#did not miss one beat did not worry about one logic it’s vibes only

[tabithatwo]

no cause on rewatch lottie REALLY said “of COURSE we have to do ritual suicide murder! natalie is in so much pain she tried to KILL herself!” lmaooo queen <3 even the antler queen was giving that one side eye <3 the pitch is lacking severely <3

[penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories]

No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen

A/N: I really have nothing to say for myself at this point. 

Sequel chapter to this fic here, if you’d like to catch up. 

Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv​ for being my incredible beta and to @maybege​ for letting me rant to you and giving me so many wonderful ideas when I hit my walls. Also to the Obi-Wan fandom in general: Y’all are some of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever encountered on this hell site. Thank you for your support and your content! 

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive! Fem! Reader (no Y/N)

Word Count: 11.9K (I lost all control) 

Warnings: SMUT!!! Soft Dom! Obi rights, Also, Sub! Obi vibes, Foodplay (but not how you’d think), Inappropriate use of the Force, Voice Kink, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Hands Appreciation Society, As Usual: Too Many Feelings For Porn, Emotional Competence Kink, Trust Kink, TW: Pregnancy, TW: A character draws blood on themself unknowingly

Title from one of my favorite quotes:

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

What infinite irreverence the galaxy has for Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

As if his master and only semblance of a parent wasn’t taken from him when he needed him most.

As if a boy who needed a father wasn’t entrusted to Obi-Wan quickly following, far too young and full of his own loss. 

As if he wasn’t thrust onto the pedestal of parenthood when he really only wanted to be a brother. 

As if that isn’t what they became anyway, and as if that wasn’t the exact cloud that hung over the atmosphere of your lives ever since you’d arrived on Tatooine. 

As if the being whose life signature resided in your abdomen didn’t throw a punch into each of those blooming bruises by its very existence.

Which is why, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you couldn’t tell him yet. 

Normally, it’d be no small feat to keep something of this scale from him. But these days, he’s so focused on having his shields up around you, keeping you from both being hurt by or helping with his torments. 

You have to take great care to control your body language, because even when he’s shut off from you in the Force, his keen perceptiveness will pick up on something being off anyway.

The art of a convincing lie is having layers. If he senses your feelings and decides to dig, then only give up one layer, and he’ll stop looking.

 In this case, it’s your worry over him. It is true you’re trying to shield him from feeling that, not wanting him to carry the burden of it on top of having to work through his own pain.

  But it’s not everything you’re trying to hide from him. So you let a small projection of your fear over his well-being escape, like you’re losing control of your feelings. It’s enough to convince him, and something critical inside you dies at the victory every time.

 He deserves your honesty, and you’ve never given him anything less until now.

 You hate how well your strategic deceit takes root. Because only part is due to your talent as a liar. The rest comes from how much he trusts you.

  You’re not stupid, though. You know it’s only a matter of time before the biological changes in your body betray you. 

Obi-Wan said he needed time, and you’re going to give him as long as you possibly can before dropping this anvil on him, hoping the further he gets from it all, the better off he’ll be. 

You could kick yourself for not being more careful. You hadn’t missed any dose of your herbal Ho’Din contraceptive. It was one of the few things you shoved in your bag with the mere minutes you had to leave Coruscant for good. It was from a reliable medicinal shop, and there’s no good reason it should have failed in any way.

But here you were anyway. 

Of course, there are options that free you from the obligation of carrying the child to term. All are expensive, and Tatooine is sorely lacking in any trustworthy medical facilities. The alternative methods could put your own life in danger as well. 

Even if it wasn’t, you’d feel so strange making that kind of decision without Obi-Wan. Not that he wouldn’t support whatever decision you needed to make for yourself if you did, but going behind his back is something you’re not sure his trust could recover from. 

And really, far too much has been decided for him in his life. 

The worst reason why you can’t bring yourself to move towards any solution that ends the pregnancy now, the reason you abhor, is because somewhere within you, despite the awfulness of the time and place, you want this baby. 

You couldn’t give a definitive explanation for yourself, but you did. Undoubtedly

Obi-Wan doesn’t press when you ask to cease your combat training for a time, asking to start learning the new offerings of the Jedi texts instead. 

He’s concerned when you tell him, but if he’s suspicious as for your reasoning, he doesn’t show it outwardly, at least. 

The way he doesn’t even ask about why, though: It makes you wonder if he had a reason all of his own why he’d rather not fight, even in imitation.

The Jedi writings given to Obi-Wan by Master Yoda are often more cryptic and mystifying than logically applicable without deciphering, which you are at first annoyed by, but then strangely thankful for, as Obi-Wan verbally processes his understandings of it, knowing what he does of the Jedi way, and you adding your thoughts from the stance of fresh eyes. 

The conversations distract wonderfully, and you savor any way you still get to connect with him.

You don’t push for the ways he doesn’t allow you to connect with him anymore. The way he won’t let you in his mind. Because now, you too have a reason to not let him in yours. 

*******

When it’s time to go into town for supplies again, you make up some feeble excuse which you know Obi-Wan sees through as a lie, and this time, he does pry, eyes soft and concerned. He knows you love going to the markets. You simply explain that you’re tired, which is true enough to satisfy him, leaving you behind with a kiss on your forehead before you watch him saddle up your eopie and ride off.

You sigh, sagging against the closed door once he’s disappeared into the horizon. You do love the markets. They’re the most colorful thing the planet has to offer, textiles and rugs and shiny, hanging things. 

But the spices. Fragrant and potent, usually so appetizing and intoxicating, you know would turn your stomach alone. And that doesn’t even account for the strange meats being cooked at different vendors, and Maker help you if anyone was selling raw meat of any sort today. You’ve done your best to keep your nausea at bay, at times even tapping into the Force for centering when the world felt like it was rocking. But you know the market would be too much, too many variables.

It’s not a fast journey, even on the eopie, and you don’t expect Obi-Wan to be back for hours. Which is why when you hear a knock on your door, the tool in your hand clatters to the floor, as does the remnants of your project. 

You quickly grab one of the long staffs you and Obi-Wan had only begun to use in your defense training, trying to recall the lessons as adrenaline begins to rush through your veins. Tatooine isn’t known for its pleasant company, and if anyone was going to try to rob your home, now would be as good a time as any. 

The knock sounds again, and you shout from the inside, “What do you want?!” 

“A peace treaty in the form of baked goods,” comes the feminine voice, one you recognize. 

Opening the door, you lower the weapon in your hand as Beru Lars blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.

She waves a hand, dismissive. “I understand.”

You lead her over to the small living area as you fix two glasses of water from the kitchen. 

When you set them down on the table, Beru speaks. “I apologize for the intrusion, if there was another way of contacting you before coming here…”

“It’s absolutely fine, I’m glad to have you.” You smile in what you hope is an assuring way.  “Although, I’m surprised at it just being you. Where’s Owen?”

Her eyes flick to the stone floor. “He um… doesn’t exactly know I’m here. He’s out on a business deal today.” 

You feel your eyebrows go up at that, waiting for her to continue. But instead, she changes the subject. “Where’s Ben?” 

“In town. We needed some things from the market.”

Awkwardness settles in as a conversation topic evades you. 

She breaks the beat of quiet. “Here, I brought these for you.”

You take the basket in her hands from her, peeling back the thick woven cloth to reveal a simple form of bread. It looks so appetizing your stomach clenches, and you instantly realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast. 

But then the smell hits you, hard and powerful, and stars, it’s just bread, there’s nothing that should do that about bread, but you’re on your feet in a minute, forsaking the basket on the ground as you bolt to the fresher, barely making it in time to the sonic sink before you start heaving. 

In a moment, you feel soft hands at the nape of your neck, gently holding back the fabric of your shirt and blowing cool air as you continue to wretch. 

By the time everything has settled again, you’ve dealt with the aftertaste in your mouth, and splashed on your face with a precious cup of cool water, hot shame rises in your cheeks at how this must seem to Beru. 

You wipe at your face with a rag, half muffling your words when you address her. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious, It really has nothing to do…” 

“How far along are you?”

Your spine straightens instantly, and you let the cloth drop to the floor.

“I… what?”

Now she’s the one to flush. “My apologies, it’s just that it’s known for being a very gentle bread, it’s one my mother used to feed me when my stomach ached. If that smell turned you... I just assumed, and I shouldn’t have.” 

Your lips purse as you consider your options. It’d be easy to say nothing, or just to nod. 

“Two months,” you hear your own voice answer despite yourself. You’ve never been one for easy anyway.

A surge of emotion wells up in you at even being able to speak it aloud, aloud to another human, and next thing you know, to your absolute horror, you’re crying into your hands as your shoulders crumple in on themselves. 

Why now, of all times? In front of Beru Lars? Whom you know accepted Luke with her husband without question because they couldn’t biologically have any children of their own? 

“I’m… so… sorry,” You manage to choke out through the sobs, disgusted at your own lack of control.

At some point Beru must join you on the floor, patting her hand soothingly on your back. “Shhh, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. It’s not so bad having a young one around, you and Ben have so much to look forw…”

“He doesn’t know.” 

Her hand pausing briefly on your back is the only indication she gives of shock.

“Would he not be happy?”

You take a steadying breath in, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know,” you whisper, small and almost frightened to let the room hear you say it.

It falls silent again, but it echoes around in your brain, bouncing against your thoughts until you feel the onset of a headache.

After you’re to a numb enough state to enjoy yourself, you and Beru make tea and bring it back to the living area. 

She lifts her glass to yours, clinking them. “To secrets kept from men and the mischievous company they bring.”

Your head now throbs with pain, but you smile anyway. “Thank you,” you say to her, and you mean it so very much.

********

The next time Obi-Wan goes into town, you’re feeling well enough to go with him. 

You’re not visiting the food portion of the market, after all, so you’re not as much of a risk to set your stomach off. He’s taken to fixing small machinery for trading with the Jawas recently, the extra income helping with the projects around the house. 

There’s a trap door that you found within the first day of being there. The staircase carved out of the bedrock beneath the hut leads to a small room that has now served as additional storage and a place for Obi-Wan to work. It’s also quite cool during the day, so if you can stand the smell of the various meats hung to dry, you’ll sit down there with some sort of project, or even reading material if you come upon it.

So today, he’s looking for a few specific tools that will streamline his working. 

It doesn’t take long to find a promising stall among the maze of shopkeepers, selling everything from trinkets to weaponry of questionable legality. Obi-Wan finds what he needs easily enough, and it looks like the trip is going to be as efficient as it is successful as you walk through alleyways with him. 

At some point, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, projecting an assuring strand of affection toward you. It’s such a small gesture, but you’ll never tire of the feeling of his hand clasped in yours. 

You’re almost back to where the eopie, Rooh, as he named her, is stabled when Obi-Wan abruptly slows his pace, dropping into a stall. An alarm goes off in your head when you watch him pick up a frivolous trinket on a table that you know he has no interest in. 

You open your mouth to inquire at his actions, but it answers itself once you see him glance out of his peripheral vision to where the holonews plays in the stall adjacent. 

Battle footage on what you recognized to be Kashyyk at the presence of the many Wookies plays with the Emperor addressing the viewers in a very two-dimensional, sugar-coated, thinly-concealed threat to any other world that would try to resist occupation.

There’s wreckage and uncensored violence, and you turn your head away. 

“May it be known that Lord Vader is quite capable and willing to help those into compliance that require assistance... “

The item in his hands crushes, ceramic tile cracking into his hands, breaking the skin and drawing out drips of red.

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to register the glass he’s pushing into his own hand. His eyes are wide and he makes a wounded noise from the back of his throat, eyes peeled to the holonews now, not even trying to feign disinterest.

His signature sparks, giving a flash and then a severe cry of anguish, and it hits you then. Pieces of information coming together as you feel Obi-Wan tear apart at seams. 

Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan thought him dead. There’s a new Sith Lord now; the correlation and timing can’t be coincidence. 

The Toydarian male behind the stall shouts something about paying for it in full, and you quickly hand over the credits with a glare.

You start to pull Obi-Wan’s other hand off the table, but you quickly realize your mistake in that.

The moment it isn’t holding his weight anymore, his knees start to give, and you’ve only a second to react, jamming your body under his arm to keep him upright. His momentum nearly pulls you forward, but you plant your feet and remember at the last second to call on the Force to assist you.

He seems to come to himself enough to walk somewhat as you steer him to the nearest alley away from the vendors.

He braces a hand on the stone wall, but even it isn’t enough as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t even seem to have the will to stand.

Crouching beside him, you place one of your hands on his chest. 

“I…. I…” The tremor in his usually so crisp wording and steady voice crushes your chest, making it hard to breathe. “I failed him. I failed him.” 

“Obi-Wan,” you start, trying to grasp at anything, everything to comfort him, not even thinking of how you can’t call him that here, even if there’s no one in sight.

If he registers your call, he doesn’t let on, continuing in his whispers to the wall.  “He was burning. Burning, but I couldn’t do it. It would have been mercy to kill him, it was my mandate to do it, but I could not...” his voice gives out on the last word, and his shoulders fall forward in a shuddering inhale that transforms into a cut-short sob on its exhale.

“And now…” as the words pour from him, his shields fall, and so do the floodgates on his emotions, and it takes all the training you know to not be washed away in the torrential current of his grief. Does he even know he’s doing it, or has the insurmountable weight of his burden finally overridden his innate control over them?

“I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than death.” He’s only barely choked out the end of his thought before his shoulders start to shake in earnest and he crumples in on himself as he begins to weep for his brother.

Giving no heed to the odd angle, you throw your arms around him. Trying to get your arms around his body is exactly the embodiment of the feeling of the moment, this anguish you don’t even begin to be enough to cover. 

What could you say? What could you do? What would even begin to… 

When you press your fingers to his temple, it’s light, a show of how unforced this is, how much he can say no if he needs.  Because this isn’t for you. No, it’d be so much easier to not know the exact depth of his pain and rip your chest open with that knowledge. But you’re offering it,  meaning it absolutely, desperate for him to take the hand offered to him. “Please let me in. Don’t do this alone. Let me…”

Then he’s pulling you in, not just letting you come in yourself, clinging to you like a person drowning. You remember to steady, to try to keep your own head above the water as wave after surging, overpowering wave of soul-crippling agony like you’ve never felt it engulf you in their surge.

You can’t hold out against it no matter how hard you try, so you refocus from centering yourself to pulling his signature into yours as you wrap your arms tighter around his torso. 

 And you begin to weep with him.

 *********

 The suns are drifting low by the time both of you have any intelligible thought, far too late to start the journey back to the hut. 

At the inn, as Obi-Wan falls into the beginnings of a restless sleep, a thought emerges, clear and crisp in its awful truth. 

 You cannot tell him for a long while still. 

 *******

 It’s different now. Because when he wakes in the night, he doesn’t give you falsehoods you see right through. He lets you into the terror and distortional dreams that all reside over one theme.  

There’s silence in the first days after. Just silent tears and still embraces and the way time seems to freeze when grief is at its worst.

But then he starts talking. It comes in little pieces, then in larger ones.  

The loudest thing his signature screams is guilt.

You tell him how it isn’t his fault, how Anakin is responsible for his own choices, but he just gives you a new reason every time as to why it is his fault, how he could have stopped it. 

Because even in what he considers his worst failure, his verbiage is indicative of how it’s not his own image and pride hurting that he’s even considered. All of his thoughts, all of them, are on what Anakin needed that he didn’t give.

 At first, it’s just impressions from his mind, unsorted, blurry thoughts and feelings, but it eventually begins to become words. 

“After his mother died… I know that he blamed me. How couldn’t he? He told me of his dreams, dreams he knew were foresights, but I dismissed them, multiple times, at that. And the council… advised me against comforting him, but he… I… I did anyway.” His shoulders are forward, body sagging with unsureness that doesn’t fit him right in the slightest. “But it was far too late. I know there was something pivotal about the death of his mother, and I am...” he hesitates, seemingly not because he doesn’t know what to speak, but because he does. “Terrified. Terrified it’s all because I didn’t validate him sooner. If I had not...” His voice breaks off, as he shuts his eyes.

Fear is not something admired by the Jedi, you know. When he speaks of his own emotions, he speaks them like he’s confessing them.

 And as he confesses and confesses, you comfort where you can, cry with him when you cannot.

 *****

 The swells of sorrow ebb and flow in their intense bursts and receding stillness, and despite the moments of not being able to breathe under the weight of it, there are miniscule, almost violating, hysterical intervals where smiles and life spring to the surface, gasping for air. 

Or in this case, the inexplicable desire to dance. 

You don’t even really know when you start, simply going about cleaning clothing in the sonic washer, and the next, some ridiculous, repetitive tune sweeps you to move your hips and feet, uncoordinated and graceless. The tune itself played from a datachip, scrapped with some pieces Obi-Wan was repurposing to make repairs. You’re not even familiar with the type of music, and it’s hardly the type of music you’d normally choose, but you find that today, it’s an improvement on the quiet that falls upon the house as Obi-Wan works outdoors. 

The song swings into a bridge, and you slide across the stone floor, imitating something you saw in a music holo years ago, as you do, your foot catches on the rug you recently added, sending you fumbling for your footing. You eventually catch it before you fall, but as you look up, you decide to lower yourself to the ground anyway at the sight of Obi-Wan, leaning up against the door frame, watching you with an amused expression, the fingers of one hand tracing between his lips and chin.  

You sit splayed as tactless and gangly as you danced and let out a short, startled laugh. 

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying myself.”  

Maker, could you just hide under the rug you tripped over? “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there long.”

He pushes off his lean on the wall, crossing the room to you. “I won’t tell you lies, my love.” 

Shame twists in your gut at his words, chasing the laughter in your throat away. But Obi-Wan extends a hand down, and you take it, letting him draw you to your feet. 

He kisses the back of your hand before taking it in his, extending the clasp out to the side of your bodies as his other hand rests hot on the small of your waist. 

“But I will join you, if you don’t mind a style change.” 

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” you say, factually.  

“Then allow me to teach you.” When you look in his eyes, they’re lined with the etches of heartache still, but there’s something else too, brimming to the surface. 

“What, to this music?” You give your last, unconvincing protest.  

He simply drops his forehead to yours, and the small sounds of the room fade to white as a sweet, moving melody replaces it. It’s not perfectly clear, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s because it’s coming from Obi-Wan’s memory.  

The music has a distant, foggy quality, and it has potential to be eerie, but instead, it just lifts you into an ethereal feeling.

He steps, and your feet follow, not as graceful, but he makes it easy for you, the steps hinted out in his thoughts before taking them in actuality. 

When you start to feel confident enough in the movements, you look up at him. “Does this mean I can teach you my dances next?”

He laughs, laughs, unabashed and with no emotion harbored under it, and some torn piece of your heart mends at the sound.

“Certainly not.” 

You laugh too, even at the thought of him trying. The laugher rolls into a smooth quiet, and you let yourself bask in the feel of his body against yours, the press of his hand on your back as you rest your cheek against him. 

Obi-Wan cradles you to him, forsaking the pattern of the dance as he encompasses you in his arms, lowering his lips to your cheek, then your mouth in a blazing kiss. 

He takes your hand in his, lifting it above your head. Then you’re guided into a spin, and the room spins double with it as you abandon all endeavors of trying to get the dance correct. Your hand drops protectively to your belly before you can even think better of it, and by the time you know you’re not going to throw up, it’s too late. You already feel Obi-Wan’s unmistakable concern right before he asks, “What’s wrong?” extending an arm out toward you. 

His complexion is ashen with worry, and when you don’t respond, you feel him start to reach out to your mind; a spike of panic zaps down your spine, and you’re suddenly not sure you’re not going to throw up after all. 

Your shields crash down, not enough time for subtlety, and he retracts both his hand and inquiring tendril of energy as hurt and confusion shape his features. 

You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this facade or cover this moment with a lie you know he’ll see through. But you can’t tell him either. After all the weight he’s carrying, the weight of the being that grows in you should be yours alone. You can’t thrust that upon him. 

But it’s a delusion that you can keep this from him forever. You’re going to hurt him one way or another, and the weight of your silence and lies multiply every day you insulate him from the truth. 

You take in a shuddering breath as dread settles into your bones. You know what you have to do.

Even as you slowly lower your shields, opening your signature, your mind screams at you in opposite directions, ripping you in half, and your hand shoots out to the nearest wall to stabilize yourself. How could you be so sadistic to tell him this? How could you not tell him? After all the trust you have in each other?

But he doesn’t take the invitation. “I will not touch your mind if you are still unsure you want me to,” he says softly but resolutely as he approaches you, but stays an unthreatening distance away, as if approaching a frightened animal. 

No, no, no. You won’t have him being the one to sturdy you through this. You need to be strong, be ready, don’t force him to coddle you through the blast to his own chest. 

So you dial down your own emotions and switch your absorption to amplifying the still tiny, barely recognizable life you’ve been carefully censoring ever since you heard it yourself.

You want to close your eyes, blockade the pain of both how it impacts him and how it will impact you, but that’s not how you two do things.

Summoning every iota of bravery and resolve running in your veins, you force yourself to look up at him as you watch understanding coat him. 

His eyes go wide, and his hands clench and flex at his sides in an erratic, nervous pattern. 

You can’t keep your signature open to his mind’s reaction, you just can’t. He’s seen enough, and you can put your shields up again. His face is enough to confront all on its own.

Obi-Wan steps toward you, slowly, dazed in a completely uncharacteristic way. With the way he seems to ever be prepared for the blows life throws at him, you hate how you have to be the harbinger for the second one that’s knocked him off his feet.

When he stops in front of you, he places his hands on either of your shoulders and looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, and you nod, trying to not let fear seep into your expression.

One of his hands covers his mouth as he takes it in. 

And then he’s sinking in front of you, off of his feet indeed, and onto his knees. You want to follow, ready to hold him through the heartache sure to follow, at the second child he didn’t ask for while he still grieves the loss of the first. 

But his hands instead take purchase on your stomach, tightening the fabric of your tunic around the barely-visible bump before bunching it up and lifting, just enough so he can tilt his forehead against the skin there. 

You can feel him reaching out, not taking him long at all to find what he’s searching for, and curiosity beats self-preservation at the last moment, prompting you to open your mind again, just for you to be able to catch elation coursing through Obi-Wan.

You don’t even bother trying to stifle your confusion as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

Sinking to your knees to meet him, you take his face in your hands, trying to make sense of it all as he takes your hand in his. “I never... “ when his voice comes out unsteady, he clears his throat and tries again. “I never thought I’d have... That we could… didn’t occur to me that now...stars above, how long have you known?”

You don’t recall when you start crying, but tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry. I… I would never want to keep something like this from you, Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t tell you, not with everything, not with all you already have…and i’m so sorry.”

“Oh, heavens, no. You should not have to do this alone. Please don’t keep things from me, even if you think it to be for my sake. We can…”

You fix him with a pointed, unamused stare. He exhales as he must notice his hypocrisy. 

“Your point is well-put and taken, but the sentiment still stands. We’ll not keep secrets from each other anymore. Do we have an accord?”

Despite it all, you smile at his overly-formal phrasing, something you’d normally have a quip about if it weren’t for the concern still nagging at you.

“Are you not angry then? Or disappointed?” you watch him carefully, praying to any deity listening that he doesn’t concoct some half truth to placate you. His first instinct is always to protect, but you’d never want it at expense of his authenticity. 

Bafflement marks his brow at first, then he takes your face in his hands. “Darling, no.” He says your name, gathering every bit of your attention. “I dreamt of you. During the war, when I was away. I did not sleep well, even then, but when I did, I’d sometimes dream of you, holding a child that I knew to be ours. When I woke, I would remember it so vividly, so painfully, because I never thought that was an attainable future for us.”

But that doesn’t need to matter if you… do you want this child?” His eyes are so full of hope, and it was the last thing you expected, but here he is laying it down on the altar of your preference, and maker, are you glad those two things aren’t opposing each other. 

Because his hope and yours are one in the same, and once he knows it too, at your whispering, choked, “yes,” he’s clutching you in his arms.

