#and there's both beauty and tragedy in it

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They're Your Bodyguards (Royalty x Knight AU Part #2)

𖠁 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

❦ Based off this hc I had written a while back

Price

He upholds his noble promises, he wouldn't ever dare to wander too close into your life

With every string tugging at his heart, he restrains the overwhelming feelings, he remembers the oaths he's made

To keep in this way was dancing death's waltz

Oh, but your soft silhouette blending in the foliage with the aura of golden sun was refreshing like morning dew, how is it possible for the human heart to long for something it has never had? We dream of a haven, but is there hardly one on this earth?

He longs to have what is restricted, maybe what has been out of reach has always appealed to us, since children we want what is above us, as young people we crave what makes us feel alive, and in our limited existence we continue to search for it

It was all forsaken; what was left unsaid, the silent sentiment, the shared glances that were neither given nor taken, for nothing was accidental nor hidden between the both of you... only guarded

Ghost

Here is another fool, one who thinks love is a controlled emotion, have pity on him!

The only salvation he can be found guilty of on base of selfishness is imagining you imagining him, secretly he loses himself in fantasies of a future that can never be

He hath nothing but muted passion for you

And from the silence, is it possible to determine the outcome? It does nothing more but to hurt one's feelings, does the bearer more hurt than partaking in improper fantasies, for it is all in vain and a reaching for and grasping at the wind

In the end the happiest fool is miserable, the most disciplined king conquers nothing, and the bravest knight afraid of battle

What pain for nothing!

Soap

Not a word from your lips heard, not a touch felt nor a sensation given, but those eyes speak for the entire soul

This story doesn't have to be a tragedy, because no matter what it will never end the way everybody wants it to, "vivamus, moriendum est", but you'll let yourselves live blissfully

Nothing can stifle his silent joy, his merry face goes about all day desirous of crushing you with a million acts of affection

The mindless dialogue he recites, staring off into nothing as he finds your capricious eyes shining like a glow the lake flashes at the evening sun

He'll find beauty in your entire being and relate it to things because if one day, you find each other a long way off, the sentiment will remain and the earth will remember you and remind him

Gaz

What's forbidden only makes the temptation greater, hm?

With such yearning and softening of his eyes does he gaze at you, it's a feeling that's so heavy and present in the air it's impossible to ignore, an energy only igniting between you both

He's engulfed in dreams of what could be, but surely it's not all just a figment of his imagination, to a certain point you mirror his thoughts

The emotions that won't stop growing rise to the surface and threaten to breakthrough, ruining his discipline, yet are always present and showing through every act and small interaction with you

The brushing against one another, the whispers that want to turn into screams, the heart begging to be let out

Roach

It had been dawning on him, a premonition of sorts in the air since he started serving your family, as if it was destined to happen

Now as he gazes up at you from his head lying on your lap, your bodies hidden from view by the tall hedges and vines in the garden, he almost melts at the sight of you

Even if the weather isn't favorable, you walk hand in hand, free of worries for an evening or night, it feels as if the sky could be never-changing and the circumstance always right

And as he reflects back on this years later, he remembers it fondly, though now gone and far away from one another, he gathers these memories and wonders if there was no ending to it, would you two have kept laughing innocently?

He would let your name slip from his lips one last time as if calling you softly into the fading sunlight

Alejandro

Every time you cross paths after meeting and loving in secret it is like the morning after a heavy torrent of rain, you cannot hide the smiles breaking out onto your faces, nor the fidgeting of hands wanting to embrace each other

An impulse so strong that it can barely be contained when he gazes deep within your cherub eyes, your lashes fluttering as the shimmering sunlight reflects on water, this scene all too perfect

Curiously, he will gaze at you and construct the most beautiful verses he seriously believes he would have made a great poet

You're everything he's held dear, not only does he love tenderly but deeply, you hit every feeling spot within him unveiling a new world

Rudy

Oh, but he's so respectful, so contained, so true to his word, until he finds himself alone in your chambers, faced with an order he has the right to deny or be a little selfish

For once he is given choice and it is difficult to remember his priorities

How could he deny? When you're murmuring so softly, and you're welcoming him so well, making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter even if it's a false feeling only for a little while

He'll cherish that moment for a lifetime, because for once he's known what heaven feels like, smiling easier and more often

His mind drifting back to you, you're unforgettable, not just a fleeting moment but an experience

Phillip Graves

He looks curiously at what is before him; the kingdom's precious flower, and as he gazes he becomes entranced in a thread that with time will become too hard to be undone by a single pull

It starts out as a foolish act but soon grows into much more, but was he ready for what came with it? The yearning, the sensitivity and vulnerability he was exposing himself to?

