#Battalion Ceremony

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Deposit Colors In Archives Sunday," Ottawa Citizen. July 25, 1942. Page 18. ---- In a colorful ceremony tomorrow afternoon, the 2nd Canadian Battalion (First Great War) will deposit their colors in the Dominion Archives. A parade will leave the Drill Hall at three o'clock, proceeding by way of the Driveway. Connaught Place and Sussex street to the Archives. The band of the Governor General's Foot Guards, leading the parade, will be followed by the 2nd Battalion veterans, the First Battalion of the 21st Canadian Armored Regiment (G.G.F.G.) of Debert, N.S., led by Captain W. B. Bowker of Ottawa, and the reserve battalion of the Governor General's Foot Guards and the Peterboro Rangers. Col. W. B. Megloughlin will be in command. Following the unveiling of the colors at the Archives, Dr. Gustave Lanctot. Dominion archivist, will accept them for safe keeping in the military museum. The battalion colors were presented to the 2nd Battalion by Charles W. Band, and the King's color by the late King George V. Leaving the Archives, the order of the parade will be reversed so that the active army unit will lead. Defence Minister Ralston, Mayor Stanley Lewis and other prominent men are expected to attend.

[world-of-wales]

GIGGLY WILLIAM ♡

The Prince of Wales and Colonel of the Welsh Guards, during a visit to the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards to hear how they have been transitioning from ceremonial duty back to the Field Army at Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire | 26 NOVEMBER 2024

[newcathedrals]

who was Augusta Chiwy?

Episode 6 of Band of Brothers is a masterpiece, but I think writer Bruce C. McKenna made a huge error in only including Augusta Chiwy as a background character with no name in the episode, while Renée is a focus. I did some research on this amazing hero, who honestly deserves a miniseries of her own.

Renée Lemaire and Augusta Marie Chiwy (pronounced shee-wee) were nurses that lived in Belgium before the Battle of the Bulge. They volunteered to help Dr. John ‘Jack’ Prior (who was assigned to the 20th Armored Infantry Battalion) when the battle started. Dr. Prior evacuated the wounded soldiers he was taking care of from Noville to Bastogne as Noville was taken by German troops. Lemaire and Chiwy both volunteered to help Dr. Prior take care of the massive amounts of wounded men who were brought from the front lines into Bastogne. 

Augusta was born in Belgian-colonized Africa (in the part that is now Burundi) to a Belgian father and African mother. Her family moved to Belgium when she was a child, and she trained as a nurse there. She was visiting Bastogne to see her father when the Battle of the Bulge began. She chose to use her skills as a nurse to help the soldiers who were trying to defend Bastogne from German forces. 

Augusta Chiwy was heroic in her work during the Battle of the Bulge. War historian Peter Chaddick-Adams wrote that “Chiwy accompanied ‘Doc’ Prior to collect casualties from Mardasson Hill, north-east of Bastogne, wearing a GI uniform because her own clothes had become saturated with blood.” Chaddick-Adams wrote that Dr. Prior thought that bullets missed Augusta as she was out on the line because she was “so small.” Augusta was only 23 years old when she cared for hundreds of soldiers during the battle. 

Renée Lemaire was killed by the Luftwaffe on December 23 when German aircraft bombed the Bastogne aid station, along with thirty wounded soldiers who were also inside. Augusta Chiwy was blown through a wall but miraculously survived the bombing. Her contributions to saving lives, and providing comfort to many soldiers in their last moments were largely unrecognized until 2011, when Augusta Chiwy was granted Knighthood by the king of Belgium for her service in the battle. The American ambassador to Belgium also presented Chiwy with the Civilian Award for Humanitarian Service. At this ceremony, Chiwy said: “What I did was very normal. I would have done it for anyone. We are all children of God.”

She passed away at 94 years old on August 23, 2015. 

Sources:

https://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/13/world/europe/us-honors-belgian-nurse-for-heroism-in-world-war-ii.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/europe/augusta-chiwy-forgotten-african-nurse-of-battle-of-the-bulge-dies-at-94/2015/08/27/8ff843ec-4bfb-11e5-84df-923b3ef1a64b_story.html

Snow and Steel: The Battle of the Bulge, 1944-45 by Peter Caddick-Adams, pages 374-375 

[babybulbasaur920]

What Twisted Wonderland characters can say 🚬 the bad word for gay

(Inspired by Blake Jennings YouTube series)

Riddle: was probably taught to think it, cuz his mother gives me huge conservative vibes. Can theoretically say it, but you could not waterboard it out of him

Trey: I’m sorry, come for me if you must, but no. That hat is strictly for Reddit straight people. Like he most definitely has some “Live, Laugh, Love” sign in his room. Big ally though

Cater: can say it. Is the type to say it to your face and you think “did- did he just call me a slur?” And you realize five minutes later he’s bi

Ace: cannot say it. Not because he’s straight, because he used up his quota in middle school

Deuce: can definitely say it, but doesn’t because no one told him he could. Like Riddle, you could not waterboard it out of him

Leona: definitely can say it. Maybe. Gives me “normally straight but whatever happens after some drinks happens” vibes

Ruggie: look, I honestly am not a fan of him, but twink with a Everest level high voice. He can say it

Jack: eh, I’m on the fence

Azul: octopi are gay as hell. He can say it but won’t because this businessman is way to smart to alienate 94% of his classmates (victims)

Jade: eels can change between gender. He can say it. Doesn’t say it, because he’s a proper gentleman

Floyd: can say it. Doesn’t know it’s a slur, and laughs when you tell him. What, are you gonna stop him?

Kalim: no straight guy wears that much jewelry and is that obsessed with his “best friend” (Jamil, when I catch you😠). Can definitely say it. Doesn’t because Jamil told him it’s a bad word, doesn’t realize he is one of those for whom it is not a bad word

Jamil: girlboy swag. This bundle of pixels is like, right in the middle of the male and female gaze. Calling his classmates that word under his breath is how he gets through his day

Vil: yes. Without a doubt. But would he, is the better question

Rook: fuck yes. Like Vil, he wouldn’t say it, but it you pulled his hair and call him it, he may cream on the spot

Epel: can he say it? Debatable

Does he say it? Probably

Idia: sorry, have you read his ceremonial robe vignette? Boy is the general of the bisexual battalion, he can say it. For some reason it does sound really hateful coming from him though

Ortho: I plead the 5th regarding if this underage child can say it, lest I end up on Fox News. If he did, I feel it would be like if Hello Kitty said it. Like, would you really be mad? He’s bby

Malleus says it, but as it’s original definition as in, a bundle of sticks. He can say it in the gay way though. Bro gives new meaning to the word “dragon fruit”

Sebek also only knows it by the stick meaning but if he finds out it’s a slur, he would never say it again. I think he could, but he’d never tarnish his Waka-sama’s reputation like that

Silver, once again, knows it to mean a bundle of sticks. Something about him gives me asexual vibes, idk

Lilia, canonically bi and a discord kitten, he can say it. Thinks it’s funny to hear his kids say it, but would stop them if it became a problem

[onlykenobimatters]

Codywan au where the clone troopers are actually a reincarnated group of an ancient sect of warriors from mandalorian space. They remember pieces of their previous society; some from the beginning of their origins all the way to the last grasping few. A lot of effort goes in to getting them assigned to the correct battalions. For they had a pantheon of gods they once worshipped and while they have always been One Blood, they believed very seriously in their coming of age ceremony where they must choose the god they would worship. It might have been thousands of years, but none stray from their Chosen.

