#MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU ( headcanons* )

[tenderjock]

Cody's just about to drift off, warm and a little sticky, when his comm chirps. He considers ignoring it even as he rolls over in the bunk, fumbling one-handed for the buzzing device.

It's nothing urgent - a partial conversation between Wolffe and Bly that he's being looped in on, rather unnecessarily in his opinion.

cc-3636 just because youve got a Fucking Boner for your jedi cc-3636 speaking of havent heard from codes since his new assignment cc-5052 oh yea cc-5052 hey cc-2224 hows your new general

He gets halfway through typing He's decent enough when Kenobi wakes up and drapes himself over Cody's shoulder, chest hair rubbing pleasantly across his bare back.

"I only rate decent?" his general murmurs, amusement curling in his voice. He looks thoroughly indecent, mouth red and bruised, hair mussed, hickeys dotting his throat.

Cody deletes it and sends He's acceptable instead.

Kenobi laughs. "Come back to sleep, my dear," he says, snuggling his nose into Cody's neck. Without bothering to open Wolffe's message - that bad huh ? - Cody allows himself to be rolled over and tucked against his general's front.

He'll deal with the command crew later. Right now they've got four hours before they need to be Marshal Commander or High General of anything, and Cody's all set to spend it sleeping in the arms of a beautiful, terrible, wondrous man.

[demigods-posts]

i've been thinking about that scene in ep 3 when annabeth apologizes to percy before pushing him into the lake. and on the surface, it seems like she's apologizing in advance for her actions. but what if she's actually expressing sympathy toward percy for how his life will change once his father claims him? once he has to suffer through the same torment as thalia did? once he becomes the outcast amongst the group of demigods who understand his struggles but will do little to help him through it?

[seasideoranges]

despite everything i love how so many just agree that sokka, zuko and suki are bisexual. no questions asked, no arguments needed, just one look at them and its an immediate “oh yeah, they’re bisexual, anyways-“

[fandomnerd9602]

Rey Skywalker: Random Relationship Headcanons

You’re her first love. And the two of you are devoted to a fault.

She was totally right touch starved when you met.

When your hands first touched, Rey knew she couldn’t get enough.

Expect plenty of kisses. Random places and random times.

“What was that for?” You’d ask her. “Just because” she’d answer back with a giggle.

She jumps on your back and nuzzles you.

She loves it here you kiss her hands, knuckles, neck, etc.

Giggles escape her lips every time you kiss her on any place beside her lips.

You once told her if you could, you’d kiss every square inch of her body. She dragged you off somewhere private so you could.

When you’re home with her, she loves taking showers with you. She loves it when you gently glide the lathered up washcloth across her skin.

She loves to comb your hair and she loves it when you comb hers.

She’s a fierce warrior on the streets but at home, she’s a cuddly housewife.

Rey definitely wants kids some day. She never gave you a definite number, all you know is that it’s a big number.

She loves sleeping in your arms. Not just in bed, but also for naps on the couch.

She loves it when you caress her during love making. She loves staring into your eyes and letting you know that she loves you just as much as you love her.

You are the family to her that she wished she had growing up.

For @multi-fandom-enjoyer

[obsessivefreakandpartners]

I headcanon that force ghost Anakin looks at force ghost Obi wan with a smile all the time. He will never stop being grateful for everything he's done for him from life to death, despite his mistakes. He not only realizes now how much Obi wan loves him but that he loves him that much too.

[sinvulkt-art]

The Dark Wyrm

Here is my gift to MillionLights on ao3, as part of the Vaderkin creative exchange 2024 organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod

Once I’ve read your prompt, the picture wouldn’t leave my head, so here it is!

[ynscrazylife]

han solo meeting mechanic!reader hcs

(in honor of it being may the fourth)

The Millenium Falcon is facing problems that not even Chewbacca can handle, being: old age. Usage. The ship is in need of a few new parts. Han is insistent that he can pilot just fine, but when the engine nearly craps out on them for the third time, Chewbacca refuses to let this go on. Han has to get new parts.