And for the second time in a month, you’re both huddled on the ground in tears. The first, bowing under the mass of catastrophe. Now, at the glowing relief of the sprouting of a dream sown in tears, too tender before to even say aloud.

But now? You’re saying it, back and forth, from him to you as your walls fall, permitting him into your mind as he welcomes you into his, and finally you take true comfort once again in the home you’ve built in each other. 

*******

The night after, you lie side by side, hand in hand, on a blanket splayed not far from the hut. The suns have sunken, but the pinks and oranges of their palette still paint the sky where it hasn’t yet turned to midnight cobalt. The light of the lantern gives off a similar hue, dousing everything in your reach in soft, warm hues.

It has taken Obi-Wan some convincing, being so out in the open with everything he had to worry about wasn’t his first choice, but you compromised for a small alcove in the rock formations which surrounded you on two sides. More easily defensible. Not that he needed it, but if he was cautious before, it was borderline unbearable now. With the added danger of the Empire knowing without doubt that he lived.  With more than ever to lose. 

So, he was in charge of safety, you were in charge of snacks. And if they so happened to be almost entirely comprised of those melons you couldn’t quite get enough of lately? That was no one’s business except yours. You brought a few things you knew Obi-Wan liked too, of course. 

What little remains of the miscellaneous spread you push to the edge of the blanket so you can both lie down. 

“I dare say it’s almost pleasant out tonight.”

You turn your head to him, a snort ready at him discussing the weather of all things, but it instead forms a cloud in your throat at the sight of him. 

His eyes are closed, hair rustling in the slight evening breeze, a tranquil ease over his profile. 

The small patches of grey in the part of his beard next to his ears catch the first glints of moonlight in a way the rest of his hair doesn’t, giving them away. 

The mellisonant lowness of his voice brings you back to yourself, cheeks heating. 

“I can feel you staring, little one.”  He opens his eyes, leisurely rolling to his side. “Some say it’s quite impolite.” Slanting over you, he lifts a brow, daring your response.

“And is that a problem?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence. 

Obi-Wan’s gaze follows back up to the stars, as he plays right along, pretending to have to think on it. “I suppose it depends.” 

“On?”

“On whether or not you allow me to return the impropriety,” he responds with a coy smile, moving back to you, so close now you can feel his exhales on your cheek. 

Warmth blooms through you as you answer back, “You can always look, Obi-Wan.” You lift yourself to close the short distance between your face and his, pressing your lips together, which he deepens right away. Using the hand not supporting half his body off of you still, he fans out his fingers across your belly, towing the line between caressing gently and clutching protectively. 

You pull your lips back from his as an uninvited slither of insecurity slips into your chest. 

He senses it, of course, so you speak before he even needs to ask. “Are you really, truly, certain this is what you want? Now? I don’t want you to just say so because…and we could wait, we have...”

“I am,” he says, adamantly, before you even have a chance to finish. His eyes flash to the side. “I…” He rolls back onto his back, looking straight up as he talks seemingly half to you, half to himself. “There is not much I know for certain these days. Some days… I scarcely can remember who I am anymore.” 

He turns his eyes back to you, unwavering. “There are seldom few things I haven’t questioned of late, and my love for you isn’t one of them. And from the moment I’ve known, from the very first instant you let me feel the life within you, my love for them hasn’t been one either.” 

Your thoughts split into two, one wanting to lean into it, to take him for his word that’s always true, and the other cautioning you, telling you to keep distant and watch for the surface level honesty he gives that hides the brutal one he safeguards you from. 

But you’re not hiding anymore, feelings unconcealed in your energy and on your face, so he leans back into you, grasping your arm in his hand, squaring your shoulders to him. You cringe at yourself when you know he’s heard the impression of you questioning. It’s redundant, but self-doubt always is. “Know, please know, my darling.” Taking your hand in his, he brings it up to his temple with an insistence that you have no desire to counter. 

And it’s there. Right there and sparking in its clarity, right at the threshold of his mind as you enter it. How much he means his words, no holds barred, no cleverly crafted glazes to an unly underbelly of reality. His reality was this, how severely he craves starting a family with you. How much he already loves the being within you, how he looks forward to the day he gets to hold them in his arms. 

The fear is there too, quiet, but not kept from you. The fear of failing as a father, unsure of assuming any role that resembled a mentor again, all-too-familiar with the ghost that will float over him in every lesson he teaches. 

What shocks you there is his faith in you. In how much he’s already learned from you about the impact of open affection, in how you don’t let your feelings lead you, but you let them breathe, not suffocate them. It’s part of how he even can acknowledge his fears to himself and to you without berating himself under the too-simple phrase “fear leads to the dark side.” There’s truth in it, but also inaccuracy. 

Because he’s afraid, and yet, there is so much light in the acknowledging of it to himself, and in that very act, it loses much of any power it could have had over him. Oh, how deeply he wishes he could have articulated that understanding to Anakin. 

The pain is fresh, but so is his anticipation for the future, swirling together in a potent drink, and his throat bobs with the effort to swallow them down simultaneously. 

He knows you’ll help ground him through it, he trusts you, even in his uncertainty in himself.

It breaks your heart but also warms it: the knowledge that he lets you into that place where he keeps the questions of himself, the place only you and the man who’s caused most of this doubt have been permitted. 

 With a thankful short farewell, you part from his mind as you know exactly what you want to do.

The remains of your snacks still rest on the edge of the blanket, including the shells of the deep purple-pigmented melons. The one draw-back to their delightful taste was how badly they stained your fingers. You had to break them into tiny pieces, plopping them into your mouth without allowing them to touch your lips unless you wanted your mouth to stain too. 

But right now? The staining quality was just what you needed. 

Although first you needed a blank canvas. 

“May I take your tunics off?” you ask, sitting up. 

Despite a short twitch of confusion and then interest, Obi-Wan follows, raising himself up into a kneel, slightly lifting his arms in compliance. 

The paleness of his skin catches all the light of the lantern, highlighting your view as you slowly slide the fabric up and off, gliding your hands up the line of hair dipping below his navel as it becomes more exposed. It grants you a quiet, steep intake of breath from him and you suddenly give halt momentarily, distracted by the alluring appetite you’ve created. 

No, you won’t give in. Not yet. He needs to know this. 

You take one of the broken pieces of melon rind in your hand, where little tart bits of the fruit still cling, dribbling pigment, but before your finger makes contact with the taut skin of his chest, you pull back at the realization you might have bitten off more than you can chew. 

How do you even begin to describe him? Obi-Wan is so many things at once, so many attributes, and every descriptor that comes to mind falls blatantly short of him. 

Then you recall Obi-Wan going through the motions of Alchaka, watching his body fight to maintain the poses at times. Being such a personal practice, you felt honored that he let you see him go through the exercises, and even more honored that he opened up to you about the purpose behind it later. It was an exercise of both physicality and Force use, and the goal was absolute exhaustion. That was the destination. Trying, knowing from the start that he’ll fall short in the end, but doing it all the same. Because there’s so, so much to be said for the trying.

So you do. You bring the messy fingertip to his clavicle, smearing the first word you know to absolutely be true of him, as if starting the premise with a whisper of I know you’re even more than the sum all of these singular praises. 

The word “complex” appears in your penmanship on his skin as you drag it to life. You look up to his eyes, and his curiosity is clear there, but also so is the tenderness that is elemental to any time he looks at you. And just like that, you have your next word.

Kind.

And at the way he flushes so lovely for you at that?

Beautiful. 

You feel his protest before you see it, the objection in his signature, and you know you’re going to have to switch methods. 

Just then, a droplet from where you’ve written the last word on his pectoral falls, down, down, threatening toward the hem of his trousers, but you’re fast, dropping your mouth down and catching it all on your tongue before it can stain the bleached beige of his remaining clothing. 

When his stubborn revolt at the affirmation quiets in his mind in exchange for a flash of searing lust, you know exactly how you’re going to continue. 

Because Obi-Wan Kenobi, general, warrior, negotiator, Jedi Master, legend, has rarely ever been affirmed as such, and he squirms under the thick blanket of his humility and deprivation anytime someone endeavors. 

So you need his mind to be preoccupied enough, guards down low enough, so he can even hear the message get through.

When you place your hands over his waistband, locking eyes in inquiry, stopping when he hesitates, scanning the area around you, vigilant as always. Overly so now. 

“We’re alone. And wouldn’t you be able to sense it if we weren’t?” 

He looks down at you as he answers. “If I stay mindful enough to do so, yes.” 

Good, he’ll be even less prone to fight you if he has some of his mind sensing outward.

You look back up at him with the facial equivalent of asking “well?” to which Obi-Wan sighs in response. “Very well then.”

With your familiarity with ridding him of clothing, it only takes moments before you can finally taste him where you want to, where he’s already hard and swollen for you. 

 You know you won’t be able to take him as much as you want, a recently-developed overactive gag reflex preventing you. But it just so happens to be convenient tonight, as the resulting taunt should have him right where you want him.

A gentle kiss, right to the head of his cock is all the warning you give him before taking the whole tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, pulling a choked hum deep from his throat. 

Oh, oh, Maker, have you done a grand miscalculation, because you forgot an entire factor in this equation: the way you have been borderline hysterical in hunger for him.

You’ve kept so much from him, and part of how you’ve even managed is starting to convince yourself of less than fact. Facts like how many times you’ve had to change underthings recently, physical evidence of desire unwilling to comply to your head’s demands. Facts like how you’ve literally had to bite your finger to keep the feelings at bay. 

You’d expected changes in your body even before your belly grew, but this was one you hadn’t anticipated. In some ways, it wasn’t that different than usual. You never knew you could want someone with the breadth that you want Obi-Wan. 

But this? Of late? It feels like it’s been amplified tenfold. 

You’re not keeping any cards close to your chest anymore, but you do have to ignore your own body’s screaming cries as you complete this.

He needs to know. 

Nerves still serenading his brain with feedback, you re-wet your finger with the purple juice and write the next words across his abdomen. 

Wise.

Perceptive.

He’s caught on to your scheme by now, cued by the all-too appropriate addition of the last word, and he lets you know it, an impression projected, speechless but still unobstructed. He’s still powerless against it. Or rather, letting himself be powerless. Trusting you with the control he has left, trusting you in his vulnerable places. The places where he’s weak.

Strong.

The word spread over his right upper arm, where he’s obviously just that. But may the tint of the word bleed through his skin, may it run through his veins, because that’s how deep and deeper still that his strength runs. It’s in the way he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s in the way he chooses to wield it. 

Gentle. 

He closes his eyes, flinching at the onslaught of acclamation, and you dip your head down again, wrapping your lips around his cock, letting him slide to where you can take him comfortably, just starting to build a pace as his hips squirm in harmony with his suddenly erratic breaths. Oh, how you’d love to let him deeper, allow his cock past your lips beyond the teasing amount you can take now, but the little writhes his body gives in protest are enough to almost make you okay with how your mouth won’t agree with your ambitions. He says your name, groaned out in bliss as he cups a hand on your cheek.

His barriers are down, so it’s easy to hear when his deprecating thoughts quiet again, and you switch back to coloring him again. 

You know the moment you look up at him that it’s a mistake, because he’s flushed, so torn, suspended in the limbo of your give and withdrawal, mouth ever so slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

You’re only human, so before you draw anything else, you bring your lips to his, which is yet another mistake, because among the many things Obi-Wan is, he is a deep kisser, and as his tongue delves into your mouth, your will power takes a devastating blow. 

You pull back, reeling at the reminder of how easily he can take back control, knowing you have to complete this before you let him. 

Stars, how you want to let him. 

For now, you need that control back, so you take him into your mouth again, filthily wet and not nearly long enough as you quickly pull back, watching in satisfaction as he heaves forward at the loss, correcting himself quickly back into straight posture. 

With a smirk, you drag your slippery, pigmented finger across his lower stomach. 

Disciplined.

There’s so many more words, so much more he needs to know, and if you covered every inch of his skin in the smallest writing it still wouldn’t be sufficient of all that he is. 

Or you could whisper it all through the Force, embed it all in his mind. 

But because you’ve been there, know his mind inside and out, you know every time he sees his own skin, all he sees is the red of blood on his hands. The blood of his brother. 

And that’s exactly why you’re going to stain it in your own colors. Take back territory and push back the front lines that the army of guilt has taken over on him. 

Your Jedi, ever-adorned in unassuming beige, now drips in the color of royalty.

Charming.

Humble. 

Confident. 

Steadfast. 

You’re only left with enough space for one more word, and you want some sort of conclusion to it all, something to summarize the expanse of the man kneeling in front of you. 

Nothing can. 

But maybe, just maybe, one word encapsulates what he is to you. 

Treasure. 

This time you do chant it across his thoughts, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

Cerulean blue blinks open, slowly, almost painfully and nearly overflowing with emotion. 

Thank you, is all he says, unable or unwilling to say it out loud, much too heartfelt and newly-budded for that.

You know his pain has older roots than those tended to in this moment, but you vow to yourself that you’ll never stop trying. 

Lowering your mouth around him once again, you don’t tease him anymore, at least not intentionally, even though you still can’t take more than half of him. 

“Look at you, you’re…” he hisses in a breath as you swipe your tongue against that vein on the underside of him. “Stunning. You’re doing so well, little one.” 

The taste of him compels you as much as his words, seizes you in spice-like addiction, and how interesting it’s going to be explaining that taste craving to him, among your sudden adoration for those damn melons. 

“Darling, I’m…” 

You feel it in his energy before he says it, already pulling off, replacing your mouth with your hand, dropping your lips down even lower, mouthing at his balls, and the feedback is instant. An outpouring crest of his pleasure blasting outward as he lets out a depraved moan, netting his hands into your hair.

Your hand is wet and so is where he’s spilled on his still flexing and releasing stomach, clear white maring the lettering halfway through “disciplined.” You’d clean it with your tongue if you weren’t sure how your overly sensitive taste buds would react now. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had sex since you’ve known you were pregnant, but it’s the first time since he’s known, and it’s the first time you’re not hiding the symptoms. Before, you carefully shied away from anything that might give you away, and between the preoccupation of everything on his own mind he was trying to keep from you and his respect for your boundaries, he never pressed. He had questions in his eyes, but you knew how to carefully reveal partial vulnerabilities to keep him off your trail.

Your chest flares at the memory.

We’re not hiding now. 

It’s your chant, your reminder, your comfort. How nothing of this caliber will be kept between you again.

His eyes confirm it, sincere and exact as they fight to break through their dazed slipping. 

Never again. His voice in your head is home, so consoling it can and has put you to sleep before. 

Right now, it wakes you up in a different light, dowsing you in heat as Obi-Wan takes your hand in his, wiping it on a piece of his discarded clothing before wiping the spend off himself. 

Then he’s taking your face in both his hands tilting you up before kissing you soundly. 

I love you, he says across the wire that ties your minds, the wire that keeps growing stronger every day. So, so very much.

You say it back, a fact as simple as breathing. You love him.

You want him, borderline need him the way you need your next inhale, you don’t say, but he must hear it anyway, because that cocky little smirk that’s been gone far too long is back.

“Shall we do something about that?”

You’re about to just lift your shift dress up and off in response, but he halts you, grasping your wrists. 

“Allow me.” 

He pulls you into another sultry kiss, completely neglecting the task of ridding you of clothing.

Or so you think.

There’s buttons all the way down the dress, and you’ve never used them, always wondering at their purpose if it can so easily lift over your head. 

At first, you don’t even know he’s doing it until you start to feel the coolness of the night air on your nipples. Opening your eyes, you pull back from him to watch as seemingly in thin air, your buttons undo themselves. 

“You needn’t seduce me further. You already know how much I need you,” you gasp, breathless from the kiss.

Obi-Wan just gives a small smile as he drops a hand, dragging it down your side, then down your thigh. “Hm. So impatient. All this from just pleasuring me?”

Maker, he knows! He knows that you are. You always have been, and it’s not as if you weren’t projecting your feelings too.

When he reaches a hand between your thighs, parting them and making a single, tempting stroke through them, his fingers come back glistening. 

“I should think you could feel that I am.” You let the tide of your frustration spill over into your connection to his mind. 

You know he had to hear you, but he gives no indication that he did. 

“Mm. Desire needn’t always be indicatory of impatience,” he punctuates his statement with a hand at the base of your skull, tipping your head back to expose your neck. “I need you to be patient, little one. Let me savor you.” And with that, his mouth makes contact with your neck at the same time his other hand plays with one of your exposed nipples. 

You whimper at the attention, quietly pleading with him for more. Among the still slight changes to your body, this has been the most notable one. How sensitive your breasts have become to even the scrape of the fabric of your clothing. 

And with the rough pads of his fingers working only one, leaving the other to pang in want...

“Obi-Wan,” it’s a prayer, a request. He doesn’t need his hands to cause sensation, and you’d beg him right now if he asked. 

He lets up on your neck, only barely, lips moving against the now throbbing skin. “Answer me first.” 

Clearing your throat, you give the most cogent response you can muster. “Depends on if you’re definition of savor is synonymous with torture.”

He locks eyes with you then, gently grasping a breast in each of his hands, dragging his thumbs over the nipples as you moan out your assent.

His chuckle is far too self-satisfied to be becoming of a Jedi, but you’re already too far gone to call him on it. 

“Is that what you want, little one? For me to torture you so?”

An affirmative whimper is all the response you can give, and Obi-Wan reacts quickly, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your eyes up to his again. 

“Then you will be patient for me. Because I’m always happy to stop, and we can begin again when you decide to adhere.”

Your brain short circuits on the spot, and all energy is redirected much, much lower. His voice, stars above, his voice when it takes a commanding tone. 

It’s intimate, it’s personal, and yet this game is almost inappropriately playful for how sincere the moment is. 

But such was being loved by Obi-Wan. Full of dissimilar feelings that shouldn’t fit, but moved together in liquid consistency. Like metaphors that didn’t rhyme but still somehow gave their own life-giving rhythm, not dissimilar to the sound of his heartbeat when you lay your head against his chest at night. 

Making quick work of the remaining buttons of your shift and underwear, he beckons you to join him as he lies back down, large, warm hands guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him. 

You know that the purple stickiness of the fruit will smear from his body to yours like this, but you can’t at all bring yourself to care. 

You gasp a sigh of relief as one of his hands finds your breast, brushing a knuckle over the too-sensitive nipple. 

“Please.” Your whispered beg sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. But as you arch against him in a frenzied attempt at skin contact, Obi-Wan juts his hips forward, grunting into the exposed column of your neck, and stars, yeah, maybe he didn’t find that so pathetic after all. 

“What do you want, darling?” His voice doesn’t divulge any desperation, and for only the hundredth time do you envy his immaculate self-control. 

“You know, don’t pretend you don’t.” Leaving any doubt to the wind, you push your chest against his barely-touching hand. 

“Specificity can be a virtue; that I also know.” 

You change techniques, driving your hips back softly into where he’s hard and insistent against your ass, hoping it compels him. 

Then you simply… can’t anymore. You’re frozen, unable to move your lower half at all. 

Tangling your desires into a knot and tucking it away, you find the mindfulness to reply. “Yeah, so is mercy.” 

“Indeed it is. I shall concede when you do.”

You won’t win a battle of the wills with him. You’re not sure anyone could.

So you bring his hand over to your nipple. “Touch me here.” 

You feel his smile without even seeing it as he starts tweaking the bud. “Like this?”

It’s so much sensation, all concentrated on such responsive flesh, that you want to beg for him to switch to touching you between your legs.

You haven’t even finished the thought when you feel his unmistakable metaphysical brush against your thigh.

Extending a tendril of your own energy, you invite him in, and he takes it eagerly, ever as eager if not more to be entwined with your mind as with your body. 

He hears it all, the besottment, the arousal, the neediness. The panic that he might drag this out longer, that you’ll have to go a single minute longer without...

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He sends soothing waves through your connection, and he swaps the positioning of his hand with the curl of power. He turns his hand so that the back of it runs through where you’re aching for him, gathering up your slick on the backs of his knuckles. You have to contort your neck to see what follows when he takes the hand back behind you, and your mouth goes dry when he sucks the knuckles in between his lips. 

You want to hear, you want to know what he’s…

He’s welcoming you in, navigating you to the brink of his mental barriers, letting you take that final plunge into the unsuppressed fullness of your bond to each other.

Now it’s your turn to hear it: how his carefully constructed unaffected persona is not at all a match for his naked, wanton need for you. 

And under that, the foundation on which that desire is built, not the product of it, is his love, his unyielding, unashamed, iridescent love for you. 

It’s all you can do but to pour it back, affirming and soothing and calling his love into action with your own. 

You both don’t want anything else except the most complete of entanglement, and that’s exactly what he moves to do, situating your bodies, hiking your top leg in the crook of his arm as you feel the initial breach of his body into yours, and all breath leaves your lungs in an exhilarating evacuation.

His audible gasp is an echo of his emotions, how he thinks he’s prepared for this onslaught of feeling, but how you take him off guard, how his equilibrium threatens to teeter every time. 

The web of his consciousness enveloping you, it’s easy to pick out a single thought blaring within him: How much he adores the way you fit together. Your back against his chest, how your breast fits in his hand, how the snug joining of where his cock presses into your body sends you into trembles, how comforting your very presence is to his soul when he lets you in like this. 

Tears, without warning, seep out of your eyes as he starts to move against you, slow and deep. You close your eyes, willing the powerful emotion away, but glimmers of light flash out behind our closed lids the moment you do, and how the kriff does he stay composed? 

Anchor. Anchor against me. 

He stills, letting you have a break from the barrage of pleasure blinding you as you search him out, looking for the cords of his intellect that seemingly both steam downward and beam upward, grounding him.

You find it, and you clasp on tightly.

But the moment he starts moving again, you lose sight of it all over again.

Your heightened hormones make your flesh so susceptible, and the tears start to fall again. Obi-Wan rolls your nipple in between his thumb and index, and he’s so good, and you’re so full, and you can hear his pleasure as your own, adding, doubling everything…

Scorching, electrifying heat speeds through your veins, hitting hard and fast, leaving you astounded and even more sensitive than before. 

Obi-Wan’s signature spikes as your climax resounds through him, and you can feel the vibration of the wanton noises he’s making right where his beard scratches against your neck. 

But he doesn’t allow it to overtake him, letting it run through him without resistance, making himself pliable but unmovable, keeping himself back from the edge. 

You still have much to learn.

Because that control? Gives him the ability to not even stop, not even hesitate once, even at both yours and his own ecstasy flowing through him.

When he starts striking his hips hard into yours, the weight of him inside you dragging exactly in the right place, you start to cry in earnest. Obi-Wan stops for a millisecond, concern radiating off of him, even when he can hear how much you want this so clearly, has access to every little passing thought. 

“Don’t stop, I’m fine, I pro…” He does just as asked while moving his hand down to your belly again, a soothing touch to his rough thrusts. Your eyes are blurred with wetness, overwhelmed with him. 

He’s listening to it all, applying every micro-feeling of feedback into action against your desperate, post-orgasmic skin, hand switching back and forth from your nipples to loosely clutching your neck, Force energy focused on applying pressure to your clit. 

“You’re doing so well, so good for me,” comes the wisp of his sultry tone, lips pressed against your ear. 

Since you aren’t even thinking about changing position, you know it’s his own preference that has him withdrawing, guiding you onto your back. 

There’s no inhibition this way, not the way there is when you’re on your side, no separation from your bodies being flush when he pushes into you again. You have to anchor in him, both mentally and with your fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades as your body starts into tremors.

He’s keeping the weight of his chest off of you, even though your belly is still barely swollen into distinguishable roundedness, and as much as you miss the contact, you can look into his eyes like this, can see the unfiltered attachment and all the weight of all the emotion he wills his body to not cave under. 

But then the tremoring transforms into series of contractions throughout your body, centering through your slick core, and you thrash your head to the side catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s fingers clenching into white knuckles, grasping into the exposed sand from the blanket being bunched up. 