With every look that gained new meaning and lost their playfulness, you became all too attached and duty no longer was first

Perhaps this was the beginning of your descent, your spiraling into doom and recklessness, crumbling and giving in to your heart who beats so wildly only once in this ephemeral sentiment

Makarov

The repetitive phrase that leaves your lips every time, "we can't do this" or "we shouldn't", always the regret setting in after saying you've let go

And frankly, he doesn't care nor does he care whether you completely let go of it or not, it'll be your stone to carry, not his

Just feel the pull between you, focus on the fact that you're in his arms right now, your royal attire loosely around your shoulders and your worries and responsibilities should be a mile off by now

Concentrate on what you feel, he's trying to remind you, there is nothing selfish in enjoying the sensations for a little while

Or is he trying to put his conscience at ease with these words he tells you? What a reflection of his soul they are, and what truth do they carry

Keegan

You find him deeply captivating and intriguing, you feel bad for having so much curiosity for him

In a room full of people and yet you always wonder if he's there among the crowd, and with so much noise in the world does he stop and listen for your voice?

So dreamlike were these short moments of delight it must've been a dream, you met only at midnight behind heavy velvet curtains that obscured all light

You could only feel with your fingertips and hear soft murmurs that you tried to memorize, you would later pray in your tucked corner of the room, whispering softly into your blankets that it was real

Someone felt for you and the memories had really happened

König

The brooding figure that wishes he had the privilege of learning about you without repercussions, without that nagging thought of it coming back to bite at him

To color in the blank spaces of unknown, wishing to reside in the intimacy of your heart and mind, to navigate what is familiar

The blossoming interest in you reflecting in his eyes, making you feel a strange sense of safety when with him, a calming feeling that you welcome too well when in his presence you find rare to recreate when alone

Not even castle walls could grant as much security as he could, they were old and empty, standing many years and guarding many families before you, it was only a false sense of security that had been handed down to you

But he, he was your own, your own to cherish and love for now and even if his love wasn't a family heirloom to pass down maybe that was fine, let yourself hold this selfishness close to your chest

Horangi

A gambling game he is playing, it's as if he has a thing for chasing after what is not secure nor certain, but that's what makes it appealing

He doesn't stick much to rules, if he does it's only for a short time until he finds his own way of doing things, he was never concerned with playing the game fair

So he's not hesitant nor does he shy from trying risky things with you, it's all a game to him

The momentum only increasing as the stakes rise and he finds himself almost tying his fate to you, wanting for once in his life a secure future he can be sure to have, to reach out for and receive

Nikto

The craving for something different and rattling came to you when you discovered his tarnished past

It was so different to what you knew, and maybe it was in that darkness and chaos that you found comfort, a world you wanted him to share with you, more intimate than any touch

More erotic and through-provoking were his shards of soul revealed to you than an affair, and his growing confusion at how easily he shared parts of him with you

A hidden memory arising from the depths of his mind, trying to show him how comforting it felt to be perceived for what you were, he wanted to indulge in it a little longer each time

He knew his desires and dreams wouldn't change a thing in his life, but this peace freed him from the chains that had been weighing heavy, he felt lighter and allowed himself to long for someone

[tweeterwilbury]

Alternative universe where csny has a big fandom dashboard simulator

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 dykenashby reblogged ftmdavidcrosby follow

I hate when people make nash be the woman in nashby... like first it always feel like the person doesnt know anything about queer people and second we all know that they both are the women in nashby

# also # crosby is clearly a pillow princess with nash # and nash is a service top # but people arent ready for the truth yet

20 notes

🍑 neilphenweek follow

That's a wrap! Thank you everyone who contributed for this year's neilphen week, and see you next month!

1.000 notes

🐐 wildgayles follow

Here's how i think that nash is still the most underrated csny member, not only on the fandom but also for general people and even the csny members themselves.