He searches around to find a highly skilled mechanic and he ends up walking into your place, where you sell parts and also fix ships, droids, whatever falls into your lap.

Han is upfront with what he needs, wasting no time. “Do you have it or not?” He asks you, already annoyed because travelling your planet burned up a lot of fuel.

You do not take kindly to his attitude and are quick to match wits with him. “I do, for a price. You got the money or not?” You respond with.

Han’s not used to this. It annoys him. And intrigues him. He dumps a bag of money on your desk and, after you inspect it, you give him a cheeky smile and skip off to get the parts.

Han’s first feelings of affection for you arrive when he sees you trying to find the right parts. You sit right next to the Millenium Falcon, tons of different parts at your side. You have this concentrated look on your face, eyebrows and nose scrunched up, that he finds amusing.

But, it’s taking a while. Han leans against his ship, tapping his foot. “You gonna be done this year, at least?” He asks.

The glare you give him almost has him laughing — with you, not at you, he promises. “Do you want your ship to keep working or not?” You retort.

He shuts up, content to keep on watching you. When you find the right parts, you install them. This, Han finds, is a sight to behold. You’re hot, there’s no denying it.

When you finish, you stand up, grease on your hands and forehead.

“Our business is done here, Mr. Solo,” you tell him.

“Now, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you walk around with that?” He says, smirking as he steps forward and uses his thumb to wipe the grease off.

This has you blushing a bit, which he takes pride in. He thanks you for his service and goes to board the Millenium Falcon, but hesitates.

Han turns around and asks you out. Right then and there.

He’s definitely been a handful to deal with, but you found you liked dealing with him. Once you got past your frustration. So, you accept.

You become Han’s new favorite mechanic.

[quietlyblooms]

memories that linger | love and deepspace

there's always been something pushing against you. and not in the metaphorical, woe is you sort of way, but in the way that... well, you can't quite put your finger on it. there's nothing metaphorical about it, you think, but anyone else would swear it's just your luck. you believe that, too, when you aren't so displeased with the way things are going. there is something that tries to force your hand, change the choices you want to make.

you realize that sounds crazy. that's why you keep it to yourself.

you've stopped resisting the push so much these days. you feel it like a hand upon your back, urging you forward and into the hunter association's ranks despite your dream of publishing your manga. it feels simultaneously wonderfully right and terribly wrong, though the development of certain events quickly steals your attention away from that invisible hand. you want answers. you need them, and you'll march in whichever direction that leads you to them.

additional details

in this verse, i'm writing chiyo as the mc and toying with the concept of past lives like the game does, though i may also sprinkle in a little itty bitty bit of fourth wall stuff -- like chiyo having the thought, " this is like a game, and someone else is making my choices. " as a treat <3

but the focus will be more on fate bc chiyo really hates it as a concept, and that's so much fun to write in this setting :' )

when interacting with other mc's, we can decide if we'd like our characters to just so happen to be in the same boat, having grown up with grandma and caleb, etc. if not, i have no problem writing chiyo in her main verse! there's plenty to work with either way and i'm happy to adapt!

bc chiyo's parents and grandmother play such important roles in her development, they're alive and well until wanderers kill them during chiyo's freshman year of high school. this event leads to josephine taking her in. she was a friend of the family and as good as a second grandmother to chiyo.

i'll likely think to add more when i'm not sleep-deprived and as i progress in the story, but if you have any questions, just let me know <3

[anithenerd]

frothing at the mouth imagining a reunion scene between Ody and Athena like:

Athena: You called my name.*

Odysseus: You came.**

(Hadestown ref)

*(you were at the end of your rope and since our last meeting (which ended badly) you have met a god who has helped you at seemingly no cost (coughHermescough) but you asked for help for the first time in however long and it was me who you called for)

**(not personally because of the lightning bolt damage (which I may or may not know about at this point) but there was practically zero chance of anyone else interfering unless it was to mess with me more so it must have been you (it was))

[ofbardsandmen]

greetings fellow genshin enthusiasts and fanatics!! once again, i'm generously presenting and offering my most beloved mondstadt character spotify playlists, free of charge and yours to consume, if you will.