He projects his thoughts across the tether to you,  how thoroughly impacted by the very fact you’re carrying his child, how affected he is by every little thing about you, honored that he’s allowed to touch you like this. 

You roll your hips back up into his, and that’s what it takes. His stuttering body is the lightning, and the searing, molten pleasure across your connection is the thunderous repercussion. 

It completely overthrows you, and your body bows against him as his high instantly cues yours again.

You can feel him throb inside you at the very moment you do, his turn to experience the secondary sensory white-out of your mate’s climax through the Force, his shuddering shout meeting your breathy whines in the close distance between your mouths. 

And he does kiss you then, soundly but with the haze of afterglow slowing it. 

“Have you any idea how bewitching you are to me?” He breathes it out, and despite all the ways you’d normally scoff at such words, his eyes tell the story, and you listen to it’s truth. 

His eyes hold that constant infiltrating study of you, the one that could be unnerving if his mind, still tethered to yours didn’t hold such amor, heart bleed such fondness that settles in the creases around his eyes. 

How interesting it is watching someone as knowledgeable as him having such an inquisitive outlook on life, and being so frequently the object of those investigations. 

Did the galaxy know her debt to him? Did she know the sum owed to inflicting the worst of life’s pains on someone who refused to let it build anything except an even gentler man of himself? When does she plan on repaying him? What does she offer in exchange for her cruelty of the hand she’s dealt Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Then the whisper comes, soft but crisp, from somewhere in the threads of existence around you, “Can’t you see? It’s you, child.” 

You could argue it. You could scream how it’s not enough, how you’re not enough,  how he deserves so much more from some dark insecure place inside you. Or how love shouldn’t be treated as currency in exchange for pain, how the galaxy could still have your fists if that was how it tallied. 

But the finality of it settles in your soul, more impressionistic than in solid wording: there is no easy conclusion that ties the suffering of life into purpose, no experience that erases or mends its pain. But love. Love makes the complicated endeavor of trying to find purpose in the madness worthwhile.  

Obi-Wan’s hum of agreement resounds in your ears and through to your head. His Force signature feels so familiar, so at home within yours and yours within his, that you’d briefly forgotten he could still hear you. 

With all the strength still left in quaking limbs, you wrap your arms around him, and he melts into it. 

The compassion of his soul hardly matches his war-ravaged skin, his guilt-ridden memories. Every good thing here came to be with a war waged, refined and not burnt away in fire at his sheer tenacity. 

It’s a growing thing, blooming in the desert. The beliefs in both of you. Your love for each other. Your own trust in the Force. 

Healing is no short journey, but her two sojourners here are determined.

And if that tender hope can blossom here?

Then maybe, just maybe: Tatooine is exactly the place for a baby after all. 

*********

In the valley beyond the hut, a boy jets quickly away in some mechanical contraption he recently motorized, a girl in a similar vehicularized compilation of junk not far behind. 

On the cliff’s edge stands Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the landscape intermittently for any sign of threat between longer affectionate looks at the children before him.

He turns, feeling your approach in his keen awareness as you set a hand on his shoulder from behind. His temples are now even thicker with sun-bleached silver, and his eyes wield the lines of laughter around them. 

And you? You’re as roped in by his gravitational pull as you’ve always been. 

He puts a hand over yours, clasping it to bring you in front of him, where he can still watch the children and encase you in his arms at the same time. 

“Slow down, Luke! You’re going too fast!” comes the distressed cry of your daughter, Ahlina, drawing your attention away from admiring Obi-Wan and back to the valley. Her vowels curl in the same way her father’s does, but her more casual phrasing was certainly thanks to you. Luke shouts back at her, “Come on, keep up!” while he races on ahead.

Obi-Wan smiles, seemingly amused at a secret joke. 

“They are much too young for this nonsense still,” he speaks, muffled slightly as he hides his lips in your hair. 

“Probably,” you reply with an airy laugh.

Not long after, the engine on Luke’s small contraption gives out, jutting him off and tumbling forward into the sand. 

“I told you!” Ahlina yells, her own machine coming to a halt not far away from Luke. 

When they make it back up the cliff, Obi-Wan couches and opens his arms, and they both come running with smiles. They’re still young enough to be unshy about affection, and Obi-Wan knows to soak it up, closing his eyes in relishment. 

Luke is the first to wiggle down, waving before running over to hug your leg, which you happily return, brushing some of the blonde mop of hair from his forehead. You adored the nights that the Lars let him sleep over. 

Although the nights that Ahlina slept over at theirs certainly had their allure too. 

“Can we have a snack, Daddy?” Ahlina asks, still happy to be hoisted up on one of his arms. 

“Hm. Perhaps I can make some of those ahrisa sweet breads again?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can Mommy make them?”

“Why not mine?”

“Because you always burn them.”

He bops a finger lightly on her nose with a smile. “Cheeky.”

She goes to bop him on his nose in return, but he catches the finger, holding it. 

“Give it back!” she screeches through a giggle. 

“No, no. I think I’ll keep it now.” 

The suns are dipping low as you retreat into the hut, the two children running ahead, racing to gather the ingredients to help you bake the bread. Luke especially was an enthusiastic sous-chef. 

You step to follow them, but Obi-Wan grasps your hand. You turn back to him, and he barely gives you a second before he joins his mouth to yours. Sliding a hand into the auburn beard, you open your mouth to him, letting his familiar taste permeate your senses. 

He reluctantly breaks after a long moment, and you take his hand in yours. When you turn back to the horizon, the suns are dipping, blanketing the landscape in the most celestial light of the day. 

The planet’s eyes aren’t harsh in the way you used to see them. They’re still intense, and frequently unforgiving. 

Perhaps they never changed. Maybe only you did.

But as they sink now, you give a silent, partial farewell, knowing they’ll greet you again in the morning. 

Because if Dark’s patience is infinite? 

So is the promise of the return of the Light. 

Tagging upon request: @million-dollar-legs

[dawn-of-tomorrow]

shoutout to @punishing-gray-raven-ocs for this ask game!! (didin't expect to be tagged with one so soon lolol but i'm overjoyed~~ ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡❤️❤️)

1) What made you even think of trying Punishing Gray Raven? What made you stick with it?

Funny story actually-- I've long heard about PGR, way back when it was first released even, but I just didn't give it a chance back then mainly because it was in CN and I couldn't understand shit (rather ironic given how I am now lmao).

As for why I decided fairly recently, a couple of months give or take, to give PGR a shot? It's mainly due to the fact that I heard that the Global version would be out very soon, so I thought why not dive into what I've missed so far... not knowing that I'd become THIS obsessed with the game, aha~.

The most obvious thing that made me stick to this game are the interesting cast of characters, the "fun" story, the amazing yet simple game mechanics, and etc. etc.

2) What problems, if any, do you have with PGR?

Honestly speaking, the thing that most VEXES me at the moment about PGR, specifically PGR Global, is the wonky translations. It feels like a group of half-assed fan translators and one official translator who's not doing a good enough job with reigning everyone in instead of feeling like a group of professional translators who know what they're doing. Hell, I've seen better translations from some of my twitter mutuals!

3) Who is your favorite Construct, and why?

Lee. There's no question about it, Lee is my most favorite Construct at the moment (and forever perhaps ohoho~). As for why, god, hold that mic for a bit, I'm gonna go on a fucking rant. Ehem.

First of all, let's start with the most basic of things, like his appearances; As Palefire, he looks like this suave, very aloof, super serious, unapproachable, and "gets shit done efficiently" type of person, and while that description certainly isn't wrong, it's also hiding more layers of Lee's overall personality; as Entropy, he certainly looks and feels bit more casual than before, along with feeling somewhat more, even if a tiny bit, more honest with his feelings and easier to approach than before.

Despite being a serious, no-nonsense, grumpy guy, he's prone to occasionally quip and snark at anyone at their own expense especially if they get on his nerves (see his interactions with Kamui, not even the Commandant is spared from this!). He's also not as cold and distant as he may come across, given that, early on, he quite literally jumps in front of Liv to take a hit that was meant for her with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever, he's almost always the first person to make comments on the Commandant's state as well as express his undiluted feelings (though not without hiding it on occasion behind anger/annoyance, thus making it a case of "anger born from worry").

You can also easily tell if you pay close enough attention to his dialogue and actions that he's not good with expressing his true feelings even to the people he cares about (thankfully Murray, Skk, Lucia, Liv, Kamui, etc. can usually pick up on what he really wants to say), is the type to often be misunderstood due to him being the kind of person who believes in "actions speak louder than words", that he's used to taking care of others instead of prioritizing himself even to his own detriment; while making it clear that he prefers to think and act in a logical and practical manner, he's not exempt to having emotions/feelings, as such, he can be pretty empathetic towards other people even if he doesn't look like it (he's even the first one in the Gray Raven squad to point out WHY EXACTLY the people they come across in Echo Aria refuse to leave their homes even with high risk of the Red Tide washing everything away, and fully understanding as well as getting it).

Alrighty I'm gonna cut that segment short now before this becomes too long for anyone to read through, ehe~!

4) What made you think of designing PGR OCs, instead of making yourself into a self-insert?

.... Actually, truth be told, both of my Skks are, in some way, self-inserts~. It's just that they start out as one before eventually developing into their own characters with only hints/traces of their self-insert origin. Though my Construct OCs are definitely not self-inserts, that much I can certainly say so!

I made them mainly because I really enjoyed the official cast so much I wanted to make characters that would get to interact with them somehow, though I take great care in making sure they aren't TOO out of character with how they're canonically portrayed.

5) What's your thought process behind creating your OCs?

Honestly, it usually starts of something like this--

"lol wouldn't it be funny if I made this type of character? Oooh, what if they interacted with this character? Or this character? Or that character? Let's see, what's missing... Backstory and profile, check. Appearance, I'll sketch one in a bit. Hmmm... I know! *drowns the OC in mountains load of angst*"

6) What's your favorite chapter from the main story?

If I'm limited to talking only about the main chapters currently released on Global then it would have to be Fallen Star, mainly because it's Watanabe's time to shine~. (*´∀｀*)

However, if we were to look at the overall chapters, then, I would have to say Imprisoned Sight.

7) What do you think of the new Liv shown in the latest stream? Where do you think the story is going with her? What do you think happened to Gray Raven?

With Liv, I have a really bad and somber feeling about what Kuro Game has in store for her, given how she looks almost complete different than what she's looked so far, as well as the vibe her new look gives off.

Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to thanos snap her memories away as well like they did with Lucia, or worse, infect her with the Punishing and turn her into an actual enemy (for a while before we get her back).

As for Gray Raven, considering what happened at the end of Evernight Beat, wherein the Skk is in a fucking coma with a chunk of the Mother Structure lodged in their abdomen, while Lee and Lucia are in repairs along with Liv, and, if I recall correctly, the Merciful One managed to reach Babylonia and is now onboard the space station as well-- I have a feeling that the despairing Liv will be approached by her and be given a new frame.

8) Have you seen the animated shorts? What do you think of them?

If you're talking about the Panini anime then yes, I've watched them already! Still ripping my insides open from laughter everytime I watch them lol. Favorite episode has got to be the toilet episode, next to that would be the episode where Chrome takes Kamui to Karenina and Liv for training.

9) So do Constructs eat or not? (I'm really confused, especially since I saw Karenina sipping a drink in one of the shorts)

Oh they most certainly can! Fuck, it's even explicitly stated that Camu likes to eat and sample foods whenever he can (revealed in his secrets, as well as his affection stories).

As Camu explains, while they don't get nutrients from human food, they most certainly can still enjoy them and use them as a type of fuel.

10) Do you think Kamui and/or Camu will be a really pivotal plot device at some point, considering how the information on Kamui is so top secret?

Hmmmm.... unless the story at that point is revolving around Kurono Ops and how shady they're being, then personally speaking, the chances are slim.

11) Do you think, at any point, any of the Gray Ravens will die off?

Naaaaaah. They won't do that. Sure, they TECHNICALLY killed off Lucia, but she's still "alive" in a sense, so it both counts and doesn't count.

Besides, sometimes death isn't the worse thing you can inflict on someone/a character~.

12) Who is your least favorite Construct, and why?

I don't really hate/dislike any of the Constructs if I'm being honest. Though I hate how shitty of a unit Sophia is, and that it's kinda pitiful that she's become even more useless now that the new S-Liv is here; but I am in no way saying you should stop using her, keep using Sophia if you really like her! It's your choice after all, and I'm not about to contest you on that part, after all, everyone's enjoyment is subjective.

13) What part of PGR's lore really holds your attention?

The part of the lore that really holds my attention are the characters, and seeing how they react and act to the situations happening to and around them, especially concerning the Punishing and forces out of their control~.

[aros001]

Going in blind: Watching season 5 for the first time. Random thoughts.

Episode 1: Well...that dinner got dark. From what other fans have told me apparently Glimmer gets a lot of hate for her decisions during the series and I just find that odd. I was more annoyed with her in the early seasons where her actions were more harmless simply because she had no patience and wouldn't listen because of her immaturity. Season 4 and here though? Even her most reckless and risky actions have at least been fueled by the genuine desire to keep people safe during a very hard situation. Even here, yeah, she tells Prime something it's very bad for him to know but he was going to have Adora and everyone else literally murdered before her eyes if she didn't. I can't really be mad at Glimmer for making a bad choice when it flows logically and fueled by the desire to keep the people she cares about from being slaughtered.

I don't think we've ever seen Catra this completely at the mercy of another person before, save maybe for Shadow Weaver when she was a child. She has nothing to offer that Prime doesn't already possess. Nothing he wants that he can't get for himself. Her relationship with everyone these past few seasons have been either "I'm your commander and you have to do what I say" or "You are my commander and here's the reason you have to keep me around". This time she has nothing to protect herself behind and the only reason she's still around is because Prime might think of a use for her later.

I love having Scorpia on the heroes' side.

Episode 2: That ending though.

I think what helps elevate Entrapta for me and keeps her for being annoying or irritating is that the show really sells that she just genuinely has trouble understanding why she should/shouldn't be doing certain things. It's not stupidity or even pure self-absorption, she just struggles with people and social ques while machines and science is a lot more straightforward. Heck, she was probably able to bond so well with Hordak because work together in the lab was them meeting on a common middle ground she could understand and relax in. The way she's trying to overcome the issue to help save Glimmer reminds me a little of Mob from Mob Psycho 100, feeling a little frustrated in not understanding something that she knows she should be.

Episode 3: Anybody else get a Disney's Hercules vibes at the end there?

Catra: "Besides, O Oneness, you can't beat her! She has no weaknesses! She's gonna kick your...!"

Prime, smiling: "I think she does, little sister." [Strokes Catra's hair] "I truly think...she does."

This episode really sold how completely isolated Catra is. With the sole exception of Glimmer, she's in space, no idea where exactly she is, onboard a ship filled with nothing but Prime and hundreds of cultist clones. Throughout the entire series we've seen Catra push everyone away and now that she's in a situation where she is almost well and truly on her own with no power, freedom, or authority, she seeks out the one other person around to find any sense of comfort in. Despite everything, Catra doesn't like being alone.

Little child Catra lashing out because she didn't want Adora to have any friends other than her kind of reminds me of Glimmer and Bow during the Princess Prom episode. I imagine it's the same mentality. Growing up in isolation, even if in different forms, and finding only that one person they feel thay can really lean on, there is that fear that they'll find someone else they like more and start caring about them less, or even outright stop. The difference is Bow set Glimmer straight, assuring her he'll always be her friend no matter what but he's not going to be just solely dedicated to her. Her fear was understandable but she was not respecting him as a friend either. Adora never really had that with Catra, one because she was much younger and less mature than Bow, and Catra was probably all she had too, to an extent. As we saw season 1, she was always trying to look after her, even when Catra needed to take responsibility for herself. Bow is not Glimmer's keeper, while Adora too often was that for Catra, so Bow and Glimmer have a better foundation of mutual respect while Adora and Catra's dynamic has been really screwed up for a long time.

Kind of tying into that, despite all that's happened between them, the minute Adora hears Catra's in distress she starts panicking and tearing up. The last time they saw each other they were very much enemies and Adora was done reaching her hand out to her. I suppose you could make the argument she's really been hoping all this time that Catra would finally do the right thing for once, just probably didn't expect it to be like this.

Prime better not mind wipe Catra like he did Hordak.

Episode 4: See, calling the heroes the rebellion now makes sense since they are rebelling against the established power, which is Prime.

Love that trick with the reflections, where you can sort of see/sort of can't see She-Ra. A nice little tease for what I imagine will be a big reveal later.

I really like that explanation for what Bow's going through. Last season's finale was the last he'd seen Glimmer and was desperately trying to save her, and he's been consistently worried for her since then. Now that she's safe he's starting to let himself process his other emotions towards her, and I totally get it. It's hard to be mad at someone when you're also terrified over what might be happening to them, even if your anger is justified. While I get why Glimmer last season did what she thought she had to, it was still a big risk that Bow warned her about and she didn't listen, putting them all in danger. This situation and Glimmer's words is a very mature way of handle this topic. He's not wrong for being mad and it's not a contradiction to what we've been seeing from him this season. Humans and emotions are complicated.

Episode 5: SHE HAS PAAAAAAAAANTS!!! (I will miss the cape though)

That almost makes up for them cutting Catra hair. Seriously, that mane was beautiful!

But boy, speaking of Hercules, that return of She-Ra definitely felt like Hercules emerging from the pool of souls to save Meg.

With the one clone being disconnected from the hive mind and having a breakdown over it, that does make me wonder if Hordak has been connected to it. Wasn't he deemed a defect because Prime couldn't connect to his mind? I suppose it's possible that flaw was corrected. Clearly Prime can take over minds other than just his clones, like with Catra. But if he could do that I'm wondering why he just didn't when Hordak was first created and he instead cast him out to Etheria.

Was Catra purring at the end? I swear there was a sound that sounded like purring.

Episode 6: Assimilation is easily one of my biggest fears in fiction, be it zombies, Borgs and Cybermen, Get Out, the freaking Sapphire Dragon from Xiaolin Showdown that scared the hell out of me as a kid! Just the concept of having your free will and autonomy completely ripped away from you, potentially with you still being aware but unable to do anything about it, is horrifying! At least with Prime's chips the process is reversible.

Anyway, in lighter plots, I kind of love Wrong Hordak. He's really funny. I feel bad that he's being deliberately misled, but he really shouldn't be following Prime anyway, so...

I do like that Adora is being a little more tough on Catra. She needs kindness, yes, but she also needs honesty and discipline, the kind that has actual love and care behind it, unlike what she got from Shadow Weaver. Adora is genuinely trying to help so Catra needs to stop acting like a brat and LET HER HELP.

Episode 7: Catra was definitely purring.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume people probably ship Scorpia and Perfuma. Not that I have any problem with that. It's like the Midoriya/Todoroki ship; I don't ship it myself but I totally get why others do. It's a relationship based in mutual respect and one of the characters having a significantly positive effect on the life of the other. As long as the shipper themselves is not horrifically toxic, I don't care.

Also, I don't think I've ever been so intimidated by Mermista before than I was with that one shot of her in silhouette, just before the reveal she was chipped.

Episode 8: Okay, I definitely love Wrong Hordak. Just that realization of his. "Horde Prime...lied to us..." There's just something about it that's so full of character. Obviously he's a brainwashed clone but he was truly devoted to Prime and just to find out that he would keep something so big from them, from the hive mind that's supposed to be so open to him and each other, it destroys everything he ever believed in. It's hilarious to watch him prepare to lead his brothers in a revolt against Prime.

I assume magic is Prime's "weakness" in that he himself cannot control it. Obviously he can control magical beings like Spinnerella and have them use magic but magic itself is too free and too powerful for him to contain and fully fight back against. He's all about order and stillness and magic is basically chaos.

Episode 9: I like to believe the mushroom kingdom they saved is a Mario reference.

Something I like in hero stories is "the power of a name" or "the power of a symbol". Something as simple as Superman's S-shield can have so much weight and meaning behind it just because of the person it's tied to. She-Ra isn't just a powerful warrior to the people of Etheria, she's a hero of legend. We saw it touched on even back in season 1 how much Adora returning She-Ra to the world meant to everyone. She-Ra to them is a symbol of hope. If they have her on their side, then they believe they might be able to win and with that ordinary people can find the strength to fight too. It's something I think the Green Lantern put best with how the Blue Rings of hope supercharge the Green Rings of will but lose a lot of their functions when the greens are not around. Hope is useless if you don't have the will to also act, but in turn hope can give people the will to act. The more hope they have that they can win, the more they will fight to win.

That was the nerdiest comparison I've ever made.

Episode 10: I appreciate a good bad dad joke and that's why I can't approve of "punderstand". It's too much of stretch to flow well. "Ruined" was good though.

I'm less surprised that Scorpia's been chipped and more that she's even alive. She was at the bottom of the ocean when the roof broke and she's a scorpion woman. I don't think water is a very friendly element for her. She's even commented on how good the desert was to her.

I wonder her She-Ra mode is not working for her simply because Adora is exhausted; mentally and physically. I don't think she's ever used the form this continuously before, and she's been doing it without the First Ones' sword that she has experience with. Her new sword and its transformations may be made out of her own energy for all we know. And then there's just the emotional toil of having Catra back in her life while it feels like more and more of the world is being turned against her.

Episode 11: Oh, I'm definitely shipping Hordak and Entrapta.

I think Re:Zero has spoiled me on dark magic. While Micah with his dark magic is a threat, in this show and many others dark magic basically just equates to "spooky, evil, bad stuff" magic that isn't that different from most other kinds of magic other than being either harder to control or more geared towards causing harm. In Re:Zero, dark magic was DARK. It felt unnatural, like a perversion of how their world's magic is supposed to be and that it didn't belong in this reality. Micah's dark magic is basically "I'm attacking you with shadows, oOoOoOo so scary!"

Not really surprised Catra left. She just got Adora back and now she's potentially about to let herself die. Perfuma said it best, letting people in and letting herself be vulnerable is hard. Caring about Adora and watching her die would be a huge blow, so Catra would rather curl back up into her shell and block out Adora again than have to risk taking that hit.

Episode 12: I keep saying it but now having them right next to each other, yeah, Mara's She-Ra outfit is better than Adora's. I don't know, there's just something grander about it. Anyway, on topic, I'm a big fan of superheroes and legacy and all that and I really like Mara's words to Adora. All she did and sacrificed was so that others, especially the next She-Ra, wouldn't have to do the same. It doesn't matter how noble and heroic it is, tragedy is tragedy and anyone who knows that kind of pain doesn't want anyone else to have to go through it.

I'm not surprised by the love confession between Glimmer and Bow. I felt it could go either way with them either hooking up or just staying really good friends, but that in itself is a sign of how good and natural their friendship is. I can easily buy how it would evolve into something more between them. The situation they're in probably helps. When Glimmer was taken they both thought they might never see each other again and that fear and worry probably caused them to reevaluate how they feel about the other. They've been clinging to each other since getting back, as every day could be their last. Something like that is naturally going to push two people together.

Episode 13: So...are there any plans for a season 6? Or a comic continuation like Avatar and Korra got? Because this was a good finale...buuuuuuuuut I feel there are definitely some things that needed a bit more exploration.

This is typically why I like stories with epilogue endings, especially those set some number of years in the future. Little glimpses of what everyone's doing now, allowing the audience to fill in for themselves what happened in-between. There's nothing wrong with this episode but it does just kind of...stop. They beat Prime. Everybody's cheering and happy. Adora suggests they bring magic back to the universe. And...that's it. We don't see anything more. No aftermath, no post-war, nothing. We end on the moment of victory, and while it's not a bad moment it leaves the ending feeling a little incomplete.