(The pantheon would be similar to others in which they might have a core group of gods, but other minor gods could also exist. Each with their own domains;

Plo Koon was The Guardian? Protector of Packs and god of loyalty.

Mac Windu the Seer, protector/god of the past and future

While Yoda could be one of their oldest gods, his domains having shifted through the years but mainly protector of the young.

And then quigon who is associated with natural disasters. Legend is he was roaming their world, damning and saving mortals as he went, when he created a disaster so wroth, so powerful, he could not bare for it to fade. He pleaded with his grand sire and eventually Yoda agreed to help him. Combining their domains they turned the raging storm in to a young godling.

Obi-Wan, nature personified.

There are many legends involving the young godling and his journey. How he discovers his domains. And how he uses them to follow in his father’s footsteps to create children in his Image. For what is more natural than life and death?

Obi-wan is not the only one to create a god, but he is the only one to not need assistance. He becomes the Creator, the god of natural order, Father of Life (ahsoka) & death (Anakin)

Over the centuries the Line of Natural Order is adapted to many cultures within their system. Other attributes are gifted to them by followers of The Great Powers as well;

Life, goddess of survival & champion of the light side of the Great Power.

Death, god of balance & champion of the dark side of the Great Power.

The Creator, god of natural order and the Blessed, those who hold connections with the Great Power. )

and like I don't quite know where I was going with this, but clone wars era where the clones kind of remember this culture that doesn't seem to be recorded anywhere and these jedi that feel something Awaken when they meet these shining lights in the force.

and Obi-Wan gently cupping Cody's face, his blue eyes shining brightly. Obi-Wan allowing the force to guide him as he gently lays a kiss upon Co-, no, Kote's forehead, the warrior breathing in harshly as the first Blessing in thousands of years is granted to him. Kote is glory and Kote will uphold the Natural Order as The Creator, Ken'Obi, sees fit. For Kote is now Blessed by his patron God.

i dont even know this got away from me ugh

[stuck-in-jelly]

Details i think about constantly from the novelizations of The Dragon Prince:

King Harrow made that doggy door for Bait himself instead of letting the royal carpenter do it

Viren calls hugs ‘familial clasp’

Amaya makes Ezran and Callum a full breakfast at the Banther Lodge and is described as ‘A breakfast connoisseur’

Corvus wears a cloak in his initial appearance

When Viren first tries to sieze the crown he fully puts on coronation robes before Amaya stops the ceremony (side note i couldn’t stop laughing thinking about it in terms of having your wedding crashed)

When Gren hesitates translating Amaya saying ‘Bullshit’ she turns to him and signs ‘Say it.’

Its stated that Soren ‘adored Callum and Ezran.’ And he hoped that they were still alive (said when Viren told him to kill the princes)

When Ezran was drowning in the icy water trying to get Zym he dreamt of his mother hugging him

Soren pretended he thought Claudia’s nose tap was stupid whenever their dad was around cause Viren thought it was stupid. But when their dad wasn’t around Soren would tap his nose in response to her

Soren calls Claudia “a daddy’s girl” (way to drive in the foreshadowing)

King Harrow was going to listen to Sarai and not kill the titan but Viren told The Queens of Duren the cost Katolis would pay and they refused help if Harrow’s Kingdom was to suffer as well

Corvus waited for Claudia to leave for the bathroom cause he knew he wouldnt be able to fool her but could fool Soren. Only reason he didn’t make it was cause Claudia came back just in time to trap him again

Oh yeah Ezran not only can speak to animals and sense their emotions. He can FEEL their pain. He felt Pyrrah’s pain when she was shot.

Opeli during a council meeting with Harrow as king objected one of his ideas then became scared she would demoted or killed but Harrow assigned her head of the council that day

Ezran recognizes Corvus? (Possibly cause he was in Amaya’s Battalion)

When Soren makes his Dragon Smash Boy ‘Haiku’ and Claudia tells him he got the wrong number of syllables he yells “Well, Im rebelling against the tyranny of the Haiku!”

Claudia was in the puzzle house when Viren and Kpp’Ar got into their argument and accidentally overheard them

Amaya initially offered her hand to Janai when she was dangling off the cliff but Janai refused it.

[theroyalsandi]

STATE VISIT BY THE EMPEROR AND EMPRESS OF JAPAN Tuesday 25th - Thursday 27th June 2024

Their Majesties The Emperor and Empress of Japan will pay a State Visit to the United Kingdom as guests of His Majesty The King from Tuesday 25th to Thursday 27th June 2024.

Their Majesties The King and Queen will host the State Visit at Buckingham Palace.

STATE VISIT PROGRAMME:

SATURDAY 22nd JUNE • The Emperor and Empress of Japan will arrive privately in the United Kingdom on the afternoon of Saturday 22nd June at Stansted Airport. • Their Majesties will be greeted by His Excellency Mr Hajime Hayashi, Ambassador of Japan. The Viscount Brookeborough KG, Lord-in-Waiting, will greet Their Majesties on behalf of The King.

SUNDAY 23rd JUNE AND MONDAY 24TH JUNE • Before the State Visit formally commences, the Emperor will conduct a private programme of engagements, including a visit to Japan House and the Thames Barrier.

TUESDAY 25th JUNE • His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales will greet the Emperor and Empress of Japan, at their hotel, on behalf of The King on Tuesday morning. • His Royal Highness will travel with the Emperor and Empress to Horse Guards Parade, where Their Majesties will receive a Ceremonial Welcome. • The King and Queen will formally welcome the Emperor and Empress at the Royal Pavilion on Horse Guards Parade. Presentations will be made, the Guard of Honour will give a Royal Salute and the Japanese National Anthem will be played. • The King and Queen will formally welcome the Emperor and Empress at the Royal Pavilion on Horse Guards Parade. Presentations will be made, the Guard of Honour will give a Royal Salute and the Japanese National Anthem will be played. • The Emperor, accompanied by The King, will then inspect the Guard of Honour, formed of the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards with the Band of the Welsh Guards. Afterwards, the Emperor and Empress will join The King and Queen, and The Prince of Wales, in a carriage procession along The Mall to Buckingham Palace, where they will be met by a second Guard of Honour formed of the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards. • Following a lunch at Buckingham Palace, given by The King, His Majesty will invite the Emperor and Empress to view a special exhibition in the Picture Gallery of items from the Royal Collection relating to Japan. • In the afternoon, the Emperor and Empress will visit Westminster Abbey, where the Emperor will lay a wreath at the Grave of the Unknown Warrior. Their Majesties will take a tour of the Abbey, accompanied by the Dean of Westminster. • In the evening, The King, accompanied by The Queen and Members of the Royal Family, will give a State Banquet at Buckingham Palace for The Emperor and Empress of Japan. Speeches will be made by The King and the Emperor at the beginning of the banquet.

WEDNESDAY 26th JUNE • The Emperor will visit The Francis Crick Institute, the UK's flagship biomedical research centre. The Institute supports an innovative UK-Japan research partnership which covers a range of public health issues, including cancer, vaccines, and the role of genetics in infectious diseases. • That evening, The Emperor of Japan, joined by Their Royal Highnesses The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, will attend a Banquet at the Guildhall given by the Lord Mayor and City of London Corporation. The Lord Mayor and The Emperor will both make speeches at the end of the banquet.

