#have had so many experiences like this among worse ones & it never gets easier

[ozlices]

i miss m so fucking much it actually hurts i hate not being able to know if she's okay or not. it's been Months. we talked everyday, she helped through sm, she singlehandedly got me to catch up w vn/c in one sitting,, i owe her sm i miss her sm i hope she's ok & comes back soon

[gingerylangylang1979]

Will Carmy become an addict?... Also, exactly what are his mental health (or other) issues?

This conversation is an offshoot of thoughts expressed here in conversation with @november-rising.

I'll start by saying I do not think Carmy is currently an addict or in recovery from an addiction. But, could Carmy become an addict like his dad (was he an addict or just a heavy abuser, we don't know) Mikey, and Donna? Maybe. Also, I hope nothing I write is offensive to anyone. If anyone thinks there is something I'm missing or misrepresenting please share and we can talk about it. I'm open to learning.

The statistic rates for people impacted by another person's addiction becoming an addict themselves is high. I myself had a drug addict mom and an alcoholic ex. I dabbled in drugs but never became an addict unless you count cigarettes and weed (no longer do either). How me and my brother didn't end up addicts despite our experimentation with hard substances is beyond me. All of the prerequisites were in place and I feel like we almost were tempting it like, come on, I know you want to take me, yet, neither of us ended up addicts.

Sometimes I felt it would make things easier. I think it was Lou Reed, maybe, who said something like addiction made life simple because then you only have one problem to deal with. I wish I only had one problem. I tried stuff as hard as coke, meth, and opium. I was a bartender and partied but never became an alcoholic. My brother went as far as trying heroin a few times. But neither of us became addicts. It's insane if you think about it.

Does that mean we didn't/do participate in fucked up self-destructive behavior? Hell no. Most of my life I have battled with trying to "be normal" all the while self sabotaging all along the way. But I never became an addict.

This is why it's so easy for me to see Carmy in all of his darkness and still see how he isn't necessarily someone doomed to become an addict. Nat didn't become one, me and my brother didn't become ones. I see a lot of us in Nat and Carmy. Carmy is way worse off than Nat, for sure. How, I dunno. And I would say I'm closer to Carmy in the melancholic creative way than my brother. So it's kind of a weird blessing that traumatized people who you would think would become addicts, don't, but it happens.

Could Carmy become one? I think if he continues to not address his issues with individual therapy, continues to blame himself, and just continues the same grind he wanted to escape, possibly. But I'm looking more to how Storer and Co. are telling the story as my signs more than Carmy's actual history. I guess I just don't see what the show would have to gain from Carmy becoming an addict. It would be a tragic ending. I'm not beyond them doing some tragic ending but I think it would just be kind of lame and what was the point if it ends with Carmy continuing the cycle and becoming an addict.

I see him and Nat as the second chance for the Berzattos. She is about to be a mom and hopefully will raise a child that doesn't have to witness any of the trauma she did. Carmy is trying to start over and I think as much as he is struggling now and it may get worse before better, I just see too many points of lightness for him to crawl towards/through. And I think this being so inspired by Storer's lived experience, I can't see him wanting it to end in doom and gloom. Chris and Coco are Carmy and Nat to me. They broke the curse. I think because of that he would want the show to reflect that.

Now, what the fuck is wrong with Carmy, in detail. I will start by saying we don't really know a diagnosis. I think common/possibly correct assumptions are a mix of anxiety, depression, and CPTSD. But I've also seen other ideas like maybe he is on the spectrum among other things. I'm not quick to say anything outside of the first three. He could be neurodivergent, but I guess what makes me not want to say that is because when people bring it up there is often this sentiment that it explains everything about him or that is takes precedent over his behavior being a reaction to his trauma. Two things can be true at the same time but I sometimes feel people apply neurodivergence in a way that dismisses how the average person would deal with a series of overlapping traumas.

The same way I see people assign Sydney as being neurodivergent and I'm like, or she could just be dealing with a lot of bullshit and trauma as a black woman? Because shit, I'm similar, does that mean I'm neurodivergent, too? Not to take away anyone who is neurodivergent and they relate to things they see in the characters. I'm just saying be careful to not dismiss common reactions to lived experience as such without more insight. Or sometimes people can be awkward or quirky without it being neurodivergence. Like sometimes it comes across as what we do know the characters have gone through isn't enough to justify what we see.

I will say I could see a case for Carmy having a learning disability. The evidence being his dislike for reading extensively and his very poor math skills. I think it was @eatandsleepwell who pointed out he only likes books with pictures. It's true. Most of his books are image heavy. And a lot of people are bad at math but he can't keep up with basic addition and subtraction (aka dyscalculia). But again, I think we are seeing evidence of this specific condition, not vague symptoms that could occur due to a number of things.

None of this is to say speculation or headcanons are not welcome. But to hard assign diagnosis is another thing.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

electric

Part seven of 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough on ao3

Part one | Part two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part 6

Summary:

Obi-Wan returns from Zygerria and something is off about him.

Word Count: 5,510

Skull was going to kill Cody. 

Sure, it wasn’t Cody’s fault he had been shipped off with half of the 212th to the Outer Rim, but somehow it still seemed like a personal slight to Skull’s sanity. 

There had been a mission Skull had been made aware of only by Kix, who had thankfully been employed to assist in a pick-up in its aftermath. Skull had been told Obi-Wan Kenobi was on a solo mission, which wrongfully, he had assumed was diplomacy related. What had been left out, was that solo mission only meant without the 212th, not completely alone. 

Kadavo.

Kix had commed him, voice tight and tension growing with each spoken word. “Rex was pretty banged up, but the General…isn’t doing well.” Kix said solemnly, voice dropping an octave like saying the words would somehow make the situation worse.

Skull hadn’t apologized for swearing. Instead, he asked for a list, outlining what Kix could observe. “He won’t– he won’t let me near him. Skywalker’s got him pinned in the corner– you know how they are.” 

Skull almost laughed, albeit bitterly, at the thought that Skywalker was the protective one. If only Kix could see Cody in action; Skull would liken it to taking on a group of rabid banthas with a butter knife. One didn’t cross Cody, where the General was involved. 

All Kix could observe were electrical burns across every inch of his torso, too many abrasions to count, and a clear concussion, among other things. It was already a list too long for Skull’s comfort.

Obi-Wan would be arriving on the Negotiator within minutes, Kix had said, sounding worse for wear himself. There were many injured Togrutas headed to the Resolute with him, not to mention the underlying tension regarding the nature of the whole slavery ordeal, as it was. Even the thought of it was enough to make Skull’s chest burn. 

The minute he placed his comlink down, turning to Oxy with a thick sigh, Skull knew it was his responsibility to tell Cody.

Cody .

Why couldn’t he just already be on the Negotiator with the second half of the 212th? It would certainly make it easier to corral the presumed mess of Obi-Wan Kenobi that would be delivered to the medbay. 

“What’s wrong, Skully?” Oxy asked, spinning mindlessly in his desk chair instead of working on reports like he said he had planned to do. 

“That was some diplomatic mission…” Oxy raised his eyebrows and momentarily stopped spinning.

“The General’s on his way in–electrical burns.” Skull clarified, not happy with the prospect at all. Electric burns, even with the help of bacta, weren’t pleasant to deal with, and in Skull’s very limited experience, were more painful than blaster wounds in some cases. 

“Slavers.” Skull clarified with another exasperated sigh. That was enough information for Oxy to get the picture. 

Oxy cringed, and stood from his chair, “Suppose we bring a hoverchair then?” 

Skull only nodded and plucked a few syringes of mild sedatives and painkillers from his stash, just in case, placing them in his utility belt before strapping it on over his blacks.

“Might be a lost cause– I have never seen the General willingly sit down in one.” Skull said, realizing that the only times the General had been cooperative, it was when Cody was present. 

Karking Cody.

Skull, regardless of protocol regarding medical emergencies, knew he needed to comm him with an update, it was the very least he could do.

So he did, waiting impatiently for the Commander to pick up his comlink. 

When Cody did–finally– he did not sound happy. “Skull– I’m in the middle of something– what is it?” Impatience tainted his tone and Skull could practically imagine him standing with crossed arms over his chest looking faintly annoyed. 

“Well hello to you too, Cody.” Skull said with as much forced pleasantness as he could muster. Of course Cody was going to be difficult; when was he not? 

“Hi– what do you want?” Cody said with equally as much sarcasm. 

“It’s your boyfriend–again.” Skull said, motioning for Oxy to follow him with the hoverchair as he stepped out of the medbay and started toward the hangar. Cody let out a muffled grunt, but didn’t actively try to deny it. Baby steps.

“Is he alright?” Cody asked, his voice more tentative than it had been seconds early. 

“Haven’t seen the damage yet, but it sounds… unpleasant. Did he tell you where he was going on his solo mission?” Skull didn’t want to be at the center of another famous bickering war between the two of them if Kenobi had failed to be informative yet again.

“He told me Zygerria, made it sound fairly routine…” Cody’s voice trailed off, like he knew that Obi-Wan had considerably downplayed the situation already. 

“Well if dealing with slavers is routine, I suppose he’d be right. He’s got major electrical burns from what Kix has told me. They were using electrostaffs on him.” Skull held back on speaking of the other probable injuries, already sensing he had worried Cody. 

“I–kriff.” Cody’s voice broke and he audibly gulped, “I am going to try and get back to the Negotiator– we’re almost wrapped up.” Skull figured that was a lie, that it would probably be at least a day before Cody would arrive back on the Negotiator.

“Cody, he’ll be okay. I’ll take good care of him; you know I will.” Skull tried to sound reassuring, but Cody let out a shuddering breath in response. The beginnings of panic.

“...I’ll be there soon.” Cody responded, despondent, and exhaustion evident. 

Skull wanted to remind him that the General would live, that he wasn’t in dire straights.

But it wasn’t really about life or death when it came to Cody and his General.

It was– as horribly disgusting as it sounded to Skull as he formulated the idea– everything in between life and death that made them tick. It was time, and every moment spent with each other through the highest mountains and lowest valleys. 

“See you then, Commander.”

Skywalker emerged first from the cruiser. He was shortly followed–very slowly – by a limping General Kenobi. He looked dazed, then pained as he scuffed one of his feet across the ramp. Skywalker grabbed his elbow to support him when Obi-Wan stumbled, letting out a muffled cry as he stayed bent at the waist. 

Skull took that as his cue to come closer, hoverchair in front of him and Oxy as they approached the bottom of the ramp. 

Skywalker nodded his thanks, then turned to Obi-Wan, who was still doubled over, now a trembling hand pressed over his mouth. Skull cursed internally for not thinking to bring a bag or something, but it was already too late. 

Skywalker hissed softly as Obi-Wan heaved, the meager watery contents of his stomach spilling onto the ramp. He straightened after a moment, with a profound wince, and the usual spark in his eyes entirely missing. Instead, he looked dull.

“Sorry, Master…” Skywalker said quietly to him, hand hovering near his shoulder, but not touching him. Skull would have found it strange, but he could already see the tattered remains of the back of Kenobi’s tunic. 

He was covered in burns and scrapes and bruises. Skull wouldn’t want to be touched in a condition like that.

“Brought a chair for you, General.” Skull said, voice apologetic as the General stared at him with dull grey eyes. 

He didn’t immediately refuse, letting Skywalker help him the rest of the way down the ramp and into the chair, but he protested as he sat on the very edge of it. “I– this isn’t necessary.” The words came out weakly, almost gruff, and without a hint of his usual stubbornness. It was almost like he objected out of habit, rather than desire. He refused eye contact with Skull.

Skull noticed he didn’t lean back into the chair, his back hovering inches in front of the back. With only a glance, Skull could tell the flesh of his back was still raw, tiny bits of fresh blood staining some of his tattered robes. 

“It’s necessary, General.” Skull said, noting the way that Skywalker hovered, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself or how to say goodbye. He was supposed to head back to the Resolute afterall. “I’ll take good care of him.” Skull told Skywalker, nodding at him in reassurance. 

The Jedi clenched his jaw, then looked away with a hand on his chin, “I know… there’s just–” He cut himself off, walking a few steps out of earshot of the General and motioning for Skull to follow. “He’s– there’s something off about him. He keeps… staring off, like he’s not even there at all.” 

Skull wanted to brush it off as a trauma response, afterall, Kenobi looked hollow behind the eyes as it was. 

“I’ll look out for that.” Skull responded and motioned for Oxy to start pushing the General toward the medbay, the less time wasted, the better. 

Skywalker headed back into the cruiser, looking back at his former Master like he didn’t want to  leave him behind. Skull hoped he knew Kenobi was in good hands.

“Alright General,” Skull started as Oxy maneuvered the chair through the first of the long hallways to the medbay, “Can you explain what happened?”

Skull was a few paces ahead of the chair and looked back to notice the General’s eyes followed the lines of the floor. He grimaced, looking up at Skull with a frown.

“Oh– nothing major. Just a few electrical burns.” He winced as he gestured toward his back, then returned his shaking hand to his lap. Skull could see the bruises on his face and the ones beginning to form on his hands around the tiny, dried-blood covered lacerations.

He was lying to himself, per usual.

“Kix thought you might have a concussion– does your head hurt, General?” Kenobi seemed to think about it for a moment, then offered a shrug. 

“Perhaps a little.” He admitted, though he didn’t offer any clarification. 

Oxy asked him a few more questions, mostly about the nature of the mission, as they approached the medbay. Skull was thankful that a couple more of his colleagues had arrived, both Splint and Copper already prepping for the still bleeding wounds on the General’s back. Skull must have called them in early for their shifts.

Pushing the hoverchair up to the side of the medical bed in the far corner of the medbay, Oxy offered a hand to the General, but was promptly ignored. 

Figures. Stubborn kriffing Jedi, Skull thought. 

“C’mon General,” Skull said as Kenobi grimaced, yet again, and pressed at the arms of the chair with a white-knucked grip, “You’d let Cody help if he was here.” 

Skull meant it as a light-hearted jab, but the look on Kenobi’s face indicated his quickly rising alarm.

“I need to tell Cody–” 

“Already done, Sir.” Oxy offered, smiling tightly as he gripped Kenobi’s elbow, “Let me help you get up there.” 

Surprisingly, Kenobi relented, and allowed Oxy to help him onto the bed. He positioned himself still sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs hanging over the edge. 

Skull walked in a circle around him, trying to determine the best way to start.

The General was a mess, the bright lights of the medbay only highlighting the thick layer of soot covering his robes and the exposed skin of his wrists, neck, and face. Skull rubbed his beard anxiously as he walked around the bed to look at Kenobi’s back.

He sucked in a breath as he glanced over the damage, and Copper gave him a rundown of what he could see, “Doesn’t look so good, Skull. I’m seeing eleven separate electrical burns, and a long laceration across his shoulder. That one looks mostly healed.”

“Three days ago.” Kenobi said, voice weary. 

“I don’t think we can get bacta on these right away…” Skull said to Copper. “Some look fresh, the blood hasn’t stopped.” Skull walked back around to Kenobi’s front, watching the way he wring his hands in his lap mindlessly, not really looking at anything in particular in front of him, just as Skywalker had described earlier. 

Skull watched curiously for a moment, stepping closer to the General and stooping down just enough that he could make eye-contact with him. 

Kenobi blinked quickly for a couple of seconds, then appeared to regain his focus. He offered a lifeless half-smile, then clenched his hands at his sides, “You were saying?” His voice trailed off.

Something is not right here. Skull had seen many traumatized soldiers in his time, some equally as despondent, but never unresponsive like that. He glanced at Oxy for confirmation he had seen something too; the medic raised an eyebrow. 

Skull made a mental note to run a test once that had sorted out the burns, and got him through the worst of the pain. “We’re going to need to get these clothes off of you. Need to make sure we’re not missing anything.” 

Kenobi glanced around himself, eyes wandering across the four medics surrounding him on all sides. Admittedly, Skull would have been equally overwhelmed with the idea of being stripped down in the presence of four others, so he relented. “Just Oxy and I can help.” 

Thankfully, Copper took notice and pulled Splint away behind him as Oxy went to pull the curtains around the bed.

“This will have to be cut off.” Skull said as he gently tugged at the hem of Kenobi’s tunic.

“Master Yoda is going to stop accepting my uniform requisition forms…” Kenobi mumbled, half-jokingly as he reached for his belt, fumbling with it for a short while before Skull pulled his hands away and unclasped it himself. 

The General did not look happy about it, averting his eyes as Skull and Oxy pulled at opposite sides of the tunic to separate it from where it was stuck to the blood on his undershirt. 

Karking Cody. Kenobi was endlessly sheepish and this time seemingly mildly panicked, and understandably so, but Skull would have given anything to have Cody here with him. Kenobi was relaxed when Cody was around, and that made Skull’s job so much easier. 

By the time they had managed to cut around the outside of the wounds, only having to pull at the sticky electrical burns a little, Kenobi had formed tears at the very corners of his eyes. 

“You okay, Sir?” Skull asked, happy to see that Oxy already was wiping down the soot on one of his arms to apply an IV.

An IV meant sedation, it meant pain meds and some very needed relief for the General, at least until Cody made it there.

Kenobi only offered a single nod and wiped at the corner of his eye with his thumb. “Fine.” He murmured eventually, “Just… tired.” 

Skull didn’t doubt the truth of that, but knew there was something more always lurking behind the surface of Kenobi’s words. 

“Probably a little more than tired. We’re going to sedate you.” Skull said, waiting for the inevitable protest, the insistence that he wanted to know what was happening and sedation would prevent that. But it never came. Skull didn’t know whether to call that a win or a loss. 

“Let’s get these off.” Skull said as he crouched down and worked the first boot off of Kenobi’s right foot. When he got to the left foot, Kenobi let out a hiss as Skull jiggled the boot.

Kriff, Skull thought, looking up to see Kenobi’s jaw clenched tight, broken, isn’t it?

“... sorry.” The General apologized, “Think I twisted it.”

Skull, for obvious reasons, did not believe him, but decided not to press. “Do you want the pain meds before I take this off?” He asked, hoping Kenobi would agree. The sedation was going to take a few more minutes, and the pain meds would have more of an immediate effect. 

“Oh– no I’m… quite alright.” The General’s lips returned to a taut line, and his eyes were still not free of tears.

Skull sighed, “This is going to hurt.” He said, more to himself than Kenobi, and tugged the boot off as quickly as he could. Kenobi sucked in another harsh breath, an involuntary noise coming from his throat. “Sorry, General.”

Kenobi didn’t respond, just pulled in another shaky breath as Skull held his leg up and gently inspected the damaged ankle. It was purple, indicating that it had happened some time before, and it was certainly broken. Skull shook his head and stood, reminding himself that this was Kenobi. Of course he wouldn't offer this information up front.

Keeping his demeanor as calm as possible, Skull pointed to Kenobi’s last remaining article of soot-covered clothing. “Let’s get those off, then you can lay down on your front. The sedatives will kick in soon.” 

He allowed the General to fumble with the buttons of pants and then helped pull them off of his legs leaving him in his regulation briefs. His legs were bruised in multiple locations, and he had several electrical burns on his calves and thighs that mirrored the ones on his back. Skull noted the red of Kenobi’s cheeks as he helped the General onto his stomach on the sheets. 

Whatever sheepishness he had left disappeared in the matter of seconds, replaced by drowsiness as Kenobi settled into the sheets. “Water?” Oxy asked him, offering a small tube so he could drink comfortably from his position. 

The General did so, for once , without hesitation or complaint. 

Frankly, he was acting out of character enough for Skull to be harboring concern. Kenobi had entered his medbay in worse condition on three other occasions, yet this time, he was unusually on edge. 

Skull wanted to think it was because of Cody’s absence, but Kenobi was a Jedi still, he was aware of the nature of war and attachments just as much as any other soldier. It must be something else.

“Sir, I am pushing pain meds now, we’re gonna get started on the burns.” Oxy’s voice cut through Skull’s thoughts. Right, electrical burns.

Skull called out for Splint and Copper to return, noting their looks of disdain and empathy as they looked at the mess that was General Obi-Wan Kenobi’s back. 

“...fuck.” Copper whispered, his usual profanity not swayed by the presence of the General.

Skull looked over the flesh, noting the way some of the burns had scabbed over, seemingly having been inflicted long before the ones that had just barely stopped bleeding. “Alright boys,” He said, knowing they had hours ahead of them trying to properly bandage the wounds, “Let’s get started.”

Cody hadn’t been kidding when he told Skull he would be back soon.

The Jedi Council had send Quinlan Vos, much to Cody’s irritation, to wrap things up. They had already been on Spondiel for two weeks, endlessly waiting for more battle droids to invade their encampment, rather than getting any closer to completing the objective at hand.

Destroy the small weapons factory, they said, won’t take more than a few days.

Of course, as soon as Vos had arrived– his obnoxious loud voice and smug smile already annoying Cody within seconds of his exit from his ship– their objective was complete within a night. 

In fact, they had been minutes into a debrief, so close to leaving the karking planet once they settled on a plan for clean up, when Cody’s comlink had beeped.

He hated the way his heart dropped into his stomach when he answered, expecting Obi-Wan, but getting Skull instead. He schooled his tone, regardless of the rush of blood in his veins and the panic prickling up the back of his neck. Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan’s friend and contemporary, was right there listening into the call.

Obi-Wan hadn’t told him anything yet because…

The thought of Obi-Wan and Quinlan together made Cody’s blood boil.

So Cody tried to make the call quick, tried to shield his worry; they would be back on the Negotiator within hours as it was.

Cody could feel Quinlan’s gaze on him, eyes narrowed as the discussion with Skull progressed. Skull was certainly not doing Cody any favors when he said boyfriend, like there wasn’t anyone else with Cody who could hear. 