It kind of feels like the writers either really had to rush to the ending to make the 13 episode deadline or simply didn't want to address whatever happens with Catra and Hordak now. With the bigger threat of Horde Prime it makes sense why everyone puts aside past issues and works together. But now that the crisis is over, naturally everyone would have to address everything the Horde had done to Etheria for years with Hordak and Catra leading it. Don't get me wrong, I believe that Catra loves Adora, I believe Adora loves her, and I believe Catra wants to be a better person. It's not like I'm saying she needs to be locked up or executed. But she did cause a lot of damage and put Adora especially through hell, and just because Shadow Weaver is the one who screwed her up so bad doesn't mean she doesn't have any responsibility for her own actions. So it just would have been nice to get even a little bit of lip service to show that Catra would be trying to right her wrongs from this point forward, instead of just "Prime's gone, everyone's happy, bye!" At least with Entrapta she seemed to genuinely not understand why what she was doing at the time was wrong and Scorpia, like Adora and Huntara, defected from the Horde to do the right thing despite it being even more part of her upbringing than anyone else. I can't even imagine what happens with Hordak now.

Don't get me wrong, this is far from the worst I've ever seen a redemption handled. I haven't read/watched any of Boruto outside of the movie and Gaiden tie-in but I've read all of Naruto and there is no reason that Orochimaru should just be walking around and casually talking with people after all he's done. Kaiba in the Yu-Gi-Oh manga built an entire theme park to try an murder Yugi and his friends and they bring it up like twice after that arc. Kylo Ren turning back to the light was one of the potential paths for his character, so that made sense in TROS, but they essentially did "He died heroically and therefore totally redeemed himself for every terrible thing he's ever done."; basically a cop-out. Catra's alive and can at least potentially still own up to her actions and work to redeem herself. And I love Steven Universe, but kind of like with Catra nearly killing everyone (including herself) via the unstable portal, fans have naturally pointed out that the Diamonds enslaved and committed genocide on multiple planets and really faced no consequences for that other than "Stop it". Catra's not at the gold standard of redemption stories, which for me is probably Zuko and Endeavor, but she's far from the bottom. I think the best way to describe it is that Catra had as good, if not better, reasons for being so bad and screwed up as Zuko did, just as good step-up for turning good as Zuko did, but she didn't have nearly as much payoff afterwards to make it feel like a full journey like Zuko did.

But enough about all that. Love the basically goddess She-Ra Adora became. Given the emphasis on healing powers with She-Ra we've had, I'm guessing that's essentially how she destroyed Prime. She purified Hordak and Prime was basically an infection within him. I like when heroes snatch victory from the jaws of defeat but I also when there's an implication towards the villain that "Wow. I never stood a chance." She-Ra's power just dwarfs his. Full potential realized by Adora and he was just gone.

Also I don't know how I forgot that Prime could jump into the bodies of his clones but his possession of Hordak got me. I genuinely couldn't think of how he'd survive after Hordak shoved him off the edge (set free by the power of love!).

And even if the ending feels a little incomplete, the episode itself still did well with my emotional investment. I was gripped by during Catra's confession and the tension within the heart.

Season 5 and overall series verdict: I'm very glad I saw this series. Even though its ending falls a little short for me, this was still really good. Seasons 3 was probably my favorite overall but this story had a very good flow to it. It steadily built up bigger each season, with Catra and Hordak being really compelling villains driving the whole thing. Not that Prime was bad. He was a genuine threat and his cult of clones is a good creepy concept. He's just not as good as the other two. I'm sure part of what elevates him up is because I'm thinking of the JL director's cut but Hordak really is just better Steppenwolf. Everything that worked about that character, Hordak is that to an 11.

Given how I've talked about her more than any of the others, Catra is probably my favorite character. Just the damage that girl has been through. I always understood why she was doing what she did, even though there was rarely a moment I'd agree with exactly what she was doing. Again, it's one of the reasons it feels like the series just kind of ended. There's a lot to be seen with Catra's character now, a lot that can be done, and it just feels like a shame to really not show any of it. This isn't a fault of SRPOP itself because so many series, especially animated and anime, are guilty of but it always bugs me when a series ends on two characters hooking. Relationships are interesting, I'd argue more so than the build-up to them, but no writer ever wants to actually explore them after the hook-up. I never cared about Korra and Mako being a couple but I still found their relationship as a couple more interesting and character building than any of the will they/won't they build-up to it. And I actually like the idea of Adora and Catra as a couple. It's a big reason why I'm so happy the Harley Quinn animated series got renewed for a third season, as it otherwise would have just ended on a hook-up between two characters who, like Adora and Catra, love each other but have had a complicated dynamic for a while. I believe Adora and Catra love each other, but they've got a lot of stuff to work out and I want to see that! Catra's got abandonment issues and that in turn caused her to be unhealthily possessive over Adora. Just seeing the two of them try to work through that alone would be fascinating.

Like I suspected early on, Scorpia's my favorite supporting character. Entrapta's a decent 2nd. Took a small dip when it seemed like she was joining the Horde over feeling abandoned by the princesses when they thought she was dead but that picked back up once it was made more clear "Oh, okay, you're not being petty or stupid. You genuinely don't understand." It made her a more interesting character, and I love her and Hordak's relationship.

Least favorite characters...probably Sea Hawk and those three former Horde friends of Adora and Catra. I never hated them but I never cared about what was happening when they were on screen. They fill out the world a bit, they drive the plot, they're not wastes of space, they even get some laughs. There are just so many other characters in the series way more interesting than them.

Biggest surprise for me was definitely Glimmer and Bow. I never thought I'd dislike them but the best friends characters in series like this can kind of go one way or another with how relevant or deep they are. Glimmer especially I was surprised how much I was invested. She really grew a lot as a person throughout the series and I thought the dilemma over the Heart of Etheria was a good one.

Honestly there's a lot more I could talk about but I have only so many words and my thoughts are a jumble right now so I'm going to leave it at that. I will say I really appreciate how supportive you all on this Reddit have been. It's something I hate about some other fandoms I'm in where they basically are so toxic that they make no one else actually want to watch/read the thing they're fans of because they can't help but associate it with them.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/o2p6wq/going_in_blind_watching_season_5_for_the_first/

[survivor-ingary]

Rites of Passage

Keith: Wish we had more time to talk to each other, with time difference and going to the first tribal council of the season. That chance never came. Hope someday we play again.

Babs: It's giving Boy Mulan rn. Wish I could've at least said hi to you lmao

Dennis: We never met

Babs: Your vibes are lovely. I wish you could've stuck around longer :( 💔

Dennis: We never met

Keith: I’m you are a nice person but since you were so inactive, it was hard to get a conversation in the game with you. Hopefully you play again when u have the time.

Babs: Hi! We didn't get to talk at all lmao hope we get to next time!

Dennis: Hope everything is okay with you

Keith: I don’t know why we just didn’t click and spoke much. Even at our first tribal together we never got much of a conversation going. Sorry

Babs: 'm sorry, dude, I had 0 recollection that you were here when I missed my first tribal. Welp. What are ya gonna do?

Dennis: We never met

Keith:  it was very sad to see you go especially for the reason you were being targeted for. The timing was unfortunate.  Where three people came over after mutiny that were safe and people were very worried about you aligning with former Kyoshi cast members at merge. You never got the opportunity only to prove otherwise. I had hoped we could have worked longer in the game being OG Pendragon. Hopefully on another season. :)

Babs: Of all the votes I casted, I regret yours the most. I wish I could've kept you in, but it was the majority regardless of my choice. I hope we can talk after and reconnect. I love your vibe.

Dennis: Sorry Moth :( I hate that you were voted out but it’s not because of you, it’s the people that you would’ve worked with.

Babs: We didn't get to connect very much, but "m'theydy" will never not get me.

Dennis: You are a saturnian legend and you were robbed.

Keith:  I wish you stayed longer with us and didn’t leave.  In the time you were with us, I saw a friendly, happy and great person.  Also a massive team player, who would be willing to color their hair for a challenge.

Babs: ROBBED. That's it, that's the whole rite. You deserved so much better, truly.

Dennis: Queen you were sooooo robbed. I wanted to work with you in this game and I am sorry that Anastasia and Brayden lied that hard to you to paint you a false scenario. You deserved so much better and I hope that one day we can see each other in another org :)

Keith: Just like you, your blindside was an iconic moment of this season. As much as I thought it was too soon for you to go but you putting a bigger target on yourself so that you don’t blindside people who you were loyal to, was going to make the situation hard. But There is no question about your loyalty hence I understand why you did what you did. But I wish we would rather choose a side then keep everyone happy and I wouldn’t have mind going with anyone at that point.  I appreciate you for making the time and effort to connect with me at my pace. I hope you understand that It wasn’t a move against you but became a move for self preservation. Hope we can have a tea spilling party after this season.

Babs: Miss Shady Boots, I see you, ma'am. Wish I could've seen more of your mess this season. Hope to see you at Mary's one day :')

Dennis: King. I did you soooooooooooooooo dirty. I hope we can still play roblox after dis game. Once I heard from Ellie that you suspected me of wanting to work with Raffy it became very clear to me you were not going to trust me down the line. You were a threat who had to go, and I’m not sorry I voted you out but I am sorry about the way that I went about it.

Keith: This was a tough vote. I knew we didn’t have much of a game connection. I knew since I wouldn’t have the option to work long-term with you this season. I didn’t want to string you along on anything or give you any false hope unnecessarily because that would just be cruel.  I honestly found you to be an amazing, down to earth and genuine person. Really wished we came together on an earlier tribe. Someone like you with such an amazing energy would be a great ally and friend. Whether, the game would go our way or not. It would still be a blast playing with you.  Also, I know u don’t need it but the offer still stands. U ever feel anxiety and need a diversion. Call me anytime and anywhere, I will help anyway I can.

Babs: CEO of plants. Your vibes are immaculate. Please let's be friends after this.

Dennis: I wish you and I had developed a game relationship. We had a very strong personal relationship like I feel like we’d be friends in real life ya know? But in this game, you were working with people that ultimately did not work with me and I felt like your loyalty would ultimately never come to me. Sorry that it had to be that way youre still cool.

Keith: Never expected to see you go the way you did. You’re an awesome and sweet person. Excited to see you succeed on twitch and ready to support an amazing person like you in anything you decide to do. Drop that link.

Babs: Dennis constantly sings your praises, and any friend of his is a friend of mine. Drop that stream link asap.

Dennis: You forever changed my life when you told me I’m actually not a red head but a brunette. That’s wild. It was awesome to play with you and I’m sorry that you were voted out the way you were. It was very refreshing to play with someone who wasn’t coming from a survivor-strategy background. Stay awesome :)

Keith: I know based of the previous seasons. Your amazing to watch play the game. From your social ability to your executions of big moves, the fact that you never back down or give up, it is amazing. But all those attributes make it hell to play with you. I knew that you wanted to take me to the end because you could beat me. So day one I knew I would cut you sometime, but unlike last time. I needed to make sure that this time when I took a shot, under no circumstances I could miss.  But getting rid of you was a decision that took into account only from events this season, I saw you subtly trying to push the narrative that I was not doing much in the game during tribal, to ensure I would have no chance to win. So I knew taking you out sooner would be better, which would deny you any chances of flipping things over.  I thank you for supporting me through the initial start of the game and that immunity challenge (which I originally thought of sabotaging. So good call on doing it yourself). You’re a great competitor.

Babs: https://youtu.be/trRgAQ7L8mE

No, but really, your tone seems very pointed. I know that we're friends irl, but I'm not willing to get a strike for anyone unless they're dying. Also, my fellow finalists are fucking sick. I want us all to win. To hell w being a mess for once.

Keith: Firstly I just would ask for your forgiveness. I sat on that call, the night u left. N It was so fucking so hard, to see someone care about the game so much and stressing themselves for it, who would do anything to keep themselves in the game. I loved that passion. N I’m sorry in that moment I had no choice but to lie to you. You were a strong player. I don’t know if it’s the red hair, but you look like an evil genius, whom I hope, I get to play with someday.

Babs: She's giving Captain Brayden Morgan rn, we love to see it. It was fun to have a not-so-cutthroat round w you for once! Cheers!

Dennis: Literally we will never be compatible to work together in a game. Two completely different types of logic. And I am at peace with that.

Keith: I am really sorry about your vote out. It was the one time that I didn’t know a flip was happening, I appreciate you still putting your faith in me during the game at that point, Wish I could have done better.

Babs: Miss Beverly Hills, I will admit, some premerge tea w spilled w me that didn't sit right w my spirit. I don't want it to be something that spreads and comes off as something that precedes your reputation in the community. Some pearls of wisdom from a messy bitch, themself.

Dennis: I really enjoyed our lil talks and happy to help you figure out your rising sign. I wish that fire you had at the beginning of the game stayed lit.

Keith: I really hope you don’t hate me. I genuinely believed you played a great game and you would win if you got to the end. I worked my way in with Dennis, so that he would have more loyalty to me. I can say that after kindergarten, in comparison to my age. You’re the only little girl I am afraid off. Also I stan you for supporting Riley in the instant tribal that way you did and for your Kind heart. Queen Move.

Babs: Miss Country Costco, our vibes aligned from the moment we started to talk! You were a target from the jump, and rightfully so. You're a tough cookie, who still manages to smile and get a laugh out of the rest of us. Never change, except for the boiled peanut thing. Ew, you weirdo. LMAO ❤

Dennis: You’re an icon and my favorite person to have met. It has been fun to enable each other’s chaos and play this game messy. Super fun to strategize with you and our long talks were also a blast. Sorry that it ended the way that it did, but we will be friends after dis I know it :)

Keith: My fellow timezone challenged brother. Words are not enough to describe what an amazing human being you are. I am so grateful to have met you and can’t wait for the game to end so I get to talk to you. My connection with you may have taken more time to develop than with Dennis, But it was a true connection throughout. And no matter what people say, you played an amazing game and I really thought you could win in the end. Officially a lifetime member of the Kenneth Fan Club.Miss Country Costco, our vibes aligned from the moment we started to talk! You were a target from the jump, and rightfully so. You're a tough cookie, who still manages to smile and get a laugh out of the rest of us. Never change, except for the boiled peanut thing. Ew, you weirdo. LMAO ❤

Babs: My dear cousin in colonization, there should've been a final 4, and that's the truth. But, as most things go, that's just not the fantasy that played out irl. Your vibes are fantastic, and I love a gay who laughs at every thing I do. It boosts my ego. Really, it does. Keep in touch!

Dennis: I truly felt like sometimes we were the same person. I’ve appreciated and admired your ability to strategize and critically think. You’re one hell of a game player and I wish you had won an immunity or two because I know how bad you wanted it. I know you’re gonna shine in every org that you play because you are a king. You are a kitty cat. You are zaddy.

[89tczier]

People are talking

The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.

read on AO3 

word count: 3.9k

7 days before

“–and keep an eye on Ben and Bev!” Richie shouts, “I don’t want my bed broke–” he’s cut off by a very exasperated Eddie.

“Can it, Trashmouth,” He snaps, pulling Richie the rest of the way through the door by the lapels of his jacket. For some reason, those two were being trusted to bring back some actual alcohol rather than the shit Richie’s always left with at the end of the month. They all know its gonna take them twice as long than if anyone competent was sent, but the others are frankly just too lazy to offer themselves.

The other five chuckle at the two’s antics, and it’s only then that something dawns on Ben so quick he nearly chokes on his beer.

“Holy shit,” he splutters, because how the fuck did it take him this long to fucking realise.

Bev’s quick to respond, patting his back and giggling in a way that makes Ben feel a little loopy, “jeez, babe, you alright?”

Ben nods, composing himself under the watch of his friends, clearly interested in what could have possibly caused this outburst. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just,” Ben casts a glance back at the door, “they’re like… totally in love, right?” He’s met with nothing but confused looks.

“Richie and Eddie?” Stan asks incredulously while perched in Mike’s lap.

“Richie and Eddie,” he confirms.

Bill, currently nestled under Mike’s arm, snorts like it’s one of Richie’s stupid jokes, “the f-fuck are you on about?”

Ben almost gawks like he didn’t just figure this out, but he did kind of expect the pieces to fall quickly into place once he pointed it out, “have you not seen the way they act? Textbook married couple.”

“They’ve always been like that though,” Bev shrugs, her brows furrowed as she appears to be trying to follow Ben’s logic (he loves her for trying).

He raises a finger. “My point still stands,” and goes on to explain, “they’re literally always together, hanging off each other… who’s the first person Richie asks for at a party? Who does Eddie always sit next to on movie night? They just– how can you guys not see it?”

“You’re talkin’ absolute bullshit, Benny,” Mike shakes his head, “Eddie’s close to ripping Rich’s head off half the time.”

“Oh come on, if he was really that annoyed he’d have said something about it. Eddie doesn’t stand for anything he doesn’t like.” Ben takes a pointed sip of his shitty beer to punctuate and this point seems to land, and Ben would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the least bit satisfied with himself. He’d always had an eye for this stuff, even if he was rather shitty at acting upon it himself (but hey, it worked out pretty well for him).

“Leave it to Trashmouth Tozier to flirt with someone by annoying the life out of them,” Bev smiles.

“And leave it to Eddie fuckin’ Kaspbrak to flirt back with threats and holy fuck Ben I think you’re right.” Mike’s face goes blank.

“See!”

Bill still seems like he’s considering it, “it would explain a l-lot, mainly how Eddie hasn’t actually k-k-killed him yet… a-nd the fu-fucking hammock!”

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s go around the circle. Then it all becomes clear.

“God, they’ve had this since high school?” Bev snorts.

“Why haven’t they said anything?” Mike asks, “It’s not like we’re gonna care, we’re one big lovey mess,” he squeezes both Stan and Bill for emphasis.

“I don’t think they’re dating, necessarily, they’re just… in love.” Ben shrugs.

Bill grins, “now that guh-gives me an idea…”

“You’re hot when you scheme,” Stan hums, resting his head against Mike’s.

“Tell me about it,” Mike agrees, and is poked gently by Bill.

“I think, and I s-say this only for the b-benefit and happiness of my two dumbest friends, we should… encourage them to get a fuh-fucking move on.”

Bev shuffles forward and straightens up, “like… goad them together?”

Bill raises his bottle, “exactly,” and takes a sip while Mike and Stan nod to each other in agreement.

“Smokin’ hot.”

Bill chokes, and laughter fills the room as he curses his boyfriends out.

“Sounds like we’re missing out on something, Eds, they’re officially kicking us out,” Richie pretends to mope as they enter Richie’s apartment again, a bottle in both of his hands. Eddie scoffs.

“Maybe you, asshole, you’re the one who got held up by some dog on the street,”

They all wait for it.

“And don’t fuckin’ call me Eds!”

Richie grins like he’s won a prize.

–

6 days before

Bev isn’t the least bit fucking surprised when she wakes up to see she’s been added to a group chat called “operation: let’s get our two losers together”. She smiles, shifting some in Ben’s arms. He stirs, letting out a warm breath against her skin that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight.

“You see this?” She asks, turning the screen some so he can see. He squints and lets out a sleepy chuckle which makes Bev melt a little. She runs a hand over his forearm and locks their hands together, squeezing for good measure.

“God, this is either gonna go great or really terrible,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the skin where her neck meets her shoulders.

She hums, turning to face him, “I don’t know… I have a good feeling about this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… they seem meant for each other, I guess…” she pauses, smiles, and kisses him, “we all do.”

Ben smiles against her mouth and is about to return the favour when a string of texts floods both their phones.

put it away Benny Boy, we’ve got matchmaking to do ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:23

Meet us in our flat ~ Stan, sent at 08:23

guys, give em the chance to wake up, they had a long night ;) ~ Mikey, sent at 08:24

they need to hurry up and get a move on, we’ve been talkin all night and they need to get caught up ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:24

Well, not all night ~ Stan, sent at 08:25

…cease ~ Big Bill, sent at 08:25

“On second thought, this is the worst idea ever.”

She cackles, dragging both of them up and towards the bathroom. The boys could wait a little longer.

“Casa de Stan, recently co-owned by Bill and Mike too, speaking please?” This is always how he answers, the dope.

“Hey Mikey,” Ben says, voice still a little groggy from sleep. God, he’s hot, Bev thinks to herself, slotting a gloved hand into his.

“Hey guys!” The door clicks open, and they breeze up the first flight of stairs.

Bill greets them at the door, still in his sleep shirt. “Don’t,” he deadpans, right as Bev’s about to poke fun at the bruising around his neck and chest. She grins slyly at him, patting him on the back as she passes him.

“Benny! Bev! Get in here!” Mike calls from the den. Bill follows them in, taking a seat next to Mike and throwing his legs over his boyfriend’s lap. Stan’s stood hunched over the small stove on the other side of the room, scrambling some eggs which smell unfairly delicious to a moderately hung-over Beverly.

“You’ll get some in a minute,” he states, reading her mind.

“Always knew you were my favourite,” she said, which earns a ‘hey’ from both Mike and Bill.

Bill calls them all to sit down, explaining that they need to actually plan this out as quickly as possible. Richie and Eddie were the only ones with early classes that day and it would be suspicious (and mean) if they were told to keep at bay while the rest of them hung out.

They chow down on some scrambled eggs (which exceed expectations, Bev reminds herself to get the recipe off of Stan), and it ends up working out like this:

They’re going to pry for a few days, see if they can get a rise out of either of them, then at the end of the week they’re all going to meet up at Stan’s place. Using an excuse they haven’t though of yet, they’re going to try to get both Eddie and Richie into the bathroom at the same time and then block the door.

“N-nothing like a confined space and a l-little bit of drink to get the vibe g-going,” Bill grins.

“Speakin’ from experience there, Big Bill?” Beverly playfully chides, giggling as Bill’s ears go pink.

Ben hums quietly, “what if they don’t go for it?”

“They looked three seconds away from mauling each other last night, I think they’ll jump at any excuse they get,” Mike points out, and the plan is set.

They say their goodbyes afterwards, and as Bev fiddles with the key to their flat, Ben takes her wrist gently, turning her around and pulling her into him.

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her in that wonderful way he does that leaves her wanting so much more.

“I love you too,” She grins, draping her arms over his shoulders, “always will.”

–

4 days before

Richie is head over fucking heels, Bill decides.

The two of them offer to help Eddie study terms for a quiz at the end of the week, which fuck knows why they had any hope of that working.

They start off well, Richie and himself trading roles as Eddie nailed each piece of terminology about cognitive processes with detailed explanations to boot. It takes about ten minutes of their relaxed sprawling over Eddie’s floor for their resolve to break. It starts with Richie’s foot-tapping Eddie’s shin to the beat of whatever song he’s humming as Bill reads from the flashcards. Then it’s the complements, and holy fuck, how has Bill never caught this before.

“So smart, so cute!”

“Rich, if you don’t shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Can’t help it, I’m like a mama bird watching her baby take flight for the first time. Just wanna puke some worms into your mouth.”

“Richie! That’s fucking disgusting!” Eddie near screeches, pushing himself up and lunging forward, knocking Richie back onto the ground and pinning him down. Richie’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, and Eddie is too. He can’t believe these assholes are in college.

Okay, this is perfect, Bill thinks, as right on cue, Eddie leaves the room to grab his textbook.

“Got somethin’ on my face, Billy?” Richie asks once he catches the ‘care to explain?’ look Bill is giving him.

“Don’t w-worry about it,” Bill gives his best nonchalant shrug, “it’s just cute, that’s all.”

And he catches it, the signature ‘i’m fucking whipped’ look: the dopey smile, the avoidance of eye contact, the excepting laugh. Gotcha, bitch.

“Isn’t he just?”

–

2 days before

Stan’s starting to fret.

The text came through a few minutes ago, and Stan is reeling.

eddie said he met a guy last night??? went home w him and everythin??? ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:03

“A one night stand?” Mike asks, leaning over Bill’s shoulder to read with Bill’s glasses on because his own are fuck knows where.

“Fucking apparently?”

“Okay, this might not be as b-bad as it seems. They d-don’t know about the other l-liking them, yeah? Eddie’s p-probably, like, in denial or coping or som-something.” Bill slots his glasses off of Mike’s face.

Stan stops pacing and takes a breath, collapsing onto the arm chair opposite, “you’re right, probably just Eddie being stubborn.”

