeful? Did you know what you did to him and were testing him? Some sort of kriffed-up Jedi trial of will?

Hunter clenched and unclenched his fist, praying for this debrief to be over soon, or else he might implode, a beast clawing its way out that he wasn’t sure he could contain for much longer.

Who were you thinking of while you writhed under your hand?

The image of some shiny reg popped into his head again, or that Commander you were just speaking to, the sharp blade of jealousy threatening to split him open.

He wanted you, all of you. The thought of anyone else made his blood boil, though he knew he had no stake in you. No one did. You were a Jedi. 

After what seemed like hours, the meeting ended, and General Kenobi signed off.

Hunter had to get out of here, get away from you before he did something he regretted.

He wanted to pull you into the nearest supply closet and give you what your body needed. But did you even want him? Could you feel the same way, if things were different?

Hunter knew the Jedi had their codes, their honor. He didn’t want to put you in a position of temptation or disgrace.

Hunter barely heard you call his name, trying to get his attention as he quickly strode out of the mission room, needing to be alone, needing to get away from you. Once again, he was running away from you.

You were aware of Hunter’s strange behavior throughout the meeting. He almost looked ill, sweating and fidgeting, the muscles in his neck tense and his jaw set tight.

There was definitely something wrong with him. He raced off The Marauder, and now he’s avoiding you again like you were made of bantha dung.

You frowned, your patience thin.

You had to know what was going on. 

You left the room, scanning the hallway to see which way he went. You caught a glimpse of his armor and red bandana turning a corner some ways down the hall, and you jogged trying to catch up with him, calling his name. 

“Hunter! Wait!

Hunter didn’t look back, increasing his pace. His head was throbbing, his codpiece uncomfortably tight,  trying to get you out of his head. It didn’t help that you were chasing him down the hall. 

Hunter took a quick turn down another hallway, opening the first door that he saw. It was an empty training room, with floor mats and other exercise equipment scattered about the room. The door hissed closed behind him, hoping he had lost you.

He wasn’t fast enough, it seemed, as you slammed the button to open the door, stepping in.

“Hunter, what the kriff  is going on?” He could tell you were mad, your lips pursed tight and a flash in your eyes that told him you were here for answers.

Hunter was balling his fists again, not wanting to put you in a situation that made you uncomfortable, hoping he could come up with something to ease the situation.

“Nothing, I just needed some air.”

You glowered, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Hunter, you’ve been avoiding me like I have the plague…did I do something to upset you? If so, let me apologize. You’re acting strange!”

“You didn’t upset me.” Hunter’s response was quick. “It’s just…”

 “Just what?” 

Hunter took in a deep breath. He knew you wouldn’t believe any excuse he came up with. You weren’t stupid.

“You.” Hunter grumbled, unable to look you in the eyes.

“Me?” You questioned. “So it does have to do with me? Hunter, I don’t want to play games!”

Hunter could hear the drop in your voice, not wanting you to think he was angry with you.

“No…it’s something else. My senses…” Hunter scrubbed his face with his hands. 

Hunter sighed. “Whatever you were doing before the debrief…..I can still smell it on you.”

“Hunter, what do you-?” You stopped, processing his words.

Hunter stayed silent.

Oh.

Oh.

Heat scorched your face, wanting to become invisible and shrink into nothing. He could smell that?

“Hunter I’m so sorry, I…umm…” You were almost too embarrassed to speak, your anger replaced with mortification, not realizing his senses were that acute.

“Don’t apologize.” Hunter started toward you. “It’s okay, it's just…overwhelming.”

You bit your lip, your face on fire, seeing how disheveled he seemed, but you could tell something was bubbling beneath his surface.

Your Jedi senses were picking up a need, a desire that he was holding back, one that was boiling over, one that has been held down tight for some time that was finally slipping through the cracks.

“I… didn’t have a chance to finish.” You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. “I got a comm for the debrief right as uh…I was almost done.” 

Hunter stared at you, mouth open.

“What are you saying?” His voice was low, his gaze narrowing.

You boldly lifted a hand and traced it down his armored arm. “I’m saying…I’d let you help me finish what I started earlier. If that would fix things, clear your mind.”

Hunter was speechless momentarily, not believing the words coming out of his Jedi’s mouth. 

You were close to him now, closer even than you were in the debriefing room. 

“I…I was thinking about you.” You whispered, your fingers still lightly outlining his armor.

Hunter brought his hand to your neck, tracing his fingers up to cup the side of your face, testing the waters. 

“Has…my scent been making you feel this way the entire time?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Hunter closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, slowly bringing his forehead to yours. 

“Yes. Every waking moment.” He admitted.

The tension that had been building in Hunter, between the two of you, finally snapped. 

Hunter pressed his entire body into you, walking you back against the wall of the training room, pinning you. Intense heat radiated from him turning your blood into magma, your hands flying to grasp at the back of his head as his armor dug into you.

Hunter leaned down into your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Do you have any idea how intoxicating you are to me? Do you even know what you do to me?” His tone was a hoarse whisper, like wisps of smoke from a recently doused fire, his hands tracing up your torso over your robes, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“Do you realize how much you drive me wild? How often have I thought of you like this?”

It was all out in the open now, there was no point in holding back.

His lips hovered above your pulse point, watching it beat and hearing the blood rushing through your veins.

Your body was engulfed with want, your core aching as you felt Hunter’s breath pant against your neck. “Your body…your smell…you tear me apart at the seams, mesh’la.”

“I didn’t realize…I didn’t think you’d notice-“ you gasped as his lips connected with your neck, his tongue tracing a pattern on your skin, his fingers locked on your waist. 

“I think you did. Oh mesh'la, If I didn't know any better I'd think you like driving me crazy.”

Hunter lifted his head from your neck, locking his eyes with yours. His usual honey-brown irises were almost black, pupils blown wide with unbridled lust. 

You didn’t realize he felt this way for you for so long and felt a little guilty for unintentionally driving him mad. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Hunter gasped, his cock aching in his pants, waiting for your answer, your arousal stronger than before, your body begging to be ravaged. 