[READ MORE]

0 notes

🥂 lesbianstills follow

It still is so funny to me that stephen was like "people thought that i was a fag or a groupie when i was around hendrix, but hey, that's was not it. Anyway here's how much i wish he had fingered me"

# like girl # we have all been there before # but you are not subtle.

200 notes

🦭 ftmdavidcrosby follow

Oh my god someone published t4t youngby on ao3??? WORLD IS HEALING

# right after this fucking neilphen week is over... # sorry neilphen mutuals but i think neil deserves better # and in csny that would be crosby # my beautiful boybutch who would know how to treat that girltwink well # this is soooo exciting oh my god # EDIT: IT'S AN 80S RANCH FIC??? HOLYYYY SHIT

4 notes

🐈‍⬛ zuma1975 follow

Nobody fucks with crazy horse rpf like i do. Stop looking at neilphen or younby or whatever is the young nash ship (which is just people trying to put neil with every csn guy lol). Let's have a moment to think about the tragedy of danny and neil. Irl doomed yaoi? Yeah. What about neil and billy talbot. Thing about all the beautiful things we could have...

# neil young # crazy horse # yalbot # danneil # okay i need a better name for danny neil....

70 notes

[hotvintagepoll]

Tony Curtis Operation Petticoat, Some Like It Hot, The Defiant Ones, Trapeze)—He Scrungles! He jumps around and his face crumples! He scrungles in a uniform, he scrungles in drag! He scrungles in black and white, he scrungles in colour! He scrungles in in tragedy, he scrungles in comedy! He scrungles on the big screen, he scrungles on TV! He manages to be athletic, dynamic, a beautiful man really, and yet... and yet, he *scrungles.* He's pathetic, he's a poor little meow meow, he's got the puppy eyes and he's at his most charming when he's awkward, and he manages to look small, always. HOW? Because he's the Scrungliest :D

Mantan Moreland (Mr. Washington Goes to Town, Cabin in the Sky)—i love mantan moreland SO. MUCH. and he is the pERFECT scrungly little guy!!!!! like a lot of black actors at the time he was always getting sidelined into small parts, but unusually he also managed to become a star in his own right and was almost one of the three stooges! he was a groundbreaking comedic actor known for his distinctive stare (very good for the horror movies he did), and he always is way more fun to watch on screen than anyone else. he had a famous double-act where he perfected this technique of non-conversations (where both people keep finishing each other's sentences before any actual information is conveyed). a lot of his movies are free on youtube and i really enjoy seeing him do his silly little guy thing in all of them!!! anyways yeah please include mantan he deserves some recognition as peak scrungle

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Mantan Moreland:

here's his double act in action!! [editor's note: Benson Fong cameo too!]

He just had a scrungly look about him and he played big with his roles so any of it became especially scrungly. Plus he was very funny in the way only scrungly people can be.

the FUNNEST GUY TO WATCH ON SCREEN. he was an immensely gifted physical comedian, able to convey loads with his eyes, and while some of his parts are so sad and cringeworthy, I feel like he always brought a humanity and humor that lifted them beyond cheap stereotype.

Tony Curtis:

WET and PATHETIC (and chained to Sidney Poitier, to boot!) in the Defiant Ones. Also the film will break your heart. Enjoy!

[verrsazexx]

A letter Reg wrote for James

Darling,

I write to you in the desperate silence of the night, where I am both filled with longing and consumed by a kind of tragic awareness. There is a name I carry, a name given to me in the quiet madness of the hours when the sky itself seemed to weep. I was named after a star—an ancient thing, distant and cold. A symbol, perhaps, of my own fate, of the way I am drawn to something that will never draw near to me. You, my dear, are the sun.

I was born 3 minutes after sunset. It meant that for all my life, I would miss the sun by a little bit. Just a little. It’s a cruel irony, isn’t it? I have lived all my days in the cool embrace of twilight, where shadows grow long and I can never truly feel the warmth that you, so effortlessly, radiate. The sun will never catch the stars. We are two opposing forces, forever separated by the vastness of the heavens, you with your endless flame, and I with my flickering, distant glow.

You remind me of the sun, of course. A boy who burns so brightly that the world cannot help but turn its gaze towards you. I imagine, sometimes, that you have someone beside you, a girl with hair as red as fire, so full of life, of passion, of heat. She must look at you the way the earth looks at the sun—with an insatiable, trembling desire to be close, to be consumed. And I, poor fool, watch from afar. My heart longs for something I can never have, a warmth that will never be mine, even though I reach for it with all my being.