“‘Atta boy, Stan,” Mike grins, shifting to the side and stretching out his legs, resting them in Bill’s lap.

did eddie seem interested in the guy? ~ Big Bill, sent at 13:11

not really, didn’t really talk about him much ~ Bevvy, sent at 13:12

They all sighed.

“Why are we so invested in this again?” Stan mumbles.

“Because it’s gonna be entertaining as fuck if we pull it off.”

–

1 day before

Mike has more luck.

He, Bev and Eddie are browsing around the grocers, preparing for tomorrow when they hear a yelp from the isle next to them. Mike peeks around, seeing a very excited looking Richie pick Eddie up from behind, bouncing him around like he weighs nothing. Mike expects a slew of curses, but Eddie giggles like Mike’s never heard before.

“Put me down, you asshole! You’re gonna knock something over.”

“You’re the one flailing your limbs, Eds– Mike and Ikes! Fancy seeing you here!” He damn near drops Eddie, who’s flushed and breathless.

“We’re trying to shop, you asshole, can’t we have five minutes peace,” Eddie gives him a light shove.

“Oh I know, I’m on a last minute supply run.”

And Mike’s stupid enough to fall for it and ask, “why?”

“Pickin’ up Eddie’s mom, need condoms.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh as Eddie goes ballistic.

“Get the fuck out of here, Trashmouth, before I commit a crime,” he shoots Richie daggers, and Rich gives him a salute.

“Sir yes sir,” he half-shouts, sprinting over to a very tired looking cashier.

Eddie’s still watching him, “asshole,” he says with so much fondness Mike thinks he might start floating.

“You don’t seem to mind,” He pokes at Eddie’s pinked cheeks, snorting as Eddie smacks it away from his face.

“Hey dipshits,” Bev calls, carrying a basket full of crisps and liquor, “did you get the chasers?”

Eddie sighs, turning on his heel and walking back to the fridge, which Mike’s guessing was where he was heading before Richie snatched him up.

“Will diet do?”

“Sure, go crazy.” Mike says, as he quickly types.

eddie’s absolutely gone for him, this is gonna go great ~ Mikey, sent 21:33

–

The night of

It’s a slow day for Eddie. His test has been eating away at him slowly and painfully (no matter how  many times Richie said he’d crush it) and while he left feeling confident, he knows he’s still gonna stress about it. It goes fine, but he’s still thinking about it during his shift and the worry hasn’t left him.

It’s just a stupid test, he thinks as his stomach continues to knot itself. Thank god he’s getting drunk tonight.

Eddie lives the furthest away from Stan’s (and Bill and Mike’s) and he really doesn’t wanna walk that far in the cold so he stops by Richie’s after class, knowing he probably has a couple of nice shirts left over there from nights where he’s really too drunk to go home, inevitably leaving the next morning in one of Richie’s shirts instead (huh, funny how that happens). He also knows that if he so much as catches sight of his roommate, he’ll fucking blow up.

He fishes Richie’s key from his pocket, lets himself in and thinks Christ, would it kill Rich to clean up a bit? He’s certain that the pillows from the couch are still there from last Friday. He steps over them after pushing off his shoes in the corner.

“Rich, You fuckin slob! Clean your apartment,” Eddie calls out in place of a hello.

“Afternoon to you too, Eddie!” He hears back. Eddie follows his voice through to the bedroom and finds himself lost for fucking words.

Richie’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, shirtless, drying off his mess of curls with a towel. He doesn’t notice him for a moment, and Eddie takes that moment to curse the way those jeans hang from his hips. He lingers on Richie’s wiry frame for just a moment more than he probably should.

Damn, Tozier he huffs.

“You peeping on me, Eddie?” Richie’s dumb Southern Belle accent should drive Eddie up the wall, and Eddie does roll his eyes, though it’s really just for show. They both know that.

“Your den is a mess.”

“I like it that way,” Richie’s quick to reply, brushing past Eddie as he heads for his dresser.

“Tough shit, I don’t,” Eddie snaps back, now back in his rhythm as the blood returns to his brain.

Richie grins as he picks through his shirt, taking his sweet time with it and all Eddie can focus on is the hint of his happy trail poking out above the waistband of his jeans. He chooses one, and now Eddie can actually look away as Richie holds the tee up for his approval.

It’s his The Cure one, black, matching his nails and jeans, and easily Eddie’s favourite, both on Richie and to wear himself (it’s comfortable, and it definitely has nothing to do with the looks Richie gives him in it).

They kill time by fixing up Richie’s couch and watching weird ASMR videos on Richie’s laptop. Eddie’s sure the effect is lessened by only having one earbud, but it’s still uncomfortable but so worth hearing Richie snort each time Eddie cringes.

“Is it just me,” Richie says, hitting pause on a woman in cat ears about to pretend to ask them out, “or have the others been acting weird.”

“Right?” Eddie yanks the earbud out, “Bev’s been like… weirdly invasive… like more than she usually is.”

“They all have, what do you think it’s about?”

“I have a funny fucking feeling we’re gonna find out.”

–

There’s a weird fucking vibe in the place when he and Eddie arrive.

“We miss out on the world’s weirdest orgy or something?” Richie asks, mostly joking, as eyes fall on the two of them.

Stan makes an exaggerated gagging sound, and Bill’s face screws up. What a great audience he has.

“Shut up and sit down, Trashmouth, we’re doing shots,” Bev playfully snarls at him.

It gets a little less weird the more Richie has to drink, but he’s either going crazy or there’s something going on. He looks at Eddie, and Eddie shrugs right before he throws a shot back, and Richie gets to watch his Adam’s Apple bob and his eyes squeeze shut and his nose crinkle up because Eds–

“–cant fuckin stand tequila.”

God, he’s cute.

He meets Richie’s gaze, “what the fuck are you smirking about?”

He’s hot, too.

“You take every shot like it’s your fucking first, Eds,” he teases back and it’s huskier than he means it to come out, because he’s tipsy and can’t stop staring at that little drop of liquor running down Eddie’s chin.

Bill chokes, sending everything in the shot glass over his face. Mike cackles.

“Rich, can you go g-get me a f-fuckin washcloth.”

And it’s there that everything ramps up to fuckin’ eleven. Ben starts grinning, Stan’s got that fucking look on his face that can only mean trouble.

“Why the fuck do I have to do it?”

“C-cuz you m-made me spit every-w-where!”

Richie puts his hands up in mock defeat, “alright, alright, damn.” And he stands up, shuffling into the bathroom.

“Oh!” Stan calls after him, “my contacts too!”

“Aye aye!” Richie yells back, scanning the mirror cabinet for anything resembling a fucking contact case. Disinfectant, no, flavoured lube, nice but no… Richie’s squinting as if that’s gonna fucking help. “Can’t fuckin find ‘em, Stan!” He calls back out to them.

He hears a soft “Eddie, go help him,” from Mike.

“You’re going blind for real, fuckface, lemme see,” Eddie rolls his eyes at him, and tries shoving Richie out of the way with his side, but really just ends up pushed up against him. He’s warm and smells of spirits and vanilla, Richie doesn’t fight back, nor does he notice the others approaching the bathroom either.

He’s so focused on the way Eddie’s tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly when he’s concentrating he’s a second too slow to realise.

“When did Stan start wearing contacts– oh shit, Eds, wait–” Richie’s barely gotten the words out before the bathroom door slams shut, making Eddie jump closer against him.

The other losers are whooping and hi-fiving from the other side of the door, and Eddie turns to stare at Richie as if to say what the fuck just happened???

“Beats me.”

“Admit it and we’ll let you out!” Bev says in what Richie assumes is a terrible Terminator impression.

It takes a second (again, because liquor and Eddie) to realise, and he flashes Eddie the biggest grin he can muster.

“Golly gee, Eds, I think they figured it out!”

He’s not being loud, but the others can apparently hear him, because they’re gloating stops in an instant.

Eddie matches his grin, “fucking finally,”

“Wait, what?” Mike sounds confused.

The door opens, and the others are staring at them like their fucking martians.

“Wait what the fuh-fuck?”

Hm, that’s interesting.“I have a feeling there’s been a big misunderstanding,” Richie starts, still grinning.

“Did you guys do it already?”

Eddie snorts, Richie scratches the back of his neck, “uh, gonna have to ask you to be a bit more specific, Benny.”

“Confess. Did we not hear it?”

Eddie frowns, “confess to what?”

“Don’t be difficult, Kaspbrak,” Stan groans, “that you’ve been secretly pining for each other for fuckin’ ages?”

“Is that what you shut us in there for?” Richie asked, his voice creeping up an octave because oh, this was delicious.

The five of them answer simultaneously “yes!”

Richie looks down at Eddie, who holds his gaze for all of one second before they dissolve back into shit eating grins.

“God we really gave you guys too much credit.”

“Stop being coy, trashmouth!”

“We’ve literally been dating for three months, holy shit, guys.” Eddie rubs his face like he’s exasperated.

“What?” Ben nearly yells.

“Here we are thinking you dumbfucks finally figured it out–”

“In fairness, Rich, they got halfway there.”

“When the fuck were you planning on telling us?” Stan demands, keeping a hold of Mike’s arm for balance.

Eddie volunteers to explain. “Well, it took a few weeks to kinda… figure stuff out, and we were gonna tell you then but then Rich wondered how long it would take you guys to figure it out on your own–”

“So you guys kept this shit on for three months?”

There's a mixture of confusion and amusement around the room. Richie had been kind of worried that they’d be angry that the two of them had kept this for so long, but upon learning that they’d also been scheming themselves for the past week, Richie feels pretty fuckin justified now.

Eddie gives his best ‘are you fucking joking’ face, “you guys never said anything! And as much as we wanted to just get over with, it was so fucking funny to see how much shit you guys would let us get away with.”

“Such as?”

“The fact that you, Beverly, bought “I needed a shirt after my ‘walk of shame’” as a reasonable excuse as to why I was standing in Richie’s kitchen, wearing one of his dumb band tees, absolutely covered in hickeys.”

The other four turned to look at Bev, who pursed her lips and mumbled, “understandable,” as Stan whisper yelled “how the fuck did you miss that?”

“Stan you literally walked in on us mid makeout!”

“What? When?” He demands.

“You burst into my flat, mid-rant…”

There’s a good five minutes of the two of them listing all the times there beautiful, supportive, oblivious as all fuck friends had missed what was so clearly in front of them. The energy shifted into something warm and jovial.

“So,” Richie takes Eddie’s hand, “which one of you started this.”

Everyone answers “Ben.”

Eddie grins up at him, and Richie swears he’ll die right there, “told ya so.”

[ruoyeming]

My Top Ten Anime, a chaotic list

This was so hecking difficult, I’m gonna have to do some ‘honourable mentions’ for ones I can’t bring myself to leave out. This list is based entirely on my personal feelings, not an objective assessment of what are logically the best anime. There also may be mild spoilers at points because I can’t control myself. Doing this in quarantine cause I looove ranting about things I like.

10) Attack On Titan

This was the first anime I ever watched, and it blew my mind a bit tbh. The music is iconic, and the animation is great as well. It might have been a bit harrowing for my first experience with anime, but I absolutely loved the story. It’s set in a world where titans (man eating giants) have driven the dregs of humanity to live within giant stone walls. There’s a group of humans trying to research titans, kill them, and protect humanity, and the main character decides to join them after a titan breaks through one of the walls and his mother is eaten. It’s one of those where you think you know everything and suddenly the world gets turned upside down by a new discovery. All the puzzle pieces start fitting together the longer you watch, and you find out that everything going on is much bigger than what it originally seemed (government conspiracy time lads). The plot twists are unpredictable (for me at least) and devastating, and the emotion this series evokes is awesome - you can FEEL the sheer desperation of the characters, their rage and despair as they fight again and again against a seemingly unending enemy. Despite almost every battle being a suicide mission and despite too many losses, the characters keep going out of the human need to survive and protect. 

10/10 for brutality and gore, but also theme of hope.

9) Naruto

A founding father of anime. Surprisingly not one of the first I watched, in fact it took me a few years to start. It’s set in a feudal Japan where ninjas are the defenders and servers of the people, and different villages have different ninja styles. Naruto is a young boy with a dangerous spirit sealed inside him which has caused him to be shunned by society (even though it’s not his fault??), and he wants to become a ninja. First off I’m a sucker for the Naruto archetype: dumbass, cocky, obnoxious, but kind and loyal too. Years of solitude and ostracisation as a child mean that Naruto desperately wants people to acknowledge him, and he intends to become the Hokage to prove himself. There’s a huge range of characters and villains, all with cool ninjutsus and different philosophies. Friendship, power, and determination are some of the main themes and it makes me so proud to see my son *COUGH* Naruto progressing and learning from his mistakes. It IS a long boi though and I haven’t even finished Shippuden yet, but I think Naruto captures the essence of shounen anime and is a great underdog story. Manga is lit too. 

10/10 for cool battles and great characters.

8) Psycho Pass

One of the earlier anime I watched, and it became an instant favourite for the way it makes you question morality. It’s set in a kinda dystopian future Japan, where a technology called the Sibyl System checks people’s mental state and determines their ‘crime coefficient’ - how likely they are to commit a crime. The main character is a young woman who joins the police and begins to realise that blindly following this system is perhaps not the best way to go about things. For example, they have special guns that automatically kill people whose crime coefficients are over a certain level, but she soon proves that you can easily lower someone’s coefficient by talking them down and negotiating instead of killing them off immediately. It’s got great drama, great government conspiracy, compelling villains, and some really badass characters. It pushes the question of what is right or wrong, and how far technology should go when it comes to justice. 

10/10 for sociological debate and horror elements.

7) One Punch Man

OPM is an anime that stands out for me, partially for mocking the tropes of battle anime, and partially for the uniqueness of the main character’s predicament. It’s set in Japan where heroes and villains exist, and the protagonist is a man called Saitama who gained superstrength after doing 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10K run every day. However he’s become so strong that he can defeat every enemy with a single punch. Nothing is a challenge for him anymore so he becomes depressed and unfulfilled; he’s still a good man who helps people, but he feels he’s missing something from his life. A cyborg called Genos makes Saitama his master, determined to learn his ways and they become friends. It’s one of the first anime that made me laugh out loud; it’s funny and entertaining, but also shows us that power is not equal to happiness. 

10/10 for moral lessons and good jokes.

6) Tanaka-kun is Always Listless

The only slice of life anime on this list and not very well known, however it has a special place in my heart. The main character Tanaka is a boy who dozes off constantly and acts exhausted when awake; he loves expending as little energy as possible. His best friend Ohta looks out for him and essentially makes sure he doesn’t get lost/ be late/die on a daily basis, including carrying him when he just falls asleep sometimes. Although Tanaka seems uncaring, it’s shown that friendship isn’t a bother to him, and he realises that he actually relies on his friends despite saying he likes being left in peace. His friends all have great personalities, my personal faves are a tough gangster girl who’s rude to everyone EXCEPT her adorable loli girlfriend, and a popular girl who’s trying too hard to fit in and starts to become more herself after befriending Tanaka. All the characters share one brain cell, and it’s genuinely a funny anime - I’ve burst out laughing watching it a few times. Also Tanaka and Ohta are extremely shippable if you want to go down that route; it’s said several times in the series that they’re like an old married couple. 

10/10 for wholesomeness and comedy.

5) Ouran High School Host Club

Another lighthearted show, probably the anime that’s made me laugh the most out of any. It’s set at an academy for rich-as-heck kids, and there’s a ‘Host Club’ where all the girls go to drink tea with a group of handsome boys. There’s the cunning Kyouka, prankster identical twins Hikaru and Kaoru, stoic Mori, adorable Honey, and princely but obnoxious Tamaki. Haruhi, a working-class scholarship student who is mistaken for a boy, accidentally breaks a precious vase and is forced by the host club to join them to pay off her debt. The group of boys realise fairly quickly that haruhi is a girl, but she becomes a popular host amongst the girls (LOVE the secret lesbian vibes) so they keep up the charade. I think I have a weakness for groups that share one brain cell because aside from Kyouka, they’re all idiots. I also love how flexible the show is with ideas of gender and sexuality despite being a slightly older anime. The daily antics of the host club combined with their personalities is a recipe for comedy, and they’re all lovable in their own ways. 

10/10 for characters, drama, and comedy; it’s well-paced too.

4) Bungou Stray Dogs

Set in an alternate modern Japan where some people have secret abilities that can be activated, this anime became an obsession when I first watched it. The cast of characters is amazing and the villains are awesome too. Atsushi is an orphan who discovers he can turn into a powerful tiger, and is hired by the Armed Detective Agency, a small organisation of powerful individuals who fight crime. NEED I SAY ANY MORE?? Many of the main characters share names with famous Japanese authors such as Osamu Dazai and Ryūnosuke Akutagawa which is really cool and something that might add to the story more if I had an understanding of Japanese literature. Anyways the main character Atsushi is kind of a wimp at first (understandably because the world of ability-users is actually terrifying), but he learns to stand up for himself and use his ability to save people. The show’s mixing of dark and comedic tones is perfect to me; one moment a character is off his head on mushrooms and the next Atsushi’s leg is brutally sliced off in a back alley fight (it regenerates later no worries). The plot is really cool and full of intrigue, and eventually you get the whole ‘Usually we’re sworn enemies but we’re forced to become allies in the face of a greater evil’ thing and it’s great! Turns out our main guy and our main bad guy are actually a pretty powerful and efficient team, hoho?? 

10/10 for supernatural detectives being super cool.

3) Yuri!!! on Ice

Y’all already know what’s going on. Ice skating, emotional breakthroughs, gay shit, HIT ME WITH IT. The story follows Yuri Katsuki, an insecure figure skater trying to regain his confidence, and his self-appointed coach Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor is enthusiastic in helping Yuri train, and Yuri has been a big fan of Viktor since his childhood *throws pillow across the room*. Yuri becomes determined to, quote, “surpass Viktor’s wildest imagination”, and they end up agreeing - through a series of convoluted events - to get married if Yuri wins gold at the olympics (I think it’s the olympics??). Either fuckin way this series has angst, humour, cuteness, and god DAMN did I get invested. When Yuri was doing his free skate my own heart was beating harder than it did when I finished a 10K. Love the vibes and also it’s the closest to full healthy gay representation that I’ve seen in anime for a while. Not much more I can say, but do I really need to say more???

10/10 for GAY and MY HEART

2) Kimetsu No Yaiba (Demon Slayer)

Ok this one’s kind of a cheat cause I’ve read the manga as well which is way ahead of the anime, but FUCC. It takes place in the Taisho Era in Japan (begins 1912), where Demons exist who eat people. Tanjiro Kamado’s family is killed by a demon one night and his sister Nezuko is turned into a demon - but it is soon discovered she’s different to other demons, and can restrain herself. Tanjiro joins the Demon Slayer Corps to try and track down a cure for his sister, while proving that demons are not inherently evil. I LOVE Tanjiro as a main character because he values kindness over everything else, not forgiving demons for their sins but recognising they are tormented creatures, trying to give them peace before they die. All demons were once human - a fact that only Tanjiro seems to remember when fighting them. He’s patient, gentle, and determined - hotheaded and brash sometimes, but he has this vibe that just makes people become his friend/respect him even if they don’t intend to. He befriends two other slayers - Inosuke, an absolutely feral Best Boy who was raised by wild boars, and Zenitsu, a cowardly but ultimately loyal guy. This trio works really well together and Tanjiro is a great protagonist. Don’t even get me STARTED on the music and animation. Impeccable. Kamado Tanjiro No Uta makes me cry every time I hear it, and the water/fire effects used to show the metaphorical way the swords move like the elements takes my breath away.

10/10 for morals, music and animation.

1) Mob Psycho 100

Where the fuck do I start here. This anime is so unique in its style, story, and characters that I think it will always be my favourite. It follows Shigeo Kageyama (nicknamed Mob cause that’s what they call extras and background characters in Japan), a plain boy with incredible psychic powers that explode when his emotions are too high. Over time he’s learned to suppress his emotions, causing him to become socially inept and emotionally withdrawn. His (fake) psychic ‘master’, Reigen, uses him to make money exorcising spirits, making Mob believe that it’s for ‘training’. Mob appears naive at times, but he is so simply kind to people that it makes my heart hurt. Unlike many of the egomaniac psychics that Mob comes across, he recognises that without powers, he is just an ordinary boy. Mob’s greatest power isn’t his OP psychic abilities, but his power to show people they can change, that he can change. He forgives (and eventually befriends) people who have tried to kill him. Redemption and empathy are big themes here and they’re done really well.

The other characters are so well rounded and are also given time to grow, including Reigen - at first he’s a seemingly manipulative sleazebag, but later you see that he is a genuinely good man who has taught Mob many lessons and helped him grow up. This is a core message - Mob’s ability to change is due to support from his friends, not purely his own desire - people need other people!

This is also one of the true rarities in anime where the second season is absolutely just as good (if not better!) than the first one. The music is unique to the show, the ops for both seasons get me litty, the animation is incredible, the jokes are great and although it’s not all about big-ass fights, when we do get a big-ass fight it’s so fucking cool. The fight sequences are beautifully animated and visually stunning. MP100 makes me laugh, cry like an actual baby, and want to become a better person. Idk I could literally write pages on it like the big nerd I am but that’s all I’ll do for now.

10/10 for literally everything.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS

Given : about a boy who joins a band which helps him work through his trauma. Lovely healthy gay representation and themes of healing.

Samurai Champloo : ragtag trio consisting of two samurai - one lowkey feral and does breakdancing, the other lofty and withdrawn - and a bold young girl. Themes of friendship and journeys. I simp for the lofty samurai.

Cowboy Bebop: jazzy music, bounty hunters in space, 90s anime WHAT MORE COULD U WANT. Yet another group of characters that share a single brain cell. Love it.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 20 - 16

20. maNga - “We could be the same” Turkey 2010

You could see it in my eyes, it should come as no surprise that the highest rock entry on this ranking is OF COURSE the avant garde rock entry. 😍

It certainly isn’t a stretch to call “We could be the same” avant garde because it’s an experimental extravaganza if ever there was, a rag-rag fusion of indie rock, industrial, hiphop and folk. 😍 More importantly one that WORKS. It’s really hard to put all of these genres together and not disturb the flow between each segment, yet that is exactly what maNga do. Their song runs like an oiled machine, supported by an excellent score of orchestral rock (the fiddle is an especially nice touch.) The snappy libretto keeps the ensemble well together, creating an atmosphere of pure coolness. 

This brave and creative entry is further supported by an act that has a well-defined aesthetic and artistic vision. (another sign of good avant garde. Pay attention because we are going to boot a LOT of them near the top of this ranking). MaNga don’t need much in terms of staging (since their song is already excellent), so a clever combo of strobe light seizure + dramatic helmet removal (FEATURING ACTUALLY CUTTING METAL AWAY WITH A BUZZSAW) is all it needs. 

FOR JUST ONE NIGHT WE COULD BE THE SAME

NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY. 

Eurovision is all about taking the hand that you’re dealt and running with it. maNga did exactly that. They weren’t vocally perfect but again, rock is a genre where it’s okay to sound unimpressive because the score will always out class you. They don’t have the best song, but again, it was something special, brave and inspired. Every small aspect of “We could be the same” comes together into a whole that is much bigger than the sum of its parts and for that, I shall always cherish them. 

________________________________________________________________

19. Joci Pápai - “Origo” Hungary 2017

[2017 review here]

I was worried that Joci’s NQ in the latest contest would tarnish his legacy, but if anything “Az én apám”’s failure at being entertaining only made me appreciate “Origo” even more.😍 Let us not beat around the bush. “Origo” is art. Like all art, it’s largely hit-or-miss. You either love this wonderful fusion of rap, self-references to Samuraihood and gypsy folk traditions, or you’re a unevolved troglodyte with subpar taste.😈 Lol I remember the music journalists and juries HATING “Origo” and... honestly, I get it. Yes. I can understand that deeply personal anectodes and proudly displaying your cultural heritage can fly over the heads of those narrow of mind. It’s fine. Not every song has complex meaning. You can vote for the “Replays” of this world at your heart’s content. ^__^

Music is at its core a form of expression, of conducting emotion with sound, of telling a story. We use words as a crutch for our empathy, but truly good music doesn’t need to rely lyrics in order to spread its message around. The true message always lies in the score. “Origo” shatters those language barriers by slowly,

 but steadily

unfolding a melancholic and touching narrative

that strikes everyone silent.