“Boyfriend? ” Vos said, eyebrows still raised and the beginnings of a smug smirk painted across his face. His punchable face.

“Inside joke, Vos.” Cody bit out between gritted teeth as he turned on his heel. Unfortunately for Cody, Vos followed.

“Oh c’mon, Commander. Bit of an unprofessional joke don’t you think?” Cody clenched his fists at his side hoping that he could maintain self-control for the last of the time he had left on this force-forsaken planet. 

“Take it up with Kenobi later, Vos. He’s my General, and a close friend, and hurt.” Cody cut the shit, and spun around to see that Vos had his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about this now.” 

“You’re right, Cody.” Vos said seriously, then followed up with a quip that Cody was proud of himself for ignoring, “...but if you need any pointers, you know who to call.”

Cody decided that in a post-war world, he would kill Quinlan, and Skull. They deserved it, really, and he would remind them of his intentions until that day.

By the time the clean up was complete, it had only been two hours, and the trip back to the Negotiator would only be another two on top of that. Cody wanted to be relieved, but the idea of Obi-Wan, alone in the medbay, kept him on edge as he settled into his seat on the cruiser. 

Boil had tried to sit next to him and talk, but Cody barely answered his questions, eyes scanning over the floor as he considered the implications of Skull’s earlier call. 

Slavers, electric burns…

Cody swallowed, imagining the pain Obi-Wan would have been in. He leaned back into the wall, eyes closed, leg tapping nervously.

I’ll be there soon, Obi-Wan.

“Cody’s back.” Copper said, looking at his comlink, then eyeing the doorway like the Commander might burst into the room at any second. 

Skull snorted slightly, remembering a time before he had witnessed the lovers in action, where Copper had been reamed out by the Commander for accidentally giving Kenobi a few packets of food with ingredients he was allergic to. The General hadn’t eaten the food– he always did check the ingredients list– but Cody had been in a particularly protective mood that day.

“Prepare for the worst boys.” Skull said as he gently cleaned around the outside of one of the last electric burns that crept down from Kenobi’s lowest rib around to the front of his pelvic bone. They had managed to get Kenobi situated on his side, Splint propping him upright since the sedation had rendered him near useless.

Kenobi had since regained some level of awareness since they had turned him, but still seemed drowsy, his eyes closing for a few seconds with every slow blink.

“C’dy?” He asked, tongue running over his dry lips as he looked down at Skull where he worked.

“Yes, Sir. He’ll be here any minute.” That seemed to be enough to make Kenobi sick of the medical attention, and he tried to push himself up, Skull’s hands fumbling over the wound.

“Woah!” Oxy cried out, grabbing Kenobi’s bare shoulder and pressing him gently back onto the bed, “He’s coming to you, Sir, not the other way around.”

“S’rry.” Kenobi murmured, “When?” 

The pain meds were really quite effective, weren’t they? 

“A couple minutes, General.” Skull said again, “Almost done down here, then we’ll get you sitting up so we can put that leg in some bacta.” 

Kenobi grunted in response, then winced with an audible whimper as Skull pressed bacta over the last burn. The same process had repeated for hours, everytime Skull wincing himself as the General jerked in pain each time. A few times, Kenobi had leaned over the bed, throwing up into the bin that Splint had placed beside the bed. 

Skull, unlike Cody–the General’s boyfriend– was no expert at comforting him. Sure, he had fine bedside manner, but that was all. Sometimes he wished he was better at showing his compassion where he felt it. 

Just as Copper finished the dressing over Skull’s work, there was the sound of muffled voices emerging from down the hall. Oxy’s eyebrows raised again.

“Who’s with him?” Oxy asked Skull. 

Good question…

“Not sure,” Skull said as he rounded the bed and headed toward the doors of the medbay, hoping he would be able to catch Cody before he got sight of the General. A panicked Cody would do very little to keep Obi-Wan calm.

As he approached the door, he squinted at the two figures coming his way. He initially thought it was two clones, but the closer the pair came, it was quite obvious the second person was taller, and had much longer hair.

Interesting.

Skull turned to yell out to Oxy. “Not a brother– a Jedi maybe?” 

When he looked back, Cody and the man beside him were in full view.

Skull sucked in a breath, eyes looking past Cody and landing directly onto the tall man that trailed a few paces behind him. Unnaturally, his heart skipped a beat as his eyes traveled across the man’s exposed arms and impressive biceps. He held his head high, hair billowing around his shoulders and Jedi tabard moving between his legs as he walked. 

He was… attractive.

Skull shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. No, this was not the time or place to notice someone. Fuck.

Instead, he focused his attention on Cody, who marched up to him with narrowed eyes laced with something like disguised panic. 

“Where is he?” Cody asked gruffly, not bothering with pleasantries, but softening when Skull placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen– Cody, he’s not well.” Skull said quietly, not sure the man lurking behind Cody needed to hear, “He’s got a lot of burns, a broken ankle, and a concussion. He looks… bad. He’s been sedated and is a little loop.” Cody swallowed and nodded looking mildly teary, then gestured behind himself.

“Uh– this is Vos, one of Ob– Kenobi’s friends.” Skull wasn’t sure what to make of the look on Cody’s face, or frankly, the way he had gritted his teeth with the word friends.

“Yeah– hi. Quinlan Vos. Call me Quin. Just thought I’d see an old friend for some future blackmail material. Obes loves it when I swing by after he loses a fight.” He offered a grin, holding out a hand for Skull to shake.

Skull just barely held back a laugh with the outright look of death Cody shot in his direction. But Vos– Quin, Skull reminded himself, was… impressively similar  to him with his sense of humor. Skull would have to thank him later for the joke.

“Well, you both can head this way then.” He said, leading them toward the bed where Obi-Wan was now sitting, head propped up by Oxy’s hand as he wiped away the layer of dirt from Kenobi’s beard and cheeks. 

“Obi-Wan…” Cody whispered as he approached the bed first, hands hovering inches away from Kenobi’s shoulders. The Jedi offered Cody a soft smile that quickly was followed by more tears welling.

“Cody.” He said, batting away Oxy’s hands. Cody wandered around the outside of the bed, eyes observing the white bandaging that spanned most of his back and slipped below his briefs. 

“Are you…?” The General shook his head, wincing due to his concussion. “I’m sorry. I– I should have been there.” 

There was a few moments of silence in the medbay, Copper suspiciously eyeing the Commander, and Oxy and Splint looking away with disgust. Vos shifted on his feet where he stood behind Skull, a hint of a smile on his face when Skull turned to look at him.

Shit, as much as Skull liked to tease Cody and his General, he wasn’t sure what another Jedi would think. 

“So how long has this been going on?” Vos asked, smiling fondly when Cody ran a gentle hand through Obi-Wan’s soiled hair.

“Uh– what are you talking about?” Skull had always been a bad liar.

“I heard you over Cody’s comlink earlier. They’re a couple.” Ah, the Jedi always were observant. “Cody seemed to think he could deny it but he was a mess on the way back here.” 

Skull snorted, tearing his eyes away from the sharp jawline and collarbone that swam into his vision, “The two of them still think this is a secret. I’ve been grilling them for months.” 

Quinlan laughed quietly, “Not a surprise. Obes has always been stubborn. Keep it up.”

Before Skull had a chance to respond, Kenobi’s weary voice came from the bed, “Quinlan?” 

The tall Jedi smiled warmly, it appeared much to Cody’s irritation, and stepped over to him.

“Wow Obes, you really took a beating this time.” Vos said loudly. Skull almost expected the General to be defensive, but instead, he offered up his own quip.

“Should see the other guys.” Kenobi said, gripping Cody’s hand harder over the sheets.

For a moment, Skull was happy. The General’s hollow eyes had been replaced with something like fondness in the presence of people he loved. It was like a lightswitch had turned on.

But then. Then.

Just as the calm began, chaos erupted. 

One moment, the General was smiling, chapped lips curled upward for the first time in quite a while, then his face dropped. It seemed that every muscle in his body contracted all at once, his arms jerking out against an aghast Cody. Skull pushed forward, past Quinlan who seemed to have frozen in place, and caught the General’s jerking body before he could slam into the floor.

“Help me get him on his side!” He yelled to whoever was listen, his mind only processing one thought. 

Seizure. The General was having a seizure. 

The managed to pull Kenobi’s tensed body onto the bed, positioning him on his side, legs splayed out. Skull barked out orders for everyone to step back and not to touch him unless he looked like he would fall. 

Then, Skull counted, only once glancing to look at Cody. Tears fell down his cheeks freely.

… seven, eight, nine–

Skull swore as he noticed a dribble of blood on Kenobi’s lip; he had probably bitten his tongue. His movements were jerky at his joints, a telltale sign of a tonic-clonic seizure and his skin began to fade into a light blue the longer Skull counted. Eventually, a wet spot appeared on Kenobi’s briefs. 

One minute.

Skull held his own breath. 

“Why isn’t it stopping?” Cody’s gruff, broken voice emerged into Skull’s consciousness, but he was forced to ignore it, letting Oxy guide Cody to a chair in the corner.

Finally, after a minute and twenty seconds, the General’s body came to rest.

Skull, unthinking and with his own adrenaline guiding his actions, crouched at his side, feeling against his lips for moving air. 

Thank the Force, he was breathing. Still, Skull wiped at his mouth, using a finger to check and make sure that blood hadn’t filled his mouth.

The General stayed unconscious, eyes moving under his eyelids as Skull got a look at his bandaged back. The bacta had not sat untouched for long enough, and droplets of red pressed through the white gauze and tape.

Shit. 

“Copper, he’s bleeding again– tore his back open.” Skull said, moving back up to the General’s face to try and convince him to keep still once he was conscious again. 

Skull looked up to see Oxy crouched beside Cody, hand gripping the Commander’s arm as the man in question watched with wide disbelieving eyes. “It will be alright, Cody.” Oxy whispered.

Seconds later, Kenobi’s eyes blinked open. He looked at Skull, blinking once. “General, you had a seizure, I need you to stay still where you are.” He tried to speak the words calmly as to not incite an unwanted reaction.

Kenobi blinked again.

“Whe–” He tried to speak, but grimaced, obviously noticing that he had bit down on his tongue. “C’dy?” His voice was so weak, eyes already leaking tears again as he tried to sit up. Skull shook his head and pressed him back down on his side as gently as possible. 

Skull sat still for a second, contemplating what to do, as Kenobi shivered under his hold. “Cody.” He repeated, more firmly, “We were– he was right here.” The General’s words were slurred, and he was obviously disoriented. 

“Everyone out, besides Cody and Oxy. Get out.” He demanded, heart still beating inside his chest. 

They left, unquestioningly.

Then, Skull realized. 

Those unexplained moments of Kenobi staring off into the distance, the ones Skywalker had warned him about– those had been seizures.

Kriff.

[chackyxyooj]

A Handwritten Letter: Time is a Place

      When I woke up this morning, I was surprised to find myself in a place that was equally familiar as it was unfamiliar. I’ve heard it said that when you live somewhere for long enough, you eventually start referring to your house as a home. I’m not sure I ever equated my apartment in Tokyo as a home, but it was somewhere familiar. In any case, the place I found myself this morning was not my apartment, but in the house where I grew up - the place most people would unequivocally call their home.

Growing up in that house wasn’t a horrible thing. I had my own room. I was allowed enough freedom that I didn’t feel the need to lash out at my parents. It was, for better or for worse, a normal childhood. Although most people would describe a normal childhood as a good one, I can’t really think of a word to describe it with other than adequate.

I wasn’t bullied as a child, and both of my parents love me. I know for certain that there are worse fates out there that I did not have to experience, still, I can’t say that my childhood was anything exceptional. I wonder if it was the same way for you? The two of us ended up so similar, after all. I can’t imagine that you would describe your childhood the same way I do though. You’re too optimistic to describe your childhood as anything less than ‘an experience that shaped you into the person you are today.’

When I was around the age of eight, my father began working abroad. I didn’t mind. I understood that he was a busy man, so I appreciated that he still made it home once every two months, and during special holidays. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Then, when I was about ten, my father asked my mother to help him across the sea. It was obvious that the two of them loved each other a lot so to me, it was no surprise that they wanted to work together. They were going to take me abroad too, but I ultimately decided that I didn’t want to go. At first they were hesitant to let me stay in our home all by myself, but I eventually got them to come around. They never told me, but I knew how financially difficult it would have been if I had gone with them.

Learning new languages is a high price for someone born and raised to a single language. I suppose it was easier for my mother and father to adapt because they’d both already studied abroad. You’d think that my parents would’ve met in a country as small as Japan, yet they remarkably met each other at a university in a completely different country.

You know, I find it quite poetic how my parents both met in university, and so did we. Granted, we didn’t have to travel across the sea just to meet each other, but we did have hurdles of our own to get over.

I wonder how long you spent getting to know me?

Although I only knew you for the better part of two weeks, you relived a countless amount of days getting to know me. While I can only recall your final versions of every ‘today,’ you remembered every single ‘yesterday,’ ‘today,’ and ‘tomorrow.’ The fact that you so willingly adjusted to become ‘perfect’ for me is a testament to how hard you were working just to impress me. To be fair, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.

Sorry. I don’t mean to endorse the life you lived unhappily, only to compliment you for your dedication. Your dedication is something I admire greatly, by the way.

Once again, I can’t help but want to ask how many days you spent trying to catch my eye. How many times did you live Tuesday just to get me that milk bread? Did you have to practice your walk so that you could keep a good pace with me? Most of all though, among the countless number of days you lived, when did you fall in love with someone like me?

Was it something as simple as when I lent you a pencil, or was it perhaps a conversation we had? Did you become infatuated with the way I held myself, or was it something much more personal, like my smile, that won your heart?

Still, I suppose the fact of the matter is this: while I only experienced two week’s worth of memories with you, you got to experience much more.

I wonder if I, too, fell in love with you somewhere along the way?

The way you’d happen to cross my path around the campus was certainly entertaining, and watching you practice for your recitals was always a treat. I also can’t dismiss your witty remarks that made me blush, or the way your compliments for me came out so matter of factly that even a stranger would believe you!

Would it make you happy if I told you I fell in love with you?

Sorry. I shouldn’t ask such questions.

Personally, I don’t believe that love happens in an instant. I believe that love takes time to grow and develop. Love, to me, is a deep caring for someone else. It’s wanting what’s best for others, even if it’s something they don’t necessarily want for themselves.

When I look at it like that, then perhaps it would be appropriate to say that I loved you. However, whether or not I fell in love with you is still up for debate.

I suppose it doesn’t really matter whether or not I have fallen in love with you. In three years time, when ‘today’ finally arrives once again, the only thing that will matter is whether or not you still want to see me as much as you said you did.

Whether or not you meet me under that tree, the one that’s just off the path in that park, I’ll wait.

Not because it’s the least I can do after you spent three years caring about others more than yourself, and not because I’d feel guilty for not showing up. Not because you told me to be there. Not because I promised I would be there. Not even because there’s a part of me that wants to see you reach ‘today’ living a life you’re happy leading.

I’ll show up because you said you’ll be there.

If there’s anything I learned from my mother and father, it’s that showing up is important. Every single one of their visits to our home stays near and dear to my heart. I can’t say for certain I know how you feel about me, but I can say from my own experience that it’s worth my time.

You are worth my time.

You are worth all the time in the world.

[bladedalchemistreplica]

🥃 - Alcohol! The stronger, the better, or do they have a low tolerance for those types of things? Do they drink alcohol by itself, or do they commonly have it with a meal?

This is ranked from who has the BEST handling to alcohol to the WORST handler. with some fun tidbits of intell! ((Bonus is ranked like this as well.

Kolivan

Even if he hasn't had a ton of experience with this substance, he does carry a naturally high tolerance for the substance. He has had this by itself, he doesn't like to do it publicly since it does carry a reflection of being a Relaxer to those who are able to get their hands on it.

[[The blades sometimes do come across the substance on rare occasions, usually if they bring back supplies in bags or crates.

Ozar

He has a very high tolerance for alcohol, this is due to it being EXTREMELY common among the freedom fighters way of life,not only being associated to a comfort drink but as well being known as a social gathering type of drink. The older you are the easier it is to get a hold on the stronger stuff. Though he does prefer it with a meal if he's able to, he isn't against drinking it alone.

[[Te-osh's father would let him have a test taste of it from time to time. As he has gotten older he's become fairly well versed in different types of drinks.

Axca

She isn't as used to it as Zephrid or Ezor. But he definitely holds a better tolerance than Prince Lotor, the taste of some isn't as bad, but she does prefer the lighter stuff. usually with a meal if she'd able to have it. Though she usually drinks alone as opposed to being with others, it's her 'me-time' to sum it up. When she was younger the older galra would let her have some taste testings of many drinks, though not many would let her join them in public settings. Which may be why she isn't fond of joining her fellow generals on outings.

[[Axca tends to eat with Narti and split a drink with her. Or else she'll get a wicked headache.

Keith

Indifferent to the drink, he doesn't hate it but doesn't like it that much, he's had it a few times alone but beyond that none at all. Even the stuff offered to him on different planets with the other paladins. It makes him sick and easily dizzy. He also hates the fact it makes him so vulnerable.

[[His father would let him have sips of his own stuff, usually with a meal, either during their eating or after. ((Full stomach for the boy)

Thace

He hates the stuff but feels he must have it to fit in with the mold. It just burns his throat and causes him to become ill. Not to an extreme stance but enough to be uncomfortable. He will usually have it alone, a meal just seems to make things worse for himself.

[[He also is paranoid it would make him more vulnerable to slip ups or attacks.

Alfor

Back before and during Voltron's reign, there was a special rule created for him, one of which each of his fellow paladins and Coran would follow without fault. DO. NOT. LET. HIM. DRINK. There was a time in which he would join and help himself to a drink of Daibazzal's alcohols and wines. Until they found out rather quickly how think his tolerance for the substance was.

[[He was prone to be rather fizzy and tiresome, but as well have his adventurous nature amped up 100% afterward.

Romelle

Don't let her have it. A rule made for her when she had only half a cup. Even for how small it was you bet it was something to see her sleeping ontop of one of the lions. A simple mistake to never be made again.

[[On the colony there wasn't much for this substance, and if there was it was only for the adults and elders. Only enough for them to gain a high-tolerance.

__BONUS!

Te-osh

She has a naturally high tolerance of it. Alcohol is a very common thing among her people and way of life, nothing too uncommon for the adults to allow the children to join them in social gatherings. However, it's nothing to overbearing and unsupervised.

Olia

Very was common among her kind, though she grew her tolerance from being with Te-osh, being able to take in enough to put even Ozar to shame. She is well-versed in different types of alcoholic beverages and styles of making them.

Matt

He isn't a fan of it but he does like it in some sodas, not all of them but some of them are quite nice. Usually if he's with his father or mother, working on a project or with Shiro.

Regris

He's come across it one, but the blade found out rather quickly how bad it tasted. After downing a container after another member brought it to him, Kolivan was not pleased to say the least...

Antok

Even as the largest of the blades, he cannot have much of it as he's found out how sick he'll get afterwards, and how fast it acts on his systems.

Coran

Not horrible, and vastly better then Alfor, He's able to handle himself well and keep his mind clear of most things, though he won't push himself beyond a few glasses.

[anemia-rp]

I have a habit of thinking negatively for myself, but it's much easier for me to be positive for others and see the bright side for them. Especially if they are having a hard time seeing the brighter side of things. I kind of think of that the opposite way. I believe when you do bad things then bad things will come back to you. But then again, I guess that you can't really have one without the other. Can you? It's all about balance, right?

That's true, you don't want to be a burden to someone. You either don't want to ruin their mood if they are having a good day, or you don't want to make their day worse if they are having a bad time already. At least that is how it is for me.

Energy vampires are the worse, especially when you are a sensitive or anxious person and it just makes you feel exhausted with everything. That's exactly it. It's not like we have to be in love or anything, but I want to know that I am special to the other person and that they want me for me and not just for my body. It's the intimacy of it that is most enjoyable for people like us I think.

That's great! It's amazing that you feel that way about yourself! It can take a while to figure out who you really are. That's how I felt when I was making pop music, I didn't feel like myself. That's probably why I have gone through so many different styles and music genres, like being in a punk band and then a metal band and now my current music. I even had a phase of gyaru style, even though it was more goshikku and Roku gyaru.

There's nothing wrong with trying to find an explanation for what you can't explain. I guess I just have some harsh feelings towards fate, maybe one day I will be able to trust in fate again.

You've got high compassion then probably. I can only see positive things for others if there's something objectively positive. I'm not someone to cheer others up when I don't think there's a bright side for them among things. But I'd offer them a cigarette or a drink probably. I'm not really sure about that. The worst kind of people are often those who are like bad weed and nothing can break them, they get really old and never seriously sick. It's not for all of them, but I've experienced enough of such cases. Sometimes it seems as if you experience the most bad when you're good at heart and don't wanna harm anyone. But balance is important anyway. For your own soul.

That's not it for me. For me it's mostly about vulnerability and my pride. I wanna maintain my cool image, at least keeping it to a certain amount. Since it feels safer behind some walls.

If you're really understanding and compassionate or appear somehow confident you attract people quickly who wanna feed from you. I've experienced enough stuff with the intimacy missing and wondered why I don't really have fun. Okay, I can have fun then, but it's shallow.

And now you're fully satisfied with what and who you are, when it comes to music and style?

What made you lose your trust in fate then?