Can you understand this? Can you understand the kind of ache that comes from knowing you are forever too late, forever just beyond reach? I could never be the sun, I know that. And you will never be the stars. Our paths were written before we were even born, and perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of all: that we, who are so alike in the fire that burns within, can never meet in the same space, at the same time. I am left here in the shadows, stretching my arms into the darkness, feeling the cold, while you blaze in the light. And I wonder, do you ever look up? Do you ever wonder what it might be like to be one of us, just once? To be a star, distant and beautiful, lost to the night?

No, I don’t think you ever would. You are too full of warmth, too full of fire to think of the cold ones like me. And yet… and yet, there is a part of me that cannot help but reach, that cannot help but burn for you. Even if you will never turn your gaze toward me, even if my name is fated to remain one with the stars, I cannot help but ache for the sun.

I am, always, just too late.

Yours in the silence of the stars,

The boy born after sunset

[huntercam]

The smile that appears on his features is short-lived but no less amused. "Neither, though I could see why you might think so." His thumb rubs along the seam on his index finger. "I'm here to support -" A friend? He defaults once again to: "-my apprentice. It's her first showing, I believe."

He allows himself to brag some, "If you'd like to peruse her paintings, look for Elysium."

How silly it sounds coming from his low, nearly monotone voice - like a narrator for a tragedy yet to happen. But it doesn't make him falter. Instead, he listens as they speak and question, allowing silence to sit while he formulates his reply in a manner that won't alarm them.

"My art, and the art I feature, is much like some you might see here, actually. I try to make sure that the gore they want to feature is still beautiful. And on the other hand, I like to feature a sensuality. Moments captured in both in pain and bliss, sometimes a combination. It must be.. tasteful."

Yes, there is nudity sometimes. But not like one might expect. A hint here, a shadow there - the focus is on the form or the color. "There are a few select pieces featured on our website." One he'd been loathe to create.

Riley knows enough about human behavior to know when people are only making polite conversation, but they at least give him some credit instead of flat out ignoring them like what they were used to. But it also seems like they were barking up the wrong tree because when he introduces himself as a galley owner, Riley feels incredibly out of their depth again.

"Oh, wow, so this quite literally is your scene," they say with a slight chuckle. "Checking out the competition or trying to shore up a new business contact? I don't actually know much about the owner, just that they've been willing to give some up and coming artists a chance, which wins points from me."

They meet his eyes evenly, head quirking to the side. "Well, I imagine there's a piece for everyone. I just haven't found one that I've felt the burning need to possess. Haven't found anything really sticks in my gut like that. What kind of art do you showcase?"

[lesbianfemmefatale]

I wish I could feel the world a little less

[lotus-pear]

whatever happens, please don’t break

[sirenspells]

Mari jumpscare

More experimenting with characters' hair. Also gave her a beauty mark for fun :3 (her headspace counterpart not having one is intentional)

[evilminji]

You know? She would probably be very? "Blackhole made of Light"-y? Like... the metaphorical heavy weight, dropped on the fabric of reality itself, dragging things towards her. But in the Force.

She can't help it. It's not malicious. Not deliberate. Simply... IS.

Anyone meditating nearby? Or with their shield even vaguely down-ISH? Gets fuckin BLASTED with:

"-aaaaand that aaaall from Klaxon Fiiiive, everybody! What a BEAUTIFUL Tree! Now we turn to this star system! Just LOOK at those COLORS! Brought to you! By: The Force~☆!!! That's right! The FORCE~☆, coming always to a Universe near yooooou!"

Like? Just 24/7 with this shit? Like a deafening speaker system. How does DO anything? Concentrate? (Ha ha... she DOES NOT. It's awful, guys)

But for the Forces OTHER Favorite Blorbo? Huh. That is... actually really grounding. It drowns everything else out. Drags him down to one point. He's like a giant gas cloud finally getting pulled together. It would be unbearable to LIVE like that... but to meditate?

The Force it so... easy to hear.

But... for real though? On the Angst train? She's not surviving Order 66.

I doubt he'd kill the "poor wittle victim of the Jedi" when she can both be trotted out as a pr show pony AND be used as a white noise machine? But.... tbh?

The Psychic Blow Back DEFINITELY kills her.

Having a certain lvl of midi-chlorians is kinda REQUIRED to do what she is technically doing. The Nexus cheated her in. Won't let her leave. It's like having a random middle schooler in Nasa's management meeting room chatrooms. Probably equally as annoying and distressing.

She can't shield NEARLY enough. Has no control of this ride. It's literally her, the Jedi, and the Force in this Wendy's.

Then someone shoots up all the Jedi.