[raimagnolia]

Olrox x Mizrak

[tenderjock]

in the middle before I knew that I had begun; [not a happy codywan ficlet]

In the Jedi teaching, attachment is forbidden. Love is – a separate issue, obviously, as love can take many forms. When Cody and I were – what I mean is, I was –

You realized that you were in love with him and panicked.

: :

Obi-Wan is finishing the dregs of his second Daruvvian champagne cocktail when Breha inhales, sharp.

“Hmm?” he turns to her. His head is pleasantly fuzzy, but he’s far from nonfunctional. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reassure him. There’s something strained around her eyes. He turns to see what she had been looking at, and she puts an insistent hand on his arm. “No, Obi-Wan –”

He doesn’t immediately see whatever caused Breha such stress; instead, Obi-Wan’s eyes go to Cody, sharply dressed in his greys across the ballroom. He’s talking to the Ghayyn’i ambassador, a handsome man with wide green eyes. The ambassador is tall enough that Cody has to look up to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to comment, rather snarkily, on that fact, when the ambassador brushes gentle, sensual fingers across Cody’s chest.

Obi-Wan waits for Cody to move away. He doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a little knowing quirk of the lips.

“Oh,” he says, feeling rather as though the wind has been knocked out of him. “Oh.” He quickly looks away. Cody is a very private person, and it feels wrong to have seen something so clearly intimate.

“Obi-Wan,” Breha says, and her face is sad. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why it’s sad. Nothing bad has happened. He clears his throat, thinking one of the sweet-pickle cherries in his drink must have caught there. Unbidden, his gaze is drawn back to Cody and the – the ambassador, who is now laughing at something Cody said.

It’s fine. It’s beyond fine – it’s wonderful, that people recognize Cody for the brilliant man that he is, Obi-Wan explains, three cocktails later, eyes closed with his head in Bail’s lap. Bail makes a noncommittal noise.

“People other than his command,” he clarifies. “And his fellow commanders. And, ah. Me.” His voice is very rough on the last word. These sugary drinks are really hell on the throat, he thinks.

“Of course, love,” Breha says soothingly. Her hand cards through his hair. It feels pleasant. Cody does the same, when they’re lying in Obi-Wan’s bunk together after a long day.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, letting them stare unfocused somewhere near the floor. Breha is really wearing the most ridiculous shoes, and he’s thinking he should tell her that when a pair of GAR-issued boots come to a crisp halt just in his line of sight.

“General,” Cody says. Obi-Wan nearly falls out of Bail’s lap in his effort to sit up quickly.

“Commander!” he says, helpless to how warm he sounds. Cody had looked good when they left the ship, all buttoned up in his uniform, but he looks better now. He’s holding his cap in his hand, letting Obi-Wan see his short curls, and the top clasp of his jacket is undone.

Obi-Wan squints. Is that a lovebite on his neck?

Before he can dwell on that, Cody says, “We should get you back to the Temple, sir.”

Obi-Wan considers that. He’s fine where he is, except that when he attempts to lay back down in Bail’s lap, both Bail and Breha push him back up.

“That’s a good idea,” Bail says, firm but kind. How he adores the man. “I can arrange for an air taxi – Commander, are you alright to see him back?” There’s something uncertain in Bail’s voice. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why; it’s Cody. Of course they’ll see each other back.

Cody just looks at him. In this light, his eyes are dark honey.

“I’ll get you home, boss,” he says after a beat. Obi-Wan blinks at him, lips parted. He suddenly feels the alcohol very much, everything loose and golden and a little bit sweaty. Cody’s lips twitch. “C’mon, then.”

Cody manhandles Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan tucks his face into Cody’s shoulder as best he can while also moving his limbs in the direction of the taxi Bail is calling them. Cody, wonderful steady dependable Cody, keeps him going, a hand at his waist and another under his armpit.

“The ambassador,” Obi-Wan manages after a few steps. Cody hums.