________________________________________________________________

18. Krista Siegfrids - “Marry me” Finland 2013

A WILD DINGDONG HAS APPEARED

Only logical we continue from artistic complexity to figurative cotton candy. 😍 but the same musical principles apply here as well, actually. “Marry me” has an upbeat tempo flanked by wedding bells that already carries its happy-go-lucky marriage vibe across even before the first words are spoken. 🤗 It is there to indulge and delight, which it does with all the zest and pluck you’d expect from Krista Siegfrids. 

Anyway, I’m sure this will shock you but I FLOOOOOOOOVE Krista Siegfrids soooooooo fucking muuuuuch as a human and I am NOT backing down on my fanboyism. She’s one of the few Eurovision Alumni that ALWAYS makes me happy whenever she appears, either as a force of HIGH FASHION/UMK hostess or as a resident melfest flop queen.😍  HON SNURRA MIN JORD!!!

DINGEDONG EVERY HOUR, WHEN YOU PICK A FLOWER~

As it happens, “Marry me” is the perfect canvas for her over-the-top, realhousewifesque personality. "Marry me” just delivers non-stop: it has a light-hearted, infectuously catchy beat, doubles down on lyrical and visual comedy, carries a happy vibed with a deliciously psychotic undercurrent, supplemented a superb act featuring a groom-into-bridesmaids twist and some hilariously opportunistic lgbtq pandering 😍 OH OH OH OH OH

DING DONG!!!1!1!1!11!1!!

ps: this being the entry that caused TRT to withdraw indefinitely because they can’t get on board with some hot girl-on-girl action. STAY PRESSED LOSERTWATS!!!

________________________________________________________________

17. Laura Tesoro - “What’s the pressure?” Belgium 2016

“YOU’VE GOT A STUPID SMILE 😄” -- Alexander Rybak, when praising Laura Tesoro during the NF. (😍)

Lol this is where my degrees of separation come in, because I’ve met several people that personally know Laura Tesoro and... with one exception they ALL fucking loathe her. 😍 (and aforementioned exception is her cousin 😍)  The general concencus re: Laura is that she’s an insufferable conceited bitch. Now, this could have easily ended up terrible if LauraLaura was That Unfounded Girl but... um,

can we say she has grounds to be a bit high on herself? She was fucking awesome in Stockholm. If anything Laura’s diva id helped “What’s the pressure”. First of all, there is the admirable confidence with which she takes the stage and completely NAILS every twist and turn with minimal effort. This is pure performance TALENT and if you can’t see that you’re Helen Keller. 

And second there’s the message behind “What’s the pressure”, which is uplifting and cheerful in the hands of a normal person, but when brought by a narcissist like Laura becomes a hysterical exhibit of concern-trollery: “HEY PERSON SUFFERING FROM ANXIETY ~I~ *NEVER* SUFFER FROM ANXIETY. LET ME TELL YOU WHY YOU SUFFER FROM ANXIETY AND I DON’T” (god what an obnoxious human 😍 LOVE HER. 😍) 

All in all, I think Laura has the justification she needs to have an ego, something her aforementioned haters (begrudgingly) admitted after seeing her own the live twice.🤭  She is a living conduit of confidence juju, a performance wonder, a Diva trapped in the body of an antropomorphic labrador. Dynamite comes in small packages and Laura Tesoro is more lit than Chinese Newyear fireworks.  🎇________________________________________________________________

16. Hovi Star - “Made of stars” Israel 2016

I’ll be honest, Hovi Star is one of my favourite human beings to ever participate in Eurovision.🤗  He has proven himself an UNSTOPPABLE force of sass, delivering interview gold on a terrifyingly consistent basis. There are enough examples, but the ones I’m going with are his impeccable Ira Losco Snatch Game  and his hilariously petty, one-sided feud with Douwe Bob (Dutch reporter: “what do you think about Douwe.” Hovi: “Oh I don’t think about him.😊 At all.🙂  Ever. 🙃 *hairflip*” god what a King of stonecold putdowns 😍)

Having said that, even though I loved Hovi as a ~human~ going in, I was still caught off-guard by how much I loved “Made of stars”. See, you know what I think about stripped down power-ballads: I don’t think about them. At all. Ever. *hairflip*. 

However, this fucking song

pulls all of my heartstrings

with mesmerizing efficacity.

“Made of stars” showcases the best of Israel: they excel at classical drama: well-choreographed and sentimental, “Made of stars” is a genuinely touching ballad which Hovi magically imbibes with the spirit of Conchita. He whips up emotional tension so thick only his wit can penetrate it.

As an entry “Made of stars” is very emotionally intelligent and so, so brave. It has clearly defined yet subtle undertones of homosexuality that make me feel represented and loved. It is staged in good taste, elegant, introverted and clever, yet accessible, direct and poignant. The middle-eight’s crescendo-into-starfall creates a bone-chilling moment of beauty, of pride, of empowerment. 

For such a simple entry, it delivers a lot of great things, proving once more: it’s not what you perform, but how you perform it.

And this update spelled the end for Turkey, Hungary, Finland and Israel.

TURKEY

Not much to say, honestly. Turkey have three entries in this decade and two of them were good. They are a hit-or-miss nation for me overall, mostly because i LOVE them in the 80s and 90s and somewhat dislike them in the 00s. What mostly bothers me is TRT’s attitude towards the rainbow community AND their self-entitlement towards the jury vote/big five. Both are highly toxic and I’d rather they keep on sitting out until they’re willing to become a healthy part of the Eurovision community again. 

HUNGARY

Hungary are a good Eurovision country and their statistics reflect that. Boggie of COURSE ruined it by being the worst, but she’s an exception, not the rule. They are a really good country for indie gems and hopefully they’ll get their shit together. Could make a nice outsider winner pick in the upcoming decade, who knows?

FINLAND

Finland is such an underrated eurovision nation. I mean, look at that chart, and then ponder on the fact, with 7 good entries out of 10,  they NQ’d six times and that NONE of their four qualifiers reached the top 10. Finland are bullied beyond belief and it fucking needs to end. 

ISRAEL

This looks more underwhelming on paper than it is in reality. Israel’s probelm is never the song. Their songs are nearly always good. The problem is the live performance, where they get their accents wrong (ie: Mei dying from wideshotitis, Kobi being reduced to a sobstory, Dana being a giant penis joke, Harel fucking up vocally and Netta being reduced to a parody of herself). They just need to lighten up more, which they did post-Nadav resulting in a few great entries, and Toy. Overall, Israel are one of my favourite Eurovision countries, and for good reason: when they are good, they are fucking excellent. 

[avengerscompound]

Super Like - Chapter 8

Super Like: A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous | Next For Steve’s POV

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1650ish

Warnings:  sexting

Synopsis:  Steve plans a trip away for your first time.  Unfortunately, HYDRA has other plans.

A/N:  Re-uploading from @emilyevanston.

THERE ARE IMAGES IN THIS FIC THAT ARE ESSENTIAL TO THE STORY.

Chapter 8

That phase where you know you’re in love but you’re not quite confident enough to say it was an interesting feeling.  Each time you saw him or got a text from the blue it was like your heart skipped a beat and you’d feel slightly giddy.  You missed him.  A lot.  The thought of the next time you could be together was like a tick that your mind kept returning to and worrying at.

When you were together you kept thing the words.  I love you, Steve.  I love you.  When you weren’t thinking it, you worried about it.  Worried you were confusing love with something else.  Worried he didn’t feel the same way.  Worried you were moving to fast and if you said the words out loud he'd reject you.

The logical part of your mind knew all those worries were ridiculous.  Most of the time you were fine.  Things were going well with Steve.  Luckily you had Max to talk you down.

The truth was things were going well.  You were spending a lot of time together.  You were getting to know his friends.  You loved him.  You could picture a life with him.  Even with all the pain that came with being with an Avenger.  The missions away.  The worry about him not coming back.  The injuries.  You could still see it and you wanted it.  You wanted to be his home.  His safe space.  Who he came back to at the end of a long day.  You wanted him to be yours too.  You wanted to share a life with him.

You still hadn't had sex though.  It became very clear that he wanted to make it special when he asked you to go to go out of town with him.  It was such a Cliche.  He’d booked a bed and breakfast in Vermont.  A romantic trip to New England in the fall.  Just like in the movies.  It was perfect.  You couldn’t wait.

You were packing your bag when your phone chimed.

Your heart dropped.  He was about to cancel.  You knew it.

You groaned and flopped down on the end of your bed.  You knew this was the kind of thing you had to get used to but the timing was awful.

You flopped back on the bed trying very hard not to worry.  You really did hate this.  Each time he went away on a mission you worried.  Yes he’d been doing this a long time, and he always came home, but it only needed to go wrong once, right?

You tried to relax.   He didn’t lie to you.  When a mission was dangerous he said, so it helped a little that he was telling you not to worry.  These last-minute missions always added a level anxiety to things.

You sighed in relief.  You hated radio silence most of all.

You unpacked your bag again and tried to make plans for the weekend.

To get yourself out of your head you hit the farmers market and had lunch with friends.  You didn’t hear from Steve until that night.

That was interesting.  He had never said anything like that to you before.

Your heart hurt for him.  You knew his history and his anxieties.  He was the expert on taking to long.

God, you wished this hadn’t happened.  That the two of you were snuggled in bed in Vermont fumbling your way through a first time together.  You wanted to say the words to him so badly but text was not the place to declare your love for someone.

You had an idea, but you weren’t sure if he’d play along.  You just really, really wanted him to feel okay about this.

You paused for a moment thinking about that sound.  It was a good one.  If you were pressed against him you could feel the rumble in his chest.

There was a little pause while you watched the three dots flicker over your screen letting you know he was typing.

You squeezed your legs together.  The thought of rubbing against his thigh was so clear you could almost feel it against your cunt.

You slipped your hand into your pants and began to tease your clit.

There was another pause while the dots flickered as Steve typed.  You went to your side table and grabbed your vibrator.  Your phone chimed again as you were coating it with lube.

You stripped off your panties and threw them away and began to fuck yourself with the vibrator.  The buzz from the toy spreading out through you from your cunt.

You groaned.  You hadn’t seen him naked yet, but you’d felt his cock pressed against you.  You knew he was big.  You started to think about what it would feel like to have it inside you.  To have him fucking you.  You moaned again and arched up against the toy as a jolt passed up your spine.

There was a pause again.  This time without the dots.  Like he was distracted.  You tried to picture what he might look like right now jerking his cock.  How his muscles would strain as his orgasm came closer and closer.

You groaned.  His words seemed to travel right through you, hitting all your pleasure centers.  You moved the vibe faster, hitting your g-spot over and over as your orgasm got closer and closer.

He didn’t reply right away and you closed your eyes and just pictured his perfect features in ecstasy as he came. Soft, pale pink lips parted.  Blue eyes closed so his long dark lashes fanned out.  The tendons in his neck pulled tautly.  Your orgasm hit and you cried out his name as it surged through you.

You switched off the toy and pulled it out, dropping it on your bed.

You put your phone down and just lay panting for a moment before you started to clean up.  Tonight, even with Steve away, you thought maybe you’d sleep okay after all.

[dylshoney]

Before we start, can we take a moment a think about his obsession with «you». (because I had you, where were you in the morning, when you are ready, treat you better, show you, falling all in you, like to be you, act like you love me, I know what you did last summer, I don’t even know your name and now if I can’t have you - that’s interesting hahah). I can be so wrong in all ways, but it’s what resonated in me. If I wrote those lyrics that’s what I would have meant. 


«I’m in Toronto and i got this view. But i might as well be in a hotel room. It doesn’t matter because i’m so consumed”. He said it himself, he doesn’t even feel the difference between his safe space(home) and random hotel room because he thinks about it too hard. But’ If you think too hard about something it doesn’t mean it’s super serious or affected you that much. Shawn seems like an overthinking person, he is like this in a lot of his songs. So i think it’s quite a logical (but sad) thing.

So, «spending all my nights reading texts from you». I think it’s more like when you miss a person but can’t talk to them. I mean that’s what I did - I was reading all our conversations. 


«I’m good at keeping my distance» He can be the one hurting himself. I think I once wrote you this. That he can be afraid of not feeling for someone as strong as he feels for his music. Like «it doesn’t feel that strong, so I can wait for the real shit» or «I don’t know if this is what I should be all in for»

He mentioned «Half of you is not enough for me» in Mutual, so it can be the other way around too. Like he give all himself or nothing. Maybe he is the one who called it quits but didn’t get over that quickly. He chose his career because now it’s definitely the happiest he’s ever been and he doesn’t want to risk it all? When he only started? 

«I know that you’re the feeling I’m missing» - my favourite lyric because there can be two meanings. That this is the feeling missing like he had it once and wants to have it again. Or it’s something his life won’t be complete without. 


«You know that I hate to admit it». You don’t want something to happen, but you know it will happen type of thing? «I can’t write one song that’s not about you». If you’re reading this, it’s like «you are the muse in the back of my mind» from Why.

Like it’s serious and he is struggling?questioning those feeling? I don’t know, but it’s sound serious! And when I actually listening this lyric in this song I got the vibe like «you are literally my crush, I’m so obsessed with you, I reread all our conversation and stalk you on every social platform». You know, those crazy crushes that last like for a month max. 
I think it’s because he doesn’t sound sad about it + the beat.

«I’m trying to move on, forget you, but I hold on». If you are trying to move on, you are possibly want to move on (i mean when you start about moving on - there is no way back) or think that you’ll find another one, like it’s not the end of the world?

As for the video. I didn’t like that they filmed it in one shot style, they could have done it in one shot it easily! But I like that his surroundings Is like the state of mind. Not colourful, nothing happens around him, only he, his everyday routine (piano, etc), shot with a girl is like his «moving on», they are not laying together, they don’t even face each other, but they are in the same bed.

So it can be his moving on thing or this girl (maybe they were never together, because «his time is off», like they tried, but he couldn’t do «strings attached»?But he wanted it! And started wanted it more after everything ended?He started wanted all of her, etc. But «can» and «want» are different things. And I think he knows it, he wanted everything, but the timing was off) 

Also the break for film videos - don’t think it’s film because they just wanted it to be film Film is more «real», it works different from digital (the light, etc), so that’s why film can be more personal?
Also it’s very chaotic and fast, like he has his moments that he truly enjoys (with friends), but it’s just little moments, everything around him is still super basic.

To sum up, it sounds like he is sorry for what happened (i can’t write and drink without thinking about you - like he felt it, «don’t worry I was not happy too» type of thing» but he doesn’t regret it (try to move on and forget. In fact the ending of the video he s running!!! If he wasn’t talking about moving on, he could have running to her, but it’s more logical that he is running to his future?that he is okay with moving on?

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2018, Part V

We’re finally here. Thank you for reading. Or at least scrolling around to the movies that you care about. GREAT MOVIES

12. Minding the Gap (Bing Liu)- In part because it's produced by Steve James, Minding the Gap's easy short-hand is "Hoop Dreams for skateboarding." Because most of the film's pleasures come from following the subjects over the course of five or six years, that makes sense. What differs is that director Bing Liu is so young, which makes this a promising film if a less definitive one than James's feature debut. It’s trying to do so much, but it never feels calculated or constructed as it expands. Boldly, Liu seems to suggest that people don't really change that much, that what drives them or gnaws at them just manifests itself in different ways. The cycle of abuse ends up being a common element for the three skaters, and, as Liu admits on camera, domestic violence is the reason he made the film. (The treatment of it is raw, a blunt object when a more delicate instrument might work better.) He got the hard part right though: delicately getting us to care about people who sometimes don't care about themselves. 11. A Quiet Place (John Kransinski)- Strong early Shyamalan vibes from this lean chiller. Krasinski's directing debut, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, didn't do much for me, and I skipped his obligatory man-comes-back-to-hometown-because-his-mom's-dying follow-up. But the filmmaking really impressed me here just by understanding how to set the table of this kind of movie. A close-up on an important nail sticking out of a floorboard here, an effortless explanation of a rule there. The hang-up for a film this high-concept is that you get distracted by all of the unanswered questions. (How did he get a printer quiet enough to print out all of those radio call signals?) But this world is fleshed out enough, especially an eerie dinner sequence, to bypass that kind of stuff for me. More than anything, there's a sort of elasticity of shot selection that serves the suspense. A tender early scene in which the central couple is dancing while wearing headphones goes on for maybe twice as long as one might expect. So later, the cross-cuts and smash-cuts have even more weight because the camera was allowed to linger earlier. Here's maybe the biggest reason for the movie's success: The characters are all slightly smarter than the audience, whereas the temptation might have been to go the other way with it. 10. Black Panther (Ryan Coogler)- I don't know if I can add anything to the discourse on this meditative yet ambitious film. I do think one early scene points at what makes it special for the genre. When T'Challa is first named king, he has to be drained of the Black Panther powers to fight anyone who wishes to challenge the throne. A member of an outsider tribe challenges him and nearly beats him. It shows a) the world-building of this noble, fair culture, b) the existence of this fully developed clan that will be important later, c) just how human T'Challa is if his reign can come so perilously close to ending just as it has begun. Every scene like that has a logical purpose. Of course, once Killmonger, the best, most realistically motivated Marvel villain of all time, gets introduced, we return to that method of challenging the throne, and writers Ryan Coogler and Joe Robert Cole aren't afraid to let the worst possible thing happen to T'Challa. What occurred forty-five minutes earlier makes this fight seem like a fait accompli. And it's in this sort of narrative detail that the film is able to work up to its thematic purpose. The first half is about, to quote T'Chaka, whether a good man can be a good king. But the second half is about the responsibility of goodness. Show me where Iron Man bit off that much. 9. Support the Girls (Andrew Bujalski)- Although it takes place mostly in one location during one day, Support the Girls has a bigger world going on in its margins. We hear it on radios, or we see it in the people taking a pitstop in Double Whammies while they're on their way somewhere better. But the force that's really encroaching on the characters' insulated environment is Mancave, the national chain that threatens to put them out of business. "They have commercials and everything," one character complains, and we get snatches of those commercials that were presumably directed by Andrew Bujalski himself. It's ten seconds of content maybe, shot in a bigger, broader style than the modest approach of the rest of the film. But the key to understanding how far Bujalski has come is realizing that he is no longer making fun of the people in the commercial, even if they're jacked bros screaming for a boxing match. That portrayal is amplified, sure, but Bujalski is mature enough now to not ridicule those people. It's okay that they're just not the people he's interested in. He's supernaturally empathetic toward the rogue's gallery of people he is interested in, who spin the ordinary challenges of the working class into something extraordinary. The sunniest member of the team is played by Haley Lu Richardson, who deserves special recognition as the indefatigable Maci. I can't think of parts that are much different from her roles in this, Columbus, and Split, to the extent that people probably don't realize they're played by the same woman, but she rules in every single one. The sky is the limit for her. When a workplace is described as "a family," it's usually just a way for the boss to take advantage of workers when the "family" designation does nothing to help them: "I know I shouldn't ask you to work off the clock, but can you help me out as a FAMILY MEMBER?" Occasionally though, it does feel like a family when people work closely to one another for hours on end and depend upon one another for real life needs. This movie is about what happens when a work family is both control and support.

8. Roma (Alfonso Cuaron)- The trailer for Children of Men advertises itself as "from the director of The Prisoner of Azkaban and Y Tu Mama Tambien," and I remember an audience giggling at that strange CV. For one thing, at the time people didn't understand yet why someone would brag about contributing to a Harry Potter movie. But to pair that children's picture with either a Spanish title they hadn't heard of or a movie that they knew was sexually explicit? Who was this guy? Roma is who he is. I like some of his other films more--I would argue that his approach hurts the performances here--but it seems impossible for him to make anything this personal again. The baldly emotional highs that it reaches come not only from the direct simplicity of the story but also from the sophisticated perspective with which it's being downloaded directly from Cuaron's memory. (It's also, accidentally or purposefully, quite a political film at this moment in time. It insists, sometimes in the dialect of Mixtec, that these people around us silently washing dishes or picking up dog poo are, in fact, part of our family.) There's a moment when one brother throws something at another's head, barely missing, and they both stop in their tracks with fear about how tragically things could have ended up. My dad experienced a similar moment in his childhood, and he would tell the same story about Uncle Steve throwing a shoe at him any time we passed the wooden door with a dent in it at my grandma's house. What a tiny moment to live on for decades, in tangible and intangible ways. Cuaron claims that all of these moments shape us, and taking us to the moon was only a warm-up for resurrecting them for us. 7. Happy As Lazzaro (Alice Rohrbacher)- Alice Rohrwacher won the screenplay award at Cannes, probably because her script for Happy As Lazzaro is fundamentally unpredictable. Games of checkers are unpredictable though. That word doesn't quite cover the way the viewer is forced to guess at something as elemental as "What year is this taking place?" And none of the twists and turns of the storytelling--I refuse to spoil--would gel if Rohrwacher as a director wasn't teaching you how to watch the film the whole time with a rich, warm, light touch. Considering the purity of this vision as a fable, buoyed by realistic labor concerns on the other hand, it's a pity that people are calling Birdbox "crazy" when something like this is just a few clicks down on that service. 6. The Favourite (Yorgos Lanthimos)- When assessing The Favourite, the easy temptation is to say that because it isn't stuffy, because of its scabrous wit or its intimate filming techniques, that it "isn't your mother's chamber drama." It is invigorating, but in a lot of ways, the film isn't saying anything that the average Masterpiece Theater production doesn't. Instead it takes cultural touchstones about the emptiness of power and distorts them, much like the fish-eye lenses that Yorgos Lanthimos favors to photograph the palace. It says an easy thing in a hard way, with conviction to burn. Lanthimos seems freed by not having to write the screenplay, and every decision of his is rooted in making things more narrow. The barrel distortion of the fish-eye seems apt for this idea, but so do the secret passageways that Queen Anne gets wheeled through to avoid the lower rungs of the estate. Of course there's no outside world to intrude upon her majesty. But there's even an inner world to the inner world. (It's impossible to watch Olivia Colman's gonzo depiction of Anne's incurious indolence and not think of Trump.) I'm convinced that Emma Stone can do anything, and the final shot, an all-timer, only validates that suspicion. 5. Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot (Gus Van Sant)- You have to check out every Gus Van Sant movie, even after a few missteps, because you never know: He might take the emotional climax that you didn't even know you wanted and score it to inter-diegetic "Still Rock 'N Roll to Me," thus grounding real poignance with even realer goofiness.I'll admit that the bar is low, but this is probably the most authentic, least treacly movie ever made about addiction recovery. Van Sant, who wrote, directed, and edited, tells the story with patient command. We take Joaquin Phoenix for granted at this point, but everybody on the poster is exceptional. And Udo Kier gets to say, "Pop, pop. It's always about penises." INSTANT CLASSICS

4. A Star Is Born (Bradley Cooper)- In one scene Cooper's Jackson Maine wears a black leather jacket under a brown leather vest, and the movie itself risks that kind of hat-on-a-hat silliness and redundancy. But instead it comes off as the best kind of big swing, a comforting and warm serving of Old Hollywood. Cooper's camera knows how to embrace silence and let the leads play off each other to craft raw, touching performances. Sometimes the close-ups are so intense and focused that, when he cuts back to a master, it's disorienting to be reminded that there are other people in that space, in the world at all.The movie's deficiencies come from "Wait, how much time has passed?" moments in the writing, problems that I always have had with Eric Roth projects. But it's easy to get swept up in a movie of moments that believes so much in itself.

3. Mission: Impossible- Fallout (Christopher McQuarrie)- The pattern of Mission: Impossible- Fallout is: infodump that explains the stakes and the strategy of what we're about to see, followed by an action sequence that is somehow even more thrilling than the one that came before it. Imagine a really interesting day of grade school classes, in which you learned, like, multiplication, followed by recess every other period. As for T.C., what more could you possibly want out of a human being?