All that attention and Power has to go SOMEWHERE. The Light side of the Force is scrambling for a grip as the balance suddenly, RALIDLY, shifts. It's basically a power surge. The Force gripping WAY too tight, on her itty bitty butterfly bones of a brain.

And UNLIKE the natural Force Sensitives? SHE doesn't have a built in surge protector.

So one moment? Everything's fine. Then PAIN in the Force as jedi start dying. And somewhere in the temple? SI-OC doesn't even get a chance to scream. There's just... Sudden pressure in her head. Blood dripping from her nose. And her limbs give out.

Everything goes away.

One more tragedy surrounded by thousands unfolding.

(She was his friend. He wasn't going to hurt her. It didn't matter, because he DID. There will be no Oracles paraded before the Sith. No glorious thousand year rule. Again and again, it will be over in an instant.)

Star Wars Thingy!

Inspired by @evilminji

So, they often talk about a SI who is force sensitive, right? But what if they just, aren't? Not in any meaningful way, beyond what all life is capable of, anyway.

Abandoned at the Jedi temple, they do not fit in, yet do you truly see the Jedi turning a child in need away?

So the SI wanders the temple where they do not belong venturing deeper. Deeper still. Falls down, as they are clumsy as all children are. Into a Force Nexus. Which are, according to Minji, Luminous Light. That SI lacks the sight to see, but much like radiation it still impacts them.

... Idk where to go from there.

@hdgnj @spidori @mayfay @hypewinter

@itshype @dragonsrequiem

[mhaynoot]

the poetics of sp's involvement in 1863rd is just ... there's no words to capture the how retrospectively tragic it is. sp is the oldest being in the story. his tragedy has stopped being told but the story was still continuing off the page, years and years and even more unending years of being trapped without resolution, blocked behind the wall. he wants to die but cannot.

hsy's plan was to make 1863 yjh sleep forever. while it is not true death obviously, it will have been the closest to death any yjh has ever gotten (besides 0th who still turned away from it). not death, not regression, but sleep. it is only the domain of the dreams that will let him escape the cruel reality of his unreality and the silent god who will continue to watch over him forever so long as it was this man, yjh.

an important recurring symbol/motif in orv is dreams and there are several important themes linked to dreams i want to discuss.

first one is pretty obvious: dreams as escapism, as a way to desperately wish for a better life, wanting desperately to be saved from a ruined world. ala 1863rd yjh's wish for death and the oldest dream's wish for the characters to become real, to save him. as such, dreams represent a desperate plea for salvation.

and this might be a reach but i would still like to argue that it is the character's belief of their own hopelessness that lead to dreams but also perpetuates an unending cycle. wanting to be saved but also not being able to believe that you're worthy of being saved, that nothing / no one would / should save you. this duality is what leads me to the second theme: in their endless cycle being trapped and neither dead nor living, dreams are but another form of regression.

kdj becomes the oldest dream, the willing lonely god who could only ever dream of everyone's happiness but his own. he had seperated himself from ever reaching out and watching 1864th worldline where all his loved ones are and where he knows he would have been tempted to return. so symbolically, he interferes with 0th yjh and, as his stardusts falls away, he watches all the regressions and yjh. always yjh. his dream. in the end, the train that traps him is himself.

but a final point i want to touch on is this:

it is only when they get off the train and reach their epilogue, does sp finally achieve liberation, does the oldest dream finally end (become free). the dream has ended and into the waking cruel world, they become characters no longer having found each other at last. this was sp's ■■. and that's what i meant by the poetics of it all. the happiest, gentlest of epilogues: the ending of the oldest dream.

[blue-eli]

Ink October day 3: Sophistry

An argument that seems plausible, but is fallacious or misleading, especially one devised deliberately to be so.

[kirjavas]

— The Book Thief, Markus Zusak

[faaun]

my research partner and i are huddled in a blanket in paddington waiting for a too-late train i already miss you and you and you

[gordonfreemanspussy]

kicks my feet... i don't see it a lot outside of barmey but... have we considered pre-rescas [or just pre-combine] barney calhoun with kinda shaggy long hair. the kind he has to put up into a little bun to hide under his helmet, but it's just not quite long enough to be an elegant bun. the kind of length that always has him saying "haha yheah i need a haircut" but that haircut always comes late and then after that he ends up back at square one... have we thought about this [i am talking to two ants on my bathroom counter]

[tragedy-for-sale]

Left Me with You

Anakin hated when he took away Obi-Wan's happiness, even if it was just pretend.