You swallowed, momentarily wondering if you should stop this before it got too far, but his touch and feral desire for you were too enticing to ignore. 

You closed the distance between you,  crashing your lips against him. You dug your hands into his hair, kissing with uninhibited abandon, giving him your answer. 

He immediately kissed back with equal fervor, loving the sensation of you gently pulling on his hair, causing the burning flame in his chest to ignite hotter and brighter as your mouths greedily danced. 

You boldly nibbled at his bottom lip, earning a groan from Hunter as you slid your tongue against his, intensifying the already feral kiss. 

You knew this was wrong, against everything, but you didn’t care. The worries of being caught were carelessly thrown to the ground with your robes and his armor, quickly stripping one another, not wanting to waste a single second. 

You traced your fingers over his broad, powerful body as he gave you equal attention, running his thumbs over your soft curves, marveling at your figure. “You’re beautiful.” Hunter rasped. “Maker, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”

He searched your eyes one more time for any sign of doubt or hesitation.

 “I’m flattered, Sarge.” You teased, tracing your hand down his biceps, touching his sculpted muscle under his tanned skin. 

Hunter sloppily kissed down your neck and took one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling and teasing, gauging your reaction with every flick of his tongue, quickly learning what you liked. 

You gripped his hair again, panting and moaning as he lavished your breast before switching to the other.

“H-Hunter…” you could barely speak, still tugging at his locks which seemed to spur him on further. 

 “I can smell how much you want me.” Hunter rasped as he slid to his knees, hands caressing your thighs, looking up at you.

 “Can I taste you? Give you what your body has been begging for?” You looked down at the man kneeling before you, a dark and hungry look on his face, sweat beading at his brow, his chest heaving. 

“I need to know if you taste as good as you do in my dreams.”

You swallowed thickly, a new rush of desire flooding your senses. He's been dreaming about me, like this?

“You’ll have to let me know how it compares.” Your voice was raspy, trying to steady yourself, leaning back against the training room wall. 

Hunter smirked as he pressed his nose into your mound, inhaling deeply. 

He was finally at the source of what has been eating him alive the last few weeks, and it was intensely satisfying.

 “I can’t wait to see if your sounds are as pretty as this pussy. You’re dripping. All for me, hm?”

He brushed his nose against your clit, a jolt of pleasure electrifying your body as a lewd sound escaped your lips, louder than intended.

 “Did you like that? Do you want to cum on my face?” He mumbled, nuzzling his nose again against the sensitive nerve. 

You whimpered, needing more, so much more. 

“Y-yes…please, Hunter. I want to cum in your mouth.” 

You were begging now, his stubble scratching against your thighs and his lips gently kissing your labia. 

“That’s my girl, I’ll give you what you want for asking so nicely.” He rumbled into your soaking cunt, his cock weeping at the sight and the scent of you. 

Hunter wasted no time starting his feast on your pussy, probing his tongue and hungrily lapping at your folds.

He truly was eating you like a man depraved, your nails digging into his scalp. It was intense, better than you could have imagined, better than your hand under your blanket, wishing it was Hunter between your thighs. 

Your body shook and you couldn’t hold back the blissed sobs as Hunter gorged himself, his groans increasing in volume as he felt you get closer and closer to your peak, his jaw soaking with your fluid. 

Once again, Hunter quickly recognized your subtle reactions and knew exactly where to lick and suck.

His hooked nose pressed and ground against your clit, bliss building quickly, your legs threatening to give out at the sheer intensity of it all. 

You were a blubbering mess, words not coherent as Hunter moved his focus solely to your clit, needing you to cum. He flattened his tongue and pressed against your bud, grinding his mouth into you as you reached your peak. 

Hunter was barely holding himself together, his hands tightly squeezing your thighs to keep you upright, holding you as you came apart above him. 

Hunter let out a feral growl as you came, catching your release on his tongue, loving how your pussy clenched and legs quivered as your orgasm hit you like a ship going into hyperspace. 

Your vision went white and anything tangible vacated your mind, letting the ecstasy course through your body.

“Kriff, you’re so beautiful when you cum.” Hunter mumbled into your pussy, still licking and kissing between your folds.

 “So much better than my dreams.” You were breathless, coming down from your high, sliding down the wall. Hunter realized your legs were about to give out, wrapped his arms around you, and held you against him. 

Your heart was pounding, trying to piece together what just happened, Hunter’s cock rubbing up against your stomach as he kissed you again, as ravenous and desperate as before, his face dripping with your release. It wasn’t enough, though, for either of you. 

“Hands and knees.” He demanded between your lips furiously molding together. “Now.”

You immediately complied, any shred of your dignity completely gone. You shakily knelt on the ground on a floor training mat, resting your weight on your elbows, your ass sticking in the air.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, and the look on his face was predatory, dangerous even, his eyes completely black with craving.

Hunter knelt behind you, his chest heaving, rubbing his red cock head through your slick folds. You quivered, your cunt still sensitive from your orgasm. 

Hunter slowly nudged against your entrance. “That’s right, relax, mesh’la.” 

His breath was ragged, holding back wanting to slam straight into you and fuck you into oblivion.

 “There you go, just like that…Kriff you’re so warm.” Hunter’s voice was gravelly, letting out a low hiss as he bottomed out. The stretch was wonderful, being stuffed full of him, his hips meeting your ass. 

Seeing you like this, on all fours willing and taking him so effortlessly was almost overloading his system. 

He squeezed your waist, giving a few shallow thrusts that practically made his mind melt, feeling your walls clench and take him perfectly. 

 “Hunter…” You dug your fingernails into the mat, not caring about how desperate you sounded, or how you were exposing your ass to him like an animal in heat. 

“Fuck me, please.” You gasped, pushing back against him. 

“So needy…” Hunter squeezed your ass, slowly pulling out almost all the way. “You’ll get what you’ve been wanting, mesh’la. Don’t worry.”