2. Wildlife (Paul Dano)- When Jerry, Jake Gyllenhaal's groundskeeper of pathetic pride, figures out that his boss is about to fire him in front of his son, he smiles and, through clenched teeth, asks if this talk can happen tomorrow. Part of him actually believes that postponing the meeting will help; maybe the boss's temper will cool overnight. But this is a man who is bound by the same desperate spirit as his wife Jeanette, who muses, "Tomorrow something will happen that will make us feel different." When people are living day-to-day, clinging to their dignity--he refers to himself as a "small person" at one point--tomorrow really does offer a regenerative power. Those characters are the same-pole magnets that inform this coming-of-age tale, and the subtext of the film is "Can you believe Carey Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal have a fourteen-year-old son?" It works for the 1960 setting because these are people who defined themselves before they knew who they were, and they'll now do anything to re-define themselves as brave/sexy/valuable. But it works for the actors too. Gyllenhaal in particular is tender and heartbreaking in a true supporting role, allowing himself to look his age, framing himself with the dad akimbo arms. But Mulligan's fake confidence is great too, especially in a scene in which she nearly begs her husband to let her work. Something tells me that I should credit a director for coaxing two career best performances from two great actors. Some people just have it, and Paul Dano does.

1. First Reformed (Paul Schrader)- In 1998 I dragged my father to see Paul Schrader's Affliction, a movie that was kind of about my father's father. When the end credits rolled on that bleak, wrenching film, my dad turned to me and said, "I feel like I have to take a shower." We walked around a nearby hotel and talked for an hour, not that he was able to articulate why he was so shaken. We discussed the difference between entertainment and art and what makes a piece of either successful. Even though he hated the experience, he couldn't deny that it was an experience. He kept on saying, "That's not why I go to the movies." And no matter what I, fifteen at the time, told him, he couldn't understand that's exactly why I go to the movies. First Reformed had the same mesmerizing effect as the best of Schrader's work: When I exited the building, I stumbled into the sunlight because I had been trapped in someone else's mind for almost two hours.

Part of that effect comes from the narrative device of Reverend Toller's journal, which plants us in his headspace from the beginning. Part of it comes from the intimate scale of the film, which features only a handful of locations. But if what I'm explaining seems small, then I'm doing a bad job. The canvas expands. Schrader insists that our care for the environment is our most immediate responsibility; this film historian has no problem with planting the film at 2017 in dialogue. And that emphasis is matched only by his disdain for how big business encroaches on personal aspects of our lives. There's even a scene that tries to account for a recent rise in extremism among young people. As if to prove that he isn't being pedantic, he has one character communicate one of those ideas, letting you assume that role is his mouthpiece, then he has another character reply with something just as convincing. First Reformed weaves in those elements, but it's ultimately a character piece that humanizes the type of person we think we know but for which we have no frame of reference. In Ethan Hawke's piercing performance, we see a Reform minister who punishes himself actively and passively for what he thinks are sins. He uses faith as an armor and as an excuse, being so of the mind and--as another character puts it--"in the garden" that he denies himself medical care. No matter what anyone else tells him, he is convinced of one of the tenets that Schrader could never shake from his Calvinist upbringing: There's nothing you can do to save yourself.

[sparda3g]

Attack on Titan Chapter 106 Review

It was said that Isayama has planned the characters’ path to split apart from each other. That time has come. It may not be surprising, knowing how far Eren has gone in his dark ambition, but it is tragic to see best friends losing their grasp of friendship. It’s not the war outside that will break them apart; it’s the desire within their group. This chapter is a welcoming change of pace that explained the story that led to the current timeline, but it is not without a cost more than lives.

Majority of the chapter takes place 3 years ago, so it can explain how the masterplan from Eren and Zeke came to play. Marley soldiers were sent to Paradis Island to gather the data and report it back home. Have this gone through, the current timeline would have been significantly different. Eren stopped them from sailing off like a Kaiju movie scene. I noticed Yelena was with them, so I knew they won’t crush the ship right away.

One of the gems about the flashback is the fact we get to see these characters portraying their humorous self. I don’t know if the time-skip leaves no room for one, considering how dark it has become, but this is a nice breakaway. Hange is comical with her introduction to tourists and threatens them to surrender or they will kill Nicolo. She really tried to be threatening, but that captain wasn’t having it. I like the banter between them, including Levi, who didn’t want to be part of this. Luckily for her, he was killed by Yelena. Funny that Hange really ducked and covered.

Essentially, this becomes an introduction to Yelena’s character. She’s actually quite relax when dealing with the problem. She wanted to chat and get acquainted while drinking tea. That is one calm and collected soldier.  I thought she was going to be a hard ass, but this is a good take. She’s also very observant and informative. She noticed already that titans on the island are wiped out. If only the series ends there on a happy note.

The humor side continues with Hange being visibly and overly impressed with the technology of Marley, especially flying vehicle. I got a good laugh with how Levi communicates with her through instinct, trying to maintain order. She said to not to worry with her reaction, yet only few panels later, she exploded with sheer joy. I missed this side of the series. It’s not just them; even the other Survey Corps have charming moments. Like Sasha was falling asleep and Mikasa had to babysit her more or less. Yeah…

It’s interesting to see the moment when Yelena changed her vision. She wasn’t a spy, rather legitimately part of Marley’s army. It’s the fact she was forced to fight for them after they conquered her country. At least we are back painting Marley as total heel. The moment she saw Ape Titan, she saw a new hope. This would explain her allegiance to Zeke and how she and Survey Corps officially formed a pact. The main goal is to free the Eldian people. All this time, Zeke has been planning this. That does come with a price of a political debate.

The whole debate is pretty interesting. It does establish how Zeke and Paradis Island came to an agreement albeit through controversial demands and timing. It’s also controversial with Eren finally spilled out the revelation he has been hiding; more on that later. It was bold of Zeke to demand the higher-ups like they just met, despite how much damage he has caused. He offered a secret plan that would solve the Eldians problem with ease. The requirements happened to be Original Titan and royal blood. Obviously, it means the power to control Titans.

That’s when Eren stepped in and persuaded them to take Zeke’s offer. It is clear why he reacted right away, knowing how the power worked. It’s just that he kept it secret for so long that maybe it would have been helpful earlier. While he admitted that he was protecting Historia, hence the secrecy, part of me felt that he only exposed it just because he saw the path to win the war. In a way, he abandoned his friend for his ambition. Now that is out, well, he better hope those government hasn’t done any shading tactic.

It does seem like that moment is where the trust and companionship with Eren begins to fall. Although Hange agreed with him, Levi was annoyed at his timing and knowing the current event, he is definitely no friend of his. The government really wanted to hang Zeke and others so badly, but Hange saw a logic behind it. I mean I understand where they’re coming from since they dealt with nothing but hell. It’s just concerning on what would happen once the pact is over.

I have to say, the next phase is surprisingly charming and heartwarming. With the series always in action and killing, it’s very refreshing when the characters are handling the problem without resorting to violence. The closest you get is ambush, forcing them to surrender, and that’s it. For once, it shows a different side of its nature. What if they handle the problem without extermination? What if they befriend someone outside of Paradis Island? What if there is another way to handle the war?

It’s quite astounding how the Survey Corps reacted heavily with something that is simple in today’s world yet fascinating like it’s the future. For example, when they planned to build a harbor, majority of the guys didn’t know its purpose, even saying it’s a kid’s playground. Hange understood its use but she reacted like she is witnessing a glimpse of the future. The vibe isn’t written like they came from the future or their country is incredibly technical advanced, excluding in compare with the island; Survey Corps were behind time in more ways than one.

What’s comical yet important is when Sasha asked Onyankopon about his skin color. Sure, it’s comical to those who read it in her tone and how it seems strange to ask that question at first. However, it’s meaningful because of where they came from; isolated from everyone. He answered in an interesting way that also introduced the concept of a religion such as God, in which exploited the concept of multiple beliefs.

I adore the shift in tone with everyone enjoying their time in bonding with other people outside as well as introduced to the current technology. The food that they didn’t think it was possible amazed them; well, most definitely to Sasha. The hostages they took in became friendly and introduced a simple use of model to demonstrate yet Survey Corps were easily amazed. It’s heartwarming, which is something I don’t often say in this series. In a way, it’s rewarding because after going through hell and reaching to the beach, life was going to the peaceful direction. Even Armin and Mikasa felt happy about the way things were going. Sadly, the divided path was shown.

It’s a damn shame that Eren was probably the only guy there that didn’t get with the time or rather didn’t see another approach. While Armin would love to fight the war but settle in a peaceful manner, he wanted to prove that they are innocent and correct their “misunderstanding.” Eren, however, was more about fighting the war and conquer them since they are already painted as the enemy of the world. Despite they have friends from outside, it’s not enough to prove that everyone will follow the same.

Mikasa was stuck in the middle yet trying to reason Eren that Armin’s path is possible. You can say she was open for a peaceful path, which is something you wouldn’t expect often from her. The conversation stopped with the establishment of time is an essence. There is no real answer on which path is best. One thing is certain that Eren’s path was chosen by force and so far, it has its rewards, but the price and developments are pretty grim.

The best part of the chapter is how it was narrated throughout the flashback. It’s addressed by Armin because not only he’s conflicted with his friendship with Eren, but in need of finding some hope. It’s telling how he once had fun playing the role of a threat but resolved in a merciful manner. When it comes to destruction and violence, it is sorrow and painful. He explained the story for fans to understand the one chance for a peaceful resolution and where their chosen path led them to. The transition from Eren’s rifle to Sasha’s untimely death is simple yet very effective. Indirectly, he has killed her.

It’s rather cold of Isayama that we had a flashback with everyone still together and having a normal fun time. Now it would appear to be their very last. Seeing Sasha enjoying and interacting with others was physically painful. It was sad enough that she did die, I didn’t want a taunting display. Could this have remain the same way if they did have more time? It’s hard to say, but what’s done is done.

Speaking of taunting, another one comes to mind is who Armin is talking to. Surprise! It’s Annie; still in a crystal. On the plus side, this would indicate that her time may be on the horizon. There’s no way Isayama reintroduced her and do nothing later. I can be wrong, but for once I hope not. It could indicate that maybe Armin has gained some memories from Bertolt or even feelings. It’s possible that he has no one to talk to, though why her. They did bond a while back, so it’s not so far fetch.

I’m enjoying the dynamic between Levi and Zeke. It’s really awkward how the man who Levi wants to kill so badly is chatting like they are good comrade. Levi has other plans that revolves with killing, like sending Zeke’s body back to Marley. That is a hell of a taunt. Zeke is just delighted to have a chance to meet his little half-brother. I don’t know how long these two will go on before one loses their head, but I’m intrigued to see what’s next.

Citizens are celebrating the victory in which is definitely a contrast to the earlier days. In the midst of it, Gabi and Falco are held in jail. I wonder what Isayama has in mind for them, but I’ll bet fans would love to see her rot. Nothing beats depressing feeling than a funeral, let alone its aftermath. It’s depressing yet striking when Mikasa at the cemetery recites the speech about fight to win, while Eren says the same but with firing determination. It’s a clear contrast in its use. She says it to justify her action and keep her mind in safe; he says it to inspire himself to push harder, hell bent to reach his goal.

This was a very striking chapter that left me feeling uncomfortable on where they are heading. The narrative and the flashback were heartwarming and tragic. It added a lot more to the current timeline with its fallout. The presentation was pleasant and charming in the flashback, but dreary and troubling in the present. The friendship is falling apart and the possibility of a sad ending is increasing. Their path have been separated. Their destination isn’t looking bright.

[a-confused-turtle]

Issues with Doctor’s Appointments

Fandom: Star Trek

Request by @koalawoman:  “HEY its me again☺☺ could i request a bones x reader where reader is trying to escape a physical/medical exam and bones has the crew (uhura, spock, sulu etc) looking for her and it ends in fluff thanks for your time author-chan 😘😆😆” “For that bones fic just requested, can we have hugs and kisses???”

Words: 2,500+

Pairing/Characters: LeonardBonesMcCoyxReader, Jim Kirk, Uhura, Spock, Sulu, Scotty.

Warning: None? A few curses, fluff, some abandonment issues/angst with that.

Author’s Note: I went slightly overboard. This idea really reminded me of my mini Embarrassment series with Steve Rogers of course (link is to Part 1). That also might have affected how I wrote this. I hope you all like it. Bones was fun to write. I like imagining a soft, fluffy side to him only his S/O sees. Anyway, here we are.

If McCoy rolled his eyes any harder it was of his medical opinion that they would roll right out of his head, because this woman was ridiculous. Y/N Y/L/N could stand up to anyone, put her life on the line for the crew at any given moment, and never backed down from anything, well anything except for a doctor’s appointment.

He’d thought it was cute at first, his girlfriend being all nervous about something he viewed as so routine. But, after rescheduling and then just flat out not showing up, McCoy was genuinely concerned and annoyed. Mostly concerned, though the tone of his voice favored mostly annoyed as usual.

“Jim,” McCoy said, demanding full attention as he strode onto the bridge, “Is Y/N here? She didn’t show for her physical this morning.”

“Haven’t seen her,” Kirk replied, swiveling in his chair to face McCoy, “Trouble in paradise, Bones?”

There went another eye roll, riddled with unamusement. What a miracle those things remained in his head, especially with the way Kirk was smirking at him. “She hates doctors appointments, which is personal and something you don’t need to know about. But she has to have an exam, where is she?”

“Uhura?”

Uhura rose from her spot and strode over to the two men. “I haven’t seen her since last night. She had dinner with Spock and I.”

Spock inclined his head toward the group at the mention of his name. “Lieutenant Uhura is correct and Y/N did sign in this morning. But, it appears she is working remotely with her communicator off.”

“She came in early this morning, grabbed a few things and headed out,” Sulu chimed in from his spot without glancing their direction, “Said she had to run some tests.”

“Well, where’d she go?” McCoy repeated, mainly at Sulu who shrugged. “Okay. Let’s just get this over with. We have to find her. I’ll take her room and engineering. Uhura-”

“She might be on the recreational deck, I’ll look there,” she cut across the doctor, “And Spock-”

“Why not simply alert the crew to the situation, she will be found much faster,” the resident half-vulcan countered logically.

“Faster and much angrier, which I assure you, none of us wants,” McCoy returned, shaking his head just at the thought of how furious you’d be with him specifically…

Showing no signs of comprehension to that aspect of the situation, Spock quieted with an air of skepticality.

“The main decks might be a safe bet,” Kirk continued with Uhura’s previously interrupted suggestion.

“She could be in the lab too,” Uhura offered, a definitive determination in her voice.

“Okay, let’s find her, I have to talk to her…” McCoy grumbled, raking his hand across his face tiredly.

~

It was almost noon and you couldn’t have been more surprised you’d eluded capture until then. Only a matter of time until someone discovered you, probably to chew you out, if they were even looking for you. That possibility hadn’t occurred to you. Either way, knowing your boyfriend he’d be furious about how ridiculous you were being. It was just a doctor’s appointment after all. You’d had what seemed like thousands of them, and hated every single one. You kept telling yourself this, your anxiety and deep rooted instinct to run, was all about the appointment, it certainly had nothing to do with your boyfriend… Your boyfriend that happened to be very affectionate even though his personality didn’t tend to give off that cuddly vibe.

You’d only been with Leonard for a few months, though you’d known him for years, and the two of you had been taking things, well slowly. For some reason you couldn’t shake the feeling that it all was too good to be true anyway. The Leonard McCoy being with someone like you? It didn’t seem real. And the further and further you fell for him, an uneasy feeling followed suit, growing and growing… The more you loved him the worse it would hurt when he left, just like everyone else.

You surely weren’t dealing with it in the most mature way, but at the same time you just couldn’t bring yourself to make it to that doctor’s appointment. You just couldn’t face Leonard at the moment.

So, instead, you worked and forced all those jumbled worries out of your head. Only in short bursts though. You kept moving and finding other hiding spots, which led you to Scotty’s office of sorts in engineering just before lunchtime.

“Y/N, lassie, how are ya? And what are you doing down here in lil old engineering?” Scotty greeted you happily the moment he strode up to you.

You’d clearly stolen his chair and even had your feet up on the console, your own data pad over your lap. You smiled widely back. “Just thought I could use a change of scenery from the bridge, besides I missed you, Scotty!”

“Glad to hear it. Don’t see enough of you these days!” The scotsman went about his work around you, motioning for you to stay where you were despite your protests. He had his own data pad in hand, reading it and then what looked like inputting data into the console. “How’s everything up there? Oh, and your boyfriend, everyone’s favorite doctor?”

Internally, you cringed, and willed yourself to disappear. Alas, it did not work and you were forced to answer Scotty’s question. “The bridge is good… You know, nothing too exciting lately, or I’m sure you’d be having a ball dealing with Jim pushing our lovely ship to the limits.”

While you’d certainly given a tactful and happy response, Scotty noticed your aversion to his second question. After all, the man knew you well, you’d spent years on the ship with him, even working in engineering for a while. “And is Dr. McCoy pushing you to your limits?” He asked with piqued interest and no small amount of concern.

You opened your mouth and shut it again, unsure exactly how to respond… You hadn’t exactly spoken about your feelings with well anyone, that just so happened to be a least favorite pastime of yours.

“It so happens, I don’t kiss and tell, Scotty,” you finally responded, though slightly audibly strained. To conceal your vulnerability, you stood, giving him a wink, and left to find a new hiding spot.

“I’m here if you need, Y/N,” Scotty called after you, but made no attempt to follow your course.

~

“Hey there,” a calming voice greeted out of nowhere. You even squeaked, jumping a little in your makeshift seat. But, your initial shock didn’t fade as you knew you were caught, you wouldn’t be able to hide any longer now that she’d found you. A few people had to be looking for you at least. She wouldn’t have left the bridge during the day otherwise, let alone to ventured to the recreational decks.

“Hello…”

Uhura smiled and sat down on the floor next to you. “Where’ve you been today?”

“Around.”

“Avoiding your boyfriend you mean,” Uhura spoke straight to the point, not one to beat around the bush, “He says you hate doctor’s appointments, but there’s something more going on isn’t there?”

You looked away from her, hugging your data pad to your chest. Again, talking about feelings, yuck. “I do hate doctors appointments and I especially don’t want to have one today…” You swallowed, knowing fully well she’d continue to press until she knew everything.

“Any specific reason why?”

In refusal to answer, you remained silent, eyes trained on your feet alone. Detaching yourself was just so much easier than facing those deep, dark fears.

“Sweetheart,” she began and placed a gentle hand on your arm, “Did he do something? Do I need to throw him off the ship? You know I will.” Despite the softness in her voice, you knew her threats held weight with their own fierce undertones. The two of you had known each other for so long too, you were practically sisters, even went through the academy together.

You shook your head, letting your curled limbs fall against her. She took your head against her chest and calmly stroked your hair and shoulders, but didn’t press any further, knowing you’d speak once you found the words.

With a shaky breath, you finally spoke aloud what had been internally tormenting you for weeks. “It’s stupid… I know I’m being ridiculous, but… I just can’t go. If only he’d rescheduled it for tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s just going to leave me isn’t he, so I need to stop getting so attached-”

“Now, that’s insane. He adores you! You guys have known each other for so long, you’re just perfect together. We were all so glad when you two finally did something about it and stopped dancing around each other,” Uhura tried to assure you.

You pried yourself from her grasp and sat up, collecting your things. “No, it’s just too good to be true,” you insisted, shaking your head as you retreated within the walls of your heart that you’d built up over the years.

While she called after you, you didn’t stop and ran off to one of the less frequented turbo lifts to the labs, where you hoped you wouldn’t find Spock…

~

Luckily, you found no one else in the archives, quickly setting up shop on of the stations in the back, where you might be able to go unnoticed if someone so happened to enter.

Somehow, the person you least expected found you.

“Fancy meeting you here, Y/N,” none other than James T. Kirk drawled from just inside the doorway, “Come here often?”

“Only when I want to avoid you, Jim. You’ve found me out,” you relied sarcastically, making no move to collect your things.

He strolled over slowly, keeping his eyes intent on you, probably reading into your body language. “Aw, and why would you want to avoid me, princess?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you love me, though not as much as you love Bones.”

You flinched at your boyfriend's nickname, refusing to meet the captain’s eyes as he finally stopped in front of you.

“It’s your anniversary today, isn’t it? Three months, nice little milestone…” He frowned at your continued silence, reevaluating the banter. The two of you normally went back and forth easily, happily, both feeding off the other’s witty remarks. Today he was met with different circumstances though. You clearly weren’t up for playing, and that definitely signaled that something was wrong, very wrong. “Y/N?”

Complying out of habit or professional duty, you glanced quickly up at his eyes and away once more.

“He’s worried about you, really worried… I think he even had a surprise planned for you this morning, the anniversary and all.”

You frowned and swallowed slowly. “He’s probably furious now.”

Kirk smiled a little at that. “He is, but more worried. I’m sure he’d love to talk about what’s wrong and fix it.”

With a shake of your head and a mumble, you finally clued Jim in, your oldest and best friend. “He can’t fix it. It’s me. I just can’t stop thinking he’s going to leave, like everyone else…”

He reached across the workstation and placed his large hand over you small one. “Hey, you can’t think like that… We’re so similar you know? We can’t let ourselves open up to people, it takes a long ass time and it scares the shit out of us. It’s just easier, not to mention safer, to be alone and shut yourself off. But, we can’t be alone forever, where’s the fun in that? Come on, look at me.”

When you finally brought your slightly teary eyes to his, he continued softly, “Leonard loves you and I know you love him. That should be all that matters. Besides, we’ll all beat the shit out of him if he hurts you.”

You finally smiled faintly, offering a slight chuckle at your captain’s words. “Okay, Jim,” you sniffed and he squeezed your hand, “Where is he?”

~

As you walked down the corridor to your quarters, you forced yourself to take deep breaths and focus on that feeling, not the distinct dread filling your gut. The closer you got to your room, the shakier you felt, and the tremors in your hands proved that. You’d never been so nervous about such a silly conversation.

Once you reached your door, you about turned around and bolted away; only Jim’s words kept your feet rooted to the floor. You had to do this. Then, as if fate had a hand in it all, your door wooshed open with Leonard standing right in front of you.

You must have looked grave, or paler than normal, because Leonard’s face immediately fell and he pulled you inside. “Oh, sweetheart, sit down, please. Are you alright?” He sat you down on your bed and kept trying to look you over before he sat down next to you.

“I’m fine,” you said with a deep sigh, which didn’t help your case at all. “Okay, fine, I’m not, Leonard,” you grumbled as he gave you his ‘I don’t believe you’ look.

“Then, tell me what’s wrong, please.” His eyes showed just how pleading his words were even if his voice didn’t. They glinted nervously, with his own tide of dread swimming around in them.

“I… I freaked out, okay? You know how hard it is for me to open up to people. It’s hard to put myself out there, and I’ve been scared that you’re going to leave me… You just matter so much to me, everyone always leaves, I can’t…”

Leonard waited patiently for you to say everything you wanted, and he took your hand the moment your voice broke the first time, squeezing it tightly with both of his as the tears pooled in your eyes.

“I know I’m being ridiculous, but with today as our anniversary. I couldn’t make the appointment.”

Without a word, several moments after you’d finished speaking, Leonard took your face gently in his hands and pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut. “I am never, never going to leave you, Y/N. I know we’ve only been dating technically for three months, but I can’t imagine my life without you after all these years that I’ve known you. I think I knew a while ago, you’re it for me. I love you so much. I’ll never love anyone like I love you. And that scares the shit out of me too, you’re not the only one. Believe me. I wouldn’t have it any other way though, so please don’t push me away.” His voice was gentler and sweeter than you’d ever heard it and that made your insides melt.

When he pulled away too look at you directly, verifying that he’d gotten through to you, you brought your lips to his without a moment of hesitation. He kissed back gratefully, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I don’t want to push you away. I’m sorry… I love you too,” you mumbled into his neck once you disconnected lips.