THURSDAY 27th JUNE • The Emperor and Empress of Japan will formally bid farewell to The King and Queen at Buckingham Palace on the morning of the final day of the official State Visit programme. • The Emperor and Empress will travel to Young V&A, part of the V&A family of museums dedicated to the power of creativity around the world, where the museum's Japan: Myths to Manga exhibition is currently on display. • The Emperor will privately visit St. George's Chapel, Windsor Castle, to lay a wreath on the tomb of Queen Elizabeth II, in the King George VI Chapel. The Garter Banners of the current members of the Order of the Garter, including the banner belonging to • His Majesty's father, Emperor Emeritus Akihito, are displayed in the Quire of St. George's Chapel. • Later that afternoon, His Majesty the Emperor will tour the historic Temperate House at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. The Millennium Seed Bank, coordinated by Kew is the world's largest collection of over 2.4 billion wild plant seeds spanning 97 countries, preserving Japanese and international biodiversity. Bronze Bonsai sculptures by artist Marc Quinn are currently displayed in the Temperate House, surrounded by a display of Bonsai trees from Kew's collection.

FRIDAY 28th JUNE • On their final day in the UK, The Emperor and Empress of Japan will visit Oxford for a private programme of engagements including a visit to the colleges where Their Majesties studied. • At the conclusion of the visit, The Lord Chamberlain will bid farewell to the Emperor and Empress on behalf of The King, before they depart from RAF Brize Norton.

[raayllum]

Once again I am so completely in my Janaya feelings because they're just so well done as a ship and so refreshing as a canon queer ship in particular??

Like they're rival generals who are uniquely matched in skill! We see how good of a fighter Amaya is in S1 (she's the top General of the Standing Battalion for crying out loud) so having someone who has her even somewhat on the run in S2 immediately catches our notice, as well as just how striking Janai is, even before we know she's the Golden Knight of Lux Aurea and sister to the queen.

Then we get some fun games of cat and mouse with the two circling and outsmarting each other; Janai luring Amaya's troops into an ambush and then having Amaya outsmart her way through anyway, and Janai ruining Amaya's plan to sever the Breach as a connective point between their lands (at least temporarily). It's small, but it shows that they're not just physically matched in battle, but intellectually too, and it makes their connection / rivalry feel more personal.

But of course this starts to shift when Amaya is stranded on Janai's side of the Breach, and spares her life because there's been enough unnecessary violence, having to literally Drop her shield to do so (mm, the symbolism).

We then get a new stage of their dynamic, as Amaya is very good bad at being interrogated ("She may have told you a rather unusual way in which your body might accommodate your sword") even if Kazi tries to minimize the ruder signs along the way as an interpreter. And even when Amaya could just look at Kazi for translation, her gaze continually strays to Janai. Then, Janai vouches for Amaya to her sister and Amaya has to trust Janai in the Light trial, which is also why she asks Janai to trust her when Viren shows up and starts causing trouble.

What follows is a fire forged friendship (literally) where Janai experiences Amaya's greatest grief -- the loss of a sister -- and they support each other through the battle to come, especially now that they have a common enemy. There's even blushing, battle gazing smiles, being protective, and paralleled hand holds.

Then, when we pick up after the two year timeskip, it's quickly apparent they're in a relationship — "But there are some things you shouldn't keep secret, especially from me" — and hints at exactly what kind of traditional ceremony this is, as Janai proposes and the two embrace and kiss.

And the show always, consistently, constantly, discusses their love for each other frankly and in terms no one can mistake.

"I know [she's a fearsome fighter], that is what I love about her," "The only message is that I've chosen this amazing woman to be my wife," "I love you and I'm ready to marry you," "I only really know one thing: Amaya, I want a life with you, I want to marry you," "Our queen and her bride to be just left on a romantic picnic in broad daylight!" "I just need a distraction—that's right, wedding planning." "Is someone getting married?" "Now I know how wrong I was about elves: I'm in love with one [...] Meeting Janai, falling in love" etc etc. Even down to the little details like Amaya's sign name for Janai being a J over her heart.

I also really appreciate that they're able to be so physically affectionate, particularly Amaya towards Janai in her tenderness as well.

At the same time, they don't always entirely see eye to eye. Amaya is adjusting to a culture that's not her own; Janai is still finding her footing and more importantly her confidence in being queen, even without internal usurpation coups going on and an evil blood drinking lesbian Moonshadow elf on the loose.

They trade and gift each other's another swords so they can be by one another's side in spirit when they do have to part. They're happily planning their wedding and giving each other hope throughout the encroaching madness of their lives. They get cute little callbacks to things like "She thinks I'm cute but won't admit it yet," exchange loving looks when their tribulations are done, and love each other with their whole hearts, allowing them to provide allegorical commentary on some of the societal pushback LBGTQ+ couples receive while also never having it dominate their shared plotline(s) or arcs with one another.

I just love them a lot, and these are some of the reasons why! I can't wait for more of their relationship development in S6 and S7!

[thewales-family]

The Prince of Wales, Colonel of the Welsh Guards visits the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards to hear how they have been transitioning from ceremonial duty back to the Field Army at Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, England -November 26th 2024.

📷 (2 & 3) : Andrew Parsons/Kensington Palace.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

What little enjoyment I had resulted from my daily contact with Nixon and the members of the battalion staff. Now operating as battalion operations officer (S-3), Captain Nixon had always been a hard man to wake up. On one morning, I needed to get an early start to visit one of the companies, so I sent a runner to wake up Nixon. Nixon, as usual, could not be talked into getting out of his sleeping bag, so I personally went to his darkened room. The shutters were closed and without ceremony, I grabbed his feet while he was still in his sleeping bag and threw them over my shoulder. I asked him, “Are you going to get up?” “Go away, let me alone,” he mumbled. I looked over at the bureau and saw the water pitcher was half full. Still holding his feet over my shoulder, I grabbed the pitcher and threatened again. “Are you going to get up?” Again he yelled, “Go away.” So I said, “I am going to let you have it!” and with that I started the pouring motion. At that instant, Nixon opened his eyes and started to holler, “No! No!” It was too late. The contents were on the way, and with his, “No! No!” I realized the content of the pitcher was piss and not water. Nixon came sputtering and laughing from his sleeping bag in a hurry. We both agreed that we better alter our plans and visit those showers we had been hearing about in Nijmegen.

~ Dick Winters

[world-of-wales]

THE PRINCE DIARIES ♚

26 NOVEMBER 2024 | 1ST BATTALION WELSH GUARDS, SALISBURY PLAIN

The Prince of Wales in his role as the Colonel of Welsh Guards visited the 1ª Battalion Welsh Guards on Salisbury Plain.

The visit was aimed at hearing about how the regiment have been transitioning from ceremonial duty back to the Field Army following the past two years of the Battalion has led a number of historical ceremonial events.

He also learnt about the various weapons are used by the Welsh Guards including a sniper rifle, GPMG and SUAS-Drones which provide significant advantage to commanders and soldiers on the ground.

Upon arrival, William received a briefing on the work the regiment has been carrying out before engaging with personnel from the Specialist Platoons and joining them in different live firing exercises.