Hunter quickly pushed back in, earning a pleasured whine from you. He was deliciously thick, and you could feel his cock head and veins glide against your walls as he picked up his pace, fucking you exactly how you wanted for who knows how long. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He grunted, breathless, his broody Sargeant composure crumbling with every thrust deeper inside you, his pace increasing. 

“Did you want to be fucked by me? Did you dream about me, too? Did you touch your perfect pussy and think of me?” 

You nodded, your eyes half-lidded and your mouth hanging open as he fucked you senseless, your cheek now pressed against the mat.

You knew you would probably have a red mark across your face but you didn’t care, just like you didn’t care how his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips as he pounded into you. 

You were thankful these training rooms were soundproof, the obscene slapping of sweaty skin and excessively loud moans hopefully muffled to any passerby.

Hunter groaned at your admission, his calloused hands leaving a trail of fire as they roamed your backside, one hand reaching under you and his finger finding your clit. 

“Did you touch yourself just like this right before the meeting? Wishing it was your Sergeant’s cock?” 

You nodded into the mat again, tears forming at the sides of your eyes, drool pooling under where your face was pressed into the firm fabric, the sheer intensity of him pulling you apart with every frantic thrust.

“Y-yes Hunter, I wished it was you, I wished it was your cock filling me up…” 

Hunter growled, pleased at your answer. 

He applied more pressure to your clit, causing you to convulse and shake against him, crying out his name, his cock pounding into you without pause. 

 “You’re so close, mesh’la, I can feel it. Be a good girl and cum for your Sergeant.”

Hunter leaned down, pressing his abdomen to your back, truly mounting you like an animal, his hips pistoning into you, growling in your ear. 

His control was gone. He needed one thing and one thing only, his mind now focused on a singular task, to feel you come apart on his cock, inhale your release, hear your voice shake as you cry out his name and his name only. 

Hunter’s hand was rubbing perfect, quick circles on your engorged clit, tears falling down the sides of your cheeks as the coil in your belly was wound tighter and tighter with every movement of his finger. 

“H-Hunter I’m so -“ You sobbed, so close to crashing over the edge, his finger relentless against your practically overstimulated bud.

 “Cum for me, now.”

 Hunter snarled in your ear, needing your orgasm more than you. 

“That’s it…let me hear you…” His voice was strained through his clenched jaw, inhaling deeply in the crook of your neck as your walls clenched and trembled around his cock, soaking him as your release rocked your body, every one of his nerves in charged with electricity at the sound and fragrance of your second orgasm.

“So perfect…just like that…” 

Hitched sobs of his name were more than enough to bring him excruciatingly close to his own explosive orgasm that was building quickly. “Where?” His hand was still working your clit, shocks of pleasure jolting your body, his hand soaked with your cum. 

“Inside…implant.” you gasped, and that was more than enough to unload inside you. Hunter bit into your neck, letting out a final low, guttural moan as his cock swelled and twitched, pulsating his release into your cunt. 

Your body was completely wrecked and overstimulated, clenching around his softening cock, feeling his spend leak out of you and onto the mat below. 

Hunter’s thrusts slowed, mumbling incoherent words in your ear, your head ringing and blood pounding in your ears.

Hunter slowly pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped from your swollen pussy.

“Gorgeous.” He murmured, not being able to help himself as he grabbed your hips, earning a surprised yelp as he flipped you on your back, yanking your pelvis up. 

You were completely blissed, mind hazy, eyelids fluttering, trying to come down from your high. 

Hunter couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of you. He wasn’t done yet.

You gasped as Hunter lapped at your folds once more, gently this time, tasting himself mixed with your juices. You let out a choked groan as he softly teased your clit, cleaning you up with his mouth.

“Too much…Hunter…” You could barely speak, watching as he slowly ate you out. Hunter locked his eyes on you, continuing his languid pace, putting your boneless legs over his broad shoulders for better access. 

Hunter knew he could get one more out of you. “One more, pretty thing, for me.” He mumbled into your folds, swirling his tongue carefully around your aching clit.

You were grasping at nothing, digging your nails into the mat, your gasping mewls music to Hunter’s ears. His hands carefully caressed where he bruised you, gently suckling on your overworked clit, careful and precise. 

Your legs shook as a slow, rolling orgasm washed over your body, sounds unable to leave your mouth, Hunter’s sudden gentleness surprising but welcome.

Your body was covered in sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead and back stuck to the mat, trying to piece yourself together as Hunter removed himself from between your legs, barely registering him kissing you softly, stroking the side of your face, kissing the bite mark on your neck.

You wanted to say something, but the moment was interrupted by Hunter’s commlink chirping in his pile of armor. He cursed, standing up and rifling through his pockets, still buck naked. You sat up on your forearms, trying to figure out how you’d both get out of this room unseen, and what came after.

Hunter grabbed his device, speaking quickly to Tech who was on the receiving end. You didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying, trying to dress yourself and look presentable.

“Tech wants us to run through a simulation of our next assignment.” Hunter handed you your belt as he fixed his blacks, snapping his armor back into place. “But I told him it could wait until tomorrow.” 

You raised your eyebrow, trying to fix your hair. “I’m surprised you’re not running away from me again, Sarg.” You teased lightly, not quite sure what to say after your intense coupling.

Hunter chuckled. “I figured we could get that drink.” 

You looked at him, a blush forming at your cheeks. “To celebrate a successful mission.” He smirked as he adjusted his viroblade on his arm. 

“Agreed.” You answered, touching his arm like you did before, a mischievous flash in your eye.

“Since we are ditching training tonight for a drink, “ You continued, “perhaps we could discuss future strategies in my personal quarters afterwards?”

Hunter’s eyes met yours, the hungry look from before returning.

“Sir yes sir.”

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @littlemissmanga @secretthegriffin @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @aconstructofamind @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @523rdrebel @dukeoftheblackstar @pb-jellybeans @sleepingsun501 @coraex

[cartoon-buffoon]

Short fanfic that I randomly made when being bored outta my mind during classes:

"ROUND 2"

Featuring: Monster Frankie & The Lucky Contestant!