[binniesthighs]

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin

it’s the last day that you might ever see him again, so, to hell with it, right? (image from straykidsfilm on twt!) 

please read the CWs bc this fic talks about body image!! this is something close to me as well, and I wanted to share some cute innie love!! <3 

hey you reading this! you’re gorgeous ;) 

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x yang jeongin 

Genre:  fluff n’ smut 

Tags: high school crush au (everyone depicted in this fic is at least 18), virgin!reader, virgin!jeongin, plussize!reader (i think this is the right tag, if not plz correct me!) first time au, cuties in love, softdom!jeongin, (hehe ya know I love me a soft dom), sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!) semi-public sex, nipple play (f), fingering (f), cumshot, somewhat of a quickie, dirty talking, lil bit of a corruption kink, cute fluffy undertones!

CWs: brief mention of a fistfight and blood/wounds, insecurity over weight and descriptive narrative about body weight/appearance and negative self image 

Word count: 7.1k 

Word had spread that someone had gotten into a fight on the last day of school.  Supposedly, it had occurred during the second to last hour of the day, and it was a group of three to four boys. The rest of the details had been unclear, but you had heard mutterings about their names, or how each of them had walked into the principal’s office with bloodied knuckles, fat lips, and purple bruises to their cheekbones. You had heard that one of them had laughed in the face of the principal, claiming that they simply had it coming. 

“I heard that they were from class A-4. Or was it A-3?” 

Your friend leaned over with her skirt ruffling on her plastic chair. 

“Who could be so stupid?” She strung her bubble-gum around her finger with cracked nail-polish. “Are they looking to graduate, or what?” 

“I don’t know...” 

In your lap, you hands grew clammy with sweat. It was against your will, but you couldn’t but help thinking...

Yang Jeongin was in class A-4. 

Your chest tightened thinking about if it had been him that had gotten in the fight. 

It was no secret that you had harbored a crush on the boyishly handsome student from the other class of your same year. You had read or seen somewhere that the reason that they called crushes “crushes” was because they did just that--they crushed you to the full extent of the word. Whoever had said that, you had learned that they were 100% right. Having a crush on Yang Jeongin had been the most painful experience of your life. Since middle school, it had been something that you had scribbled in your diary, and the reason why you would hold your breath when he walked by with his friends, or when you’d see him on the same bus as you. 

You can’t exactly recall when it started, it just kind of did. 

There was nothing extremely notable about him: he wasn’t his class president, he wasn’t the ace of a sports team, nor did he even have friends who really were notable either. No matter how much you pondered it, you couldn’t figure out what it was about him. 

Yang Jeongin was known for having a kind smile and a jovial laugh, so you just decided that it must’ve been one of these things. This semester he had ashy-grey brown hair, and your best friend still hadn’t heard the end of it from you. Over time, you had learned that he liked banana milk with his lunch and kept a fox enamel pin on his backpack. He had worn the same beat up sneakers for all of high school and wore this same grey hoodie on most days when it would get cold. 

A couple times you had imagined what it would’ve been like if he had let you borrow it on the days when it would mist on spring mornings, or when snow would fall early in November. There had even been times when you imagined him holding your hand, walking down the hall, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to hold you close...among other things. Somehow, you liked to think that he would be the kind of person who would love you more than you could love yourself. Granted, you never could know for sure. Being optimistic made up half of your fantasies. 

“Just confess already.” 

Your best friend had said half a million times over the course of the years. 

The more you had contemplated it, the less sense that it made. A confession would’ve been a whole lot easier if he had known who you were. 

“There's no way.” You had said morosely. “As if he would say yes to me.” 

“Can’t know unless you try.” Your friend smiled, sucking at her lollipop on the walk home. “Don’t pretend like you’ve never written him a confession letter before...” Her backpack hopped up and down with her arms outstretched animatedly in that alley decorated with vines. “...Where do you keep them? In your desk? Under your bed? In your sock drawer?” 

“Oh shut up!!” You nudged her, sending her spiraling out with laughter. 

“If it’s the last day of school, you’ve got nothing to loose! You’ll never see him again! If he says no, no big deal!” 

The clock ticked on the wall to your classroom, the seconds hand moving silently faster and faster the more that you looked at it. Under your desk, your fingertips pricked the edges of the pink envelope. You had written your the name as nicely as you could with flowery cursive with tiny flowers. On the back, you had sealed it with a sticker: an orange fox. 

Your throat grew dry seeing only six minutes before the bell would ring, and then the metal legs of chairs would scrape on the floor, the hallway would flood with students, and you would make your way to his locker and pray that he would stop by there. In many ways, just thinking about it was enough to make your stomach do somersaults and for your hands to wet even more embarrassingly with sweat. Your knees felt limp, and you wondered if you even had it in you. 

Even worse, a deeper fear crept in the back of your mind--it was much more venomous and horrifying, but you couldn’t keep it down. You feared that he would laugh in your face, throw the letter down, and throw his head back at you and how ridiculous your moment of confidence had been. 

How could be like someone like me? 

Perhaps your biggest fear of all, even greater than the rejection, was him admitting that he could never like someone like you. 

Your skirt was tighter on you than most, at least, tighter than it was on the other girls. When you would shop at the school uniform store, you could never escape the glares from the ladies when you and your mother asked for the larger sizes that they had. Your soft cheeks were plush and squishy, and your belly striped with stretch marks that you had stopped looking at in the mirror. Because it was more comfortable, you wore leggings under you skirt, even in the warmer months, even if it made you sweat. Oversized sweaters would swim over your frame, for the very reason that you could swim in them. 

As optimistic as you could be, there had been some nights worse than the others where tears would wet your eyes before sleep, no matter how many affirmations and positive sticky notes you had pasted to the back of your bedroom door. 

How could I like someone like you? 

It would be so easy for him to say it. Words flicked off the tongue hastily are the ones that often hurt the most. You just hoped and hoped that he had been everything that you had made him to be...as unrealistic as it was. 

The bell chimed, and you felt your heart leap into your throat when the room erupted into cheers and papers and desks went flying and screeching around the floor. 

“Are you ready?” Your friend winked, and the corners of the letter pricked your fingers. 

~💌~

With some stroke of luck, he was exactly where you had wanted him to be. Even then, some small part of you had secretly had hoped that he hadn’t just so you could walk away. You would’ve walked away from him, that school, everyone who had known you and just let it be. However, fate had been much kinder to you...damned fate. 

Your heart quickened upon seeing him. He was wearing that same grey hoodie with the drawstrings that he would tie into bows sometimes, and that same enamel pin shone silver on his backpack. You realized that it even looked almost exactly like the sticker you had used. His navy uniform slacks were dusted with dirt however, and one of the knees had a bit of a tear to it. In your horror, you then saw the scrapes on his face: one right under his eye, on his left cheek, and a thin red line on his bottom lip where it had cracked open. Before you could think of anything else, seeing how much it must’ve hurt him made your heart twist.

From your backpack, you drew out the rest of the stuff that you had prepared, and tried your best not to collapse from the way that your knees trembled. 

“H-hi...” You announced, head down, and mouth deathly dry. 

Yang Jeongin whipped his head over to see you, slightly startled. Up this close you could see his adorable brown eyes that even looked at if they glistened with stars in them. 

“...Hi?” He returned, closing his locker, and wetting his lips. 

Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and you quickly presented him with the letter, the carton of banana milk with the heart sticker on top, and the tiny case of animal shaped cookies. 

With eyes glued to the floor and his beat up gym shoes, you said the words as fast as humanly possible, “I-know-that-you-don’t-know-who-I-am-but-I’ve-really-liked-you-for-such-a-long-time-now-and-seeing-as-its-the-last-day-of-school-I-wanted-to-tell-you-so-please-accept-this!!” 

You waited for what felt like hours, then he took the items from your hands with a tentative touch. “Um...thank you...for this.” 

This was it. It was happening. You had already known that it wouldn’t get much better, and the way that he looked petrified only made you feel even more heat rush to your cheeks. Even then, now that the words had escaped your lips for the whole universe to hear, it felt good in some small, relieving way.  

“Y-you don’t have to say anything back. Please don’t...don’t feel obligated to, I just...” Your voice trailed, and your eyes wandered to the exit door behind him, and the green of the summery trees. 

I should just leave. It would be better if I left. If I walk away, this is all over...

The hem of your skirt tickled your nervous fingers, and you had nearly made up your mind. You wished at least that he would say something rather than just staring. 

“I-I can just...leave, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...how could I think that...nevermind.” 

It took everything that you had, but you blinked the tears that stung the corners of your eyes and you hiked your backpack straps up a little higher. 

You motioned to the things in his hands, “I hope that you enjoy those things and...good luck at university.” 

You flashed a feeble smile for him, right back to his astonished face. Just outside of the exit, there was the rest of the world in front of you, and you also took peace in the fact that it really was a really nice day then. 

“W-wait!!” He suddenly said with a slight crack to his voice, turning after you to grab at your wrist too. As soon as he did, his eyes widened, the the gruff voices of a group of boys echoed down the hall. 

“Where is that shithead?? This isn’t over.” The tall boy from class A-4 balled up his hand into a fist, and smacked it into his palm. The tall boy and about three of his friends also had red knuckles and scratches on their faces, each to a varying level of degree. 

“Shit.” Jeongin bit his lip, and his grip on your wrist tightened. “Uh-can you come with me?? This way?? Fuck--” He nodded toward the opposite hallway, and your head spun thinking why he would want you to come with him. 

“What?? Why??” 

“Just--” He watched the boys coming frantically and hid behind his locker door. “They’ll beat the shit out of me again. Just....come on!” 

A nervous thrill sent a shiver down your spine feeling his hand and the warmth there while he guided you, pushing and parting the sea of bodies chatting and hugging each other goodbye. 

“Where are we going?” You called to him, and the little carton of banana milk swayed in his opposite hand. 

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” 

You followed him further and further, through the hallways that had emptied of students or any semblance of them. Shades had been pulled in most of the empty rooms, and the chairs had been placed on top of the tabletops of desks. Both of your shoes squeaked under the flooring when you turned corners, and the sound of his nervous panting became louder and louder. Where he held you, the sleeve of his sweater bushed up against you, and it was even softer than you had imagined. 

Jeongin pulled at several doorknobs, finding them to be locked, head turning to see if the group of boys had followed. At last, he found one that did unlock, and he threw it open on its hinges as quickly as he could. It was one of the storage closets for the theater department, and it was dustily coated on all surfaces and even moldy smelling, with not a window to be found. Jeongin flicked on the light, revealing the stacks of props and furniture that you vaguely remembered seeing in performances in the past. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you so hard.” Jeongin finally said. 

“It...it’s okay.” 

“If I got caught with them again I might as well kiss college goodbye...” He raked an anxious hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to fight with them before...” 

“Are...you okay?” You softened your tone, seeing the way that the pink marks on his face must’ve been made against the hard cement of the floor outside. 

“I-I’m fine. Thank you.” 

His eyes really did look like they glistened. 

“It...it’s really funny actually...” He shoved his hand into his pocket, fumbling with the contents with a shaking hand, then took out a crumbled piece of notebook paper that had been torn. “Take it.” He prompted with wide eyes. 

“Me??” 

“Who else?” He laughed lightly. 

The note had been written in black ink, and it smudged and bled to the other side of the paper, and the scribbled handwriting looked rushed as if it was an afterthought or some kind of crazed ramble. You unfolded it all the way, starting at the first sentence. 

dear y/n from A-2, 

you probably don’t know my name, but I’m yang jeonjin jeongin from class A-4, i wanted to write this to tell you that I think that youve you’re really  pretty, beautiful and that i’ve been kind of watching you for about a year now, i’m sorry if that’s creepy but, yeah, i just think that you’re really cool and i like it when you smile. i’m sorry that i didn’t say anythimg aything anything about this sooner, i was kind of shy about it to be honest, i didn’t want you to thank think that I was being disrespectful or anything like that, but seeing that its the last day of shcool school and I don’t have a ton to lose loose lose i thought that it was worth a shot. if this doesn’t go the way id i’d like it to, please don’t stop smilng smiling ♥

-yji 

By now, the boy from A-4 was swaying his body back and forth almost violently as he waited for you to read the letter and fiddled with his arms crossed. His teeth tugged at his lip, and he anxiously awaited for you to say something. Little did he know that reading his words you were so shocked that you were certain that you had forgotten how to breathe for a couple moments. 

“M-me? You mean this...for me?” 

“Yeah?” He advanced to take the letter back, “I’m really sorry if it’s creepy, I know that you don’t know me at all and we’ve never spoken, this must be really startling but...I wasn’t expecting for you to write me one too.” 

The adorable boy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with a tiny growing smile. 

“S-sorry that I was so quiet earlier, I was just really surprised.” Jeongin flipped your letter over too, then gasped a little seeing the fox on the back. “Oh.” 

On the other side of the door, the loud and clambering footsteps of that group of idiotic boys clomped and they grunted among themselves asking where Jeongin had went. The two of you held your breath, and soon the voices receded. Once they passed, you threw your backpack around to scramble around the front pocket, pulling out a Band-Aid that must’ve been there for at least a year, but it still worked the same. 

“Here...do you need it?” 

“Oh! Um-no, but, thank you.” 

A silence filled the dusty room, and Jeongin awkwardly moved to sit on one of the old prop couches. He patted the spot next to him, beckoning you to do the same. 

“The timing...kinda sucks.” 

You laughed slightly, “That’s sort of my fault.” 

“--My fault too.” He quickly added. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to know you sooner. Maybe we could’ve...” Jeongin dug his fingers into the velvety upholstery. 

Slowly, your sinking insecurities started to creep like vines with thorns, and the words spilled out of your mouth before you had something to do with it. 

Maybe he’s just being nice? Are you really certain that letter was meant for you? 

“I guess that I’m just really surprised that you of all people could end up liking someone like me. Someone...that looks like me.”

The young boy cocked his head with his eyebrows confusedly crossed. “I don’t see what you mean?” 

“‘Cause I’m like...” You motioned to your thighs, a bit chubbier, your larger breasts, and your skirt riding up your legs too. “...like this?” 

“But there’s nothing wrong with you?” 

“Psh...”nothing wrong with me”...” You laughed with sarcasm at the comment. “Have you seen the other girls in the school? Some of them are frickin’ idols for crying out loud...” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he scooched in a bit closer, but slowly; carefully. “What I’m trying to say is...that there’s no one else like you! And--” 

“--That’s exactly it. I’m not like everyone else...” 

Jeongin blabbered, and his hand found yours resting on your lap. “I-I’m not s-saying that’s a bad thing! I’m saying that the reason why you stood out to me was because I think...” He shied, cheeks becoming even rosier. “...Because you just seemed so happy all the time, like, you didn’t care what others did or thought of you, I could tell, even from kind of far away, that you were someone who’s real not some kind of made-up thing that you put on every morning for the rest of the world to see you as. Also...” He giggled, “I just thought that you were really cute too.”

His thumb brushed up against the back of your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small feeling. 

“I mean...I do think about what people think of me, I think about it all the time...” 

“I do too.” He said quietly. “Why else did I let it get so far that I let four guys gang up on me outside school?” 

You didn’t press him for more, but merely let your opposite hand rest of top of his as you watched his expression fall. When he was in school, you had only ever seen him smile, but now seeing him like this, it was a whole other side. He looked up at you with his pleading eyes, and they were utterly gorgeous. 

“My mom...my mom doesn’t make a ton of money. She barely makes enough to send to me school here, or buy me stuff like new clothes or uniforms each year. I almost never see her because she has to work so hard for me and my brothers...those...assholes had something to say about it and I kind of...snapped. No one can say shit about my mom when they don’t know how hard that she works for us.” 

Your eyes fell to his scuffed and worn sneakers, and it all made sense. 

“Then they found the letter...I didn’t want them to ruin the last good thing that I had going for me.” 

In that moment, the whole world became silenced. You were the last good thing going for him and you had never even known. 

Then, he smiled, broken as it was, bit it was still embodied his gentle warmth that you had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

“But! It turned out okay I think.” Jeongin said with a sigh. He glanced down at your interlocking hands on your lap and chuckled a little bit. “Kinda cool that this worked out though. Maybe we could spend the summer getting to know each other?” 

This time, you let one of your happy tears drip down your cheek, and nodded gleefully. “Okay. I’d like that.” 

Jeongin smiled, just as you had seen him do it a hundred times, but this time you knew that it was all for you. 

“Can I...can I kiss you? If that’s okay? I-I’m sorry if this is really forward...I just...really want to.” He asked gently, then wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

You nodded, feeling  your whole body shake just a little with your nervousness and anticipation. The world appeared to melt away once he had leaned in to press his lips on yours as softly and as carefully as he could. In that moment, you had forgotten where you were, what time it was or the rest of the beautiful summer day outside the doors of that school. Here, it was just you and him. Embarrassing as it was, this had been your first kiss too. Your mind raced with a million thoughts, asking yourself if you had been doing it right, but once you felt him smile lightly into you, your chest shivered with a sense of relief. 

You had never expected kissing to feel like this, and it was a bit strange feeling something so close and intimate right on your own skin. At the same time, it felt like nothing else in the entire world had, and you only wanted more and more of it. He was cautious and respectful in the way that he had tilted his head, and loving how he had cupped your face with his hands cracked and bruised. You didn’t know where to put your hands at first, but settled one hand on his thigh, and the other on his shoulder where you tugged at his white button up stained with dirt. 

He too shook with a sigh, readjusting himself, then ran one of his hands down your arm to hold your hand were it rested on him. He tangled your fingers together, and made a tiny little gasp feeling you connect with him. In seconds, he allowed himself to grow rougher, running his lips over yours with a type of fervency that teased at your bottom lip where you felt the warmth of his tongue. It took no more consideration, and you gave him the permission to meet the heat of his tongue with yours between parted lips now becoming a bit swollen. 

Jeongin broke your connection for moments, and a different kind of haze took over his eyes. The way that he looked over your quivering lips sent shivers through your whole body, and he dragged his thumb over the tiny streak of saliva that shone on your lip. 

“Is it okay if I touch you? In other places?” His eyes fell, and you giggled at the way that a kind of lust-filled hunger seemed to overtake him. For years you had fantasized about him ravishing you like this, and giving love to every inch of your body no matter how hard it had been for you to do that same to yourself. Still, as hesitant as you were, you feared that he would get a taste of all of you, and still change his mind. 

“Really?” You stammered, instinctually crossing your arms around your chest. “You don’t think that I’m gro--”

“If you’re about to say “gross” don’t.” His expression became much more serious. “I-I’ll say it again a million more times if I need to: you, all that you are, is what I’ve been thinking of for so long, I’d love to touch you wherever you’ll let me.” 

This time, you didn’t know if the tears were happy or sad, but regardless, the fat drops still fell down your cheeks. 

“--And you can say no too. If you’re not comfortable, we can just keep doing what we were doing...there’s nothing wrong with that at all.” 

The dim yellow light in the room buzzed, and you had recalled all the many number of times that you had pictured the very scene about to occur. On lonely nights, you wished to have felt his hands all over you, and now, they really could be. 

“What do you say?” He asked, and squeezed your hand along with his. 

“Can we...go slow with it? I’ve never...no one has ever offered to--” 

“Of course we can.” He smiled adorably, which was a bit odd considering what he had just proposed. “But...I didn’t hear you say yes?” 

“Yes.” You quickly added with a nervous inhale, but held his gaze with your assurance. “I-I want you to.” 

The boy from the other class grinned, then took to carefully running his hands down your arms once more, and craning his neck to plant sweet little kisses into your neck: the stimulation from which made you whimper out of your own accord, and he giggled upon hearing it. 

“You like that?” He whispered greedily, then continued sucking a little harder. Jeongin shrugged down your sweater from the collar, and his wandering hands circled little rubs into your bare arms. 

Next, his fingers crept up slowly and cautiously at the bottom of your shirt, testing at first, but not pulling up the fabric all together. His cold fingertips buzzed on your skin in that drafty room, and he brought his lips back up to yours, also making tiny trailed gasps as he crept up all the way to your breasts. The moment that he touched them, both of you appeared to shiver on each other’s bodies, and your kisses grew even needier. At first he cupped over the padding of your bra, kneading and squeezing to play with the way that they jiggled slightly then pulling a bit harder, and relishing the way that they filled up his palms. 

“Does this feel good?” Jeongin asked on your lips and you nodded back immediately. 

The two of you leaned back on the aged couch, and the young man cradled your head to guide you into the cushion of the upholstery. He admired you for a few moments under him with one leg between your thighs and the other supporting himself and slipping a little on the cement floors. His thigh was just close enough to the heat of your arousal between your legs, and it ached and throbbed so badly, you were convinced you had never felt a feeling as intense as this. He leaned in closer, and pressed the muscle into your clit, and a muffled moan caught on your lip that surprised even him. 

“Can I touch you even closer?” He asked, and those ashy grey-brown strands of his dipped over his eyes. 

“Y-yes...please.” You found yourself begging, and he mischievously grinned at your desperation. 

Under the cotton of your shirt, his fingers slipped under the padding of your bra to toy with your breasts directly. He kissed even more tiny quaking breaths into your mouth, finally finding your hardened nipples and tweaking them with his thumb and index. He pulled lightly at them, making your buds even more sensitive. You cried out with a helpless “ah!” and he stopped, worry across his face as if he had hurt you. 

“F-feels really good. Don’t...don’t stop please...Jeongin...” 

Absentmindedly, your hips had started to grind against his leg, and he had taken notice of it too. Had you been a bit more attentive, you could’ve seen the way that his member had swelled in his navy slacks, and throbbed, begging for attention too. 

You could barely watch, but he hiked your shirt up, baring your cushy tummy for him to see only and you threw your embarrassed arms over your face. As long as you had kept the evil words at bay, they were much more seductive than any affirmation you could’ve repeated to yourself. 