[aimeedaisies]

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in July 2024

09/07 On behalf of Princess Anne, as Royal Fellow of the Royal Academy of Engineering, Sir Tim represented HRH at the Annual Awards Dinner at the Peninsula London and awarded winners with the Princess Royal Silver Medal. 🥈

~ Return to duties after injury ~

12/07 As President of the Riding for the Disabled Association, attended the National Championships at Hartpury University Equine Centre. 🐎🎖️

17/07 As Colonel-in-Chief of the Intelligence Corps, visited 4 Military Intelligence Battalion at Bulford Barracks in Salisbury. 🕵️‍♀️

Unofficial Sir Tim Attended the State Opening of Parliament. 👩‍⚖️

19/07 Opened Worcestershire Acute Hospitals NHS Trust’s new Emergency Department at Worcestershire Royal Hospital. 🏥

As Patron of the Three Counties Agricultural Society, opened Kildare Hall at the Three Counties Showground in Malvern. 🚜🌾

22/07 Unofficial Departed from Heathrow Airport for France and arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport for the Paris Olympic Games. 🥇

23/07 As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, attended day one of the International Olympic Committee Session at the Palais des Congrès de Paris. 💼🇫🇷

24/07 The Princess Royal, As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, attended day two of the International Olympic Committee Session at the Palais des Congrès de Paris. 💼🇫🇷

As President of the British Olympic Association, attended a Reception in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, to welcome Team GB to the XXXIII Paris Olympic Games. 🇬🇧🇫🇷

25/07 As President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Team GB Preparation Camp. 🇬🇧

As Member of the International Olympic Committee, attended the International Olympic Committee President’s Reception and Dinner at the Musée du Louvre, Paris. 🍽️🍾

26/07 As Patron of the Eric Liddell 100, visited the Scots Kirk Paris Presbyterian Protestant Church in Paris. ⛪️🇫🇷

With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended a screening of the Opening Ceremony of the 2024 Paris Olympic Games at Team GB House. 📺🇫🇷🇬🇧

27/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏉

With Sir Tim As Member, International Olympic Committee, attended a World Rugby Executive Board Celebration of Rugby Sevens Reception at Stade de France, Paris. 🍾 🏉

28/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Team GB Performance Lodge, in Clichy, France. 🇬🇧

With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏇🏼🏊‍♂️

29/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏇🏼

30/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏒

With Sir Tim As President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Team GB House. 🇫🇷🏠

31/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🚣

With Sir Tim As President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Olympic Village, Pleyel, Bords de Seine in Saint-Denis. 🏠🇫🇷

Total official engagements for Anne in July: 18

2024 total so far: 174

Total official engagements accompanied by/represented by Tim in July: 9

2024 total so far: 79

FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.

[ireadwithmyears]

Hello~

May I get "It's not your fault." Or "Just hold on to me. I have you." For Fox please?

(Or Dogma, or Jesse)

❤️ - @vodika-vibes

two truths and a kiss

Pairing: Dogma/gn Reader

Requested by: @vodika-vibes

Prompt: “Just hold onto me, I have you

Tags/warnings: Jedi reader, whump, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, needles, hurt/comfort

Summary: When a rash decision leads to you getting injured during a search and rescue mission with your favourite trooper/you’re very secret crush, Dogma, a concoction of slightly too much painkillers, your subsequent loss of having a filter, and a childhood game conspires to bring certain feelings to light. Only problem is, you’re very much convinced that he doesn’t, and couldn’t, feel the same way.

authors note: So originally, I had a whole outline drafted for this, a completely different idea with commander Fox. However, as things tend to do, the story started spiralling and was getting too big to be contained. I had to take a step back and shift my focus towards something much more manageable. I hope you like and enjoy this just as much. I had a lot of fun writing it.

“I’m telling you, there’s someone in there.”

You turn, an already stubborn slant to your shoulders as you address the helmeted trooper at your side. He’s cautious, an equally stubborn rule follower at his heart as you are, and you, well...

You’re just a newly minted Jedi knight who is still learning the ropes of command, which is why, instead of being assigned your own battalion upon your knighting ceremony, you had been sent off with the 501st to gain some much-needed field experience. 

But regardless of how fresh out of the creche and clumsy you feel, you are still a Jedi, and the call of a presence—a human life resonating within the Force—still rings as clearly as if it were a bell, the insistent nudge that you must go to them threatening to pull you forward if you don’t reign yourself in.

This is exactly why you were sent to scout this village with Dogma, command ordering small search-and-rescue teams to recover civilians after a recent bombing by the Separatist forces had caught everyone by surprise. Your ability to easily identify signs of life and help guide troopers who had been assigned to clear out debris and medics to their locations was valued, and without a doubt often made these trips operate more efficiently.

“And I’m telling you that these houses were already badly reinforced before the Seps  up.”

Dogma sounds exasperated even through the modulator of his helmet, and despite being unable to see his face, you can tell he’s making an effort not to be, always wanting to be respectful of the chain of command but equally loyal and steadfast to his own instincts. You like that about him, always have. His uncompromising devotion to what he believes is right and true has attracted you to him ever since the moment you met, even though he, to your disappointed but grudging acceptance, has never indicated that those feelings are reciprocated.

You won’t push it. In fact, you would consider it to be taking advantage of your position if you did, since technically you are still considered a general. Dogma is so loyal to rules and order, who knows what someone could get him to agree to if they were to possess ill intent towards him.

The very thought of abusing his loyalty like that makes you feel somewhat sick. So you keep your mouth shut, and that’s that.

“Are you telling me that we should just leave someone who might be injured trapped inside there?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest.

“That isn’t what I said,” he sighs, and there’s a soft hiss as the seal of his helmet releases and he removes it from his head. “I’m just saying maybe we should find a better way to get to them.”

“We can’t wait for backup,” you protest, ashamed by the tightness that suddenly constricts your throat. You’re not a Padawan anymore. You should be able to handle yourself and get a more solid grip on your emotions. But it’s hard.

It’s hard when you close your eyes, taking a breath to recenter yourself and instead are unable to pull your focus away from the life form. One of your first classes as an initiate had been learning what you can discern simply from observing different presences in the Force. Master Yoda would say something like “Words you may have to describe this being within the Force. Tell them to me, you should.”

If you were still one of the younglings sitting cross-legged in that circle with his eyes intently focused on you right now, the first words that come to your mind would be helpless, fearful, and almost...small.

“Dogma, please?” Your voice is quiet and pleading, and though you’ve never seen this happen before, at least when it comes to Dogma, there’s a flicker of hesitation followed by an almost imperceptible softening of hard edges that takes you by surprise and instantly catches your notice.

You notice everything about him though, and that’s only made you—impossibly and with a naivety that is so unfitting of a Jedi—fall for him a little bit harder.

You had noticed the first time you had set eyes on him the way he was so reassuring with a shiny trooper, his eyes wide and looking distraught after an admiral had sharply reprimanded him for a minor infraction.

“They’re, they’re gonna decommission me, vod,” he had stammered. “They’re gonna pack me up and send me back to Kamino and they’ll...”

“Easy, trooper, look at me.” Dogma had taken the kid by his shoulders, waiting for his eyes to meet his. “They won’t decommission you. I promise. General Ti put an end to that as soon as she arrived on Kamino, remember? You’re not going anywhere.”

The trooper had nodded, unable to stop the shudder that had run through him at the lingering mix of fear and overwhelming relief that had spiked through him.

“Now, it was the artillery data logs that were cataloged incorrectly, yeah?” Dogma had asked. “I want you to show me what you did, and then I’ll help you figure out where you went wrong so this doesn’t happen again.”