Lucky burst through the doors out of one of the play areas into the maintenance tunnels used by staff. Despite currently being winded from parkour, this season was off to a great start. Unlike last time where they were chased at every opportunity by mascots, their only respite being puzzles which they would have to exercise their authentic skills to use, Lucky had ran into no such obstacles. The starting line was an honest to God starting line that all four contestants used, Lucky actually competed with three others this time around rather than being a sole survivor. Well, they competed at first.

For some reason the further they got the more strange occurrences occured. Certain puzzles were already finished, vent openings were busted open and some parkour challenges like the rotating logs were turned off and stagnant. Now this could have been all dismissed as a simple case of the other Frankie forgetting to reset everything but Lucky couldn't help but shake the feeling something sinister was afoot. One by one each of the other contestants vanished, at first it was contestant 2 who they assumed just wondered off but after contestant 1 went missing it became clear something wasn't right. Lucky and contestant number 4 continued to run side by side by each other but not to long ago in a section where they had to crawl through the vents did Lucky find themselves all alone. Just like the previous season they were now running along, by themselves with their only company being the occasional directions from Frankie over the intercom. Of course any questions asked to the rabbit would be simply dismiss so they didn't even bother. Instead they carried on, running just for the sake of the game.

"Long time no see"

Lucky stopped running, a voice oddly familiar interrupting their train of thought. They couldn't make out who was speaking but the voice came from all the way down the hall. With both the mask obstructing their vision, and the general darkness of the area they could barely make out a vague silhouette, no bigger than three foot.

"Who's there?" Lucky asked, their voice reverberating off the walls.

"Aww come on, don'tcha recognize lil ol' me?"

Lucky could finally see who was talking, their body coming partially into view. They could only see the red shoes and floppy ears that protruded from the shadows but it was more than enough to deduce who it was. It was Frankie—but not the one watching the cameras. The voice was all different and while the other Frankie was small in comparison to the monster this one was small. By what they could see, it was a version of the rabbit similar in appearance to the proper mascot of the place.

"uhh.." Lucky struggled for words "I mean... you're a Frankie? Not one I've met yet at least..."

"Oh you've met me alright, I think we're all too acquainted if you ask me!" The rabbit spat.

The words were spoken with such harshness that Lucky was taken aback. So far his tone seemed eerie but held a sort of warmness but it was clear whoever this Frankie was he was no friend. Lucky pondered who on earth this rabbit could be, was this the obstacle the other Frankie said? After Henry's head popped and the killer was incinerated they needed something to make the game interesting once again. Lucky thought nothing of it, after all what could be worse than being chased by a 10 feet tall killer rabbit? Whatever the new obstacle would be would be a major upgrade in safety and easier to manage.

At least that's what they thought.

The Frankie had stepped into the light showing himself proper and it suddenly made so much sense all of a sudden. With a crazed smile and coated in blood ear to shoe they stood, glaring at Lucky with nothing but contempt. Red shoes and gloves held a much darker hue than what they should have been, grey fur was frizzled and messed, even the black top-hat they wore looked like it was partially torn from a struggle that had happened. The most striking part of this Frankie was his eyes, they glowed a bright red and held the fury of somebody craving vengeance. The fury of somebody who had lost at their own game. The fury of somebody who was burnt to a crisp and came back with even more murderous intent than the first time.

"Those other three put up quite the fight" Frankie said with a chuckle and finger wag "This new body ain't as strong as my old one but it DEFINITELY does its job" Frankie stretched one of their robotic limbs back into the darkness. Like a snakes body it slithered into the black until he found what he was searching for "I understand the issue though, I understand it all! Hehehe"

SPLAT

A line of disembodied heads with their faces covered by rabbit masks were thrown at Lucky's feet. A chain had been plunged right through all three keeping them in a neat row, from the top of the firsts' skull down to the third's neck-hole the bloodied metal made a soft rattle next to the loud splat that the heads made when they were thrown. Even though they were masked Lucky could tell who the heads belonged to, the lifeless eyes that hung open barely visible through the black of the mask's pupils was a perfect match to the previous competitors who went missing suddenly.

"Ya see–they fought! They prolonged it, I didn't WANT to do that to them but they just wouldn't accept it and tried and tried and tried, and tried to fight back all because I'm SMALL!" Frankie grasped at his ears and tugged them down, his words frantic and rushed as he grit his teeth and glared down at the heads "they didn't play the game right! They tried to cheat! DIRTY FUCKING CHEATERS EACH AND EVERYONE OF THEM!" His eyes snapped up to Lucky, their trembling body making him smile "but you? Noooo, you play the game right! That's what I like about you!" Frankie walked forward as one of his arms searched for something else in the darkness "one of my favorite things about you is how you don't try to fight back! You know the rules and your role, I chase, you run, I try to catch, and if I do catch you tyen I get to rip out that heart that should have stopped beating LONG AGO!"

shing

Lucky stepped back, finally seeing what Frankie had grabbed a hold of.

"But it's fine! We can fix that heartbeat of yours" Frankie said as he brandished the bloody steel of an axe. With a smirk on his face he pressed the blade to his face, letting the sharp edge drag against his synthetic skin causing a mysterious black liquid to dribble out "now I think we've talked enough, what say we get started on that rematch that I'm just DYING to have!?"

Lucky took a step backwards, their heat racing in their chest. They couldn't believe it, they didn't want to believe it. After the first time they believed they would never see that Frankie again, well I mean they weren't seeing that Frankie exactly but whatever this was was way worse! Why the hell did he get a new body? Who the hell gave him a body? Lucky didn't know, all that they knew is that their legs were carrying them in the exact opposite direction the second they realized the space between them and Frankie was minimal. They prayed that this new body of his was as slow as the old one although by the murderous chuckle that the rabbit gave it was clear he was more than capable of covering distance. Still, Lucky ran as fast as their legs could take them while Frankie laughed and laughed.

[all-wrung-out]

Whumpblr Intro

Hey! I've gone far too long without actually making an intro, despite having this side blog up for a bit. So here we go!

I go by Tac when I'm interacting online (my main blog is calligraphic-tac, and that's my chaos-corner where I try to post things I like, things that inspire me, and my more general writing, when I can actually get words out). Pronouns are she/her, although they/them are good backups.