“Oh-are you okay?” Do you want me to stop?” The young boy immediately stopped and removed his hands. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“N-no...it’s just...I’m really nervous be-because I’m--” 

He sighed, then pulled your shirt down once more. “I can stop doing that for now. But...I just want you to know...I think that everything about you is even more beautiful than you know and these...imperfections--which they’re not--is everything that drives me crazy. Please don’t think that I see you negatively at all. I promise that I want to make you feel good everywhere.” 

“Mm-okay.” You shook with a heavy sigh. “You aren’t...disappointed or anything?” 

Jeongin pressed a simple kiss onto your upper lip with a smile “Disappointed? Why?” 

“Because I don’t want--” 

“--No?? I’m not disappointed at all! You don’t owe me anything at all! Especially when you’re not comfortable with it.” 

“Hm, thank you.” 

He continued with a tiny grunt, lowering himself even closer to you, “Can I please kiss you some more?” 

You allowed him, with the warmth of your kisses' meeting in the middle. The heat in your pussy pooled even greater, and you grinded further, thirsting for him in ways that felt forbidden. For a brief moment, you felt the fear seeping back in, head racing with the dozens of thoughts that he might have if he were to see your stretch marks on your belly and on the top-parts of your thighs. The more that you found desire for him, the less that you were convinced that he wouldn’t desire you as much as you did him. 

“Do you want...I can touch down here too?” Jeongin hushed, breaking for a minute to hold your eyes earnestly. “Would that be okay?” 

He had noticed the way that you had pathetically rubbed into his leg, and this too sent your hands over your shy face. 

“M’ sorry...I can’t help...it feels good too...” 

“Don’t apologize! I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” Your crush smiled with his eyes smiling in the same way. “You can...probably tell.” 

“--But...what if you don’t like it?” 

He cocked his head, “Like what?” 

Your lip quivered and you found tears stinging your eyes once more. “Don’t like..m-me? What I look like?” 

“What!? Y/n...my head is like frickin’ spinning thinking about what you look under these clothes--can you please believe me?” 

“It...it’s hard to...” Fat tears came waterfalling down your cheeks, and once again the young boy fully stopped his advances. 

“The fact that I’m here with you, kissing you like this after daydreaming about it for so long...there’s nothing more that I want than to make you feel good right now. Trust me.” 

“A-are you sure?” 

“Y/n. I’m 100% sure. And you don’t--you don’t have to even take this off if you don’t want to...” He toyed with your skirt. “But these might get in the way.” He ran both of his hands up and down your thighs and leggings with flat palms, and you felt your whole body ache for more than just that. “Again, we don’t have to if you don’t want.” he gave you a reassuring smile, “We still have the whole summer--” 

“I do!! I...still do...” 

Your quick answer started the both you, but Jeongin still didn’t advance faster than what was comfortable to you. Instead, he carefully snaked his hands up and under your skirt, finding the elastic of the leggings then pulled. 

His eyes blew out, enamored, seeing your bare skin, and he wetted his lips too seeing the way that your underwear had glistened with your essence. It was against your will, but you had soaked through your panties which he had swiped over a couple times accidentally, and the action itself sent an aching quiver to your untouched bud. You watched his every move has he angled his hand to ghost over the wet fabric, making you squeak from the new sensation. After, he found the band to your panties, pulling them down too. 

“Wow.” He gasped, seeing the way that your bud twitched. 

Jeongin dipped his fingers into your wetted folds, teasing at first. 

“Woah.” He said with a little gasp. “You’re really...” 

You stifled a moan with your lip, feeling your cheeks grow even warmer as his digits slicked with your arousal. “I-I know...I’ve never like, done anything like this before.” 

The young boy’s thumb grazed over your clit, eliciting an immediate response, and your heels went digging into the cushion of the couch. 

“This is your first time?’ He asked gently, two fingers now filling up your entrance. 

The best you could, you tried to remain quiet, but the harder and deeper that he had advanced, the harder that it became. Your eyes wandered, right to the pressure he had created under his belt loops, and you wondered furiously what he would’ve felt like inside of you; if he could stretch you out, or what it would have felt to just be like that with another person. 

Jeongin admired the way that your face scrunched up with a prideful little smile, and loved every minute of the way that your mouth would form airy “oh’s.” 

“You like feeling my fingers inside of you? Fucking right into your wet pussy?” 

His gaze held a lusty glaze seeing the way that your eyes blew out upon hearing his dirty words, and it only seemed to make him throb even harder himself. 

“Y-yes...” You mewled, reaching out grabby hands to hold yourself steady on his shoulders, the other going to tug at his belt. 

“I-I wouldn’t mind if you...you know...” 

Jeongin rolled his body over yours, attaching his lips with yours once more just to let the words stick on your tongue. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“Only-only if you want to--” You could barely get the words out feeling your thighs to shake as he coaxed your nearer and nearer with his thumb rubbing circles over your enlarged button. 

“Of course I want to.” He assured you with even more kisses. “Are you sure?” 

You hooked a couple of your fingers to pull out his black leather belt from its confines, muttering a tiny “yes.” 

Jeongin carried out the rest of your job for you, going to quickly clink the metal of his belt away, tossing it to the cement floor haphazardly. From the boxers that he wore, there were a couple little wet stains, and the outline of his dick protruded thickly. Seeing it like this awakened something in you, something primal and feral that wanted nothing more to be connected to this boy and to have him spread you out until you could barely breathe. It was a horribly naughty thought, but as shameful as you felt, it was just as thrilling. 

The boy sprung free his erect member, pink and dripping with his pearly pre-cum, and pumped at it a couple times, eyes raking over your whole body in the way that you had only ever dreamed of. 

“This is actually...my first time too.” 

He had said the words coolly, almost like he didn’t care at all about them, but you had assumed he had done so to keep you from worry. 

“Oh fuck--” He muttered, taking his left hand to reach under your shirt once more and play with your breast roughly. “God, I can’t believe that this is happening.” 

You coyly hiked up your skirt a bit higher for him to get better access, but not all the way, just as far as you could feel comfortable. 

“I might’ve thought about this a couple times...” Jeongin said with a tiny smirk, then slowly dipped his hand back down to wet his fingers with your arousal, then coat it around his length. When he did so, he let out an unapologetic groan that wavered out of his mouth and filled up the room beautifully. 

“I’m gonna go slow, okay? I feel like I heard somewhere that it can kind of hurt for you the first time?” 

You nodded out quickly to let him know, finally becoming impatient enough to claw at his arms all wrapped up in that grey hoodie of his. 

He leaned down one final time, kissing you over before aligning himself with your pussy, kissing down your jaw, then to your neck where he buried his head as he lead himself into you. His arms shook where he held himself up, and the two of you shuddered at the feeling at last: that euphoric, tight, unreal feeling that you shared for the first time. 

You whimpered out, digging your nails into his back, and his breath hitched in his throat too. 

“I-its...s-so..tight.” Jeongin barely got the words out, but merely let himself throb around your velvet walls for a moment. “Y-you okay?” 

“Mmhm.” You said, barely able to get more words out than this. 

Truthfully, it did hurt just a little, but not as much as you had pictured it to be, but it was more like a pressure, and it only grew heavier as you got used to him. 

Jeongin started to thrust his hips slowly, even painfully so, but he maintained his pace dragging his hips over yours. He filled you up so fully it was unfathomable, and his length pressed up against your deepest spot, sending a kind of electricity through your whole body. 

He settled into a rhythm, finally getting comfortable enough to return back to your mouth to slick his tongue across yours, and cradle the side of your face in his hand. You let little whimpers fade into his mouth, as he did for you, and after long, he had decided to speed up just slightly to milk himself off with your tight walls. To your surprise, he reached his hand back down to your clit to rub at it erratically. His pattern made little sense, but compared to how he had been stimulating you deep inside too, you could barely hold on. 

Jeongin grunted, biting into your lip with a trace of teeth. “I-I want you to c-cum first--I can’t...I can’t--” 

Before you could even understand what he had said, the young boy snapped his hips harder, eyes closed and tiny bits of sweat forming on his brow. The pads of his fingers pushed harder, and you found yourself spinning even closer to an orgasm by his hand, the thought alone was enough to fulfil your deepest fantasies. 

“I want you to cum all over my dick for me, okay? Sh-shit...” 

“Jeong--” 

“God, you’re...fuck...” He laughed a little. “I really really like you y/n. I really...” 

It was as if the words had been stolen right from his mouth, and his voice had abandoned him, but all he could do was press harder, faster, glide his hips over you rougher...

“M’ gonna--” You gasped out with your whole core tightening into a knot that was just about ready to snap. The pressure behind your clit was intense and burning, and you became light-headed nearing the brink. 

All at once you came with a searing and inexplainable white heat--much more intense than you had ever felt before in your whole life, and every single muscle in your body quaked as you did so, and you threw your head back to that dusty cushion of the couch. Your eyes rolled back on their own accord, and the best that you could do to muffle your moans was throw your hand over your mouth--which was quickly removed by the young man to do the job himself. 

Your thighs violently shook and you felt yourself tighten around him. He too strung out explicatives as if they were the only words that he had known. You breathed out shallow gasps into his palm, and soon he tore himself out of your walls with incessant breaths, only having to jerk himself off for a few moments before his swollen tip burst with the white strings of his cum. He continued jerking himself as such until he had nothing more to give, and his own thighs shook where he had straddled you. You could feel his warmth on your thigh and the way that it dripped and slicked with the sweat of your leg. 

Jeongin’s entire face flushed with pink, and he stammered out realizing the mess that he had made all over you. 

“I-I’m so sorry...I-I didn’t realize, I wasn’t thinking...I just...” 

While it was a predicament, you mustered the best smile that you could for him, secretly and utterly loving the way that it felt on your bare skin.   

“I’ve got...I can figure something out--” 

“--Jeongin?” 

His attention snapped back to you in your afterglow, and you could practically see the boy melt right then and there. 

“--Don’t worry about it.” 

Just as he had been before, his smile creased into a shy and awkward little line, and he could barely hold your eyes. After the initial embarrassment, he couldn’t help himself but admire you.

“Hey Y/n?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this before, but I really do think that you’re perfect. If not perfect for yourself, I hope that I can show you how you are to me. You’re perfect for me. You’ve always been.” 

“So have you.” You admitted to him in that cobwebbed room that held all kinds of forgotten trinkets and items. 

“And thank you for giving me your letter too.” Jeongin raised the back of your hand to his lips where he placed a chaste kiss, then helped you carefully back up as to not make a mess of your skirt with the white staining your leg. 

Your crush smiled, then let out a gleeful exhale, “I can’t wait for this summer.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[plus-size-reader]

The Right Time

Newt x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2423 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader wants to be a runner but the boys decide she won’t be able to, and Newt doesn’t understand why.

——————————————————————————————————

You couldn’t help but sigh as you watched Minho, heading into the maze for a full day of running and memorizing the ever changing labyrinth that surrounded you all.

More than anything in the world, you wanted to do that.

While most of the gladers were content to stay where they were most comfortable, you didn’t worry about the secrets or dangers that may lay beyond the threshold  of the fields you had grown so familiar with.

You wanted to see

From the moment you found out what it was, you wanted to experience what those stone walls kept hidden from you. It seemed like the most exciting job the glade had to offer, and frankly, you were desperate to experience it.

There had to be something there.

Whatever it was, you were sure that it would be more exciting than working in the kitchen, where you currently spent most of your time.

If only it was that easy.

The glade had rules, rules that you couldn’t just go around breaking willy-nilly if you didn’t want to face the consequences. One of those rules was that you had to get permission from the group before doing almost anything.

If you wanted a new job, especially, the rest of the group had to agree to it.

While it may have seemed ridiculous most of the time, that was how you all managed to maintain any semblance of order in this place. If you all just did what you wanted all the time, you wouldn’t have made it this three years.

You wouldn’t have made it a week.

As much as you wanted to just waltz right through those walls when the maze opened up, you couldn’t do it without permission, which you were having quite a hard time getting.

It seemed like it should have been easy.

Everyone here had a job to do and as long as you did the job you were assigned, it would all work out just fine. If you wanted to work somewhere else, you didn't see what the problem was, but clearly you were the only one who was blind to it.

As soon as you mentioned your intentions to Gally over serving breakfast, he’d all but laughed in your face.

“There’s no way that’s gonna happen” he scoffed, making it abundantly clear to you that he thought what you were suggesting was a bad idea. After all, there was a reason you were a cook. Frypan needed help, and you were pretty good at it.

There was no reason to mess with a system that already worked as it was supposed to. You all had your parts to play in this place surviving, and just because you were a little bored over the stove didn’t mean you could just stop playing that part.

...And, evidently, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

At first, you decided not to give up hope.

There were plenty of people who got a say in this and just because Gally, the eternal pessimist, didn’t believe in you, that didn’t mean the decision was made. The chances that everyone in the glade felt the same way he did were slim.

Right?

You wanted to believe that but as soon as you brought it up with the others, you realized just how wrong you had been. To the best you could tell, not one of them was willing to take a chance on you.

As far as your dreams were concerned, the meeting they held was more or less a massacre.

The general consensus was that you didn’t have what it took to be a runner and they were very clear about that. Not one of the men present even attempted to spare your feelings, because they had no reason to.

To them, the reason for the refusal was clear as day.

You just weren’t runner material.

“Hey, you get why it isn’t a good idea, don’t you?” Alby hummed, his tone as gentle as it could have been given the circumstances as he did his best to bring the conversation to a close. The best place for you was the kitchen, and as much as he didn’t want to upset you, that was just what it was.

He, and all the others, had to look out for this place and they had to do what was best for it.

You nodded, turning to leave the hut as quickly as you could before anyone actually got a chance to see how upset you were. Rightfully, your feelings were hurt but letting them see how badly was only going to solidify what they were all thinking.

...and it wouldn't change anything.

As much as you appreciated Alby trying to be kind to you over it, his kind smile was hardly enough to actually make you feel better. At the end of the day, you understood exactly what they were trying to say in not so many words.

You weren’t good enough.

You couldn’t do this.

Ideally, you would have stayed until the end of the meeting, to save face if for nothing else but you just couldn’t. The whole room was poison for you now, full to the brim with how little faith they had in you.

That was just what it was.

No matter what you did, you knew that they were all thinking the same thing deep down and didn’t want to admit it.

You weren’t thin, you weren’t overly athletic, and you were a girl.

The only girl.

In that regard, at least Gally’d had the guts to just say what he was thinking to your face without patronizing you.  He may have been an asshold about it but he didn’t mince his words in a desperate attempt to pretend like he cared about you.

He just said what he wanted to say.

Though, as you walked into the glade, the sun creeping down behind the walls, you knew that it was partially your fault. All they could do was look at you from the outside, and if that was all they saw, of course it was easy for them to come to the conclusion they had.

You knew better than anyone what you looked like but you also knew that you could do this. All they had to do was give you a chance, and you would be able to prove it. You knew that you could do something to make a difference in this place, all they had to do was let you.

Though, had you been in their position, you weren’t sure you would have stuck your neck out for someone like you either.

The risk was just too great.

If they were right about you, but chose to send you out into the maze anyway, you would have gotten yourself killed, or even worse, you could get Minho killed.

That was hardly a risk you could ask them to take.

They didn’t trust you, and because of that doubt, you weren’t sure you trusted yourself either. At least in the kitchen, you couldn’t get anyone else hurt. It would just be easier for all of them if you kept your mouth shut and did as you were told.

They all seemed to think so.

Well, all but one.

“Where are you going?” he called, his heavy british accent meeting your ears from outside the hut, because of course he would be the one to chase after you.

You had been so focused on getting out of there that you didn’t even realize Newt was standing from the crowd. You were so in your own head, walking with your mind clouded in thought that you hadn't noticed him following you.

Unfortunately for you.

As much as you were sure he wanted to help, to soften the blow just as Alby had, there was nothing he could say that would make it any better.

He had always been kind to you, and if there was one among them who would feel bad for how things had gone down, it was Newt. However, you weren’t sure that even he would be able to do anything that would lift your spirits.

It was what it was.

...But Newt didn’t believe that.

As best you were doing to keep the truth from him, he could tell that you were upset. Though, you were really trying to hide it, a small smile on your face as he approached that was nearly good enough to convince him.

“Just walking, what’s up?” you asked, trying to be as casual as possible, though this was the farthest from casual you’d ever felt.

This morning, you’d had so much hope for this conversation, and now that it was over, you felt like an idiot. How could you have actually believed that they would let you out in the maze? You had no business being there.

All this time you’d spent thinking this was going to work out, days wasted planning just how you would ask, it was all for nothing. Not to mention that every guy in the glade thought you were a joke.

Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered but how were you not supposed to be taken seriously after that? Gally basically said all you were good for was serving dinner.

“I know you better than that” the blonde countered, a small smile on his face as he watched you, followed by a tiny nudge of his elbow.

You clearly weren’t just walking.

There was something going on, and the fact that you would even trying to hide the state you were in from him was enough to upset him. Newt thought you were closer than that, that you could be honest with him.

You sighed, turning to look at him, really look at him for the first time in this whole conversation. He couldn’t understand it, what it was like to have to fight just to have everyone else see you as their equal, which wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that they had never seen you on their level, and what little progress you had made in that regard was all gone now.

You wanted something and it was just out of reach, no one understood that better than he did.

This was hard for you, and even if you were lying about it to him, that wasn’t going to change how much it hurt.

You didn’t have to lie to him.

“I’m sorry, I really am” he started, after a few moments of silence. The sun was going down, meaning as the minutes ticked by, he could see less and less of your face, but that didn’t matter. The moon gave enough of a glow for him to see what all he needed to.

Newt could see the way you tightened your jaw to keep the tears from coming, and how your eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

More than anything though, he could see the way you fiddled with your fingers to busy yourself. You had always done that, even when you first came up in the box.

It was easier than looking him in the eye.

You didn’t want his pity, or his sympathy for what you had done. You just wanted to be alone, or at least, you thought you did.

When you really stopped to consider what that would mean, you knew it was a lie.

As much as you thought crawling into a hole and never leaving would make you feel better, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change you, or what you’d done, or what they thought about you. Hiding from it wasn’t going to do anything.

All you could do was keep going, like you’d been doing all this time.

“I voted yes, if that helps” Newt tried, reaching out to take your right hand. Not only did it stop you from fidgeting, but it also startled you just enough. The last thing you’d been expecting was for him to do something like that.

...But it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. What he was about to say was important, and he didn’t want you to miss it.

“I’ll talk to Minho, maybe you can start training with him and then we can ask again” he offered, giving your hand a small squeeze. It was far from what he wanted to do but it was a start.

Really, he was just shocked that they had all said no to begin with. From where he was sitting, you were just as capable of doing it as any of them, but he’d been voted out. That was just how things worked around here, but it wasn't the end.

Not if he had anything to say about it anyway.

At the very least, you could get a taste of what it would be like. Not to mention that would give him some time to wear down the others toward your cause.

“You don’t have to do that. I get it” you shrugged, sure that even if you were to let him do as he’d offered to, it wouldn't change anything. Still, it did force you to consider something you hadn’t thought about before.

No one had ever done anything like that for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so kind. You knew he cared about you but to go that far? It just seemed like a little much. “I want’ to” he smiled again, bumping you with his shoulder in the most endearing way he could, which was really his only way of communicating his fondness to you. It was something you both knew about, but chose to ignore.

It was complicated.

“Thank you-” you hummed, gingerly throwing your arms around his neck without even thinking about it. All things considered, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it was the closest you two had ever been.

The way you felt for Newt seemed simple enough and as best you could tell, he felt the same way but you weren’t in a position to explore that with him now.

“Don’t mention it” Newt replied, his words nothing more than a small whisper in your ear, before you backed away.

Then, in the most awkward fashion of your life, you said goodbye.

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but this just didn’t seem like the right time for this. Just like maybe this wasn’t the right time for you to go into the maze.

[hopeymchope]

How would you rank the 18 Class Trials from THH, DR2, and V3 from worst to best?

This is... virtually impossible for me, lol. Comparing the trials from each game to each other?

How about I just rank them within each game? That'll make it a little easier for me to deal with...

DR1

6) 5th. It's driven by lies and ultimately rushed to its end before the characters can draw any solid (pointless/meaningless) conclusions. So of course it's last for this game, and it’s probably last for the entire series as well. If there are any saving graces to this trial, it’s the surprise when your closest ally is willing to let our protagonist die... and that this trial contains the fake/bad ending route.

5) 3rd. Although the main culprit is pretty obvious from the jump, it requires some surprising twists to explain how everything got to be the way it turned out. But did I always find those twists plausible? Errrrm... not really. 

4) 2nd. Pretty good trial that's hurt for me by the fact that there'd barely be any need for a trial at all if a certain third party didn't dick around with the evidence for no reason. Also, the dual nature of Toko is an incredibly predictable reveal. Without those two aspects dragging it down, though, this could easily go higher.

3) 1st. Sure, the major hint given and, subsequently, the eventual culprit are pretty obvious, but this one establishes so much about how the trials work and how much the details you observe will matter that it’s still pretty fun that first time around. The initial surprise of the first victim makes for a great way to keep you invested in the trial experience. This trial is damn near iconic now, so it feels almost mandatory to respect it.

2) 6th. DR1 still has the best "final trial,” easily. SO MANY great reveals, and they all totally work for me. Nothing rings false or disappointing, and it also features Makoto finally coming into his own and taking the lead. I nearly labeled this my top pick for DR1, but...

1) 4th. It's easily the most emotionally dramatic/satisfying for me, and there’s something weirdly inspirational for me about Hina’s incredibly harsh stance during it. This one GOT ME IN THE FEELS, and in part that was because I saw so little of it coming. After the more predictable elements of the first and third trials, this felt like the writing was firing on all cylinders. 