The innate compassion that he didn’t even seem to be aware of possessing paired with his logic and determination to problem solve and combat fear with facts had drawn you to him even before he knew you had existed, and to your frustration, it had never stopped luring you in even when you knew you should cut the line and pull away, which would have been the smart, pragmatic choice he would have made if he were in your position, which he’s not, and would be much safer for the both of you.

You’re quick to squash any impulse to think that maybe, just maybe, his inexplicable softening in this moment is because he has a soft spot for you. Stupid, you scold yourself. Stay on task and just be glad that you’re getting through to him at all.

“Their presence within the Force feels like that of a child,” you continue, your words picking up in speed as your desperation urging you to move forward grows. “Maybe even that of an infant. I can’t be sure. But we, we need to—”

“Alright, General. I understand your concern,” Dogma raises a hand, silencing your worried rambling.

He lets out a breath, tilting his head as his eyes intently scrutinize the small, rundown two-story house that is miraculously, at least for the most part, still standing in front of you.

“Just…” There’s a slow exhale of breath followed by the sound of him placing his helmet back on his head. 

“We need to be very careful in there. Let’s not give the medics more casualties to worry about.”

As soon as he finally agrees to search the house, you’ve stopped listening, immediately walking ahead to find a way inside just in case he takes it back.

You can hear his irritated huff in the distance, but sure enough, the sound of his heavy boots against crushed pavement follows you an instant later.

*

Despite only half listening to Dogma’s concerned directive that you need to be careful, you do try, at least at first, to listen to it. This starts easy. The discovery of two adult bodies trapped beneath the crumbling interior wall sobers you considerably, and it’s easy to pause and slow your steps after that.

This lasts for about five minutes into your search. 

Then the presence that sits at the edge of your consciousness like a beacon slowly begins to become restless, unsettled, and afraid, and you grow the distinct feeling that whoever it is—child, toddler, or Force forbid, a baby—is just beginning to wake up and is discovering that it’s all on its own.

The spike of fear that hits you square in the chest feels like it’s your own for a brief moment, and that’s all it takes to send you running up the cracked and splintering flight of stairs that you find in the back hallway. Closing your eyes, you allow the Force to guide you.

You’re up the stairs before Dogma can even call your name, and by the time he has, you’re in the room. You hear the distant, put-upon sigh he lets out before his reluctant footsteps begin to follow you, but you don’t focus on it. You’re too fixated on the nursery and on the hand-painted teddy bears on the wall. Did his mother, with so much love and patience, delicately create each one? Did his father, with so much optimism and hope for his child’s future, set up the crib in which he now sleeps?

Did the bombing, quick and fast and merciless, strike them down before they could even make it halfway to the staircase that separated them from their sleeping child? 

It is nothing short of a miracle that the downstairs wall that had caved in on both of them hadn’t started a chain reaction throughout the rest of the house. You are grateful that the second floor, by some Force-given stroke of luck, didn’t crumble down with it. And yet, all you can feel is grief stabbing like a piece of broken glass twisting in your heart, and upon taking a breath to steady yourself, you attempt to discern if it’s your own, or if it’s the child’s. The little boy in his crib is just beginning to stir and look up at you with big, watery eyes and an already trembling lip that instinctively causes you to take a step forward and reach out towards him.

Crack!

The sound rings unsettlingly loud, screaming of “something is wrong” just beneath your foot. It registers within your body, danger flaring up within the Force like a brush of wild fire against your skin an instant too late.

Because by the time you’re comprehending it, by the time your muscles tense as they prepare to react to the oncoming threat, your foot has already gone through the cracked and breaking boards of the old wooden floor beneath it, punching through the boards in what feels like a final, vicious jolt as it pulls you downward.

A sharp cry escapes your lips, arms and upper body flailing in a desperate, perilous attempt to pull your leg free, which only results in a further dissent through the floor, your leg precariously dangling in the air.

“Dogma!” you manage to shout, your word being half cut off by a gasp that seems to punch all the air from your lungs as you feel the snap of something tugging, something breaking within your leg as gravity fights to pull it down further than it can go through the hole.

Your ears are ringing, and distantly you think you can hear the child’s helpless, distraught wailing through the pounding of your heart, but the blurry fingers that tantalizingly brush over the corners of your eyes make it hard to differentiate past anything other than the pain.

“C-can you hold the floor?” 

Dogma’s voice, sure and steady despite its waiver, cuts through your pain and fear as it comes from just behind you. You swallow, biting back a whimper, your eyes still squeezed shut as you nod your head, reaching out a hand and letting the Force flow through you, reinforcing the floor that surrounds you so that he can make his way towards you without fear that he’ll fall through as well. It takes all your concentration to keep holding it up, and even then the stars are still fluttering beneath your tightly closed eyelids.

Hands guide your flailing ones to strong shoulders, your fingers curling and instantly trying to find purchase within the ridges of his cool, plastoid armor.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Deep breath.”

That’s a big ask. Your heart is still racing too quickly, and you don’t think you can. But you must, with as much effort as you can muster, give a pretty good attempt.

“Good,” Dogma’s tone is warm, encouraging despite the tension that is pulled tight beneath. “Again, and when you do, I’m going to pull you up, alright?”

You nod, fear spiking through you but adrenaline doing its best to silence its protests.

You breathe. 

He tugs.

You must make some ungodly noise, because when the blinding, all-consuming pain loosens its iron grip, your throat feels slightly raw. Dogma’s voice is muffled, speaking to you in soft, soothing tones, and you realize with a start that you’re in his arms, holding tight to his shoulders as he carries you from the room to more stable ground.

“Wait, the...the baby. We can’t—”

“We’re going to wait for backup to get here so he can be safely retrieved,” he cuts you off smoothly, undoubtedly already working two steps ahead of your pain-addled brain. “He’s in the safest place he can be right now. We need to get you a med evac.”

It’s then that you make the mistake of pulling back slightly, glancing down at your leg uselessly dangling as he holds you up.

It’s a mess. 

You can still feel the blood that trickles down your leg, see the cuts, broken wood, and splinters that surround your upper thigh digging into your skin, and you swear you can clearly see where it’s broken. 

“Dogma!” Your voice comes out in a choked cry—a panicked and childlike whimper as adrenaline finally abates and fresh, overwhelming fear takes hold in its place.

“Shh, I know, I know. Easy, adika, easy.” 

You’d normally protest the endearment. Coming from the troopers, it’s usually meant to tease. But falling from his lips, so softly and so easily, instead it makes you feel soothed, and you're unresisting as he cradles the back of your head, tugging it away from the ugly wound and pressing it against his shoulder, holding you there. 

“Just hold onto me. I have you.”

You sniffle, swallowing a sob as he maneuvers you, slow and careful as he guides you onto the ground, his hands remaining on your shoulders as he props you against a wall. 

“See?” he murmurs, his voice reassuring as he takes your hand in his, the press of his fingers warm, even through his gloves. “I have you. You’re safe. Everything‘s going to be okay, I promise.”

You nod, raising a trembling hand to wipe tears away from your cheeks and he smiles, releasing his grip. 

You immediately long for the comfort of his warmth to return. But you don’t ask.

“I’m going to call the medic in charge of evac. See what can be done while we wait for them to get here,” he says, pulling out his comm. “Sit tight, hm?” he says, his voice serious and completely deadpan, his only giveaway being the slight twinkle in his eyes as he turns away.