I've been into whump for as long as I can remember, but in my 33 years on the planet, I only learned last year that there's a whole community for it. I'd heard the term "whump" before, and kind of knew what it was, but never made the connection to the type of media I like.

There are some whump tropes that I'll always enjoy, but the favorite flavor of the week is usually on rotation from the following list:

Superhero whump

Kidnapping

Defiant/Stoic/Strong/Snarky Whumpees

Self-sacrificial Whumpee

Pushing oneself until collapse (especially for Heroes/Leaders)

Whumpers who feign rage, but are actually very calculated and careful in their treatment of Whumpee

Whumpers who actually lose their temper, especially when triggered by a defiant whumpee

Team whump

Non-human Whumpee (especially when it pertains to the good, old-fashioned "what makes us human" trope)

Drug/poison whump (Fucked up balance and altered perception, anyone?)

Medical whump (specifically, medical treatment, but "This is gonna hurt.")

Lab whump (especially testing the limits of a living weapon or attempting to forcibly manifest powers that may or may not exist)

The good, old-fashioned Beating trope

Pinned/Trapped

Drowning/asphyxiation

Environmental/Wilderness whump (extreme temperatures and survival)

Animal attacks

Used as bait

Infected wounds (especially when it comes to treatment of said wounds)

Self-surgery or self-care

Mind control (Specifically, conflict between Whumper/Whumpee within Whumpee's mind while Whumper tries to take control. OH! And Whumper causing Whumpee to experience things that didn't happen; I have a really neat story idea for this one!)

I'm sure I'm missing some, but I suppose I can amend this post when I remember some more. Some of my whump tastes are also kind of specific, so listing them concisely can be a challenge.

Not going to list my squicks here. (As the saying goes: "If you don't want someone to get your goat, don't let them know where it's tied.") However, if you're looking for NSFW-type whump, I don't typically write that. (Not for other folks, anyway; I'm rather terrible at it.)

I used to write a lot as a kid, but was often ashamed of my affinity for whump, so any time I tried to write it, I chickened out and wrote something else. I still wrote plenty of action and peril, but the whump was usually not as heavy as I initially imagined.

I've also been in a bit of a writing slump for... oh, goodness... It's going on 14 years now. I really want to get out of it, so I'm hoping whump writing will help.

Fun fact about me: A lot of my stories are grown from a kernel of whump. I think of a specific scenario I want to put an OC through, and then a whole story grows out of it.

Some of my favorite whump blogs include: @whump-me @whumperofworlds @allthewhumpygoodness @emmithar-blog @soheavyaburden @whumperfultime @roblingoblin285 @blackrosesandwhump @evilwriter-originals I'm still collecting whump blogs to follow, so feel free to interact if you're one such blog!

Also, I'm going to be rusty as hell, so please bear with me while I get my writing brain reinstalled in the ol' skull-housing.

Last thing (I know this post is long already): I've seen the way the whump community interacts and I'm happy to be a part of it. I'm not especially social myself, but I'm nonetheless proud to be part of such an amazing group of folks. Keep rockin', y'all!

[wintermarmalade]

Abandoned Pair

A lavish wooden doll lays atop a large building, gazing lifelessly at the monochrome sky. A crow hops onto its face, inspecting its dull eyes for a moment before flying away, disinterested.

"Hey! This is my hideout!"

It doesn't acknowledge the voice, its blank expression still mirroring the sky.

A scruffy ragdoll with button eyes leans into its vision. "Hey I'm talking to you!"

Its eyes don't even twitch as it remains silent.

The ragdoll waves a severed cloth arm with their remaining hand in front of its face. "Are you dead?"

Without meeting the ragdoll's eyes, it responds in a slow, dry voice. "Leave me be, I'm waiting for a bird to take me."

"What do you want with the birds?"

"They'd get more use out of me than my witch did."

"Pfffttt you don't need a witch! OR any birds."

"We're dolls, it's our purpose to serve our witches."

"Not mine! I make my own purpose." The ragdoll stated proudly, hand on their hip.

The wooden doll turns its head to face them. "Is that why you're swinging your arm around like that?"

"Hey, I got into a fight with a bird!"

It stares at them with the same dull yet incredulous expression.

"A HUGE bird!" The ragdoll stretches their single arm out to the side, failing to convey the supposed length of their combatant. "It was like, freakishly large, must've been a mutant or something. But I scared it off! Turns out I'm a pretty good fighter." They say with a smug grin. "And I snatched a sewing kit on the way here. I've never sewn before, but I'm sure I can figure it out."

The wooden doll hesitates before speaking, a touch of fear shimmering across it's marble eyes. "....I can sew."

"Really? Well, I suppose since I only have one arm, it might take me longer than I have the patience for. If you're offering, I'd appreciate the help." The ragdoll says as she extends her limp arm for the wooden doll to pull itself up with, and it accepts. "I have a hideout over here where we can sit, follow me."

And so it followed the strange new doll into a comfy den protected from the elements with various colorful blankets and knick knacks hung up. They sit down on a couple of crates as it begins to sew the torn up doll back together, its wooden fingers surprisingly agile and precise.

"So what's your name?" The ragdoll asks.

"I no longer deserve a name."

"Nonsense, you deserve a name just as much as any other doll." They retaliated. "Your name can be whatever you want it to be now! What's a name you always wished you had?"

"I've never wanted any name other than the one my witch gave me."

"Well, I'll come up with some names for you then. Mine is Velvet by the way, and it's mine, no one else's. Also, don't call me "it", literally any other pronoun works."

"Yes Ma'am." It responds instinctually, then immediately freezes up.

"HAHA! Ma'am! hahahaha" Velvet bursts into laughter as the wooden doll panics and starts profusely apologizing.

"Stop apologizing, this is the best laugh I've had in a long time. I've just never been called Ma'am before". They assured it through a bunch of giggles. "I don't mind, really, although just my name would be preferred."

The wooden doll goes silent and takes a deep breath.