“And good lord woman, don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured sternly.

You laughed allowed unable to help yourself, which only made him grin, chuckling too, until he silenced you with a kiss. Were doctor’s appointments really something to be afraid of?

Tags:  @enniaram

[jennycalendar]

i’m thinking about my ideal slow burn giles/jenny again so here have my various headcanons re: how that’d play out through s2.

this got. incredibly long. so i’m putting it under a cut

ok. right after i robot, which is the puppet show, which is probably my favorite episode of btvs ever for reasons i still cannot figure out, there’s like....one scene at the end where jenny’s in the audience next to giles during the horrible monologues. this serves both to 1) remind us of jenny’s existence and 2) imply that giles may or may not have made a friend on staff, which is pretty cool.

canon s1 stays about the same after that, but s2 doesn’t start with moony eyes and jenny wearing soft pastels!! instead of snyder showing up to make a cameo that heightens the twosome-of-cuteness vibe, we literally just see giles and jenny walking up the steps to school together while jenny complains about having to come back (”i nearly got eaten before senior prom...god, i hate that i can say that sentence”) and giles asks, “then why did you come back?” there’s sort of a weird, tense beat where jenny looks genuinely uncomfortable (foreshadowing angelus WAY earlier in the season, bc jenny’s involvement is very clearly something that the writers came up with as some weird contrived Extra Thing so let’s make it less of a plot device) and then she comes up with some really awful excuse that leaves giles a little puzzled n frustrated.

jenny and giles go to the football game together as investigative buddies, making her a legit scooby based on merit instead of the fact that she’s dating giles, and they argue through most of the game about whether or not going to the game was even necessary in the first place. xander and willow show up and immediately start teasing them about being on a date. jenny laughs it off but giles looks MORTIFIED

they keep. on. arguing. literally every episode there’s a jenny/giles argument about something inane and stupid, even if it lasts for only a few seconds before one of the scoobies tells them to Please Stop. but the thing is, these arguments aren’t actually aggressive & passionately angry like in s1? it’s more annoyed than anything, and slowly the arguments start transitioning into actual logical discussions

sjlksdljk this in itself is transitioning into an imagine-if-canon-had-treated-jenny-like-her-own-character post but jenny’s scenes aren’t restricted to scenes with giles. she shows up in her own scenes too, and as time goes on, those scenes get significantly more foreboding bc the angelus arc is coming up

in the dark age, things mostly go the same. except jenny and giles aren’t dating, so the dazed hug is a little weird, and jenny coming on to giles is something that’s immediately met with suspicion & then Full-Out Panic. of course jenny’s fine, but she’s incredibly distant around giles; even though she doesn’t leave the scoobies, things are tense n weird between them (heightened by the fact that giles has suddenly realized that he may have slightly romantic feelings for jenny, and. that’s worthy of some more panic actually)

jenny gets a scene after the dark age where she thanks angel for saving her life. it’s very awkward and stilted and she doesn’t really look at him when she says it, and at the end of that episode, you overhear a phone conversation between her and her uncle re: angel being redeemable (more foreshadowing!!! more narrative coherency!!!!)

meanwhile giles is fucking hopeless. he’s not asking jenny out bc he wants to give her as much space as possible and he also is starting to really value their friendship (which has by this point become something that is surprisingly sweet & supportive) but he keeps on getting all blushy and shy whenever she compliments him. jenny hasn’t noticed this at all bc in this canon, her priorities aren’t just him, they’re him and willow and buffy and sometimes xander and yeah, even angel, which is freaking her out way too much for her to notice that her best friend is into her

oh yeah. giles and jenny are best friends. that happened at some point and there’s definitely a staff meeting (probably during ted, which also goes differently!! because that episode is a horror show!!) where they’ve sort of teamed up to argue with everyone else instead of each other.

and then all the stuff goes down with angelus.

it’s not actually a surprise this time around though? because there’s been a lot of hinting and a lot of ominousness surrounding jenny’s character, so instead of it being this Big Dramatic Reveal that jenny was Evil All Along, the episode actually has a subplot that focuses on her stress and her newfound worry and compassion for angel and the Big Dramatic Reveal is actually that jenny was Good All Along.

the “betrayal” arc goes...relatively the same at first, but then shifts a little? i’m very firmly of the mind that jenny, incredibly emotionally guarded, still would decide that she could Handle Things On Her Own and keep her motives secret, but when she finds out that angel could lose his soul, she kinda panics and throws herself into research re: how to actually stop that from happening. and that’s where buffy finds her, and they have a initially angry confrontation that kinda ends when buffy realizes that jenny was trying to figure out a way to somehow help and only recently found out about the happiness clause. so.

here’s a twist: everyone’s able to forgive jenny but giles. buffy is still sad and hurt and furious, but she and jenny actually become weirdly closer bc jenny’s always incredibly reassuring and tells her lots of stories about all her awful old boyfriends (+ a few of her girlfriends), and this kinda hurts giles, because he wants to be there for buffy too! and anyway jenny lied to all of them, so why should buffy care so much about what jenny has to say? most of it all really stems from the fact, though, that this was the first time in a very long time that he Trusted Someone and then it turned out that she was keeping secrets and he is just really, really hurt by that. so their relationship turns contentious and strained again and it’s kind of awful and sad.

but then comes passion. jenny’s been staying late at the library working on researching possibly ways to re-soul angel, albeit much more above board and non-secretive than in canon, and this time around giles is the one who gets a talking-to from buffy, only what she wants him to know is that she misses him being there for her and she wishes he wasn’t always arguing with ms. calendar because she kinda needs her watcher right now. and that’s kinda a wake-up call for giles--that jenny’s been doing the job of a watcher while he’s been sulking--so he heads back to school to apologize,

and nearly collides with a terrified jenny, right before he sees angelus close behind. giles grabs jenny’s hand and they run to his car, taking off at a probably-illegal speed. he ends up staying at jenny’s apartment that night; his house isn’t safe. there’s a very quiet, very sweet scene between them where they finally make up, followed by a hug that comes dangerously close to becoming a kiss. kind of a landmark moment for both of them; jenny realizes that she might be into giles, giles realizes that he’s in love with jenny. basically jenny’s really behind the curve

the resouling ritual happens the next episode!! it’s sort of a subplot going on (complete with lots of awkward shy mutual pining between giles & jenny), and at the end of the episode, it’s revealed that angel has gotten his soul back. which is a good thing, but also kinda bad, because he has to legitimately address a lot of the stuff that he’s done & attempted to brush under the rug

angel and jenny have another conversation during the episode after that, which is probably a two-part season finale. this one’s more about responsibility & sacrifice & what you owe to the people you hurt, and they both kinda get something from it. angel tells buffy that he loves her, but that he needs to actually figure himself out and start making amends to the people he hurt in whatever ways he can, and buffy’s devastated by this but she does eventually understand. he decides to leave sunnydale, but it’s left very open-ended; he might come back again someday (and probably does, but that’s another story)

meanwhile, jenny’s been ordered to follow angel out of sunnydale, and spends the last episode of s2 giving the concept some serious thought while angel prepares to leave. she knows that it’s her familial responsibility to do so, and she knows she could do a lot of good helping angel fight evil, but she also really hates the thought of leaving sunnydale.

of course, she brings the concept up to giles, who Definitely Does Not Want Jenny To Leave, but also doesn’t want to come off as clingy. he stumbles through a weird, stammery version of a pros and cons list and inadvertently admits that she’s incredibly important to him, which is. a lot for jenny to take in. she decides to talk to buffy, who’s kinda projecting a little, and who is Very Adamant about jenny being needed in sunnydale (it’s v clearly implied that buffy is feeling frightened & abandoned & wants someone to stay) particularly for giles’s sake.

jenny kinda takes this in and decides to stay. this is all a subplot to the buffy/angel goodbye and how buffy’s handling angel’s leaving so it’s a small decision, but still a noticeable one. the end scene is in the library again with all the scoobies gathered around the table, and if you look very closely, you’ll notice jenny reach out and take giles’s hand.

[strawberry-jules]

the fourth

hi again. it’s 10:41pm.

today was a fucking shit show. like appallingly so. my schedule was supposed to roughly look like this:

6-7am: get up, get ready, go get coffee

8-9: vet appt

9-10: breakfast, clean the kitchen for mom

10-11: post office, quick target run

11.30-4pm: read 2 chapters from textbook

4-5.30: run, shower, etc

5.30-7.30: read half a chapter, take some me time, idk

9pm-11pm: vibe time baybee

here’s how it turned out, roughly.

got coffee, it was very fun. barista is making it very hard to not have a crush on them by simply existing. how rude! took belle to the vet, everything was fine and dandy, as i figured. came home, had a bagel with spinach and eggs, cleaned the kitchen, it was fantastic. my brother ended up needing to ship out his christmas gift to his friend in croatia, but his classes weren’t over until 1:30, so i was like no worries! i’ll just go study for my final till your classes are over, just let me know. i ended up reading absolutely nothing and getting sucked into whatever fucking dumb shit exists on the internet. i also picked 3 therapists from our network and emailed them, introducing myself, and asking for quick interviews next week to see if we’re good fits, because i want to start going to therapy. 

i was very excited by this development. it’s taken me over a year of saying i would go to therapy for me to finally get the courage to reach out. at about 12, i went into my parents’ room and said “guess what? i’m finally starting therapy!” and my mother, without missing a beat, says “oh, sorry we did such a bad job raising you. why do you need therapy? i thought we did a great job.” i was fucking stunned. i was like, “woah, no! this isn’t a reflection of you. this is me finally taking care of myself, i have personal things i need to work through. however, i do think that therapy is useful to anyone, and i think everyone should try therapy, at least once,” to which she had the brilliant insight, “there’s nothing wrong with me. should i just make something up about my family and go talk to a stranger about it? is that what you’re doing?” and my dad was like, “hey, that’s not what she’s saying” and my mom basically went off saying that i was weird for thinking that everyone should try therapy, and that i didn’t actually need it, and that it’s weird that i’ve been to therapy twice now, wasn’t complaining to that high school counselor that my parents were so strict enough for me?

those quotes are as close to word for word as i can get, i’m pretty sure it’s exactly what was said. the conversation lasted less than a minute, before i said “i think i need to excuse myself,” and walked away. i came and sat at my desk for i don’t even know how long. i looked at myself in my phone camera, and my face had become so translucent, it was almost green from my blood veins. i walked up to my window and contemplated trying to take the screen out to climb out, but i realized that if i did jump, it would be in my neighbor’s driveway, and that felt really insensitive, so i walked away. i sat back down at my desk and contemplated all the reasons my mom was right, before i realized that she wasn’t right. i have finally realized that i’m not fine. 

i’m a depressed, suicidal 20 year old with undiagnosed adhd and ocd, a diagnosed eating disorder, and i’ve been a closeted lesbian for 13 years. i have every right to feel not okay. i didn’t need my mother’s permission to go to therapy, i have my own health insurance and i’m an adult who feels the need to ask for help, and that’s okay.

so i did what i do best, and spewed verbal diarrhea onto my private snap story about what happened and how i’ve been feeling these last few days. my brother’s classes ended early, so i took the opportunity to leave the house as soon as possible, and we took as long as possible to get to the fedex drop box, before i dropped him back at home and kept driving around, trying to process how i felt. i didn’t return either of my textbooks. i think i’m just going to send the one i bought in october after christmas, idk when it’s due but i can’t deal with the fucking lines at the post office anymore. i walked up to the post office, looked at the winding line into a building where the lovely hicks in my hometown refuse to wear masks, decided i wasn’t ready to get covid yet, and went to deposit cash so i could buy weed. i’ll just bite the $40 and buy the one that was due today, maybe i’ll give it to someone next semester. 

i got home and responded to my friends’ responses to my story. i got an overwhelmingly positive and loving response from my friends. every single one stuck up for me, supported me, and shared that they’ve been feeling similarly. which is heartbreaking, i can’t believe that all of us have been dealing with this so privately! but anyway, that’s a tomorrow issue. 

after i did that, i was ordering my weed when barista texted me, saying they had a question for me, which, when you have a major crush on a coworker with a girlfriend, is a very concerning text to receive. turns out, they just made me earrings! they walked their dog to my house and delivered the insanely cool polymer clay snake earrings. when i greeted them with a hug, they pulled me in so close, literally every part of their body was pressed against mine and my cheek rested on their head so perfectly. they’re on the shorter side, probably 3-4 inches shorter than me, but so strong. the way their arms felt around my back was wild, it was so tight but so gentle but so firm but so, so warm and soft. their hair was soft but frizzy and smelled like them and a little bit like an argan oil shampoo and a little like coffee. their eyes are so much more intensely ice blue in the sun. they hugged me the same way goodbye, and we chatted for a good portion of the evening, about our coworkers and being homeschooled and being nerdy high schoolers and the earrings.

i finally got one chapter done before dinner was ready at 8:30pm, which is late, even by our standards. after dinner, as i was decorating a sugar cookie named gerard, my parents kept making snarky comments about me being a stoner, and i was like yes, bold statements coming from the parents that just used my account to buy a tincture and edibles. anyway, i came upstairs and tried to read more but i’m too emotionally exhausted. eve ended up giving me a call, finally, and filled me in on her life, which is always crazy but i love to hear her voice, so it’s okay. then i learned a tiktok dance, which left me concerningly out of breath, considering it’s only been like 4 days since i ran and i can’t be that out of shape? but i showered and did my skincare routine and made sure my laundry was in the dryer before i sat down to start this. 

it’s now 11:20pm, and i’m very proud to report that i am no longer angry with my mother for what she said to me. i’m sad that it’s how she feels, but i recognize that what i’m going through is something she will never understand, as a straight woman who, while prudish, has a healthy relationship with drugs and sex. i love her, and i forgive her, but i’m going to talk to her tomorrow and hold her accountable for gaslighting her already unstable daughter. what she did wasn’t fair, and it hurt. i know she probably feels insecure because she definitely does have things she knows she should go to therapy for, i know for a fact that she faced a lot of childhood and adolescent trauma and i would personally love to make sure she’s in a healthy place with it. but i can’t force her to, obviously, so i have to just hope that she doesn’t project on to me too much in the coming weeks.

i’m exhausted, and i think i’ll go to bed. i feel good about how i handled today, i caught myself in time to think through my actions before i did something completely unwarranted and unhinged. i know that at the time, my brain was in flight mode and i couldn’t cope immediately so i just followed the “i want to die” instinct because it was the strongest, but i still had enough of my logical brain in gear to have forethought. look at you go, prefrontal cortex! knowing that the part of me that is still healthy and wants to live is strong enough to put the kibosh on that maneuver is enough to give me hope that i will be okay someday. i never thought that i would be someone to be experiencing things like this. i really thought that people were being dramatic, if i’m being totally honest. now that i’m experiencing it, i understand. i’m sorry that i didn’t have more empathy.

[ritebeforeyoureyes]

Confessions

As some of you may know, my masterlist is experiencing some technical difficulties so if you are looking for previous chapters, everything is tagged on blog e.g. go to my blog and search confessions to gain access to the first six chapters of this story. 

Plot: Zendaya and Tom reunite after months apart. 

Confessions (Chapter Seven)

“Did you guys get into a fight?” Darnell opened the door to Zendaya’s house and it was the first thing he’d asked Tom as he made his way inside. Because of his job as Zendaya’s assistant, Darnell hadn’t seen Tom in months either and his greeting was rather unusual for friends who had gotten well acquainted.

“Hi, Darnell. Great to see you too, man.” Tom chuckled as he gave Darnell a one-armed hug. Tom’s tone was light and jokey, but it took him a while to see that Darnell was being deadly serious. Darnell’s body remained rigid and he barely even acknowledged Harrison as he sauntered in a few seconds after. “Did who get into a fight?”

“You and Z?” Tom’s brows frowned together as Darnell answered back speedily. He and Zendaya most definitely weren’t fighting. He hadn’t spoken to Zendaya properly since that night when he was at the airport. The only other form of conversation they had had was this morning when he’d texted Zendaya to ask her if her flight was scheduled to land on time; a text that he hadn’t gotten a response for. Tom had just gathered that she’d gotten on the flight and lost cell service. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of her avoiding him. But, why would she? Zendaya had nothing to ignore him over. They were both just as excited as each other at the prospect of reuniting today.

“What? Of course not.”

“Huh.” Darnell’s gaze glazed over as he tried to find a logical explanation regarding Zendaya’s strange behaviour recently. She had become withdrawn and snappy and Darnell had blamed it all on Tom and the struggles of ascending back into a long-distance relationship. However, now that he knew that Tom and Zendaya were fine, Darnell was slightly concerned – what was it that had sparked Zendaya’s odd behaviour?

“Why would you think they were fighting?” Haz piped up. Just like old times, Harrison found himself growing comfortable in his surroundings. He jumped on the couch and began surfing through TV channels aimlessly.

“She’s been … off.” Darnell couldn’t really explain it but Zendaya’s behaviour just wasn’t normal for her. She was jumping at every little sound, cowering away from people, arguing over the smallest of inconveniences. “I just thought it was because some shit was up with you guys-“

“She’s upstairs, right?” Tom interrupted Darnell and he simply nodded in response. Darnell started to mention how she was unpacking but Tom zoned him out. With one quick look at Harrison, Tom was sprinting up the stairs.

Darnell’s description of Zendaya as of lately had Tom just the slightest bit worried. But, not enough to make him surge into instant panic mode. Realistically, he figured Zendaya was just acting off because she was anticipating their impending reunion. Tom had been victim of their prolonged separation too; he knew what it was like to miss her and only her. There had been days where Tom just wanted to lock himself up and call her for hours on end. He missed her voice, her laughs … and he wasn’t going to let Darnell’s analysis of Zendaya change the fact that he was still as excited as he was mere minutes ago - Tom was finally with his girlfriend!

Like it was his own home, Tom strode through Zendaya’s second floor with a familiarity that only a few had grown accustomed to. “Zendaya?” He called her name from the landing, but he continued to do so as he approached her bedroom. “Z, babe?”

Zendaya heard Tom’s signature South-West London accent as soon as he had walked through her front door and her breathing caught abruptly in her throat. All thoughts of feverishly unpacking, instantly forgotten. Truth was, she had been scared … she was scared to talk to him, see him again.

Initially, she thought acting strange would put Tom off. He’d get cold and distant vibes from her and then eventually break things off. The plan was oh so cowardly but Zendaya didn’t have it in her to do as her blackmailer said, break up with him. Zendaya was already in too deep with Tom and she knew breaking things off with wasn’t an option. She couldn’t physically approach Tom and tell him that she couldn’t be with him because it simply wasn’t the truth. Zendaya wanted Tom’s support now more than ever and within seconds of hearing his voice, she knew there was no way she was going to be able to go through with the plan that she had spent a week trying to wrap her head around.

Zendaya needed him.

And, as soon as Tom was in her doorway, Zendaya pounced. He was a tad bit out of breath from having run up her stairs and she could see his fragmented breathes. His buff chest was heaving upwards and downwards and Zendaya looked him over. Her mind was trying to commit everything to memory before she jumped on him. Tom hadn’t been expecting her ambush and he stumbled a few steps as he caught her by the waist, her legs instinctively wrapping around his torso. His whole arm encircled her slim frame and he let out an ‘oomph’ sound as their bodies collided forcefully.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” She whispered breathily against his neck.

Any remnants of worry that Tom possessed about Zendaya’s mood melted away; this was the normal Zendaya he knew and adored.

An eager Tom was just as excited because he pressed Zendaya up against the wall, so he wouldn’t have to use his hands to keep her legs up and around his waist. Instead, his hands squished her cheeks together and forced her lips onto his. Zendaya’s back collided with the cold and firm surface of the wall, a shiver running through her. But just as quick as it arrived, any form of coldness was snatched away once Tom pressed his body flat up against her. She could feel every indent of chest and she let her hands roam freely as their lips danced against each other.

“I’ve missed you,” Tom pulled away to say speedily before capturing her lips once again. Zendaya who was swept away by the feel of him was breathless and she gulped in a large take of oxygen before allowing Tom to pull her back under his spell. This was why she couldn’t break up with him – she was truly and utterly captivated. “So, so, so, so much.” Every time spoke the word so, he’d pull back and then peck her expecting lips repeatedly.

They did that … kissed and touched repeatedly; an endless cycle of moans, whispers and giggles. Zendaya was Tom’s drug and he was happy to indulge in every little bit of her. He’d find any excuse to touch her whether that be holding her hand or kissing her lips; stroking her hair, cupping her ass. Tom was definitely high and there was nothing that was dragging him down, for a while.

“Ya’ll are cringing me out.” Darnell mockingly shivered as Tom wound Zendaya’s natural curls around his finger.

The New York foursome – Tom, Zendaya, Darnell and Harrison – were currently at the arcade with a few other cast members for a chilled day out. They weren’t scheduled to be doing anything and had decided another bonding session was needed. After months apart, clearly a lot had happened, Tom and Zendaya’s relationship being one of them. When the cast had all first met, Sony had forced them to bond in order to translate the teenage relationships that were integral to the movie’s plot. What they hadn’t anticipated was enjoying each other’s company to the extent that they had. Now it was natural, just hanging out and goofing about with a bunch of friends. Jacob, Laura, Tony – the whole gang was back together.

“We gotta find you a man, Darnell.” Zendaya narrowed her eyes at him, her eyebrows frowning together comically. A few chuckles resonated as Zendaya glared at Darnell for paying too much attention to the stolen moments between her and Tom.  

“Ain’t you a sweet best friend.”

“I can’t deal with your nosy ass watching us all the time.” Darnell smiled, he was glad that Zendaya was acting more like herself. It was like Tom’s presence had just washed away the dark cloud that had settled over her. Darnell had guessed that it was solely Tom’s absence responsible for making her act all funny before and he was honestly glad to have banterful Z back.

“Well, this nosy ass is going to beat you both on the dance machines.” Darnell strode over towards the glowing dance mats and Tom smirked, he was a pro at these things back home and he was going to school Darnell for all his money was worth. Tom was naturally competitive, and some healthy competition was always needed. In the case of dancing, Tom was always in it to win it.

“Not if I beat your ass first.” After a quick kiss to Zendaya’s cheek, Tom clambered onto the machine before Darnell could get to it first.

“Sweet feet, sweet feet.” Zendaya cheered as Tom followed the instruction on screen. Thoroughly entertained by the competitiveness of her boyfriend and her best friend, Zendaya pulled out her phone to record the whole ordeal as it unfolded. It was safe to say that Tom was good, no doubt about it, but Darnell wasn’t just an amateur either. Their little dance off was growing increasingly heated and Zendaya’s Snapchat, along with Haz’s, was documenting the complete battle from beginning to end.

“When you try the hardest level.” Zendaya couldn’t contain her laughter as Tom became frazzled by the speedy demands of the game’s hardest level. His legs were moving about inanimately, and he looked so uncollected that it catalysed everybody’s laughter. Tom, however, knew he was getting his competitive spirit knocked and he came off the machine defeated, with tinges of redness dotted across his face. “It’s okay, Tom.” She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice as she rubbed his back soothingly.

“I don’t care what anybody says, I won that.”  Tom huffed playfully, his arms folded across his chest in defiance to his spectating friends. Zendaya just nodded, the giggles still prevalently awaiting in her throat. The little childish tone that had enveloped Tom was too cute and she kissed him softly, lessening the frown that was plastered across his handsome face.

“You can claim your prize later.” She winked at him suggestively and Tom growled lowly in her ear, broadcasting his evident agreement. He was definitely ready to get back into Zendaya’s bed as soon as it became socially acceptable. And as the two wasted away time, flirting and messing around with their closest of friends, Zendaya became oblivious to the detrimental text messages that she had been and was currently receiving. The phone, hidden away in her purse, was now chiming continuously with notifications that would make Zendaya reconsider her whole relationship with Tom.

‘I guess my girl’s rebellious; it’s time to teach her a lesson … if you won’t listen, maybe he will.”