“Dogma, that is not funny,” you burst out, your voice incredulous as you glare at him.

“Really?” he asks, raising a skeptic eyebrow at you as he leans forward, tapping against the persistent twitch in your cheek as it fights to pull your lips upward. “Then why are you smiling, mesh’la?”

You let out a sigh, your head thumping back against the wall and briefly wishing that your leg wasn’t broken right now, because if it was working, you’d surely take the opportunity to kick him for that.

He gives you a knowing smirk, turns away, and before you can respond, raises his comm to his lips.

*

“Alright,” Dogma says, already swinging off his pack. “If it were just a break, I would have to splint it. But the medics want me to leave it alone because of all the splinters. So lucky for you, we can just skip to administering painkillers.”

“Sounds great,” you say sardonically, summoning a small thumbs-up. All your energy is focused on breathing through the sharp, prominent pains that stab through your leg, now being the only thing to center your attention on.

“I’ve only got a hypo dose equipped for a standard clone trooper, so, uh...” he shakes his head, staring down at the injector in his hand with preemptive indecision.

“Too much is better than not enough,” you say with a dismissive shrug. “What’s the harm at this point?”

He fixes you with a look that you’ve come to recognize promises a lecture. 

“The harm is that there’s always a possibility you could overdose and die if I give you too much,” he says, sounding somewhat horrified at your easy agreement.

“I won’t,” you say, giving him as much of a reassuring smile as you can muster. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll be high as a kite for a couple hours, that’s all.”

“But we don’t—”

“Dogma.”

The soft utterance of his name gently cuts him off, and you reach out a hand, lightly touching his, his fingernails stilling their nervous drumming against the floor as he looks up at you. 

“I trust you,” you say, your voice completely earnest. He looks down, and you’re slightly surprised to see the shadow of pink that’s crept into his cheeks at the unquestioning sincerity of your words.

“Now please give me the hypo before I’m tempted to find more strenuous means to knock myself out so that I don’t have to feel this anymore.”

He lets out a soft huff, but there’s an upward tilt to his lips that he can’t quite hide as he leans forward, acquiescing with a silent nod before he presses the hypo to your neck. 

“Deep breath,” he warns. His voice is a low murmur, so close to your ear that you have to fight the urge to shiver. There’s a pinch, your lips pressing into a tight line as you fight the urge to make a sound, and then he’s pulling away, quickly discarding the used material.

“Perfect,” he mutters, hands swiftly repacking the small medkit. “You let me know if you start to feel dizzy or nauseous, okay?” 

You hum a soft agreement, your eyes closed as you take a slow, deep breath. The medication is fast-acting, and you can already feel the heaviness, the gentle and warm numbness that creeps into your bones as you lean your head back against the wall.

“Hang tight,” he says, and there’s a warm pressure against your uninjured knee as he briefly rests his hand there, fleeting and gone too soon. “We just have to wait for evac. They’ll be here soon.”

“So much waiting,” you sigh, your head lulling against your shoulder. Your mind has already wandered, lingering on that one word and bringing you back to memories of being an initiate lined up outside of large training rooms anxiously waiting for your turn to be assessed by the Council. 

“We would always play games as younglings while we were waiting for our turns for stuff,” you say, and your voice sounds far off, even to your own ears.

“What kind of games?” Dogma asks, and a part of you in the back of your mind thinks that he’s asking just to keep you talking, just to keep you here. You don’t really care, though. You’re happy to oblige.

“Like...talking games,” you shrug, blinking up at him slowly. The medication that was in the hypo made you feel like you’re thinking through some sort of fog. “Like ‘two truths and a lie.’”

“What’s that?” he asks, and now you can’t resist rolling your eyes, tilting your head in consternation.

“It’s pretty self-explanatory,” you shrug, and he gives you a slightly rueful grin in return.

“Humor me,” he says, moving to sit beside you and lean against the wall. “If we were playing, give me an example.”

“Okay,” you agree with a smile, because this game is fun, and you’ve forgotten how much fun it can be having not played it in years. “I’ll give you three facts. You guess which one the lie is.”

“Alright,” he says. “Hit me with them.”

He leans back on his heels, intrigued as to what you’re going to say. 

“I once saw Master Windu doing an impression of Master Yoda for a group of younglings.”

He nods, a small smile creeping onto his face. He knows this one. He has heard you recounting the story to a nervous shiny who was worried about working with him and one of his squads.

“I’ve never been kissed before.”

Your next words take him by slight surprise, even though they really shouldn’t. You’re a Jedi, and Jedi don’t typically engage in that kind of thing, though privately, he thinks that that’s quite a shame, at least when it comes to you. Of course, this could also be the lie. But judging by the somewhat dejected look on your face, he has a hard time believing that it is.

“And now I’m—”

His head snaps up, hearing the tiniest waver and break in your voice, startled to find your eyes peering back at him, filled with tears.

“And now I’m going to d die here, and no one’s even ever wanted to kiss me,” you sniffle, the tears now freely falling onto your cheeks.

“Hey, no, that’s not true,” Dogma murmurs, catching one of your hands in his. “You’re not going to die here, I promise. Kix’ll have you feeling good as new in no time. Please don’t cry, mesh’la. Everything’s okay.”

Logically, he knows that it’s just an adverse reaction to the medication, the side effects tending to cause emotional instability, especially, he reminds himself, because the dose he had given you wasn’t properly tailored to your height and weight. But he still can’t help the way that his heart breaks a little at the sight of you, looking up at him with such a pitiful, lost expression. 

“But, but I feel so strange, like I’m dying,” you say, tripping over your words a little. You don’t know why you keep talking. You can’t really think of why there would be a reason to continue and don’t even anticipate or think through your next words. “And, and I’ve liked you for so long, and I wanted you to kiss me, but it would be selfish for me to ask because,” you hiccup, reaching up to swipe at your eyes with a sleeve. “Because you don’t, you don’t like me like that, and I’d never, I’d never want to make you feel like you had to.”

Silence stretches so long that you dip your head and stare down at the ground, watching the path of an ant as it walks along the cracked floorboards.

Then, “I know what your lie is.” 

You blink, confused. Your lie? What lie? You don’t remember a...oh yeah, the two of you were playing a game of “two truths and a lie,” and well, everything feels so fuzzy and warm, and for a minute your body felt so numb that you thought you were dying, and you forgot that you were supposed to think of a lie to tell him. Oopsies.

“Wha,” you mumble, brain foggy as it tries to follow and discern the thread of his words and the conversation.

“You said I could never like you like that,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s a lie.”

You blink, completely taken aback. Downstairs, you can hear the sounds of boots against the floor, troopers and another voice that makes you think it might be Ahsoka conversing as they make their way through the house.

“It is?” You ask, slightly startled, even as your lips pull into an unbridled and triumphant smile and you fight the urge to giggle because he likes you. He actually likes you.

“It is,” he agrees, giving you a small smile as he takes your hand and gives it a brief squeeze before letting it go as the voices draw nearer and the boots clatter up the stairs. “And when this is all over and you’re not high on pain meds, I promise I’ll prove it to you.”

You smile, nodding up at him, feeling content. You turn your head sensing a presence to find Kix standing above you, a seemingly permanent look of concern etched on his face.

“Kix,” you say with a smile, giving him a wave. “Did you know that Dogma likes me?” 