Sad Obi-Wan is just my favorite thing to write. Apparently. This fic is kinda long and is already up on my Ao3.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

It wasn't often that Obi-Wan and Anakin got to go on meditative retreat together. But even then, as Obi-Wan sat in the field, eyes closed and legs crossed, he could feel it within him, Anakin would be happier if he wasn't here. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, brows furrowed and a concerned frown. He wished he could talk to Anakin about it, but talking wasn't something they did. Obi-Wan wondered of all Anakin would say, if he could speak openly of his love, Obi-Wan smiled at the thought of Anakin, the sparkle of love in his eyes. The sparkle of life. But that smile didn't last long, Anakin would never tell him all about his love, and Obi-Wan would never ask. He wouldn't ruin Anakin's happiness, it was such a rare thing, and Obi-Wan never wanted Anakin to go without it, not if he didn't have to.

Obi-Wan stood up, wrapping his robe around him as he started back to the small vacation home Padme had so graciously allowed them to stay in. He walked among the wildflowers, but he didn't stop to pick a few. They were beautiful, but the moment he touched them, the moment he plucked them from their home, they would die, the moment Obi-Wan touched those beautiful flowers, they would die. So he kept walking, he let them live, he would not touch them, and he would live because Obi-Wan didn't go anywhere near them.

Reaching the house, he took off his sandals and walked into the kitchen. He looked on the counter and saw a vase. Obi-Wan felt as if he'd been struck, those flowers, those beautiful flowers that Obi-Wan had been so tempted to kneel down beside, to take in the smell of spring, to pluck them from their home for his own selfish desires. Those beautiful flowers were impossible not to notice, and now they were on full display as they died- "Hey Obi-Wan," it was Anakin's voice, but Obi-Wan could not stop the ringing in his head long enough to focus, "-picked the flowers-" The sound of flickering embers. "-They're really nice, they smell really good-" he would've led such a meaningful life. "Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan looked up, he found Anakin, "Oh, Anakin," a familiar smile found its way to Obi-Wan's face as he walked over and smelled the flowers, 'I'm so sorry, Master-' he closed his eyes, the smell of spring, early morning rainfall and late night firefly catching. He opened his eyes, "How was the lake?"

Anakin's own smile flickered on his face, but if Obi-Wan didn't want to talk, they wouldn't. Talking wasn't something they did. "It was nice, Master." Anakin remembered fondly, "The water was cool but in the sun," Anakin chuckled, "Man, I almost fell asleep, that's why I came back," Anakin opened the fridge with the intention of finding a snack but he couldn't help his thoughts wandering and lingering on Obi-Wan. Even though they hadn't even been remotely close, Anakin could sense his Master's sorrow. He'd worried about this. He hadn't wanted Obi-Wan to come to Naboo, Anakin had asked Obi-Wan if he'd want to go somewhere else, anywhere else but here. Anakin could sense it since the moment they arrived, Obi-Wan would be happier if he wasn't here.

"Master," Anakin's voice seemed on edge, it certainly caught Obi-Wan's attention, for Anakin could sense Obi-Wan straightening up and crossing his arms. Prepared to ricochet any shots.

"Yes, Anakin?" But his voice was soft, giving nothing away, not his fear, not his anger, not his sorrow. Obi-Wan was always so good at pretending, but Anakin knew that for all of Obi-Wan's confidence, he didn't really mean it.

"We're still gonna be here in four days," Anakin could dance around the point, that was how it worked. Neither one of them dared to look the other in the eye, for both were far too afraid to address all the damage they'd done to the other.

"Yes, we are," Obi-Wan nodded, walking over to the cabinet and looking at the tea. He was so good at that. "Do you want a cup of tea?" He wasn't going to give in, he couldn't.

Anakin nodded, maybe he should drop it, but how could he ignore Obi-Wan's trembling hands? "Master," Anakin said again, Obi-Wan turned, that knowing smile on his face. "It'll be twelve years..."

Obi-Wan felt as if he'd been punched in the gut, the mug became impossibly heavy he could only put it down. His stomach twisted in knots as he struggled to turn to meet Anakin's gaze, "Yes," He mustered out, but his voice trembled. Every year, from the first year to today, Obi-Wan was never any better, he never missed Qui-Gon any less. Obi-Wan resigned, bowing his head, looking down at the counter, "Why do you bring it up?"