"Now please finish sewing my arm back on before it falls off again." Velvet says through more giggles.

"Yes-... Yes Velvet. Please you must hold still before I start again."

"Okay okay" Velvet takes a deep breath before going back to stillness. Well, fidgety stillness, but still enough for the wooden doll to work.

"So how about the name Pinecone?"

"Hmm..."

"Or Spruce? Or Juniper!"

"I... really don't know."

"Okay, that's fine, I'll keep thinking about it."

~

"Finished. I'm sorry I took so long, you're so threadbare it was difficult to find safe spots to stitch."

Velvet carefully rotates her arm, then swings it around, a bit awestruck. "Wow! I've never felt so sturdy before, this is amazing!"

"Well, it could be better if we had more fabric. You have so much patchwork I'm not even sure what your original material was, and you have quite a lot of tears and loose threads." The wooden doll examines Velvet's messy construction intently while it speaks.

"Hm.... how about this. You fix me up with whatever materials we can find, and whenever I get torn or lose a limb in a fight, and in exchange, I'll let you stay with me up here. I have space, and it's cozy, and it's hidden away from everyone else."

The wooden doll thinks in silence for several moments, considering its alternatives with the birds.

"Yeah.... I think that'd be nice."

"Cool! I'll show you around and teach you all the good spots for scavenging trinkets and I'll have someone to talk to and it'll be great!"

The wooden doll felt a weak smile on its face, and they both felt just a little less lost than before.

[kradogsrats]

Schrödinger's King in the Bird Box

Time for a return to the single topic that most torments me in this entire franchise canon: is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not?

Except not really. I'm not going to go over the evidence again. I've done it before. Almost everyone has done it before. It has only gotten stronger. At the absolute minimum, an attempt was made to put Harrow in the bird. That's not really disputable. I admit it. It's over.

This is actually the second time that I've struggled with narrative cognitive dissonance regarding a real core factor of this show (like not "what's the deal with Archdragon reproduction," but something that is clearly supposed to be thought about with the intent that it will eventually make sense), and eventually managed to rotate it so hard in my mind that the way I wanted to see it slipped out of my grasp and I saw it the way it's actually intended. Ironically, I think I may have been thinking about the Ocean arcanum at the time.

Anyway, what previously always bothered me about this question was mainly two things:

It would have a devastating impact on Ezran's character development if Harrow reappeared during s1-s3, but the timeskip and arc of s4-s5 made it so it would also be deeply weird for him to reappear before the show ends.

If Harrow is in Pip's body, both Viren and Pip's subsequent behavior, as well as how Pip is treated by the narrative on a meta level, make absolutely no fucking sense.

But... if Viren doesn't know whether the spell was successful or not? If we are meant to not know whether the spell was successful or not, because it's not going to get resolved in the show itself?

If we accept that the earliest point with any chance of the hooks for this plot being set is late s7—because yes, Aaron Ehasz would do an exact beat-for-beat repeat of Zuko and his mom—that both puts Ezran far enough in his growth for it not to be threatened by the "real" king returning, and keeps Harrow out of the loop for long enough that it doesn't really make sense for him to do anything but step down from the throne in favor of Ezran, anyway. As for Viren and Pip's behavior, if the show isn't going to advance that plot much further during its runtime, there's no reason for us to be constantly reminded of it. The setup has been made, and they can just let it stew because it's not actually relevant.

That being said, Viren's behavior actually does make a lot of sense if "is Harrow in the goddamn bird or not" is a question that is also tormenting him. To that end, I'll be doing some digging here on the nature and context of the body-switching spell, Pip/Harrow's behavior post-swap, and what the hell is going on in the Harrow section of Viren's dark magic dream.

The Spell is Made Up (Unlike All Those Real Spells)

First of all, I think there's been some long-term incorrect assumptions made about the body-switching spell. It's not a known spell: this is Claudia and Viren essentially flying by the seat of their pants... but we rarely stop to think about how that contextualizes the rest of the discussion around it.

The initial plan is to find the assassins and ambush them before nightfall. As Soren points out and Viren himself confirms: if they fail, the assassins will be unstoppable under the full moon and Harrow is as good as dead. Claudia decides to put her mind to that problem, so naturally she stops to flirt with Callum in the library and gets the inspiration for the spell from something he says.

(Fun fact: none of that happens in the novelization. Zero amount.)

She brings the idea to Viren, and they develop the spell from there. It's not really clear if Claudia actually knows whether something like that would be possible, but Viren does know that transferring the essence of a person can be done—he's got a nice little coin collection that proves it.

As for the snake, there's no way Viren "acquired" a two-headed soulfang serpent because he has a book somewhere on how to use a rare, malformed specimen of a dangerous Xadian creature to switch people between bodies. He probably thought "that's weird, but could be useful," or maybe whoever sold it to him just had a great sales pitch. A non-trivial amount of success at dark magic is in having access to rarer and more powerful reagents than your competition.

Anyway, what this means is that Viren has absolutely no idea what success looks like for this spell, particularly when using it on subjects of different species. When he describes it to Harrow, he is 110% talking out of his ass. He sounds like he knows exactly what the spell will do and how, and I think a lot of us kind of fell for that. He needs to sound confident, because if he admitted that he doesn't know if it will even work, with a possible failure condition of "snake eats your soul," well... a) Harrow rightfully wouldn't go for it, and b) he'd look incompetent, which is the worst thing ever.

When he goes to Harrow's room, he casts the spell... but did it work? I think that whatever it did, it did it in a way that Viren can't tell whether it worked or not. Maybe both Harrow and Pip passed out. Maybe Viren just didn't want to hang around for the aftermath—in the novelization, when he exits the room and runs into Callum, his eyes are still black from spellcasting.

Activities of Dr. Pip Harrow, Ph.D.

Probably the thing that has always bothered me the most about the entire Harrow-Pip theory is that yes, literally everything in the lead-up and immediate aftermath of the assassination points to that being exactly what happened... and then the narrative lens of the show completely drops the rope. Pip doesn't even appear in the novelization until Viren's pre-coronation scene, which is funny given his looming presence over half the scenes with Harrow in the show.