DR2

6) 2nd. You have to accept a couple leaps of logic to make this trial keep flowing, and the fact that trial is ultimately reliant on someone noticing a candy that’s very small and hard to see while the person is also in a stressful situation and they are groggy from being drugged/asleep and it necessitates the person retaining this seemingly useless detail inside their brain .... that’s always bugged me.  The “escape route” conversation even retroactively raises questions about the first trial. Oof. On the upside, the reveals it brought us about Fuyuhiko and Peko were incredibly important, satisfying, and legit surprising turns. And it’s pretty cool how it’s basically a two-for-one combo trial because you have to solve the Twilight Syndrome case before you solve the current case. 

5) 3rd. Other people have pointed out the leaps of logic and missing pieces of this trial, but at the same time, the candlelight hanging is so intense and the ultimate reveal of the culprit is such a brutal turn that I have to give it some props. The culprit’s primary plan is ultimately one of the most ingenious in the series, IMO, and definitely one of the most twisted/fucked-up, which earns it some points. 

4) 4th. This is probably the single murder case in the franchise that I understood the absolute least about when entering the trial, for better or worse. On the one hand, that made it really fun to see the mystery gradually unfurl, but on the other hand, it made it tough for me to provide the right answers at certain points in the trial, leaving me fumbling. A big part of those issues was how it was initially hard for me to wrap my head around the nature of the funhouse via the provided 2D graphics... but once I eventually got there, I had to respect the creativity that went into devising such a “weapon.” Also, it can be hard to tolerate Komaeda in this trial. He’s even more of a know-it-all-but-reveal-none-of-it jackass than ever before, and his turn towards overt cruelty towards the others (and Hajime in particular) left me raging. The culprit reveal is good, but the motive does beg the question of why he didn’t just come forward from the jump.

3) 6th. There are a lot of great reveals in the final trial that totally reframe how you see the characters, and some of them are deliciously twisted. There’s also a ton of great dialogue provided, and in retrospect, it’s actually sort of neat to have one endgame mastermind reveal in this franchise that doesn’t involve the “They were hiding among us this whole time” trope. All that plus the surprise return of our surviving heroes from the first game! However, this is also where they officially reveal a core element of DR2 and its setting that I've never liked. This knocks the trial down a few pegs for me. Of course, by the time you reach the trial, I'm sure 99% of players have already figured that particular "twist" out. There’s adequate evidence to predict it in the first freaking chapter, and I know this because I DID predict it in the first chapter of my initial playthrough... which further hurts the supposed “reveal” of the island’s true nature when it comes around. 

2) 1st. Probably my favorite of the “first trials,” there are lot of components that go into this one. There’s a combination of two premeditated killers plus one spur-of-the-moment accidental victim, there’s a satisfying (though admittedly maybe too easy) reveal of the killer being one of the most unpleasant people to be around during the first chapter, and I really dig how audio became a very important component of the mystery due to the total blackout. This is also the part of the game where we learn just how twisted Komaeda really is, which is HUGE both in terms of its immediate shock factor for a total newcomer and in terms of its impact on the game as a whole. Of course, since it’s a “first trial,” it can’t be too complicated... but they still manage to confuse so many of us with “MEAT ON THE BONE” :P

1) 5th. Again, I will almost always give the most emotionally intense one the top slot. The “traitor reveal” is obviously THAT MOMENT in DR2. I also love how this one used the strange internal logic established early in the game RE: Komaeda’s luck to develop the eventual solution. And forcing us to make use of evidence gathered in multiple locations outside of the immediate site of the body/murder? That more complexity of that type that I see relevant to a trial, the more I appreciate it, and this one has loads of that stuff. Although I guess the investigation isn’t technically part of the trial itself... but it’s still very relevant to it. 

DRV3

6) 4th. I found this whole trial to be just... extremely predictable. Maybe it’s because I was so far into the series that I’d gotten used to its tricks by this point, but this was the most predictable trial for me since the first one in the first game. The whole looping/rollover map setup of the VR? Obvious. The murder weapon? Obvious. Our culprit’s ongoing confusion at everything discussed? Obvious. There were only a couple of points I didn’t have already figured out when I walked into the trial room, and those turned out to be basically irrelevant (such as the bottle of poison). The eventual motive is at least a surprise, but I also found it hard to accept that this culprit would really kill people over it. Overall: Super lame. 

5) 3rd. Another double murder trial, and once again one murder overshadows the other. The séance murder is definitely clever. Sure, you know the culprit pretty early on, but the methodology is the good part. However, the real fascinating one for me is the art lab “locked room” murder. Going into the trial, I couldn’t fathom how they were going to explain that one, and I found the answer both smart and satisfying. It’s funny to imagine how many times the culprit had to try that stunt with the lock before it actually worked, heh. This is probably the best of the three “double murder” mysteries in the series, but the trial isn’t as emotionally affecting as the 3rd trial in DR2 to me. Moreover, the trial loses points for the most infuriating Hangman’s Gambit of the series and especially for the motive reveal. When the killer’s motive can be boiled down to “they’re basically just a psycho serial killer,” it’s not very interesting.

4) 6th. The first part of the trial, which deals with re-assessing the first case? It’s pretty damn on-point. That leads to the mastermind reveal, which... isn’t great, really. It’s not a terribly interesting character to make the mastermind, they have no interesting motives or characterization to unevil, and they’re ultimately just a pawn behind another, off-screen group of masterminds. But then things get uproariously funny to me. The metatextual stuff is just so goddamn ridiculous. It’s frustrating and annoying how much of our not-mastermind’s explanation is clearly full of lies and half-truths that we’ll never have complete answers on, but that’s also part of what makes it all fascinating. We get to swap protagonists like four times! There’s a fake-out Game Over! These are really cool things. But it all leads down the road of our protagonist arguing that fiction does affect reality (yes, good), that fictional people can still matter (definitely) and that... fictional lives are equal in value to real ones? Uhhhhh slow down there, champ. That only works for YOUR universe, where fictional people can be made out of living, breathing individuals. But in light of the metatextual stuff you’re surrounded by, you kinda sound silly AF right now?

3)  2nd. Look, this is still incredibly irritating to me. Also, if you go down the alternate “lying” route at one point, you are forced to accept that these piranhas were somehow trained to only eat dead things, which is just... so deeply dumb.  But what is good is the entire ropeway conceit (which is a very significant part of the trial!) and the idea of the partition inside the tank. This was a murder with an elaborate, intelligent plan that is very well-executed. And the motive reveal? It’s one of the best in the series! I respect that stuff. (If I had the right to toss the execution in as part of the soup, I’d say that it’s also one of the series’ best. Let’s call it the icing on the cake.)

2) 1st. The writing that made this trial work is undeniably clever. The way the narration told us exactly what was happening without really telling us what was happening? It was a masterstroke of both great writing and perfect localization coming together. When it becomes clear during the trial what is about to happen, it’s a huge shock. The transition to another protagonist with the lights flickering out and back on is beautiful. Even the core concept of a protagonist who was willing to step up and try to kill the mastermind immediately is just deeply interesting. And obviously this one made my emotions run high. HOWEVER! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Kaede Akamatsu was a more interesting, unique, and compelling protagonist than Shuichi Saihara ever was. Ultimately, the protagonist-swap, no matter how well-written, was a mistake because they shifted us from a unique character with an interesting new perspective to a character who is, in many ways, “Makoto Naegi with even less self-esteem.” Yes, I know he has aspects that make him distinct as his own person, but there’s still just too much there that feels like we’ve done it before, and he never fully escapes from that. It feels like a massive waste and a huge missed opportunity to ditch Kaede like this. Now, if they had just done the protagonist swap in reverse — making us start out with Shuichi before flipping things over to Kaede — we could’ve had ourselves something amazing here.

1) 5th. I know I decided that I couldn’t rank all among each other, but if I did do that, I feel confident that the 5th trial in DRV3 would rank very high indeed. You go into the trial unable to even determine who the victim was due to the fact that two people are missing and there was nothing left of the body that spoke to an identity. Going into it, you naturally figure that one of the two missing parties has to be the victim and the other one is probably the culprit. But even with just two friggin’ suspects, the amount of turnabouts in the case that made me rethink all my assumptions was insane. Sure, the explanation for how the person inside the Exisal can maintain “character” is pretty damn thin, but once you get past that, I don’t think there’s a single false note in the trial. It even breaks unprecedented ground by continuing into another Non-Stop Debate after everyone has already voted. And of course, it culminates with a lot of intense emotion. Even the execution is emotionally satisfying! ..... although I’m not sure if I should count the execution as part of the trial, but hey, still. As far as Dangan trials go, the fifth one in DRV3 is basically a masterpiece.

[grimaldiapologist]

Saw a conversation on Twitter about viewing DID as isolating and lonely vs. viewing it as having "friends in your headspace". Got me thinking about our experience.

A lot of people described becoming more isolated and disconnected after figuring out they have a system. For us, it's been the opposite of that - I feel like we've all become much more wholly social and outgoing with the energy we share and the excitement from each part to be interacting individually, but it's also brought up loneliness in a different manner.

Yes, we can be alone together, and that isn't lonely. We have quality "me time" among the system - times when we do things by ourselves and we never have to feel lonely because we're together, things I wouldn't think to share with other people since I don't have that kind of company, like taking walks, practicing mindfulness, doing yoga, or opportunities like camping, hanging out outdoors. I've engaged in all of this more since finding out about our system, because I'm continuously encouraged by the parts, and they want to do these things together, and we finally have company to do these things with. It's a good feeling.

But there's a new sense of loneliness that happens especially when parts get ignored by outside people. So many times one of us has shared something that was important to them and only had responses from within the system. I know it looks like to others that the subject was covered and necessary attention was granted, but if we're sharing outwardly, it means the parts want to engage outside the system, and rejection is still rejection. It makes us feel very alone in the world, to feel like only we, internally, care. That we only matter to each other.

It happens rarely, but it is painful, especially because most of these parts have never experienced rejection directly. Every bruise is new to them, and they don't know how to cope with it. If I get ignored, of course it hurts and it's uncomfortable, but I'm used to turning inwards or finding other sources of validation. For the parts, it just hurts, and they don't know why it happened. Did other people just not care, or is it because they don't matter? They can easily go dig their own wounds deeper than anybody ever intended them to be.

This is part of the reason I kept them hidden, knowingly, for two decades. I knew they hurt worse than me. Unintentionally, I didn't allow them to learn coping mechanisms, and now it hurts us all to be thrust into the world like that and find out that sometimes, there's rejection. Sometimes, there's conflict. Sometimes there's misunderstanding. They're all such painful experiences to us, and loneliness hits different when you feel like all parts of you equally are isolated from the world, not just the facet of "you". It's easier to be rejected alone than in a group.

[missgarnet]

Stay

pairing: king taehyung x reader

word count: 5.4k

Genre:royal au/fluff/angst

Summary: There are boundaries and rules for interacting with royals, Y/N's been around long enough to figure them out for herself. But what happens when the widdowed king returns to the palace and she begins to see him as more of a person than a ruler. Can the two of them stay to put back the broken pieces left from their pasts, or will everything go wrong when the truth comes out?

Warnings: brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of child loss

Link to ao3

The sweat seeped into her nightgown, making the fabric cling to her shivering body. Her chest rattled with cough as her breath grew labored. Taehyung sat in the rocking chair by her side, studying the small crack in the arm rest as he tried to avoid seeing how small and frail she’d grown over the last few weeks. The pains started all too soon, the king grew worried as her hands pressed against her swollen stomach. It was too soon for both of them, and he was pulled away before the labor had truly even started. 

He paced in the hallways as her pained cries sounded out from behind closed doors. It pained him to see the pale faced nurses carrying armfuls of bloodied sheets away from where she layed, scared and alone without the one person who was supposed to be with her no matter what. They wouldn’t let him in the room, even after she was gone. Neither of them lived long, she was too young, too lively to go this soon. And the king’s child had barely even taken his first breath when things started going downhill. The physicians tried everything, but they couldn’t save either one. 

When you joined the palace staff, everything was in a state of mourning. The halls felt so empty without the queen, and chests of her belongings being sent away only made it worse. You knew that the king had requested you to take this position, but he had refused to see you or anyone that he didn’t have to. Soon after the palace grew even emptier as the king began preparing for a trip to the Southern Palace, where he would be staying with the Parks and one of the lesser Kim families. His absence and lack of greeting toward you was unusual compared to your previous experience, but you didn’t mind. Oftentimes you found it better to avoid meeting with nobles, especially those employing you. 

Your job was difficult enough without the added stress of having to interact with them. Most nobles had no clue how to run their staff, it was much easier for them to pay someone else to make sure their manors ran smoothly. It was your job to make sure the kitchens were stocked and well staffed, as well as seeing to the gardens, art collections, and countless rooms to be cared for. You’d been hesitant at accepting this offer but as soon as Duchess Min heard, she demanded you take this opportunity. She was a force to be reckoned with, and yet the duchess was your favourite household to work in. It was one of the more unusual places you’d worked, normally a duchess would be reserved and follow her husband's lead. However, she was more intimidating than him and that’s saying a lot. You’re half convinced she would have murdered you herself if you didn’t take her advice on going to the palace. If only she could see you now. 

In the years since you joined the palace you were sure to make one thing very clear. Even though the king had not returned, your standards would be just as if he were in that very room. You had made it a point to keep every room spotless, and a constant rotation of culinary experts for when there were guests. Unfortunately, there were certain rooms you were unable to access and the annoyance of a couple locked doors that not one of the staff could find keys for. Which was why it struck you as quite unusual that one of those damn doors had found itself slightly ajar, as if someone had found the key. You nearly had a heart attack when you saw the man curled up on the floor. 

“Excuse me. What in the hell do you think-” you freeze mid sentence as you take in the man before you, he wore no crown and looked different from the portraits you had seen but it was impossible not to recognise him. The man sitting there before you was none other than the king. You dropped into a curtsy as you frantically attempted to make up for your mistake, “Your majesty, I am so so sorry. I was not made aware of your arrival and the open door just gave me a bit of a fright. No one’s been able to open most of this wing and seeing you here startled me.”

The king sniffles, looking so small for a man of his importance, “I- I didn’t want to be announced. I thought it would be best if I had time to adjust, being here it’s just a little much. And besides I’d rather not have people seeing me like this. It’s shameful really. Kings don’t cry.”

You carefully take a step forward, watching for him to react or ask you to leave but instead he stays still as you seat yourself on the floor across from him. “Maybe not, I don’t know enough about kings to say one way or the other. But I know people, and people need to cry sometimes, and yell, and laugh, and just express whatever it is that they’ve got trapped inside of their heads.”

“I’m not just a person though, there’s too many expectations for me to do that.”

“Maybe not,”you pause for a moment trying to think of the right words. “What if even just for a moment, you and I sit here and just be a normal person for a little while. We can talk or just sit in silence, but without all the pressures and responsibilities of everything else.”

“One condition, I don’t want anyone to know you found me like this. I just needed a minute, please don’t tell anyone.”

“Your Majesty, it’s my job to notice everything and nothing at the same time. Trust me, your secret’s safe with me. I’ll do my best to make sure the staff allows you to have as much privacy as you need.”

“Thank you.”

Mina’s feet were pressing against your spine when you woke up before sunrise the next morning, for such a small child she really had a talent for taking the entire bed. As you slipped out from the covers, you couldn’t help but notice how sweet she looked as she curled herself into a little ball the second you got up. Getting dressed without waking her up was usually difficult but you had years of practice with this. You’d found it was easiest to start your day by being the among the first to be up and about in the palace. It gave you enough time to brew coffee for the other staff about to start their days, and a time and place where you didn’t have to worry about anyone else. That was before today of course. 

One thing you’d learned early on and come to rely on was the fact that most royalty did not know where anything was, and they made it a point to avoid the servants' side of everything. This was why you found it so surprising when you walked into the kitchen to find a certain king  attempting to figure out how to brew a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning,” he said, looking up at you with a boxy smile.

“Good morning, Your Majesty. Please forgive me for asking, but are you lost?”

He seems to find something entertaining in your response and proceeds to start laughing at this. “No, I’m pretty sure I was still in my palace last time I checked. I just thought it’d be easier for us to talk in your office, but you’re not using it.”

“I’ve found it’s easier to run everything if I’m the one going to them, so I never even opened the door to the staff office. This way I can move around and see what’s going on at all times. I can’t be in charge if I don’t know what is going on around me. I could start using it if that would make things easier on you, Your Majesty”

“No, I like the way you’ve been handling things. It's just that you’re quite a difficult person to keep track of. And I wish you wouldn’t call me that all the time, it’s exhausting having to hear your majesty this and your majesty that. I just get sick of hearing it so much.”

“It’s your title, what else would you have me call you?”

“Taehyung,” he grins. “Or Tae if you want. I think I’d rather just be myself around you, it’s one less person I have to worry about impressing.”

“Very well, Your- Taehyung.” You found your eyes wandering from the soft curls framing his face to his warm smile and lips that were begging to be- No, absolutely not he was your boss and a king, you could not start thinking of him like that. But maybe he wasn’t so bad, maybe the two of you could be… friends. 

“Do you want breakfast?”

“You can cook?”

“A little, I’m not very good at it but Jin’s been teaching me.” He seemed confident, so you figured what’s the worst that could happen and left the young king to attempt cooking on his own.

Turns out you were right to be concerned with him being in the kitchen, despite Jin’s lessons he had a long way to go before making anything unsupervised. Apparently the worst thing that could happen was not him breaking the eggs and leaving the shells in, but rather forgetting what he was making and almost setting the kitchen on fire. 

A few weeks later Taehyung had started meeting with various ladies of the court. You were aware of the arrangement but something bothered you about the sour attitude he had every time he returned from being with one of them. It was a peculiar feeling that made you want to reach out and comfort him. Even as you told yourself that this was just a platonic feeling, something innocent between friends, you couldn’t help but noticing a growing jealousy for these women. 

The door slammed behind the king as he returned from his meeting with Lady Nam. “Y/N, I’ll be in my office. Could you bring dinner up when you have the time?”

“Of course, I’ll have it finished immediately.” By the time you got to the office, you found the door half open like it was the first time you met. “Taehyung, I brought food, and I asked them to make a couple desserts just in case. I don’t mean to overstep, but what’s going on? You seemed upset.”

“It’s nothing, I just didn’t think they’d be so forward with their intentions. I know I’m supposed to be meeting with the noble ladies as a way to find another wife, but I didn’t think they’d be presenting me with a marriage contract the first time I ever meet her.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine someone having the audacity to do that, especially under the circumstances.”

“It’s not your fault, most nobles don’t get to marry someone they already care for. My wife and I didn’t really get along in the beginning, but I cared for her. We ended up becoming friends as time went on. It’s not much but it’s better than most. I feel a little bad for admitting this, but I wanted more this time.”

“It’s not wrong to want something more. I don’t know if this will help but I don’t think loving someone else doesn’t mean you cared for her any less.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, what you said was true but it also wasn’t your place. You were there to serve and manage the household affairs, advice was overstepping and you had learned better.

“I know. It’s just so much harder than I thought it would be, moving on. She used to make jokes about how something wasn’t her problem, that it was something for my next wife to deal with. Sometimes I wonder if she knew, especially towards the end. She was just so small.” He lowered his head, curls falling before his saddened eyes. “I just want someone to love me, I want someone to stay.”

“Tae, I can’t promise much but please know you have my unwavering loyalty. I’m here to stay however long you’ll want me for.” You were falling and you just couldn’t stop. There were boundaries kept in place for a reason, but somehow you just kept crossing them for the young king. It felt like he was a little broken too, and maybe just maybe you could be the one to put each other back together. You couldn't stop yourself from pushing the hair out of his face and meeting his eyes with yours. This is the closest the two of you have been, barely a breath apart. 

The two of you were so focused on each other that neither noticed the door opening. That was until a certain small child came tugging at your sleeve. “Y/N, it’s snowing! There’s really snow outside! Can we go? Please!”

A panic snapped you out of whatever strange feeling had come over you just moments before. You grabbed Mina by the hand and began guiding her towards the door, “Mina! What did I tell you about wandering around? You could have gotten lost or hurt, and you know there’s places that are off limits for a reason.” You turn back to the king, trying your best to repair the situation. “Your Majesty, I am so sorry. I didn’t expect-”

“Please don’t worry about it, I actually like kids but there’s not many around here.” He walks over to where you’re still holding on to Mina and kneels so that the two of them are almost the same height. “Hi, I’m Taehyung. And you know, I think we might have some extra winter coats around here if you want to go and see the snow up close. I think I might take a break and join the two of you, if that’s alright with Y/N.”

“Please Y/N, please? I’ve never got to see it in person.” Mina says turning around and begins tugging on your skirts this time, to your surprise Taehyung joins in her pleas asking you to join them. 

“Fine you can go,” you tell them as you try to hold in your laughter. “But you have to put on coats and gloves first, both of you. It’s too cold out and I don’t want either of you getting frostbite.”

“Y/N, you’re coming with right? It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Why not? I don’t see the harm in a little snow.” The three of you dug through the little storage closet, tossing gloves and hats around at each other until you had matching sets. Coats were much easier to find, they were already organized by size to make things easier for staff.

For most places a first snow was barely enough to dust the ground and disappeared within a few hours at the most. However, this palace was unlike anywhere else you’d been. Somehow the snow had already formed a thick blanket across the grounds despite it’s unusually early arrival. It looked like something out of a fairytale and there was a certain kind of magic in the air as the three of you stepped into the gardens that day. 

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your heart as you watched the two of them playing together in the snow. He looked carefree and unburdened for the first time since you’d met, and Mina finally got the chance to play like most kids her age. The two of them were running circles around the snow, chasing each other in a game of tag. It came as quite the shock when you felt the cold ball of ice striking you in the side, especially when you took in the king’s laughter and his reddened cheeks from the cold. Without even thinking you sunk your hands into the snow and packed it into a dense little sphere, chucking it in his direction as hard as you could. 