Anakin might as well of gut punched Obi-Wan then and there, that would hurt less. He looked at his master, hunched over, fists clenched Anakin could see the white of his knuckles, stray hairs hiding his face and his shoulders tense. He shouldn't have said anything. They didn't talk about things like this, this was why, Anakin. "-When I lost my mother," Anakin's throat went dry, he found it so hard to speak. "When she died-" he looked away, "I can't remember what she sounds like," Anakin wanted to laugh, if only to show Obi-Wan he was okay. "I don't remember her laugh or that song she'd sing while doing laundry, even though she sang it every time she did the-" Anakin hung his head, oh- Oh. What had he done?

Obi-Wan looked up through his hair, he looked terribly alone. "Anakin..." Obi-Wan walked over to Anakin, reaching out his hand, but Anakin remembered the point of all this pain.

"-I still think about my mother, so I know you still think of Qui-Gon." Anakin's voice was quiet, but Obi-Wan heard, like blaster fire, it was all he could hear, it was deafening.

It might've taken Anakin losing his own mother to realize the root of all those tears Obi-Wan cried. He remembered those first few weeks, Obi-Wan was sad all the time, he'd cry after he'd put Anakin to bed, he'd cry after meetings with the council, he'd cry, hand covering his mouth as he realized he was really pathetic. To still not be alright, to still be crying months after. To always be sad. Anakin knew now, Obi-Wan felt like a scared little kid, so he'd cry, he'd cry and cry hoping Qui-Gon would come to tell him not to be afraid, to sing a lullaby and silly songs while doing laundry. But he never came and one day Obi-Wan stopped crying, he didn't cry after a hard mission, not a tear after remembrance ceremonies, not even watery eyes after being told 'you're so much like your master.' Obi-Wan didn't cry, but he cut his hair, meditated on sleepless nights, held his lightsaber to stop his shaking hands. But he did not cry, he did not cry. He would not cry, not in front of Anakin, not in front of anyone. Not anymore.

The tears stopped but the pain never did. It was only a few short years ago Obi-Wan decided he would never cry in front of Anakin and up until now Obi-Wan stood by his vow. But here, right now, Anakin knew him completely, all his pathetic pain and sorrow. His infinite sadness and self-effacing jokes. He'd never let anyone know how sad he would always be, certainly not. But he couldn't hide his water-colored eyes from Anakin, even though they didn't talk, of course he knew. Obi-Wan's voice trembled and all the strength and poise he'd so carefully crafted fell apart. Obi-Wan felt his eyes water, "Oh, Anakin," his voice cracked, "I'm so sorry-" Obi-Wan shook his head, he couldn't look at Anakin, not after the face he made. Oh, Anakin's face. All of Obi-Wan's pain fell into embarrassment, he couldn't pull himself together, and he was so sorry that he couldn't. "I'm sorry, Anakin, for all of this-" for all of me-

Anakin felt everything within him stop, he couldn't think, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, Obi-Wan hadn't cried in so long- and all it took was Anakin to open his damned mouth to change that. "Please don't cry, Master, please Obi-Wan-" Anakin looked down, voice trembling, all he could do was beg, "I hate it when you cry-" He really did, he hated not being listened to, being talked over and feeling powerless, but what he hated most, more than his own pain and frustration, what seeing that frustration in those he loved. He hated when Padme worked really hard on a speech to not be heard at all, when Ahsoka cried because she missed her friends, when Rex lost a brother. Anakin hated that he couldn't take their pain away, and most of all, he hated that Obi-Wan was sad, he hated that nothing would ever make him truly happy, Anakin hated he couldn't do anything to ease his pain, he hated when Obi-Wan cried because he became powerless, Anakin was a little kid all over again, unable to think because, like his mother, there was nothing he could do to make her tears stop, there was nothing he could do to make Obi-Wan's tears stop.

Obi-Wan wiped his eyes, his forced smile was so similar to his real one, if Anakin didn't know Obi-Wan, he wouldn't know the difference. How many people didn't know the difference? "Anakin, I do apologize," Obi-Wan took a deep breath, pulling himself back in, shoving all this pain down. He came over to Anakin and pulled his former padawan into a hug, "I'm alright, we'll be alright." His voice was so assuring, so knowing, so void of all his suffering. There it was, that holy resignation. Obi-Wan forgetting himself for the sake of others around him, there it was, his unrequiting selflessness.