“He had to leave,” Cody says. “There was an afterparty. He asked –” he cuts himself off, then continues: “I’d rather stay here, honestly.”

Obi-Wan nuzzles the starched fabric of his shirt. Wonderful man, he thinks.

The taxi ride lurches unpleasantly. Obi-Wan is distracted by the task of not spewing the contents of his stomach all over his commander. They get to the Temple without incident, and make it to Obi-Wan’s rooms with no one other than Yoda – who cackles – seeing them.

Cody puts Obi-Wan down in his bed. Obi-Wan tugs him in after.

He catches himself above Obi-Wan, arms bracketing Obi-Wan’s head. Cody huffs a bit of laughter and dips down to brush a kiss over his forehead. Obi-Wan cranes up, chasing his lips.

“Not now, sir,” Cody says, chiding. He kneels at the side of the bed to take off Obi-Wan’s boots. When he’s done, he leans back up, brushing the hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders. Cody shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead again. “Get some rest, General.”

Obi-Wan exhales, eyes fluttering closed. He tracks Cody’s movement, straightening his jacket, turning the lights off, slipping out the door. His familiar Force presence is warm sunlight and hot caf, thrilling and comfortable in equal measure.

As the door clicks closed, Obi-Wan murmurs sleepily to himself, “Love you, my darling.”

: :

When he wakes up, head pounding and mouth dry, Obi-Wan remembers what he said. He’s the only one that heard it; it would have been easier to forget.

This complicates things.

Somehow, they go a fortnight, ending their leave and starting a mission, without Obi-Wan saying anything. He’s just – waiting for the right moment, a moment when they aren’t dogged by war and flimsiwork, when he can talk to Cody calmly and reasonably.

Or does he even need to talk to Cody? He was drunk. Everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re drunk. Teenage drunken Anakin once told Obi-Wan he wished he had been born a jellysquash, as they have no feelings and don’t know enough to care.

Cody is leading a squad on Im-Onh-Augulu’s surface when comms cut out. It’s a tense three-quarter hour before they reestablish communications.

“Arrow squad to Vigilance,” Corporal Hart is saying. “Vigilance, do you copy?”

“Copy,” Gregor says, shooting Obi-Wan a look. Cody should be the one contacting them and they both very well know it. “Arrow, sitrep, over.”

“Is General Kenobi there, Captain?” the corporal says. “Over.”

Obi-Wan’s heart is in his throat. “I’m listening, Hart, over,” he says. Under the sleeves of his robes, he’s clenching his wrists hard enough to bruise.

“They captured the commander, sir,” Hart says, desperately blunt. “When they recognized him, they took him and left the rest of us. Said they’re going to use him for negotiations. Over.”

Gregor looks at him. Appalment-sympathy-secondhand-embarrassment-stress is radiating off not just him, but also every clone trooper and officer on the bridge.

Use him for negotiations. Because Cody was a Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. Because he was Obi-Wan’s right hand man. Because Obi-Wan loved him, dearly, and would do near about anything to get him back, a fact which was apparently obvious to everyone except for him.

“Understood,” Obi-Wan says, feeling like his mouth is very far away from his body. “Regroup at the drop point; we’ll be sending a secondary team to that location for extraction.” He’s quiet for a second, nails biting into skin. “May the Force be with you. Over.”

: :

Obi-Wan is the one leading the extraction team, and Obi-Wan is the one to find Cody. He’s in bad shape.

“Didn’t –” Cody slurs out. His eyes can’t seem to focus. “Didn’t tell – ah – them kriff, sir.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, heart pounding in his chest. At his commander – at Cody, telling him that he didn’t fucking talk, when he was being fucking tortured because of Obi-Wan –

“I know,” he says, finally, blinking. He touches the pads of his fingers to Cody’s left eye. “I know you didn’t.” Obi-Wan leaves off the my dear at the end of that sentence, because it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He slings an arm around Cody and hauls him to his feet, instead. “Right this way, Commander.”

Not just his commander. The man he loves.