Mina laughed as she watched your snowball glide directly over her head and strike Taehyung hard enough to make him lose his balance. Tae flopped back in the snow, and you began to worry you’d hit him too hard. Getting closer you notice Mina throwing herself down in the snow next to him, the two of them flapping their arms as they lay on their backs.

“Y/N, come help us. We’re making snow angels!” Mina calls from her spot on the ground. You sigh as you plop down between them, trying to ignore the cold ice seeping into your gloves as you wave your arms through the snow. 

Mina and Tae hop up from their spots and each hold out a hand to help you up. The mischievous look in their eyes should have given their little plan away, but somehow you took their offer anyway. Sure enough they started to help you up right before letting go and laughing as you fell back into the snow. 

You ended up having to find a way out of the snow on your own and turned to look at the little figures left in the snow. Three little angels laid out side by side, the bigger ones were messy and rough around the edges but the littlest one was perfect. “Mina, how do you make a perfect snow angel your first time?”

“Because I am an angel.” She says with a smug little grin.

“Sure you are,” you add. “Speaking of Angel, your favourite person is going to be here pretty soon.”

“Who’s coming here?”

“Angel, it’s a nickname we have for Duchess Min. A bit ironic really, but you’re supposed to be meeting with her sister-in-law and they’re all coming with.”

You’d gotten used to the duchess dropping in whenever she felt like it, but with the king finally back it seemed as though she’d finally have to announce her arrival like everyone else. It was always exciting to see her, but she made it a point to see you on as little short of notice as possible. This time you’d been in the kitchens planning menus for their stay at the palace when you were given the news.

“Excuse me Miss,” one of the younger maids interrupts “The Duke and his family have arrived.”

She had barely gotten the warning out when Duchess Min burst through the door and practically launched herself into your embrace. “Y/N darling, I’ve missed you so much! The manor has been positively dreadful without you. I swear they’re trying to drive me completely and utterly insane.”

“Angel, I’m pretty sure you were already that way when we got married,” the duke jokes from across the room.

“Oh please, I’ve had about enough of that nickname. I am a delight compared to you. Thank you very much. And besides I’ve missed my best friend, Y/N it's bad enough that you left me there all alone but now I have to deal with his bore of a sister.”

Yoongi sighed heavily at his wife’s remarks, “My Love, how many times do I have to ask you to stop calling my family whor-”

“Bore Yoongi, BORE with a B. I am quite aware of the fact that you wish to turn a blind eye to your sister’s recent flings. I however enjoy being able to express myself in the way that I see fit, so I would advise you to stop trying to censor the language I use. It’s bad enough I have to deal with your sister, I don’t need this too.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to have the manor to yourself again.”

“Yes, exactly! Because when we have the manor to ourselves we can,” she pulls her husband down by his collar and begins whispering something in his ear that makes the confident duke grow flustered.

You made it a point to clear your throat at this moment, drawing their attention away from each other for the time being. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. And you’re supposed to be meeting the king to chaperone your sister and him, not planning whatever it is the two of you can’t wait to get home and tear each other's clothes off for.” 

“There’s where you’re wrong, A few of our guards are serving as chaperones. We’re here to visit you because my wife is insistent on proving another one of her theories.”

“Oh, please it’s not a theory,” the duchess scoffs. “I received very reliable information about a certain situation within the palace, and I wanted to verify it for myself. And now that we’re here it’s obvious that I was right once again.”

You can’t help but sigh at your friend once again interfering in other people’s personal lives, “What is your brilliant discovery this time?”

She beams at your choice of words, ignoring the sarcasm surrounding them, “He’s not going to take an interest in Yoonji.”

“You don’t know that, Yoonji can be sweet and charming when she wants to be. And you’ve seen how great she is at negotiating for whatever she wants. It’s a little amusing how similar the two of you are.”

She made a horrible gagging noise at this, “No I am nothing like my sister-in-law. Why would you even- Yoongi stop laughing, it’s not funny. I would not care if you compared me to anyone else, but her.”

“Very well, Angel.” you say with a smirk. “If you don’t mind me asking why do you think you’re right about this.”

“Trust me, I know how to read people and there’s something there that’s…” your friend sighed for a moment in thought. ”He’s already got someone else in mind.”

“So, how did things go with Yoonji?” You asked later that night, passing a pastry to Taehyung.

“Better, I suppose. At least this one didn’t send a marriage contract during our first meeting. I just don’t think that any of these women are what I want.”

“Tae, you have to give her a chance. At least try, maybe we could ask them to stay with us for the holidays.”

“Us?”

“Yes, there’s only a few days til Christmas and I usually take Mina to spend it with the Mins. But I was thinking maybe I could stay here this year, spend Christmas with you.”

Before you knew it, Christmas eve had arrived and the three of you had set out to mark trees for the staff to bring in. Each of you held a little red ribbon to be tied around a Christmas tree of your choice. The Mins were supposed to join, but Angel had sent a note this morning that they had all been feeling under the weather and were exhausted from last night’s festivities. 

“I think this one’s my favourite so far.”Tae announced, already choosing a tree within moments of entering the tiny forest.  “I can just see us sitting around this tree drinking cocoa and unwrapping gifts in the morning.” 

“Not in the Great Hall, it’s too small,” you felt bad the second you spotted the disappointment in his eyes and began to take the ribbon in your hand to tie around the tree. “But I haven’t picked mine yet, and maybe we can have a smaller Christmas tree just for us.”

Mina came running up to grab your hand, practically dragging you off in the opposite direction. “Y/N, look at this one! It’s small like me, I want this one!”

You take a quick lap around the miniature tree, there was no denying it’s lack of size nor it’s lack of branches. It’s top was barely past your knee, and the few branches it had were either short or nearly broken off. “Mina, I don’t know about this one.”

Tae seemed to notice the child’s disappointment from afar and rushed to make things right again. “Maybe we could put it in a planter and bring it with, so it can get even bigger and stronger.”

Mina smiled as the two of them tied the little ribbon around the tree. It became sort of a game between them at that point, trying to pick trees that were too small, large, or misshapen for the great hall. In the end the three of you had to choose quickly because it was starting to grow dark outside. 

The next morning you found that Angel and Duke Min had miraculously recovered from any ailment and were waiting in one of the parlors around the Christmas trees you had stayed up decorating the night before. They were seated as close as possible, each of them resting an arm or leg against the other. Hot cocoa steamed in the mugs on the table before them, but that was meant to be shared between the five of you.

“Where’s Yoonji?” you ask, eyeing your best friend. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything to her.” Angel looked back at Yoongi and elbowed him as if trying to remind him of something.

“She actually didn’t meddle this time, Yoonji’s not much of a morning person and she’s lucky enough to not have someone dragging her out of bed at the crack of dawn.” Despite the tone of his voice, you could tell that he wasn’t cross with his wife. You knew from experience that he would do anything if it meant making her happy. 

Angel laughs at his complaints, “Oh please, I mentioned presents and he came running down the stairs.”

“Did someone say presents?” You looked up to see Tae rounding the corner with Mina shyly trailing behind. The two of them were dragging velvety red bags filled to the brim with boxes and bags for everyone. 

Tae sat in the armchair across from all of you as Mina nestled in beside you. Reaching in the bag, Tae began to pull out gifts calling out names from the miniature tags tied to each. The room buzzed with joy as each of you began tearing open the wrappings, even Tae was overjoyed as the Min’s surprised him with the presents they had snuck in the night before. 

Finally it was your turn to surprise them, getting up to reach around the back of the tree you retrieved the four little packages you’d hidden when the decorations were brought in. “It’s not much, but I wanted to get each of you something special.”

The room filled with little gasps of joy as they each saw the personal touch you’d put into each of their gifts. The Min’s had a strict no weapons for Christmas rule after an incident years before, but there wasn’t a rule to stop you from getting Yoongi cuff links in the shape of his sword. Admittedly you had bent the rule just a little when it came to Duchess Min’s gift, the necklace of angel wings surrounding a dagger was beautiful and the matching blade was hidden in the false bottom of the jewelry box for her to find the next day. 

Tae looked at the little glass case in confusion. “It’s a snowflake, sealed and preserved between the glass. I had it made that day we were in the gardens, it was the first sign of winter at the palace and the first snow we spent together. Something about it was too perfect to let go, so I wanted to keep even a small part of that day and give it to you.”

“It’s perfect,” he took your hand in his as he lowered himself onto one knee and pulled out a small jewelry box. “If I’m being honest there was one last present I was looking forward to for a very long time. Y/N, these past months I’ve spent with you have been the happiest I’ve been in my life. You make me feel loved, and I want nothing more than to do the same for you. So please Y/N will you marry me?”

“Your majesty,” you say as you pull yourself away from him.

“Taehyung, please,” he corrected with a hushed whisper.

“No, your majesty. I can’t do this. I’ve grown to love you over these last months, but my feelings don’t matter.”

“Then what does? If we both want this, who's to tell us any differently? I don’t care about you not being a noble or any other reason you don’t feel like you aren’t enough. Because you are more than enough, I love you and that’s all that matters” he remained there on his knees as if begging you to give him a chance.

Your voice raised barely above a broken whisper, “I’m not fit to marry you, because I’m not fit to be a queen.”

“Y/N,” he said cupping your face between his hands. “You are brilliant, self-assured, and unbelievably kind. If anyone’s qualified for this it’s you.”

“That’s not what I meant, it’s more than just being good at something.”

“Then what do you mean Y/N, you can tell me anything. Just please let me in, give me a chance because I’m not just going to give up when things get difficult.”

You take his hand in yours, “Tae, it’s a long story and trust me when I say it’s better off if you don’t know. I don’t want you to think of me any differently.”

“It’s okay, nothing you say will ever change the way I see you right now. You are my world, and if you have a story you need to tell, I’m here to listen.”

“I can’t be queen because of something that happened years back, when I had first taken over the management of a noble house. One of the first things I learned was that you never say no to the baron. Anything he wanted, he got whether it was another drink, playing cards, or providing company for him and his guests. The baron I worked for took a very one sided interest in many of the women that worked for him, myself included. I’ll spare you the details, but I had my daughter nine months after he acted on this… interest.” you paused for a moment looking at his face for signs of the horror or pity you had seen in others who’d found out before him. But none of it was there, instead he held out his hand and waited for you to hold it.

With your hand in his, he gave a reassuring squeeze as if to remind you that he’s still there, “I’m alright, you can keep going if you want.”

“I had to leave the estate long before I had her, and when I returned I had to tell everyone that she wasn’t mine. We weren’t allowed to run a noble’s household if we were married or had kids, they thought it would be too much of a distraction. So I told them that she was my sister’s, she knows the truth but it’s still hard. I tried to hide it, but there’s still rumors and I can’t do that to you. This is my burden and I can deal with it, but I will not make it yours.”

“Y/N, you were right. I do see you differently now. I can see that you are more resilient than I ever thought. And I know that you would do whatever it takes to protect those you love, even if it means holding back part of your story to avoid upsetting them. You may not want to talk about what happened now, but you might someday. I want to be the person you can tell everything to… So I am asking you, forget I’m a king for a moment and please, will you marry me?”

“Taehyung I-”

From across you hear your best friend’s voice interject, “Y/N, if you don’t get it together and say yes already, I will leave my husband and marry him myself.”

“Angel, you know just as well as I do that’s not possible.”

“They didn’t need to know that,” the duchess pouts as she leans back against her husband’s chest. You chuckle at seeing them so relaxed around each other.

Tae clears his throat as if to remind you of the question still hanging heavily in the air. “Yes, a million times yes.”

As the five of you sat around the fire basking in the joy and warmth of the new engagement, the sound of carollers began to echo throughout the halls. Tae pulled you closer and the two of stayed curled up together as the Min’s began passing the cocoa around along with the flask Angel had hidden in a secret pocket. “Merry Christmas Y/N”

“Merry Christmas Tae Tae.”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

The Ambassador: Part 1/3

Captain Rex x Reader, Female!Reader

Summary: Captain Rex is a man of honor, never losing sight of his code and his duty to the Republic. Well...almost never. Whenever you, the unofficial Ambassador to the GAR, grace the 501st with you presence, the lines between what he wants to do and what he should do become blurry.

A/N: Guess who decided to make another series when they haven’t finished like...five of them! Anyway, at least this one is short and there’s an actual end in sight. Let me know if you want to be tagged. And remeber REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

Word Count: 1.9K

    Another day, another mission, Rex thought idly as he stared down at the holo map before him.

    Pustin was, on a whole, rather unremarkable; a small desert planet on the edge of the Outer Rim with a small primitive native population. The Republic had kept its distance for the most part in order to avoid disturbing its development.  Unfortunately for the Pustins, the Seperatist had decided to set up shop along the borders of their land. 

    The Republic knew Separatists were shipping raw material in and out of the system, but they had no idea what or how much.  Recon missions had proved inconclusive given the strategic placement of the outpost.  So far, they had only been able to see some of the facility from the air, and even then at a great distance.  A ground team couldn’t sneak in from the front because of the vast desert landscape, giving no room for cover.  The rear was just as dangerous.  While it rested against a mountain side providing easy cover, the mountain itself was treacherous to climb. They had learned enough to know a labyrinth of caverns ran through the mountain which the natives used as a short-cut, but it would be impossible for any trooper to get through without a proper guide. 

    It was a tricky situation.  Luckily, General Skywalker has the foresight to bring in reinforcements. 

    Rex felt his cheeks warm at the thought.  He shook it off as best he could, staring more intently at the map as if expecting to find some brilliant pathway through the mountain he hadn’t noticed to suddenly spring out at him. 

 He was not going to think about the person currently riding the elevator up to the bridge.  He was going to focus on the mission.  That was his duty. That was what he understood, not whatever was making his heart hammer against his chest.

   But, it was all the naught the moment the elevator doors hissed open.

   “Eyes up! Ambassador on the bridge!” General Skywalker called, walking into the command center with you just a step behind. 

   You gave an exasperated, but good natured smile in response as all eyes turned to you. 

   “At ease,” you said.

   The men returned to their duties, but it was clear from the smiles and sudden lightness in the air that they didn’t need the order to be at ease. 

   You weren’t really a representative, at least not in any official capacity.  What you were was a tactical consultant; your expertise being extractions, espionage, or anything which required careful navigation of neutral systems and local treaties. 

   It was a common joke among the ranks that you could talk Master Windu into buying a bridge if you talked long enough.  This skill set, along with your easy comradery with every clone you met, earned you the honorary title of “Ambassador to the Grand Army of the Republic” or “The Ambassador” for short. 

    You took the title with pride, earning some side eyes from Senators, but nothing you couldn’t brush off.  Rex had even heard you claim to, “represent the interests of Kamino’s second population”.  And you did, not just on the battlefield. 

   While many in the Senate wanted to push off the issue to a later date, you were adamant in your fight for Clone rights.  Anytime you weren’t on assignment you were on Coruscant, meeting with Senators and influencers, and speaking out for recognition of Clones' personhood. 

   If getting squadrons out of trouble with local tribal leaders didn’t endear you to the troops, your advocacy certainly did. 

   “Commander,” Rex greeted.

   Your eyes turned to him and a genuine smile slipped onto your lips.  The kind that made his heart clench and his ears warm.  This was a common occurrence whenever he saw you; a mix of uncomfortable and pleasant sensations, making it impossible for him to decide if he liked it or not. 

   “Captain Rex,” you said.  “It’s good to see you again.” 

   You meant it. He knew you did. And that only made it worse.

   You then turned your attention back to General Skywalker.  “So, what’s the situation?  Or did you just miss me?”

   General Skywalker raised an eyebrow.  “Straight to the point then?”

   “Might as well.” You shrugged. “Besides, Senator Burtoni will be headed back to Coruscant soon which is never a good sign.  I’d rather be there to argue the old bat myself. If anything, it’ll just annoy her.” 

   He laughed.  “Don’t worry Ambassador. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have you back pestering senators in no time.”

   “You’d better.  Now, what brilliant scheme have you come up with?”

   “Captain Rex?”

   Rex stepped forward. “Me and a squadron of men will escort you to the village on the other side of the mountain here. With any luck we’ll be able to convince the chief to guide us through the caverns we know link the two sides.  After that, it’s purely reconnaissance.  We need to find out what they’re shipping, the placement of their gun, and approximately how many droids they have stationed there.”

   “And then just pop back out the other side with the Separatist none the wiser,” you finished.  “Is that it?”

   “That’s the idea.”

   You nodded.  “Sounds easy enough.  One objection, no squadron.”

   “Commander--”

   You held up a hand for silence.  “I understand the instinct, but you said I need to persuade the chief to guide us.  If I go down there with a bunch of armored troopers demanding safe passage through the mountain, that’s not persuading, that’s threatening.”

   “And if the natives prove hostile?” 

   “That’s a risk we’ll have to take.  But if I know anything about the Separatists, the Pustins will be jumping at the chance to get them off their world. Provided, we don’t come across as the bad guys.” 

   Rex stayed silent a moment.  He wanted to put up more of a fight.  The idea of you going down there essentially unarmed into a hostile environment made his stomach turn.  But, you were still a Commander and if anyone could talk their way out from under the barrel of a blaster, it was you.

   “What do you suggest, sir?”

   “Just myself and two other troopers as escort,” you said. “This is still a recon mission after all, the fewer the better.  I’d also recommend no armor and concealed blasters.”

   He stiffened. “Sir, with all due respect, we’ll need some protection in case something goes wrong.”

   “Things will go wrong a lot faster if we waltz into their villages armed for battle.”

   “The Pustins have never even seen Republic armor before.”

   “No, but they will recognize it as armor.” 

   He opened his mouth ready to protest, but immediately closed it.  You were right. 

   This entire mission hinged on getting the Pustins to trust you, and them. If you didn’t gain that trust, the entire mission was forfeit. It’s why General Skywalker asked for you. 

   So, that meant following your lead and putting the minds of the natives at ease, even if that ran the risk of leaving yourself vulnerable to attack. 

   He let out a long breath. “I don’t like it.”

   “No one is forcing you to join me, Captain.”

   He shook his head.  “No, I’m going.  I can’t say I’m thrilled with this plan, but I can’t think of a better one.”

   A small smile quirked at the corner of your lips. “Good.  Between you, me and Jesse we should have this wrapped in no time.”

   His brow furrowed. “Jesse?”

   “Did you have someone else in mind?”

   Rex paused.  Fives and Echo were out, having been sent to assist General Kenobi and the 212th. Hardcase had an itchy trigger finger.  Tup didn’t have any recon experience, neither did Kix.  Dogma was still too shiny...

   He ran down the list of available troopers and came to the same conclusion you did. Jesse really was the only logical choice.  

   He felt a small tug at annoyance. Jesse was undoubtedly a good soldier, one of the best.  But he also made no secret about his interest in you.  Whenever you joined them on any kind of mission Jesse just had to open his mouth and share every little flirtatious comment that came into his head.  

   He held back a sigh.  He was liking this mission less and less.  But for the sake of said mission he had to put whatever personal issues he had with his brother aside, because that’s all they were, personal.

   “No, sir,” he said, making a point to keep his tone as free from emotion as possible.

   You nodded in acknowledgement before turning to Skywalker. “Anything else, General?”

   He shook his head. “No, I think that settles it. Captain Rex you inform Jesse about his assignment.  Plan to meet in the hanger bay in one hour.”

   “Yes, sir.” 

   “Dismissed.”

   Both you and Rex saluted before you turned and entered the elevator together. 

   “So, on a scale from one to ten, how much is Jesse going to hate this plan,” you asked, just as the doors hissed shut. 

   “I’d say about a seven,” Rex answered dryly. 

   “That much faith in me, huh?”

   “The men have plenty of faith in you Commander.  I can’t say the same for the Pustins.” 

   You gave a short laugh before playfully nudging him in the side. “Don’t worry Captain, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

   “It’s not me I’m worried about it.” 

   You paused, the teasing expression fading. 

   His gut twisted; had he said that out loud? He didn’t so much as breath as he watched your face for some kind of reaction. 

   To his surprise, your gaze softened and your lips turned into an understanding smile. 

   “I know,” you said.  You placed a hand on his arm.  Even through his armor, he could swear he could feel the heat of your skin. 

   “But, I can take care of myself.  Believe it or no, I’ve been at this for a while.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

   Your look was so earnest, it made what he wanted to say that much easier. 

   “With all do respect sir, I think I will anyway.” 

   Your eyes brightened and he became suddenly aware of how close he was to you. 

   “Well, I can’t argue with that,” you said, the more playful smile returning. “Thank you, Captain.” 

   You kept your hand on his arm and he let you.  The urge to pull you even closer tugged at his insides.  You were so close already it wouldn’t take much to find out if your lips were as soft as they looked. 

   Rex stopped, realizing his own thoughts and flickered his eyes back to yours.

You didn’t meet gaze. Instead your attention appeared fully on his mouth.

   The hiss of the elevator doors broke the spell, opening to the barracks. 

   You dropped your hand quickly.  A flash of something danced across your features as you took a small step back.

   “I’ll see you in the hanger, Captain.”

   He couldn’t trust his voice and nodded before stepping out the doors, only managing to let out a quiet, “Commander” as he did so.

   He took a glance over his shoulder just in time to see the doors fully close and you descend further down into the ship. 

   He let out a long breath. 

   He was just imagining things.  You weren’t looking at him that way.  It was just him projecting his...thoughts about you.  That was all. 

   He ran a hand over his face.  He needed to get a hold of himself.  The sooner this mission got started the better.  At least then he could have something else to focus on.  Honor and duty were what he knew, not this. 

   This is going to be a long mission. 