“It would be impossible not to, bud,” he says with an easy smile as he drops to his knees at your side, though you swear you catch him giving Dogma a strange look.

Oh, right. You must be injured, and if you had the energy you would look down and check. You know this because Kix reserves things like calling you “bud” for when you’re hurt. So, you reason that you must be, considering that and the small wince he gives you as he looks down.

“Have you been crying?” he asks, newly concerned as he gets a good look at your face, taking your chin in his hand. “That leg must hurt a lot, huh?” 

You nod and shrug, though the fact that you’ve been crying is news to you. You’ve been crying? You can’t remember why. 

“Before we move you onto the stretcher, I need to remove the splinters from your leg and examine the break,” he says in that calm and matter-of-fact way of his. “I know you’re on some pretty substantial pain meds right now, but it still might hurt a lot when I touch it,” he explains, giving you a sympathetic look. “How would you feel if I were to give you something that’ll let you take a little nap while I get you fixed up?”

“Sounds great,” you agree immediately, beaming up at him with enthusiasm. “I like naps. Naps are great.”

“Dogma,” Kix turns, speaking to your companion. “Ideally, I’d want her in a fully reclined position when I administer the anesthetic. “If you take your thigh plates off, she can put her head in your lap, and it’ll be a bit more comfortable than it would be if she were on the floor.”

You don’t hear a verbal response, but you look over to see Dogma, and is it your imagination or Does he look, eager? As he nods his head.

A second later, there’s the sound of armor releasing, clattering as it’s neatly stacked to one side. Kix carefully maneuvers you, helping you shift so that you’re lying down. You can feel Dogma’s warmth, so close to your cheek through the material of his blacks as you lie your head on his legs.

One of his hands moves, gently touching your hair before he hesitates, looking as if he might pull away. You tilt your head, making a small noise of protest as you nuzzle into his hand and he gives you a small smile, hand returning to gently stroke your hair.

“This okay?” he asks softly, and you nod your head, a contented smile on your lips.

“Perfect,” you agree softly, your eyes drifting shut, coaxed by the gentle and soothing touch, and really, it is.

So perfect, in fact, that you barely register the slight pinch in your shoulder as Kix, taking advantage of the distraction, smoothly administers the anesthetic.

*

“Hey, mesh’la. Open your eyes for me?”

“No.” Your response comes out in a tired mumble, feeling so warm and comfortable despite the persistent pinching of something in your arm that you don’t feel inclined to listen until…wait. That was Dogma. He’s calling you “mesh’la.” And the pinching of something in your arm? What is that pinching?

Your eyes fly open, snapping your head up from where it’s resting on a pillow to find the source of the discomfort, quickly becoming dizzy at the sudden movement but not before your eyes catch on the tape that’s securing the IV line at your inner elbow. Your leg has been put in a cast, and judging by the generous coating of something sticky and cool beneath it, you have to assume that it’s bacta soaked.

Everything hits you at once—the injury, the hypo, that stupid game of “two truths and a lie,” the utterly embarrassing way you had confessed your feelings to Dogma, and…oh, Force.

“Hey.” 

Dogma’s hands are on your shoulders, easing you back down, a concerned expression on his face as he contemplates you.

“Take it easy,” he continues. His hands are light, but they remain where they are, the touch warm and grounding.

“The, the baby?” you ask, the sight of his face reminding you of how you had even gotten into this mess to begin with.

“He’s fine,” he reassures you, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Commander Tano was able to pull him from the room without incident.”

You smile, relieved, but it’s fleeting, replaced with fresh shame and guilt as you avert your eyes from his, worriedly biting your lip.

“Dogma, I am so, so sorry about all that,” you say, waving your hand as if that would explain what all that means. “I didn't, I wasn't thinking straight and I just, I wanted to say that I don’t...”

You stop, words trailing off into nothing because he hasn’t pulled away. In fact, he’s lightly stroking your cheek before cupping your chin, eyes bright as he leans forward and cradles your face, his thumb gentle as it smooths over the hollow of your cheek.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, your voice coming out breathless.

“Keeping my promise,” he says simply.

He leans down, slow, delicate, and wanting as he brushes his lips against yours. He lingers there, long enough for you to notice that his lips are slightly chapped from countless instances of anxiously being worried between his teeth beneath the shelter of his helmet. But they’re warm, tender, and despite your donning confusion, at this moment, they are just for you.

When he pulls back, your eyes are fluttering, and he smiles down at you as you try to comprehend. 

“You, I, what?” You stutter, and apparently he has rendered you unable to form a complete sentence.

“Shh,” he soothes, his voice soft as his thumb brushes along the outline of your lips. “That’s the truth, mesh’la. It’s my truth.”

“You, you like me?” You ask timidly, for some reason feeling the need to verify.

“I thought we pretty obviously established that,” he says, and there’s no hiding the smirk that’s on his lips. “But just in case you need clarification, yes, I do. I like you very much, and I hope that your whole speech wasn’t just the painkillers talking, because you’ve made me hope that you might perhaps feel the same way.”

“I do,” you say quickly, your cheeks feeling like they’re on fire at the reminder. “But, but I couldn’t ask. I know how important following the rules is to you, and I couldn’t.”

“And if you want me,” he says, ending your rambles with another gentle brush of his thumb against your lips. “If you’ll have me, I would bend every single one of them.”

Oh.

Well, you really don’t know what you could adequately say in response to that declaration. So instead, you settle on a single, quiet request, looking up at him with soft, pleading eyes.

“Stay?” you ask, your voice just above a soft whisper.

“Of course,” he says, features softening at your tone. “Always.”

He takes your hand, gently lifting it to press his lips to the back of your knuckles, closing his eyes as he holds it to him for a moment. 

“Besides,” he says, a roguish grin appearing on his face as he sets your hand back down on the blanket, keeping your fingers lightly twined with his. “Someone has to make sure you follow the bedrest requirements and don’t sneak out of the medbay before they’re up.”

“What,” you say in a snort, unable to stop it as you look up at him. “You don’t trust the medics to be able to keep me here?” you ask, sounding skeptical.

“Oh, considering that they have to deal with Skywalker and Tano on a daily basis, I fully trust their abilities,” he says, his voice light and amused. “I just happen to think I can be a little bit more persuasive.”

He raises your hand, turning it so he can press his lips to the inside of your wrist, feeling your pulse jump and skip beneath them, causing him to smile, his eyes bright as he looks up at you.

Well, when he puts it like that, it’s easy for you to see his point. 

“C-come here and kiss me again,” you murmur, and there’s no hiding the breathlessness in your voice as you look up at him.

He obliges, shifting to take your face between warm, calloused hands, his fingers brushing against your jaw, softly cradling your cheeks as he leans in. His lips meet yours in a warm, tender caress as he lets out a soft, contented noise that hums against your skin. You sigh, letting your eyes close, now fully able to bask in the feeling of him pressed against you. The way his broad shoulders completely dwarf you from view. The way his tongue just barely brushes against your parted lips, causing you to shiver in response. His warm chuckle, and the smile that lights up his eyes as he pulls away.

And well...it becomes pretty easy to see his point, because you think if he keeps kissing you like that, you might just do whatever he asks of you, just in the hopes that he’ll give you another.

Is it bribery? Sure. But he’s made the reward so sweet that you don’t have any qualms about taking it.

So, when he looks down at you and asks, his fingers idly stroking through your hair as he does, “Do you think you can get a little bit more sleep for me, cyar?” all you can do is nod.