That thought beats around Obi-Wan’s head for almost a day before he can reconcile it with the heavy feeling in his gut. The man he loves. And he doesn’t – he can’t – it doesn’t mean –

His chest hurts.

Cody doesn’t –

It can’t be so kriffing serious that he can’t think the words. It’s not. It’s not –

Cody doesn’t love him. How could he? How could his beautiful, brave, resilient, kind Commander Cody, who isn’t really his at all – how could he love Obi-Wan? And if he did – if he had some incredible lapse in judgement that allowed him to – to – Cody would have said something, his brutally levelheaded Cody who wasn’t afraid of anything, let alone Obi-Wan and his feelings –

So, no. Cody didn’t love him. That shouldn’t make Obi-Wan feel like his ribcage was being split in two.

And if Cody doesn’t love him, then that means it isn’t wrong for Obi-Wan to – kiss him, soft and warm, and press his cold nose to the back of Cody’s neck, and hold him, and –

It can’t be wrong, can it? It can’t be wrong. It hurts no one. He knows possession is against the Jedi code, but this isn’t possession, because Cody isn’t his, and Cody doesn’t love him, and –

Obi-Wan feels ill.

Cody remains in bacta for three days. Obi-Wan finishes his flimsiwork, then finishes Cody’s flimsiwork, then works on some of Gregor’s flimsiwork. He arranges the battle plans for their next two attacks. He oversees the writing of some new training protocols, something about not letting shinies have access to oxygen tanks. He scrubs his quarters, stem to stern, twice.

Eventually, Cody wakes up. And like a flutterbug drawn to flame, Obi-Wan goes to him.

: :

“We need to stop,” Obi-Wan says. He’s not looking at Cody. It’s the day after the commander’s been released by the medics, and he came to Obi-Wan’s quarters to get the datapads Obi-Wan had borrowed when he was doing all the flimsiwork he could get his hands on.

“… Stop?” Cody asks. His brow is furrowed. Obi-Wan aches to smooth it out.

“This,” Obi-Wan starts, and stumbles. “Our – us. What we have. We need to stop.”

He expects Cody to argue. He expects Cody to demand an explanation. He doesn’t expect Cody to take a slow, deep breath and say, “Of course, sir. If you think it’s best.”

Obi-Wan feels like his chest has caved in. He can’t speak.

“Anything else, sir?” Cody asks. Obi-Wan shakes his head, blinking hard.

Cody stands there at parade rest for a long moment before Obi-Wan realizes he’s waiting for a dismissal. He clears his throat. “Ah, no, Commander. That’s all.”

Cody salutes crisply – salutes – and about-faces to the door. When it clicks shut behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a single hideous, strangled sob. He buries his face in his hands.

Well. At least it looks like they won’t have to dance around each other awkwardly for much longer, he thinks to himself. The war looks to be over soon. Obi-Wan sniffs, straightens himself up, and pulls up the plans for the invasion of Utapau.

[rinline]

ok. so. i had an idea where Mace Windu survives the fall from Emperor Palpatine and then decides to go underground to create a new order of force wielders, made up of force sensitive children and vulnerable people, that are then isolated from the galaxy during the sequels and original trilogy.

SO WHAT HAPPENS IS when like the sequels are done you get random powerful force wielders wearing cloaks or face coverings or tattoos idk showing up and helping communities and towns from strife and then disappearing.

Maybe at first the galaxy thinks it’s like one or two that can like teleport or some shit, but then you later find out that it’s a bunch of different people.

One day some of these force wielders are helping a town and stuff goes sideways. they get in a fight. the’re fighting a mandalorian or some guy with beskar, they pull out a lightsaber.

it’s purple.

Mace Windu has created a (kinda cult-y) isolated force community that have an equal balance between light and dark.

Here what i’m thinking about the community:

It’s almost completely self sufficient, and children are highly educated in the force, diplomacy, engineering, biology, agriculture, etc. even if they plan on being like a farmer or running their parents shop.

then when the force wielders reach a certain age (maybe like around 18/19) a group of three are put together (one dark leaning, one light leaning, one grey leaning) and are tasked with going out and seeing the galaxy for like 6 months to two years

They have to use the force as minimally as they can and really only when their lives are in danger. They can’t tell anyone about their home, where it is or what it’s made up of.