[lucytara]

Bumbleby. Blue. “And now that you’re here realized I need you for survival. I know from the awe in your eyes”

On the day of the reaping, Blake never expects her own name.

She’s never taken tesserae; her name’s in there six times because of her age, and that’s it. It’s her second-to-last eligible year, and she’s six among thousands. She has no reason to expect her own name when some girls in her class have their names in thirty, forty, fifty times - she brushes the nagging anxiety away for days leading up, finding comfort in the words of her family, in Adam, who’s on his last year and isn’t quite as lucky.

“Twenty-one times,” he says, but he’s still scowling. “Could be worse. But it’s still a flawed system. The poorer you are, the less value your life has. Here in Twelve? The Capitol doesn’t even think of us as people.”

Blake’s heard this speech a thousand times, but she hasn’t shared the hardest of his experiences and so she doesn’t stop him. “But what do you want to do, Adam?” she asks. “We can’t do anything. We can barely survive.”

She doesn’t miss the brief, scornful look in his eyes before he masks it with fire. She’s survived easier than he has, with her father as the Mayor, but it hasn’t been easy for any of them. “You’re right,” he says, though his tone’s taken on an odd, darkly thoughtful quality. “We can’t. But victors…” he trails off, shredding a loose leaf in his hand, strip by strip. “If I were a victor, I might.”

–

“Blake Belladonna!”

She rewatches the scene from third-person, as if it’s a dream she’s having, only it’s happening a split second after inside of her own skull. The perfectly manicured hand of their escort dipping a hand into the jar and pulling the crisp, white slip of paper with Blake’s name on it caught between her fingers. Her hazy, disoriented walk to the steps, the hem of her dress batting against her ankles. She’s not there. She’s in the Capitol, watching herself called to the death and starting, already, to murmur about her odds.

But Adam. She sees Adam perfectly.

Sees him step forward to volunteer for a boy whose name Blake doesn’t even know. Sees the crowd shifting uncomfortably, uncertain what to make of the move. Sees some of them clutching their hearts, some of them shaking their heads. And she sees Adam, unable to hide the victorious smirk in the corner of his mouth.

–

“I’m so sorry, Blake,” her father says, his hand on her shoulder as her mother embraces her, weeping. “I never wanted this for you. For any of us.”

If so many people don’t want this, Blake thinks numbly, why do we still have it?

–

Their mentor’s a woman named Sienna Kahn, now in her early thirties after having won her Games at fifteen. She’s tough, hard around the edges, as Blake imagines anyone would be who’s watched countless children die under their watch. Blake doesn’t understand, but she understands - Sienna doesn’t want to get attached.

She and Adam barely speak - her silence falls to the fact that she’s on her way to her own murder. But Adam’s?

Well, she’s seen this quiet intensity from him before. And he’s making plans.

–

There’s more to work with than Sienna thinks there is: for one, she and Adam both know their way around a sword, and she’s no stranger hitting a target with a knife. Teenage boredom, she says when Sienna asks, and despite the doubt, she doesn’t push it further.

I wanted to help people, is the real answer. When I saw how Adam had been treated, I wanted to help. And then I saw how many people were like him, I wanted to do more than that.

“Your father’s a good man,” Sienna says instead, arms crossed over her body. She’s holding a far-off look in her eye, and instantly Blake knows she’s being told information specifically because Sienna thinks she won’t be alive to repeat it later. “He fought for people the only way he could, and I’m sure he almost died for it. I thought he wasn’t doing enough, back then. But I get it now.” She fixates her gaze on Blake again, solidly in the present, still on the same train car to a mass grave. “What do you have to fight for, Blake?”

Adam’s listening for her answer, and she says the only thing she’s thought since her name was called the day before. “Honestly? I don’t know why we’re fighting at all.”

A smile works its way to the edge of Sienna’s mouth, but it isn’t happy. It’s full of regret. “Yeah,” she says. “I used to think like that, too.”

–

They watch the other reapings. There’s a pair of volunteers from One who seem like they come as a set, with equally stupid names: Emerald and Mercury. Then she only really remembers the girl from two, who looks fourteen and innocent, but Blake knows better. The red-headed girl from three, who stands tall. A girl from five, missing an eye. A large boy from eight.

But the one reaping that sticks in her mind from the minute she sees it is the reaping from Four.

A girl’s name is called, and there’s a brief bout of hysteria from the crowd while a girl with long, blonde hair tugs her back and volunteers in her place. The younger girl just screams, but the older girl - Yang - just stands on the stage, slowly putting herself back together. It’s like Blake can see it happening - see her locking her heart away. Putting all that love she has for her sister somewhere it can’t be used against her.

“Pathetic,” Adam murmurs, because he hates weakness. He’s proud to see himself volunteer, steady and confident. “To protect you, of course,” he clarifies, and nothing’s ever been further from the truth.

Strangely, all Blake can comprehend is that she’s looking forward to tomorrow - getting to see Yang in person.

–

Their outfits are stunning, as is their debut. They have a compelling story: the mayor’s daughter from Twelve and the boy determined to keep her alive. It’s a television show, Sienna says. It’s about the narrative.

Blake finds that flash of blonde hair in the crowd. She thinks she sees seashells winding their way down a braid, and a net is woven to create some sort of dress. Yang clearly hates it, but she says something to the boy from her district, and he laughs.

Laughter isn’t a simple thing to come by in the Hunger Games. She decides, for no reason at all, that she likes Yang.

–

After the parade of horses, their team is riding on a high; she’s kept herself grounded, though, unwilling to entertain any ideas of survival. She’s walking to the elevator when she swears she catches Yang staring at her, but she blinks and she’s only met with Yang’s profile, her chin dropped and her eyes averted down.

–

Yang is a mystery in the training room. She spends most of her time at the wildlife stations, learning to tie knots, painting patterns, identifying poisonous plants. She never spars, or uses any of the weapons, really, but she lifts weights, punches a bag around a bit. Blake can tell everyone’s set on edge by her presence, not able to tell the extent of her power, skill, ability. It’s uncommon to hide that sort of thing during training, but her muscles tell their own story. There’s more to her than she’s allowing them to see.

That doesn’t stop Blake from watching her, though. From cataloguing where she spends her time and how it allows her to feel. She’s not as guarded as the rest of them - she seems to like making traps, because she gains this look of concentration as she follows along with the instructor, knotting rope around her fingers. She spends a little bit of time with the boy from her district, and almost against his will, he appears slightly enamored with her. In fact, a lot of them do, though they try to hide it. Blake isn’t the only one who watches her.

She’s so absorbed with the state of affairs that she doesn’t notice who isn’t, but she does notice there’s an energy between her and Adam that wasn’t palpable before, and now it seems to be coating the room.

“Thinking about allies, Blake?” he says over dinner, light enough to pass as a joke but sinister enough to be a threat.

“No,” Blake says, because she’s only thinking about the quickest way to die.

She hopes she can at least see Yang, wherever she is when it happens.

–

Her knife sinks directly into the red dot, signaling a bulleye on their human-shaped target. She’s not paying attention to the show she’s putting on; all she’s really doing is daydreaming while she idly throws knives. It helps her think. Gives her clarity.

They’re easy to flick. Most people don’t understand the wrist movement, the finesse - they tie it to strength, rather than purpose. That’s why Blake’s so good at it; she’s about precision, not power. That’d always been Adam.

Someone is watching her. Actually, as she comes back into herself, many people are watching her, but only one she cares about: Yang, back at the trap station, staring unfettered.

Blake abruptly puts her knives down. The worst part of the Hunger Games, she’s starting to understand, aren’t the games themselves. That’s going to awaken survival instincts, desperation for life - primal, unhindered urges. No, no, the worst part of the Games is now, these few days before, when they’re taken care of so exquisitely, when shiny, beautiful things are dangled in front of them and cruelly ripped away.

“Why?” she can’t resist asking, kneeling beside Yang. “Why did you do it?”

Yang’s eyes haven’t left her, but her fingers stall around the rope, as if surprised by the question. She examines Blake with a strange intensity, but an openness Blake still isn’t used to from any other tribute. Everyone’s either closed off or showing off, genuinity nowhere to be found. Except perhaps the redhead from Three. Pyrrha. She’s been spending some time teaching a much smaller, younger boy how to throw a spear. He doesn’t stand a chance, but Pyrrha must know that.

“Don’t you have someone?” Yang says, drops her gaze back to the knot. “Someone you’d die for?”

Her parents. Her friends. Adam. “No,” Blake admits honestly. “Nobody.” There are no cameras yet. No one to hurt with the admission. Adam had called her selfish, once; maybe he’d been right.

But Yang laughs, once and under her breath. “Maybe you’re better off that way,” Yang says, not unkindly. Her smile’s sad and quiet; whatever memories rise, they’re memories for her to cherish one last time. That’s how all memories feel these days. “My sister is my life.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Blake says, captivated by every word out of Yang’s mouth; how real she sounds. There’s no show; she’s not aiming to impress, or grasping at pity. She’s here because of a choice she made, and she’ll live and die with that. Blake wonders what that’s like: to have a choice. “Not many people would do what you did.”

“Well, what about you, Belladonna?” Yang questions, sitting up a little straighter, expression a sliding door that suddenly gives way to teasing. There’s a tone underneath, though - heavy - like a lingering doubt. “The guy who volunteered for you. To protect you, right?”

She’s close - she’s kept her volume low. She’s not stupid. She’s playing this conversation with an angle, but it isn’t for her own benefit.

Blake turns her head, locks onto Adam’s hand clenched around the grip of his sword, lunging strikes at a dummy. She feels the familiar uncurling of fear in her stomach, a dark and massive shape lingering just below. Ominous and foreboding.

“Yeah,” Blake says, and looks away. “He did.”

Picking up on her discomfort isn’t hard, and it isn’t something she’s actively tried to mask; Yang pauses strangely, gaze flickering between them. She infers, “It’s not a good thing, is it.” And trains her focus on Blake again. “It’s not good that he’s here.”

“I don’t know,” Blake admits. “He - I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid.”

“Maybe you aren’t.”

“He wants me to believe it is,” she says finally. “He told me all he wants is to see me safe.”

“And you think he’s lying?” Yang asks, like a story she’s invested in, though Blake isn’t quite sure why.

“I think,” Blake starts, and at last puts into words what exactly has haunted her since the reaping days earlier, “that Adam wants to win, and he thinks he can use me to do that. Use my loyalty to him.”

The knot effortlessly tightens and unravels between Yang’s fingers. It seems to be an unconscious habit, and one she’s better at than her hours at the station might’ve led them to believe. “Hm,” she says, poking her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “You’re good with those knives, that’s for sure. It makes sense that he’d rather have you as an ally than an enemy - help him take out all the threats, and take you out himself.”

“Perceptive,” Blake says, impressed despite her dawning horror; she’d been so good at pushing it down, at talking herself out of circles, at trusting him despite the signs. In one conversation, Yang’s forced her to undo all that. She echoes Yang’s earlier words to her. Maybe it’s for the best.

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Yang says, and subtly jerks her head in his direction. “With how purposefully he’s showing off his swordplay, I’m amazed he even remembers you exist.” She rolls her eyes. “Men.”

And Blake laughs. Like Yang’s district partner at the parade. It’s accidental, and nearly shocking in its sincerity, but she laughs anyway. She doesn’t have a choice. “Men,” she agrees, and Yang laughs too.

That’s the first time Blake thinks about living.

–

The first time Yang thinks about dying - dying willingly - is their final day in the training center.

Blake Belladonna, beautiful and clever and entirely obvious to everyone but herself, locates her at the camouflage station, attempting to blend her hand into a sandy coastline. She stares quizzically down at the pattern, eyebrows knitting together, and Yang makes the connection with a laugh. “You’ve never seen the ocean.”

“No.” Blake shakes her head. “What’s it like?”

“Well, I’m no artist,” Yang says, wiggling her fingers, “but kinda like this. Blue, green, boundless - sometimes I think about just diving in the water and swimming as far as I can. Swimming away.” She adds, “Salty.”

And then Blake reaches for a paintbrush, deliberately dragging her fingers along the back of Yang’s hand, leaving streaks of blue paint. She pauses; Yang keeps breathing, but it’s a struggle. She says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Yang says.

“Don’t die.” She takes the brush, and swirls it into the yellow paint. “Don’t give up.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Yang asks, almost unnerved at the sentiment, fighting against the way it makes her want to cry. Her skin feels raw where Blake had touched her, and the marks remain.

“Because,” Blake says softly, “I think you deserve better than this.”

“I think we all do,” Yang counters, flaring up - it’s not just me, she wants to say. You deserve better. You. There are so few beautiful things left. You.

“But the rest of us aren’t here because there’s someone we care enough about to protect.” Blake lets it hang between them. “You’re a good person, Yang. Anyone can tell that much.”

Yang’d never understood the Capitol and its fascination with tattoos as a statement. Now she stares at the blue streaks across the back of her hand, and wonders about wearing it forever.

She’d die, she thinks. She’d die for Blake, too.

–

She spars for the first and last time after that, and one of her blows sends the trainer flying off the practice area and into the concrete, knocking him unconscious.

But she sweats the paint off, and finds without it, it’s a little easier to breathe.

–

Their scores aren’t surprising. Adam pulls a nine. Blake gets a ten - Adam pretends to be happy for her, but she sees that facade cracking instantly.

Yang gets an eleven.

“Her?” Adam spits out, clearly infuriated. He’s already seeing red.

“She’s a genius,” Sienna says at the revelation, shocking Adam into silence. “You’re good with a weapon, Adam, and anyone will give you that. But unarmed? You’re nothing.” She jerks her head towards the blonde girl on-screen. “You can’t disarm her. She’ll kill you with her bare hands.”

“Her?” Adam snarls. “If she gets within my line of sight, she’s–”

“You think she doesn’t know how to dodge a sword?” she asks, and Adam bristles once again with no response. “Do you truly believe a girl whose primary skill is hand-to-hand combat doesn’t know how to evade an attack? You’re a fool if you cast her aside as a threat, Adam. She’s the most dangerous one here.”

Blake stares blankly at her picture, wondering if it’s intelligence, if it’s determination, passion, will. Wonders if Yang’s trained for this, if she’s excited, if she’s terrified. Wonders if it’s all just luck, a mixed bag of rot and gold.

But Blake recalls the tapes of the reapings, across every district, and she remembers none of them as clearly as she remembers Yang’s - not even her own. Yang’s; a reaping that wasn’t supposed to be hers at all.

Ruby! Ruby! No!

Armed guards in white holding her back, or trying to, but being no match for her strength.

I volunteer! She hears Yang’s scream in her mind, even now, days later, sees her pushing her way to the platform. I volunteer as tribute!

Or, Blake thinks, maybe it’s just what she’s always done to survive.

–

Blake’s tactic, they’d decided, is mysterious and alluring: she’s to answer her interview in short, vague answers, and smile as though she’s hiding something. It’s not hard. She’s hiding so much from herself already that it barely even feels like a tactic.

Yang goes for sexy and powerful, and she doesn’t even have to try. People in the audience are literally fanning themselves as she’s interviewed. She looks stunning in her dress, her heels, red-lipped and eyes that seem to match underneath the stage lights.

“I just want my sister to know I love her,” she says at the end, a calculated vulnerability that makes every citizen watching want her even more, moaning about how strong and brave she is, protecting her younger sister like that.

“She makes me sick,” Adam says, face warped with hatred, and suddenly, it isn’t her own safety she’s worried for.

–

It’s a diversion. Confuse Adam, make him scramble for a new plan, make him rethink his strategy. Because Yang had been right, and Blake’s instincts had been, too: he wants to win. And when you want to win, everyone else is a target.

So during her interview, she confesses, “I know I can win. But I’ve met someone here who I’d really like to keep alive, even more than that.”

The interviewer goes insane. “Another tribute?” he says. “You’ve met someone here?”

Blake shrugs, pretending to be coy. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

He groans, begs her for details, and she says next to nothing, but the audience eats it up - she sees the camera focus on her as the show closes, hoping to catch her eyes flickering to another tribute. She stares straight ahead, speaking to no one until they’re backstage.

“Adam, not now,” Sienna says immediately, pointing him to the elevator. “Go upstairs. We’ll meet you there.” He grits his teeth, but does as he’s told. Sienna turns on her. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Blake says lowly, “and neither are you. We both know what Adam’s plan is. Or was.”

It’s a statement that forces Sienna into a corner, and she relents after a few seconds of the two of them staring each other down. “You’ll be his first target now, not his last,” she says. “You know that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter the order,” Blake says, brushing by her to the elevator. “I’ve been number one on his list for a long, long time. But I’m not playing the Games on his terms anymore.”

“Well, you’ve given them a hell of a narrative,” Sienna says, following her, reluctantly impressed. “The whole Capitol’s dying to know who your lucky love interest could be, since it’s not him.”

Yang shoves her arm through the elevator door just as it’s about to close. “Mind if I catch a ride?” she asks, stepping inside, her heels held in her hand.

So, maybe Blake should’ve thought through her plan, because at the moment, Yang’s a foot away from her and absolutely the most beautiful girl Blake’s ever seen in her life, and her story for the cameras turns out to be more true than she’d meant it to be.

“Oh, it’s you,” Sienna says, throwing up her hands. Apparently Blake’s staring is noticeable. “Of course it is. Blake, you’re on your own.”

“No, she’s not,” Yang murmurs, and brushes her fingers against Blake’s, hanging between them. “She’s got me.”

–

There’s a vibrancy to her when she disembarks, an urgency to her mouth. Find me, she says, leaning close, grasping Blake’s hand. Find me in the arena. Or I’ll find you. Okay?

“Why?” Blake asks again, unable to comprehend anything Yang does or says, unable to reconcile the motivation behind it.

“Because I want you alive,” she says, and lets go. “I want you to live.”

You’re insane, Blake wants to say. None of us will live except one. And out of all of us, it should be you.

But the next morning, standing on the platform, she finds Yang three spaces down from her, and their eyes meet as if by gravitational pull.

Find me, Yang mouths, and the cannons blast.

[jonthethinker]

After a long day of truly cursed thoughts, I’ve come to the determination that the Cerberus Assembly can act as a sort of Exandrian analog of our world’s Silicon Valley, and I hate it. I hate hate hate it.

The more I think about it, the more it just sort of melds into my mind as fact. I can’t escape it. This is where I live now.

You’ve got this collection of self-proclaimed super geniuses, unbounded by modern social mores and determined to invent a new sort of ethics, with an intent on shaping history and sagely guiding the world into a better future. This is despite the fact that most of the ideas they have inevitably end up making the world worse, and the only thing “new” that they really bring into the world is a bunch of actually very old ideas coated in fresh circuitry/magic.

But let’s dig a little deeper and start getting specific.

They both have these images of fiercely independent, creative bodies desperate to remain free from government control, and sometimes even as a check on that very government. The heads of the Cerberus Assembly outright say their intent is to act as a check on the Crown, and are known to have many secrets the Crown is, to their knowledge, totally unaware of.

Tech companies, particularly in America, have this outward facing very libertarian outlook on things, saying they don’t wish to interfere in the very important process of democracy and free speech, while simultaneously feeling it is their responsibility to fact check those in power and hold them to account, with their “serious vetting” of political ads and the like on their platforms. They also lobby heavily against any and all regulation of their various products and services, preferring to let the “invisible hand” of the market provide the service of keeping them in check, much as the Cerberus Assembly prefers to handle its own problems internally.

But when you really dig into the details this is all bullshit. The Cerberus Assembly, for all intents and purposes, IS the Empire. They run the secret police, for goodness sake. The two are so interconnected, and the Assembly as an institution is so dependent on the infrastructure and manpower, and of course money (because the fancy clothes, giant towers, and expensive sets of material components don’t pay for themselves) of the Empire to accomplish its goals, it can’t serve as a real check on Imperial forces possibly “overstepping”, and it also has no material interest in doing so; the more power and control the Empire has, the more power and control the Assembly has; the less freedom the citizens have due to authoritarian “safety” measures implemented by the Crown, the safer the Assembly itself becomes to pursue it’s morally dubious work and experimentation.

The same goes with Silicon Valley and the various tech companies that fall under its ethos. They will expound continually on the necessary freedom from government control they must have to truly change the world in the ways they think are best, but the primary source of money for most of these companies are governments. They either primarily contract with governments for most of their actual profits or to use its already established infrastructure, as is the case with Amazon, or depend heavily on publicly funded research for their innovations, which is everyone from Apple to Google to Microsoft and dozens and dozens of smaller companies besides. They then even get to patent these publicly funded innovations and hold a monopolized stranglehold on their use. This is not even to mention the starter capital necessary to form many of these companies in the first place itself was provided by governments, with the rather, shall we say “morally questionable” Kingdom of Saudi Arabia being among the top contributors to such start ups.

Even when either of these groups claim to be self-made, it’s all bullshit. So many of our famous tech overlords that supposedly built themselves from nothing started at the upper reaches of society, with more than enough capital and connections to insure they were never at any real risk of failing in the first place. Most even went to the same elite institutions of learning that provide the vast majority of the political leadership of the United States, institutions they had access to due to their wealth and familial connections, not their brains. Elon Musk’s family owned an emerald mine in Zambia for God’s sake, one his family would have never owned without the British Empire being a thing.

The same can be said for the Assembly. The upper classes of the Dwendalian Empire are lousy with mages and magic users. If they don’t have a place to climb among the nobility, they work for the Assembly, and hope to climb there. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that the only poorer mage recruits we know anything real about all were sucked up into the service of the Scourgers, one of the few arms of the Assembly known to regularly interact with societies lower reaches and not so positively at that, and had their familial identities obliterated in the process. Both of these groups are of the upper reaches of society and serve the upper reaches of society, and we should never think anything less.