Pip appears exactly twice after the assassination—once in s1 and once in s2—otherwise he goes completely ignored. He's not in the background of Viren's office, or the throne room, or Harrow's bedroom. No one ever mentions him ever again. Ezran never mentions him again, in the show or in any supplementary materials. You'd think the boy who can talk to animals might have some interest in his dead dad's beloved pet... but who knows, maybe Pip has always been an asshole and Ezran's actually like "thank goodness I never have to speak to that dude again."

Anyway, in all of Pip's appearances, he behaves like... a bird. A trained bird—Harrow can rely on him not just fucking off—but he doesn't demonstrate human-like intelligence the way Bait does. That being said, Bait is essentially a main-cast character (at least as much as, say, Corvus... maybe even Soren) while Pip is a plot device, and even then it takes until well into the first arc for Bait to show the kind of complex reasoning and initiative that separates him from an unusually smart dog. Pip's human is also a stressed-out king, rather than a rambunctious ten-year-old, so he's probably a bit more sedate overall. I would personally bet, given the way the show has progressed with regard to Xadian creatures, that Pip is as intelligent as Bait.

The point of that is: even if Harrow's consciousness is occupying Pip's body, he's not really doing anything with it. He's pissy, sure:

But is that Harrow's pissy-ness or Pip's? Even if Pip is only as intelligent as a trainable bird, that's plenty intelligent enough for both grieving/confusion that their human is gone and holding a grudge against obvious assholes. Viren cages him, but is that because he flipped out and got bite-y? And was it Harrow flipping out, or Pip? Or is he caged just because Viren's of the general attitude that animals belong in cages? Those who fail tests of love... We just don't know.

A lot of us also, to circle back to assumptions about the spell, have tended to think of a body swap between Harrow and Pip resulting in Harrow flailing his arms around wildly and screeching... but again, we know literally nothing about this spell, nor do we actually know anything about Harrow's behavior after Viren leaves his room. Maybe his body sat catatonic on the bed until Runaan came in and shot him. Maybe Pip, being intelligent, was able to maintain the facade—once everyone's in the heat of battle, it would be hard to notice even significant deviations from normal behavior. Even if "Harrow" appeared to fight only halfheartedly, or give up entirely... well, he hasn't been the same since he lost Sarai. Maybe the spell only partially worked, and only half of his soul is inside Pip, with minimal or no influence over the bird body's behavior.

Viren does appear to take some precautions in case Harrow is alive inside Pip. The cage, for one... but he also has nearly all subsequent important conversations outside of his office. Like I said earlier, Pip's cage isn't rendered in the background of any scene, but since he escapes from Viren's office I'm assuming that's where he's been. Even if Pip was just out of frame in every scene in Viren's office post-assassination through end of s2, the only things he's seen are... Viren eating butterflies, and the conversation between Viren and Claudia about the mirror and her side mission to bring the egg back at all costs. He doesn't know about Soren's instructions to murder the boys. He knows about the mirror and Viren's obsession with it (which he could have known before), but he doesn't know about Aaravos. He may know that Viren stole his seal but only if Viren was stupid enough to stamp the letters with it in front of him (which... look, he could be). The only things he's really learned are that a) his sons are alive, and b) Viren lied to him and the egg is alive.

Now, realistically, if we were meant to hang on to the is-Harrow-in-the-bird plot thread because it's going to be significant within the scope of the show... I'd be expecting to see at least one cut to Pip glowering at some point during all these machinations. If it weren't for the mirror and Aaravos, I'd expect Viren to be yelling all his monologuing at Pip, too. But the show does none of that. Instead, the next time we see Pip, we see him peace-ing out of the show for at minimum the next three seasons, and possibly the remaining two, as well. If Harrow's in there... why? Did he go to find Callum and Ezran himself? It's not actually clear that he knows Ezran can understand animals, so it would be reasonable for him to think Viren is his only chance at ever not being a bird again. Maybe he thinks that chance is gone with Viren's arrest and would rather not spend the rest of his life in a cage. Maybe he really isn't in control of the body.

Back to Viren, though: since Pip refuses to demonstrate any behavior that could be taken as distinctly Harrow's, Viren actually has no idea at any point whether Harrow's in there or not. He doesn't know if Harrow lived. He doesn't know if he succeeded or failed. It's a constant reminder that he's almost, but not quite, in control. Almost, but not quite, good enough to achieve what he wants.

It probably drives him absolutely insane.

Did You Think You Were Somehow Getting Out of This Without Me Mentioning Kpp'Ar?

Just kidding, it's finally time to talk about Viren's dream. We've gone two entire seasons and a two-year timeskip without any mention of Harrow or Pip (though those maniacs dropped the fucking snake basket on us as an incidental but obvious prop early in s4), and then suddenly we get punched in the face by Viren's subconscious.

First, though, I do actually need to point something out in the scene with Kpp'Ar. Bear with me, I promise this is relevant.

Viren sealed Kpp'Ar's soul in a coin 12-ish years ago, and the coin has been sitting collecting dust in his secret dungeon for... some amount of that time. Now he opens the door and finds Kpp'Ar standing there, free—and I will note that I don't believe Viren actually knows how to free people from the coins, or whether it can even be done. His reaction is surprise, followed by suspicion and wariness:

When he encounters Harrow—dead—his reaction is horrified shock, which is fair since the last time he entered the room that way there was no surprise body chilling out waiting for him in it:

Then, when Harrow speaks to him, suddenly alive and unharmed, he drops straight into relief:

Some of this is undoubtedly due to the differences between Viren's relationship with Kpp'Ar and his relationship with Harrow. With Kpp'Ar, after that initial moment of confusion, he's absolutely determined to not show a single hint of ignorance or weakness—this is a trick, or a test, and a passing grade in "light verbal sparring with the mentor you're pretty sure you remember betraying" is a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. For Harrow, who he wants so desperately to call him brother, who he walked into this very room ready to die for, before everything went horribly awry—he not only immediately and willingly goes to his knees, he literally prostrates himself.