If they find a orphan child with the force they can bring them back but they can’t tell the child where their going or more info about force wielders. Then when they return, they’ve done a right of passage and they get like a tattoo or a branding (again kinda culty)

I’m also thinking like the ruling council is made up of three different trios of force wielders (trios would be made up of one grey, one light, one dark) and then votes have to be cast not individually but by the groups (ex. one trio votes yes, two trios vote no) and if a trio can’t agree on a choice their vote is abstained.

idk i wish they could do this cause then they can bring in Samuel L Jackson as old mace windu make it’s a show or a movie trilogy i don’t care

just make it plz

[ccaptain]

   ' ━Ah, so that's your brand new hiding place. '

   A pair of familiar, inadvisable shoes seemingly materializes out of thin air. There's a grin on the man's face as he bends down to eye level, red hues exploring the hiding space his stray snuck in and slowly turning on the side of incredulous concern.

   ' How in the hell did ya managed to get in here? You're taller than me, and almost as bulk, too! Only someone like Brother Hanu could get cramped in here, and even he... '

   They both know how. the Enigma doesn't answer him, limiting himself into quietly staring at his adoptive father as the playfulness in his voice disappears.

   ' One of these days, huh? ' A sigh. ' Come on- scoot over, 'm coming in. '

   There's a long pause. Kaeya doesn't move- but he resumes speaking, a tad on the side of incredulous.

   ' Dad... It's too big for both of us, We'll both be stuck if you come in. '

   ' That so? ' The man named Gallagher sighs with relief, chuckling in the same breath. ' Right. Would have been worth a shot, though- look who's speaking again. '

   It rips a chuckle out of him, for the way it always works- his dad is never afraid to do something scandalously funny to shock him out of overthinking. This includes trying to reach for him in a small, battered metal closet.

   Sometimes, it's just a thing that needs to be done.

   There's a can of something similiar to SoulGlad in violet-hued fingers, the comfortable silence, and his father's leg pressed against his as they sit with their backs on the wall. 

   A drop of condensation comes in contact with his thumb, unfelt. This is where Enigma breaks the silence.

   ' Dad... '

   He hesitates, a million questions in his mind. He picks the closest one, reels the others in.

   ' This feeling of emptiness... when will it stop? I thought it was going to go away on his own, but it never did. Never does. '

   There's an awry sound coming from his side. ' Hard to say, ' he starts, the movement that turns his face into a small grimace of sympathy. ' 'm kinda afraid that you put yourself into a bad situation, kid. '

   ' I did? '

   ' Yup. This... ' He gestures at Kaeya entirely, careful, ' avatar that you took, the one you told me belongs to your friend... you're really not supposed to do that. Take his looks, I mean- it just makes everything more complicated than it needs to be. Adds a whole lot of weight where there shouldn't be. Kinda jumbles everything that should be simple... ' 

   His dad trails off, irises taking on the looks of his stray without the irony shining in his eyes.

   ' You still haven't told me why ya picked him, out of all traits you could have taken. Of the amalgamate you coulda been. '

   No- no, he has not. The reason only makes sense in his brain, only tie together when Kaeya Alberich has been in the life of someone for a while. And Kaeya Alberich never got to know his father at all.

   His mouth opens, words lost. Impostor closes it, opens it again, shakes his head almost helplessly, the faint buzz of confusion starting behind his eyes before a warm hand ruffles his hair, stays in place over mussled cobalt locks.

   ' Don't sweat it, ' the man that is his father tells him, a lopsided grin on his face. ' As long as it makes sense to you, it's alright. You gotta solve this emptiness thing yourself- I can't help you much, here. '

   A few pats on his dusty behind, and his dad is up and going again. Kaeya shakes his head at the hand being offered to him, signaling that he'd like to be alone and in here a little longer.