Anakin held him tightly, just for a moment as he was safe in his master's arms, he felt a wave of grief sweep him out to sea, his feet swept out beneath him; Anakin was so afraid to let go of Obi-Wan, for he'd surely drown, "I miss my mom-" he'd never admit this, not now anyway, but he'd let himself remember his mother's smile, that soft glow in her eyes, the lines of age framing her eternal beauty, he could almost hear her now, "I still feel like a little kid without her-"

Obi-Wan would not let go until Anakin was ready, and when he was, Anakin wiped his eyes, stepping back into the man he'd grown into, a man without a mother. He looked down at Obi-Wan and he didn't see his Master, he saw a man without a father. It was just the two of them as they were, true Jedi: without a mother, without a father. Their family was the Jedi, but to consider the Jedi their family would be forming an attachment, would it not? Obi-Wan had long pondered that, late into sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling. If he was supposed to be ever compassionate, ever loving; if he was raised to love through love, it was rather hard to not become lost in feelings of attachment. "... That never really goes away." Obi-Wan whispered, he still felt like a padawan, he always wished Qui-Gon was still here, that Obi-Wan was still a son. But he wasn't, and Obi-Wan wasn't.

Anakin held his master tight, but not out of his own sorrow, what about Obi-Wan? Anakin remembered council meetings, the two watched by all of their ever-caring stares, all debating Anakin's future with the Jedi, but what about Obi-Wan? If they ever asked about his well-being, Anakin would never know if, in those early days, they made Obi-Wan feel worse by questioning his ability to do this on his own. "Master," Anakin pulled out of their hug, Obi-Wan was all put back together again, with tape and glue, "You don't have to pretend you're alright, not with me."

Obi-Wan's smile flickered, that sadness flooding back into his eyes, "Anakin," Obi-Wan looked down, he almost wanted to laugh, "Oh, you've grown up, haven't you?" He saw Anakin's smile, too bad it was born from sorrow, "You've become the Jedi I always dreamed you would be."

"-And you've become the Jedi Qui-Gon always dreamed you would be-" Anakin put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, he didn't need to be told, but perhaps it was a nice reminder, "Qui-Gon would be proud of the man you've grown into, Master, you are an honorable Jedi, and a good master, even if at times I didn't think so." This time Anakin laughed, and Obi-Wan almost did too. There was a moment, Obi-Wan had fallen into his thoughts but Anakin's voice brought him back, "What I'm saying, is that it's okay to tell me that you miss him," It's okay if you tell me that you cut your hair after I told you that you looked like him; It's alright if you tell me you hold onto your lightsaber because it makes you feel safe; It's okay if you tell me you meditate instead of sleeping because you only have nightmares of that day; It's okay if you tell me you cry when there's no one around because you want everyone to think you're okay now. "It's okay for you to miss him, Obi-Wan, I know how much you loved him-"

Anakin watched Obi-Wan's eyes flicker, perhaps with surprise, perhaps embarrassment, as if loving the man who raised you as his own was something to be ashamed of. As if mourning Qui-Gon like Anakin mourned his mother was wrong. Anakin put a reassuring hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, sensing the cracks in his master's facade, "It's alright.... If you tell me that you loved him-" Anakin whispered.

Obi-Wan looked up, taking a deep breath, he looked up at his padawan, oh, when did he grow up? He was far beyond that little boy on Tatooine, Anakin had grown up into a Jedi Knight, and now they served together not as master and apprentice, but side by side as Jedi Knights. Obi-Wan blinked and Anakin wasn't scared to let go of Obi-Wan's hand, he wasn't heading to the padawan dining hall, he wasn't practicing his form. No, Obi-Wan blinked and Anakin was putting himself in the line of fire to protect others, bringing meals to Obi-Wan's chambers so they can eat together, making form videos for Ahsoka, Obi-Wan had trained him as best as he was able, and somewhere in the last twelve years, Anakin grew up. Obi-Wan had a sorrowful realization from such a miraculous thing, Anakin had grown up. They worked alongside each other as Jedi Knights, and now Obi-Wan had what he dreamed of, he had what he always wanted, what Qui-Gon always wanted.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The problem is that you're not the Jedi you should be, you're not the Jedi your master wanted and trained you to be, you're a Jedi Master, member of the Jedi Council, but really, you're still just a padawan whose master died, and you never got over it.

[smeraldo-heart]

More Jedi Textposts

Except I go straight for angst this time and don’t even pretend to have some levity

Part two on its way….