... I'll give everyone a moment to get all the innuendo and suggestiveness out of their systems, because that's not the point. This time.

What is the point is that Viren's reaction to Harrow isn't disbelief, but relief. Hope. Kpp'Ar is supposed to be in a coin, and Viren immediately questions how he got out. Harrow is supposed to be dead but Viren doesn't give a second thought to how he's not. Fortunately, Harrow helpfully explains:

Fun fact: back in s1, we don't actually see Viren actually taking action against the assassins. We don't even see evidence that he re-entered the room at all—it's only Soren and Claudia who participate in Runaan's capture.

I haven't actually touched a lot on the complex shit going on for Viren, emotionally, throughout all of this—I mentioned it's was probably driving Viren insane over the course of the first two seasons, but let me elaborate. If Viren successfully switched Harrow and Pip, that means Harrow survived... but he expressed his feelings on the proposal in no uncertain terms, and there's a good chance he will literally never forgive Viren. I don't think Viren thought far enough ahead to consider how to get Harrow into a human body again, but I do think he's dragging his feet on it a little because if he can work things to his advantage—unite the Pentarchy against Xadia and follow through on the war Harrow was avoiding—he'll prove to Harrow that he was right all along. Any chance of that flies out the window with Pip at the end of s2.

If the body-switching spell failed, it means Viren essentially killed Harrow himself. That's the reality I think he grows more and more resigned to over the course of s1 and s2, when Pip remains unresponsive. He had no choice but to take the best chance at saving someone he loved—but this time, instead of saving Harrow, he murdered him.

In the dream, Harrow has not only survived, but credits Viren with his survival. He doesn't just dismiss Viren's show of remorse, but makes his own apology to Viren. He calls Viren brother. After an impossibly long nightmare, everything is okay. All is forgiven. Maybe there was nothing to forgive, in the first place. Maybe Viren was right all along.

Then it all turns sinister with the callback to the coin incantation, and we have a sharp return to reality:

The cinematography here treats Pip a lot more like how I would expect him to be treated in s1/s2 if we were meant to know he was actually Harrow. There's focus actually on him, instead of just other characters' reaction to him. He "speaks"—as I noted in another post—in raspy sounds very unlike his songbird chirps from s1. This is absolutely Harrow as Viren actually left him—even if he's not dead, he's in a warped prison of dark magic, a perverse mockery of himself.

Oh wait.

Harrow-who-is-both-human-and-alive was never an option, and what we've got now is mirror images of Harrow-the-dead-human and Harrow-the-live-bird, and they're going to do to Viren what he did to them.

Now, it's not that none of this makes sense if Viren knows for sure that Harrow is in the bird... but it makes a lot less sense and has less emotional resonance. If Viren knows Harrow survived as Pip, he'd be more likely to question Harrow's human form than his survival—the way he does with Kpp'Ar. He might be more guarded, expecting hostility—which, I will note, is what he gets when Pip enters the scene. Instead, because until now he believed that he actually killed Harrow in his attempt to save him, he's so relieved to see Harrow alive that for that one moment he loses all pride and is ready to beg for forgiveness at Harrow's feet.

Since legitimately none of this makes sense if Viren didn't at least attempt to put Harrow in the bird, we're left with Harrow maybe or maybe not alive, Viren having maybe or maybe not been the one to actually kill him (gonna be a fun one with the Runaan context), and a plotline that is definitely not going to be resolved in the remaining two seasons of the show. I'd be kind of surprised if they even did any more setup for it (like Callum/Ezran finding out it's a possibility, or even a hint drop like Runaan being all "it was fucking weird, he just sat there" or something) outside of future supplemental media.

Conclusion

Either Harrow is alive and in the bird, with the future intent being to do a spinoff story The Search-style, or we're in for a huge bummer of a "actually, it was Viren all along who killed Harrow, therefore Runaan is a good guy and we can all be one happy family" pile of absolute bullshit. Yes, they said Harrow's dead. Harrow's body is dead, we knew that all along. There's a note in the artbook that Viren was actually going to rip the shroud off at Harrow's funeral in order to publicly prove it's his body, because that is an extremely normal thing to do.

The show just treats it extremely weirdly because, even as the only person with any chance of knowing, Viren is in the same uncertain boat as the rest of us. (Actually more uncertain than the rest of us, since he's not genre-aware.) Also it's another chance to torment Viren emotionally, and they'd never pass that up.

Thanks for coming to my absolutely ridiculous TED Talk on this topic, I hope this screenshot now does as much psychic damage to you as it does to me:

[antimony-medusa]

Well it's been a week, hasn't it.

Okay so like some of us have had ourselves kind of violently removed from fandoms recently, and some of us have found our relationship to what's left of the fandom has radically shifted. I've moved some fics off of my to-write list, I've added some blocked terms, I've pulled things out of my queue. Many of us have had things that brought us joy kind of set fire in front of us.

And I want to say that it's fine if you don't know what to do right now. Maybe you'll come back to the fandom in a different form! Maybe you'll find a new fandom entirely. Maybe you'll just be like "okay this is it for me for fandom" and pivot into being a person who crochets or something. Time to write that original fiction idea that always seemed too long and hard.

But wherever you end up going, whether that's back here again, in the house next door, a street over, or in another city entirely, it's fine to just kind of have a time right now where you don't know what to do and you just kind of drift. I know social media tries to push you to make your mind up immediately and make a "statement", and I personally hate it when I haven't made decisions, but it's okay to not know where you're going, or make a decision and then change your mind again. For those of us who were still sticking around, fandom and creation is often just a little fallback support in your head, a thing you can always do when you don't know what to do with yourself/your brain/your hands. And someone just took a baseball bat to that support.

So yeah, it's fine if you don't quite know what to do with yourself and you're sort of pivoting in place. It's also fine if you immediately glommed on to the new thing and you're happily rotating the new blorbos, I sincerely wish you joy of the new guys. But I know I process things slowly, and I made a decision early but I also keep sort of looking around at the ashes of everything around me like oh god it's all been set on fire. Be kind to yourself.