   ' You gotta be glad we have a lotta time to think about stuff, no? 'is the last thing he tells Kaeya before he's out, leaving a wink and the bark of a laughter behind.

   and a cold can of soda, untouched.

   The hut is empty. There's nobody else but him, and the unheartly silence of the abandoned planet hs picked as his residence.

   Kaeya's digits follow the jagged edges of his newest wound, a gaping hole where pale diamond should be. The skin has been broken like porcelaine, long cobalt strands trying to hide the lack of eye and the emptiness where skull and human gore should be.

   Gray materia floats around his head, trying to recompose him and shoo his fingers, foreign, cold objects, away from the problem. But the wound is fresh, terribly big, and the effort requires an addictional component to speed up the healing factor. 

   The surviving eye is as faulty as the one he took from Kaeya Alberich: all he sees are shadows dancing out of his reach, the blurry, darkened form of the table, the chairs, the kitchenette and the items he so loves to decorate having become hostile obstacles he has to avoid.

   In the corner of the main room, there are two big tanks of the liquid coming from the Misty Sea- it's what he needs to fix the missing side of his head.

   It's what he needs. A few steps ahead, and he'll close his digits around the neck of one. Feel around the tab in the bathub, plug it in, and pour.

   Simple actions to restore himself.

   But he thinks. And thinks. And he can't do this.

   He can't do this.

   He just can't do this.

   He can't move. 

   But he has to.

   The next minutes, perhaps hours, perhaps days, are a blur. All he knows is that, when he comes to some sort of consciousness again, his fingers are still tight around the plastic neck of a much lighter tank, the smell of the restoring liquid is right under his nose. His location seems to have changed.

   Kaeya doesn't remember doing all this. All that he knows is that the ceramic of the bathub is so wonderfully cold and grounding against his warm, cracked skin, and he doesn't want to move. He has no will to, but something in his body has reacted to try and make him fix himself.

   But he can't do it. His legs feel like lead, like cement.

   He can't do it.

   He wants to.

   But he just can't do it.

   Triumph and progress feeds people with some sort of frenzy, an injection of adrenaline putting them on top of the world, wanting to shout to look at them! They can accomplish ANYTHING!

   But he isn't a person. It makes sense that the little energy he had after completing his mission has oozed out of him from the gaping wound.

   An injury won't kill him- simply slow him down. His dad and mentor said that he has all the time in the world to do what he needs and wants to do, figure out when the emptiness ends.

   Today, it doesn't. It presses him against the cold surface, and he's happy to allow his heavy body to surrender, letting his warmth disperse over it.

   He can stay like this for a bit. He did what he had to do, and now it's time for him to give in to exhaustion. Just for a little bit of time, just for a small nap.

   With the part of his forehead that can still feel, Kaeya curls against the side of cold marble, and lets his eyelid fall shut over the mocking of shadows dancing just out of his reach.

   Maybe the emptiness never goes away. But I can rest for a bit... just for a little bit... and then I'll be good to go.

   Just for a little bit...

[slasher-fucker-and-sucker]

Hi do you write for star wars? If so what star wars media do you write :)

Yes, I can write for Star Wars! Here is a list of the stuff I've seen :3

1. The Prequel, Original, and Sequel Trilogies

2. The Clone Wars (TV series and movie)

3. Rebels

4. The Mandalorian

5. The Book of Boba Fett

6. Obi-Wan Kenobi series

7. Andor

8. Jedi: Fallen Order and Jedi: Survivor

9. The High Republic era

10. Comics and Novels (I haven't read all of them so be warned that theyre not all good)

[brutalmasks]

here's your daily reminder that bunny mask does, in fact, 'feed' by sharing people's energy with herself through physical contact. so, all i have to say is, if your muse allows bunny to make a connection with them like that — then she may or may not be proposing to them okok ( LMAO, nah, i'm just kidding. but i think at some point in her relationship with tyler, bunny told him about this. and thus... if your muse is also in romantic ship with her, then she will likely do the same thing 👀 so there's just a little fun tidbit for y'all tehe )