“Keep doing that,” you mumble, the medication going through your IV already making you feel drowsy, sleep becoming a relatively easy thing to surrender to. “And I think I’ll do whatever you want.”

•Thank you to @lornaka for the amazing art on these dividers. And thank you all so much for reading. If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a reblogg. You might help someone else discover something that they enjoy, too😊

[spacewombatty]

Shower Prompt

Anakin came back late.

It had been a month since his Knighting ceremony, but this was not his first time leading a battalion. He'd been Knighted because it wasn't his first time, but because he was one of the youngest in the order to. Many years before him, and, the war proceeded at planned years after him, the Jedi would be peacekeepers. A Padawan would rise in their ranks thanks to their emotional maturity, connection to the Force, their steady and unyielding compassion in the face of darkness.

During war, the Order needed warriors. If there was something Anakin excelled at, then it was his speed with which he cut down his enemies. The 501st third independent battle hadn't been that.

Anakin came back to the ship with his hair matted to his skull with blood. There was a gash that he'd failed to notice bleeding sluggishly down his cheek, along his neck, to pool and crust at his clavicle. His boots drag against the metal plating of the ship, and as if the staff on board knew what had happened, they didn't say. They parted.

Until today, General Skywalker boasted the fact his numbers hadn't been shaken since he'd taken command. Until today, the 501st were 580 strong.

Today, they'd lost twenty, in one fatal swoop of a Separatist tank bombing ambush. Half of the men who'd been killed were asleep.

The doors of the Jedi's bunk room opened with a hiss, Anakin's shadow darkening the doorway until they close behind him. The Knight paused long enough to make sure the doors were closed, and then kicked his boots off, and flung his saber from his belt in a fit of rage across the room. It stopped in midair--seconds from colliding with the ships metal walls.

And then it lowered, gentle, to rest horizontally on his pillow. "Those are quite expensive to fix, Padawan mine."

"I'm not your Padawan anymore, Obi-Wan," Anakin spoke to the dark. In the dim light from Nithe's largest moon, his former Master reclined easy against the nightstand beside Anakin's cot, his arms crossed. The moon lit up his face, but the Jedi didn't look for long. He didn't think he could stand the pity he'd find there.

If it had been any other person, the Knight might have had the decency to be embarrassed at being caught like this--bloody and angry at the galaxy with all it's inhabitants.

"What do you want?" he asked, tired. "Not today. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk battle, or strategies, and I don't want to meditate."

Obi-Wan laughed, and pushed himself up and off of the wall.

"Then I suppose we'll do none of that. I didn't come here to antagonize you, Anakin." He approached, slow and measured, until the Knight could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Obi-Wan had dressed down, clad in night clothes like he'd woken up for this.

"I came to make sure that you were alright, and found you still bloody," the Jedi murmured, tilting his head, guiding Anakin's gaze until their eyes met.

There was a pause, before the Knight sagged against him. It was all the excuse he'd needed.

Obi-Wan undressed him methodically, as methodical as if he were undressing with the intent to bandage. His hands were rough with callouses, and there was a faint scar running along his palm that when the ridge caught Anakin's skin made him shiver. Anakin sat on the bed, let the Jedi shrug him from his robes, hissed when his hands scraped a fresh wound. The older man caught his chin and tilted it to the side, assessing his face. Anakin let himself be guided. Obi-Wan didn't chide him staring.

They didn't speak, and that was it for Anakin, who's words left his lips in a clumsy tumble. As a kid, he'd envied his Master for his silver tongue. He'd hated his lessons, hated the mockery that came with the struggle, until Obi-Wan gathered Anakin's messy and fumbled words in his palm of his hands. The Jedi completed him in a way that made Anakin realize he hadn't been whole.

"Gently," the man said. The fresher was running, the Knight bare, goosebumps raising on his skin from the chill. "Slow down. For once in your life, Anakin, go slowly."

They lowered him into the bath carefully, the brunette wincing as the heat seared his skin and then made itself at home in his bones. Obi-Wan looked ridiculous and uncomfortable, still clothed and dry, kneeling next to the bath with his sleeves rolled. This was testament to everything in their relationship--Obi-Wan's composure a stark contrast to Anakin's rougher edges. The Knight felt small and pitiful, and the sentiment rose the air on his neck, made him bear his teeth and hiss as the water splash at his skin.

Obi-Wan's palm came down, smoothing over his nape, and Anakin felt his the tension drain from his bones.

"Close your eyes, dear," his voice was steady. The Knight obeyed, eyes slipping closed.

And he didn't deserve this. His eyelids were stained with the images of the lost, the scenarios of what he could've done, what he didn't do, and what he'd failed to do replaying in his mind's eye like a broken record. It was marred, it was ugly, it was entirely preventable--and Anakin let death write their names across the surface of his heart like it could prevent them from being forgotten. One day, he'd hoped, it would be a worthy death to suffocate under their weight. One day, he'd put an end to it all.

If Obi-Wan had noticed--and Anakin's shields were abhorrent--he didn't say anything. The Master's hands slipped through Anakin's curls, nails dragging across his scalp, fingers tugging the mats loose carefully until he could massage the soap into a steady sud. The room heated, the Jedi's movements as methodical as the working of a clock, and all the anger Anakin had stored in his chest throughout the day melted away as easy as the soap in his hair.

Obi-Wan's presence was warm. It was all encompassing. It was the closest thing to home Anakin had left. The Knight let his shields fall until their signatures could touch and meld, his former Master's Force curling around his own like a cat demanding a scratch. It settled against the barrel of Anakin's chest, and he savored the way Obi-Wan always made it so difficult for him to breathe.

The Jedi's hands hadn't stopped moving. A groan slipped from Anakin's mouth, and a flick of water splashed against Obi-Wan's nose when he laughed.

Water spilled over his head--crept through his curls, heat spreading across his scalp. Obi-Wan repeated the motion until he was clean, until the water bled pink with tendrils of blood.

"They missed a spot on your chest," Obi-Wan commented. His fingers moved through Anakin's hair, shamelessly petting, winding a wet curl around his finger until it bounced free. The Jedi turned to look up at him.

Obi-Wan's features were soft, in the yellow light. The curve of his cheek was inviting, the hard edges of General being replaced with the man Anakin called home, and when the light hit his hair right it seemed to turn gold.

"Don't wanna get your clothes wet," The Knight mumbled, eyes wandering. "You might get cold."

"It may be hard to believe, but the cruiser had a functioning washer and heater."

As if that was permission enough, Anakin hooked his fingers in the front of Obi-Wan's clothes, and drug him down far enough to kiss him. He got lost in the feeling of the man's mouth on his, in the way his beard rubbed his scar raw, in favor of cupping the back of Obi-Wan's neck and drinking him in deeper.

They kissed, slow, and easy. The water around him bled, and when his Master finally pulled away breathless, it matched the rosy tint of his lips.

"Anakin."

"Don't," he pleaded. "Please."

Obi-Wan sat, and thought, reaching into the Force and picking through all of the reasons why they shouldn't. There was danger written in the air. They were on the losing end of a war where biases could mean death to an entire galaxy. There was inevitable loss written in the stars that the Knight must learn to cope with--and not all of it would be due to death.

But denying Anakin was never something he cared to be good at. Obi-Wan washed his hand, callouses dragging against his scalp, until his Padawan fell asleep curled into the curve of his hand.