And this brings us to the ideological framework both of these groups think with. They are both full to the brim with people who are individualists to the extreme. They all believe they are singular actors in the great tapestry of history, who got where they are by hard work and dedication, and anyone who isn’t there just didn’t do enough. The folks living in the tent city outside Zadash? lazy layabouts who simply have not applied their mind to be something greater, or perhaps their veins are just full of bad blood. Poor former factory workers in Detroit whose jobs have been moved to places where labor laws are weaker and wages are lower? If they’d only taken their education more seriously, they could be where I am! Or maybe they just never tried to be an Uber driver or delivering for Grubhub, because that’s how you really pull yourself out of poverty.

Meanwhile, most of the groups consist of people who have never once known real adversity and certainly not the hardship of poverty nor the lack of social and political power that position entails. They are blinded to the reality of most people in the world outside their rather small one, and thus have no understanding of the material hardship that most people experience during their everyday life.

You see this most clearer in the manner in which they try to solve what they see as societies great problems, with no clear thought put into the consequences of these particular solutions. In our world, this is particularly obvious. Uber is painted as an innovative means of transportation on a budget, when in reality it’s just a fleet of untrained, underpaid, non-unionized taxi drivers using their own personal vehicles at their own expense. Elon Musk is seen as this super genius when his solution to LA traffic wasn’t a more robust public transportation system or slowly reconstructing the city to be more pedestrian friendly, but instead to build a massive network of single car elevators under the city to zip cars to key hot spots faster in a manner people less anxious than me would still call risky at best. I mean most of these people think the key to ending poverty is teaching people to code or giving them STEM education, even when in a capitalist economy the only thing a sudden flooding of new coders and STEM educated folks would insure is that the jobs that require those skills will see a sudden massive drop in pay and benefits as the pool of prospective employees becomes over-saturated and individual workers no longer have any bargaining power to protect their once rare jobs. You already see this in animation and video game design, and you’ll certainly see it elsewhere.

For the Assembly, despite being praised as the brightest arcane minds of Wildmount, seem to get most of their ideas either by stealing them from others or digging them up out of the ground. But this is just the nature of empire; it’s always easier for an empire to consume than it is to create. So as little as they think of the Dynasty, they are eager to steal every little bit of knowledge they’ve discovered about Dunamis, and without the faith and moral sense the Luxon-based religion imposes, they will never be forced to put the use of this rare and dangerous magic into perspective. Imagine what harm they can cause with gravity and time magic when they don’t have that religious pressure to consider the value of life and choice. But this makes sense when their main sources of inspiration are the wizards of the Age Of Arcana; you know, the wizards whose hubris nearly destroyed the entire world and spurred an apocalyptic war that sent society into a dark age in which the gods themselves abandoned them? A+ inspiration material if you ask me.

Even the culture of these two groups in regards to how they regulate themselves is so eerily similar. Think of Delilah Briarwood. Member in good standing of the Cerberus Assembly. Also, worshipper of Vecna and talented necromancer. Only expelled from the Assembly after involvement from the Cobalt Soul, even when you know every other member of the Assembly almost certainly had loads of information on this lady.

It just makes me think of all the weird, right-wingers and Nazis who occasionally get expelled from the heights of Silicon Valley whenever some journalist exposes them, and how quickly their colleagues are to condemn them even when so many of them either knew this person was this way well before they were exposed or actively agreed with them and still do. I mean, think of how protected Bill Gates is, because of how much his philanthropist image has served to insulate and protect the gross consolidation of wealth and power in the hands of so few, even when his fortune was built on stolen ideas, military funding and research, and a hardcore software monopoly for well over a decade or two. Also, his philanthropy has done nothing to help African people build their own institutions of power independent of European and American influence, and have help distract us from the damage really caused to the entire continent by earlier colonialism and later capitalist imperialism.

This is to say as bad as our world is, I now definitely don’t want to live in Wildemount. I don’t want to live a world where Mark Zukerberg can cast Disintegrate. Not ideal. I guess I’ll just have to work that much harder to fix this one and not depend on learning Dunamancy to just put us on a different path. Bummer.

[ikea-lingonberry]

Character Analysis: Hargreeves Siblings

Luther: He grew up being treated as the leader, and readily filled the role. This meant he directly answered to Reginald, and was often expected to play the middleman and peacekeeper. At first this was overwhelming for him, but he and his siblings fell into their roles over time. When the siblings hit their rebellious stage, Luther stayed the course with Reginald. This led to the rebellion often being directed toward him rather than their father. Luther does his best to keep a level head, but once he becomes upset it is difficult to calm him down. Unfortunately, it can be difficult to tell what will set him off. Sometimes it is big things, and other times it is small things. It depends on how much he has bottles up and what the last straw will be. As an adult, Luther has clung to the way he grew up and struggles immensely to view things differently. Even when he tries, he often falls into the same patterns. He tends to believe that he is always right and that he should lead each thing the siblings do. He knows he shouldn’t do these things, but it is easier said than done.

Diego: We often know Diego has the antagonist to Luther, always pining for that Number One spot. However, it wasn’t always like that. When he was young, and up into his pre-teens, he struggled with a horrible stutter. Grace helped him immensely, but the experience was still scarring. It would not have been, if not for Reginald and Luther hounding him for it. Reginald would constantly ask him questions, and make him respond. When he stuttered, Reginald would say “speak up, boy,” “enunciate your words,” “act like what you’re saying matters,” etc. Luther, always the favorite, began to echo these behaviors even in the absence of their father. As Diego finally improved, he chose to speak often. He became very assertive, and particularly aggressive toward Luther. He couldn’t, of course, be aggressive toward Reginald. He tends to be in a hyper-alert state around Luther, as though always preparing for an attack. While Reginald and Luther were the primary aggressors when it came to his stutter, all of his siblings - with the exception of Ben and Vanya - made fun of it at some point. Sometimes it was in good fun (often Klaus), but other times they used it to attack him in an argument (Allison). As adults, this is no longer a problem. His siblings have long since apologized for their bullying behavior, aside from Luther. He is still very defensive in general and tends to be on high alert nearly all the time. He has a high degree of empathy and care about others a great deal, though he refuses to show emotion himself in most instances.

Allison: She experienced some of the least trauma from her father, primarily due to her ability to alter reality using her “wishes.” This meant she could get away with a great deal. As a young child, she took advantage of this and often bragged to her siblings. As she got older, she changed her thought process. She then began to use what little additional freedoms she had to benefit them as well. She grew up with an indirect fear of Reginald - not so much because of her own experiences (though she definitely had a few), but because of what she saw him do to the others. For a great deal of her life, and into early adulthood, Allison viewed her power as a gift. She used it to help her further his goals, wants, and desires. However, after her divorce and loss of Claire, she flipped this perspective. She now considers her power evil, and does everything in her power not to use it. She actually used her power on her siblings a lot when she was a child, and has considered telling them and apologizing now that she is an adult - but she hasn’t, both shame and fear being the primary stopping force. Moving forward, Allison is going to need to find the balance of when to use, and when not to use, her power.

Klaus: He was generally a fun-loving child, that had a tendency to somehow, someway, get into trouble even in the oddest of situations. He didn’t always play the role of clown among his siblings, but, rather, developed this trait between the ages of 8-10. He had two reasons for this: 1) it was a coping mechanism for his own struggles, especially after being locked in the mausoleum, and 2) he learned it provided an escape for his siblings. He was known to goof-off at the worst times, and, while it seemed random, often did so to take the heat off of one of his siblings - namely Ben, Vanya, and, sometimes, Diego. This absolutely led to extensive punishments for Klaus, who ended up with a great deal of Reginald’s anger and disappointment resting on his shoulders. As an adult, he struggles with the vices he developed during his teenage years, and scraped by as best he can. He siblings have done little to help him - but it’s not their fault, and he knows it. He doesn’t open up to his siblings often, and certainly hasn’t told him why he would do what he did, the struggles he had personally, and the fears he experiences. Much like his powers itself, he prefers to block out these thoughts and move on.

Five: He has always been book smart, inquisitive, and innovative. He often would spend time scouring the library for a book on some obscure topic, and often practiced with his powers in his free time. He did (and does) have a superiority complex toward most of his siblings - with the exception of Vanya and Ben. This came from the observation that the others had a tendency to speak first and think later. This frustrated him, and he had no desire to hide it. After he teleported to the future, against Reginald’s advice, his world came crashing down. He spend several days desperately trying to go back, to no avail. After about a week of scrounging for food and water and sleeping beside the destroyed Academy, he decided he had to do something. The first thing he did was bury his siblings, leaving makeshift headstones of stick and bricks. It was while he was sifting through the debris that he found Ben’s statue, and realized he had died many years prior. He spent two weeks burying his family, and another week desperately searching for Vanya in the debris. Finally, he decided he had to walk away - though it is something he regrets to this day, even now that he has returned to the timeline where his family is alive. His time in the commission was necessary, but he despised every moment of it. He could hear Luther in the back of his mind, still trying to tell him the plan. He could picture Ben releasing The Horror on his mark. And those were his waking hours - his nights were worse. Plagued with insomnia, nightmares, and night sweats, he would often stay up late into the night just to avoid sleep. These issues have followed him into his adulthood. Now that he has rejoined his siblings, he has made an effort to embody the person he was when he was younger. Often this means putting on a mask, and hiding the parts of himself that came to be while he was gone. He is still extremely smart, and very logical. However, he feigns his confidence far more often then he will ever admit - and he is always so tired. But with the apocalypse constantly looming over him, he refuses to show his siblings this side of himself - worried it will discourage them, or make them afraid. Of course, he has desperately wanted to. His arrival at Vanya’s flat is a testament to this. Eventually he needs to be able to rest.

Ben: He has always been flighty and nervous, with The Horror being the primary reason. While the others had powers they could control, The Horror was like a separate entity within himself. It would try to break free. And once let loose? He didn’t really decide what it did at that point. It was horrendous and terrifying, for him and others. Once the siblings began their training in force, he always tried to fade to the background. Of course, it didn’t work. Every time he released The Horror, he felt less like himself. And the others saw it too. They would look nervous and repulsed after he used his power, even if they tried to mask it. If Vanya saw him release The Horror, the fear on her face was enough to make him wish he’d never been born. The next bit is entirely speculation: During a mission, Luther told him to release The Horror is a very confined space in order to eliminate a threat. Ben tried to argue, but Luther ordered him to, and chewed him out for talking back. So... he did. Once The Horror was released in the space, it eliminated the target - but it also didn’t stop. Ultimately, Ben was killed by The Horror itself - when he found himself as the only target the Eldritch creature could find. While it is not something he would tell Klaus, he has found a great deal more happiness in death. He no longer had to utilize The Horror, and it no longer tried to break free. While there were, of course, drawbacks, he was so happy just to be able to be near his family without seeing that endless fear on their faces. Of course, he always wished he could do that in life instead. He never had a chance to see his siblings after his death (other than Klaus, of course), aside from when he was manifested at the concert. And, of course, when he went to save Vanya. While it was hard for him, his ability to talk with, touch, and actually help even one of his other siblings was something he had desired for the last 17 years. He wouldn’t have wanted to go any other way.

Vanya: She grew up at the outskirts of the household. While some parents emphasize that children should be seen and not heard, it was instilled in her that she should not be seen or heard. Once she was rumored to believe she was ordinary, she spend her days in her tiny closet of a room with her violin or doing whatever menial task Reginald had for her. She also, unfortunately, became the scapegoat of the household - after all, she couldn’t defend herself. Reginald would, at times, call her to his office and berate her; sometimes more. He took out his frustrations and angers on her instead. Luther, of course, followed suit. The others then realized they could pin the blame on her and often redirect Reginald’s anger to her from themselves. Of course, as children, they had no idea what kind of harm this would do. After leaving the household, Vanya spent the next decade desperately separating herself from her past. She wrote her book, Extra Ordinary, originally at the recommendation of her therapist, who advised writing about her traumas to help move past them. It did help a great deal and, while she was nervous when she published it, she found that many other people could relate to her experience. That sort of support and understanding helped built her back up. Shortly after, she began putting more effort into her violin, offering lessons, and aspiring for first chair. When she went back home for Reginald’s funeral, she knew her siblings would be mad about the book, even though it had been published years prior. And the tension was heavy, and remained that way. He discovering her power became icing on the already treacherous cake, as she began to struggle with more and more from her past that she had been fighting to avoid for so long. And now, there was something that could have prevented it all along. When Luther locked her in the soundproof box, that cake finally toppled. Her own siblings had hurt her, and now she was alone. Again. And afraid. And she couldn’t escape. A mental break followed her panic attack, that manifested auditory and visual hallucinations and a lack of control. With her power now readily accessible, chaos began. Of course, none of it was intentional; she would later say she remembered it happening, but not actually doing any of it. Her time in the 60s was important for her recuperation, and allowed her to find some rest. However, the unfortunate reality is that when her memory returned, she found herself at Ground Zero all over again. She needs time to rebuild herself, and her trust toward her family, as she moved forward.

Disclaimer: This includes a LOT of headcanons and predictions! This is just my take!

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 16

THE END OF THE OOF!AU! It’s complete! The rest of whumptober shall be one-shots and (i think) a pair of interconnected prompts. Thanks for going on this ride, I’ll be posting it over on ao3 later, for ease of keeping track of it in the future.

General Information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Happy(ish) ending. Codywan. Past one-sided Vaderwan.

WARNINGS: Very minor for this part, mentions of everything they’ve been through and discussions of battle, but that’s about it.

Alt 3. Comfort

Comfort came in many shapes. Dreamless sleep was one of the first true comforts Obi-Wan received in so long. Obi-Wan had known it would help, and he thanked Ahsoka for the gift of it, when he finally left his quarters, Cody at his side, a hand now resting against his side. He could feel the point of contact settling Cody’s emotions, a piece of reassurance, physical, that he was there and alright.

Ahsoka looked miserable, when Obi-Wan thanked her, shame tinging her signature through the Force. She only felt worse when he assured her that he was fine, and so he left it. 

Sleep helped. Talking with Cody helped more, feeling some of the agony drain out of him made it easier for Obi-Wan to breathe as the day stretched onwards, as they cut across the black to meet up with this rebellion of Ahsoka’s.

#

The troopers watched him, when he went to the mess to get breakfast, such as it was. Their emotions curled against him, worry and concern and all the things Cody felt, written across all of their minds.

He sat with them and ate, talking, and reached out, hesitantly, to grip Crys’ shoulder after he finished. Crys froze, for just a moment, and then reached up, fingers brushing Obi-Wan’s wrist and--

Oh.

The emotions swirling around and through them didn’t disappear, didn’t ease, magically, into nothing. But they settled, somewhat, became less ragged. Cody watched him, close by - always close by - and Obi-Wan nodded at him with a smile that didn’t hurt, quite so much.

#

Obi-Wan watched Rex move among the troopers, throughout the day, speaking with them in quiet voices. He could track Rex without even looking, without being in the same room, because flares of emotion followed him everywhere he went.

Ahsoka, he noted, did not mingle so freely. She stayed near the bridge, feeling tense and guilty when Obi-Wan made his way back. There were things he knew he ought to say, to explain, but it felt difficult to say them, with a dozen troopers in the room.

He noticed, awake enough to process it, that they never left him completely alone. There were always a few in any room, even if they weren’t talking to him, even if they weren’t looking at him. 

They felt...eased, in the Force, when he initiated conversations, when he reached out and touched them, shoulders or backs, even if it cut up into them at the same time.

#

“Finally,” Bones said, late in the day, when Obi-Wan went to the medical bay. He felt… well enough, but it was easier to recall that Cody had been gut-shot, not long ago, with his head no longer so clouded. Cody seemed intent on following him; he followed all the way to the med-bay, and into Bones’ frowning care.

Cody shot Obi-Wan a look, even as Bones grumbled him over onto a bed, plucking at his blacks. “I’m fine,” Cody insisted with a little scowl, and Bones rolled his eyes eloquently, lifting the bacta patch over his stomach.

“Have you been changing this yourself?” he said, scowl getting fiercer, and Obi-Wan turned, planning to give them some privacy, before Cody jerked a hand towards him, freezing before he closed fingers around Obi-Wan’s wrist.

Obi-Wan hesitated, for just a moment, and then inhaled, exhaled, eased back and covered Cody’s hand with his.

He sat still, through Bones’ ministrations, his emotions unknotting a little with each cautious breath he took.

#

“You’ve helped so much,” Obi-Wan said, after a quiet evening meal, standing beside Rex, who was staring out a viewport with a haunted look on his face. His emotions felt raw, flayed open, and Obi-Wan winced, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “How are you doing?”

Rex didn’t blink for a long moment, and then shook himself hard, looking over. “General,” he said, scrubbed a hand over his face, “I’m not doing much.”

“Yes, you are,” Obi-Wan said, managing a smile. “They’re doing so much better, it’s--”

“Don’t think that’s much because of me,” Rex said, mouth crooking, rueful and tired. He gave Obi-Wan a pointed look that was indecipherable. Obi-Wan blinked at him, and Rex shook his head. He said, “Nevermind. You should get some rest, General.”

And resting, Obi-Wan thought, might be a problem, once more, but Ahsoka followed him into his quarters and sat on the side of his bed, eyes sad when he said, “Really, I’m not a youngling, you don’t need to--”

“I want to,” she said, fingers soft across his brow, “just let me help you, this time.”

And he slept, dreamless and deep, and when he woke up, Cody was wedged into the chair by his bed, chin bent forward against his chest, brow furrowed, his hand on the sheets, fingers stretched towards Obi-Wan’s, but not touching.

#

They visited a planet, days later, deep in Wild Space, where Ahsoka said they’d meet some members of the rebellion, and found a market there. Obi-Wan winced at the idea of taking Ahsoka’s credits to buy clothes that fit, but she insisted. And it did feel good, to pull on robes of tan and cream, almost, but not quite, the uniform he’d worn for so many years.

He looked at himself in a reflection, afterwards, and almost recognized what he saw. 

Cody did a double-take upon seeing him - he’d bought clothes, too, well… armor, to be more precise - and Obi-Wan crooked him a smile, asked, “What do you think?”

“Looks good,” Cody said, without a pause to consider, and Obi-Wan looked away, swallowing. He doubted, very much, that was true, but… But it felt like a step towards normal, a step back to himself. 

He liked having boots again, anyway.

#

Ahsoka’s rebel friends were a motley mix, the old and young, those who remembered what the Republic had been and those who had never known it in anything but dreams. One of them recognized Obi-Wan - somehow - and blurted, looking surprised, “General Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan crooked his mouth, nodding; it felt different, when the troopers called him by his title. It stung, hearing it from some stranger with wide, hungry eyes. “We heard you were dead,” the man said, taking a step towards him, looking him up and down.

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan said, tensing when the man reached out towards him and--

“We should discuss your resources,” Cody said, flat, easing a step forward, in front of Obi-Wan, his shoulders a hard, straight line. “And what you’ve been doing so far, against the Empire.”

The man’s smile froze in place, just for a moment, but he eased back, and Obi-Wan breathed easier, reaching out to touch Cody’s back, tapping a thank-you against his armor. Tensions were higher than he liked through the meeting, but, in the end, the experience they brought to the table carried the day.

Too few of the people in the rebellion had ever fought a war.

He let them keep calling him General. Perhaps, he thought, it was a title he needed to wear, at least for a while longer. For everyone in the galaxy, not just the troopers. And, anyway, they agreed to put him in touch with someone who could provide him with a prosthetic arm.

#

There was a comfort to familiarity, too. Obi-Wan had felt that, even on Tatooine, growing used to his little hut, to the sand and the heat. The Recompense grew familiar, over time. She’d never replace the Negotiator, but she… filled a gap.

She must have for the troopers, as well. They stayed with the ship, planned their missions - there were so many missions to plan - from her halls. And, when one of the higher ranking members of the rebellion suggested they give her up, Obi-Wan said, “No, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

His men had lost enough. They weren’t going to lose anymore.

Besides, there was plenty of room in her halls for more troopers, as they started hitting bases on the edges of the Empire, freeing the lost and the trapped, those enslaved in their own heads.

He watched, as time passed, the way the survivors of the 212th took their brothers in, soothed them, held them through the inevitable nightmares and the horror, and felt warmth spread through him, deep and true.

#

And there was comfort, too, in looking over and finding Cody by his side, as they liberated outposts, pushed back Imperial forces, and undid the great wrongs done across the galaxy. There was comfort in soothing Cody when nightmares woke him, as so often they did, in listening to the words that spilled forth from him, when he could not contain them anymore, in threading their fingers together, holding his hand.

There’d been damage done to all of them, deep and terrible, but Obi-Wan knew how to heal from such injuries. He showed the others, as best he could, feeling them fight towards healing just as diligently as they’d fought for everything else the galaxy tried to deny them.

Anakin had captured him, brought him in alone and with no one. And he would have died, slowly and in agony, had he remained alone. But Anakin had brought his men, too. Put them together.

And together, they’d always been stronger than they were apart.

He considered that, standing on the bridge of the Recompense, looking over at Cody as he frowned at the next base they planned to assault. “You’re thinking loudly,” Cody said, after a moment, glancing up at him. “Everything alright?”

“It will be,” Obi-Wan said, quiet; his voice had never returned, not fully. He’d stopped waiting for it. Cody shifted, concern ever and always on his face and in his emotions. Obi-Wan reached out to him and he reached back, automatic, fingers threading together.

Obi-Wan could shift closer to him without feeling his heart lurch into his throat, could lean against his side, enjoying the warmth of it, the warmth inside his emotion, curling close. Cody made a soft sound, his other arm curling around, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes, just for a moment, resting close to him and feeling, even if he knew the feeling would not last forever, safe.

FIN