#he’s also incredibly arrogant and i want to punch him most of the time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

byeoltoyuki · 1 year ago

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my kind of fighter

↳ Pairing: Felix x Reader

❧ Genre : Fluff / friends to lovers / smut

❧ Words : 2k

❧ Summary : “Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

A seminar, a great invention according to your manager, to learn new things, meet new people and spend some quality time with selected colleagues. A great moment to strengthen the bonds between you. It did sound like a great idea, but only theoretically. What if you found yourself among a bunch of arrogant, narcissistic assholes? Not that great anymore, was it?

It wasn’t your first seminar; somehow you always ended on the list and fortunately for you so did Felix, the only reason you hadn’t snapped. Felix with his bright smile, cute freckles and his just too lovable personality; nobody could possibly resist this man and you were definitely not an exception. Despite his rather boyish look, he could be bitchy and incredibly straight forward – just what you needed to appreciate him more. Did you mention that he was also hella good looking? No? He was. Sadly.

Now, unfortunately for you, the two of you weren’t the only one on the list, Mike, your colleague who also happened to be a piece of shit, was on the list. Out of the three of you, he was definitely the one enjoying this seminar the most; after all he had a bunch of new people to impress, to brag about his skills, his projects (that weren’t his in the first place). Your dislike for Mike wasn’t a new thing, you weren’t hiding it and Felix knew the extent of your hatred better than anyone.

“This project got us a big client! Quite frankly I’m impressed with myself.” You heard Mike talking from the corner of the room, frowning at his words. “I’m sure I’ll get a nice bonus and a promotion.”

You scoffed at the audacity of this man and averted your eyes from his disgusting face for the sake of your sanity.

“Relax.” Felix whispered as he leaned closer to you. Maybe to make sure you wouldn’t snap out of nowhere or maybe he just wanted to be close to you and give you some comfort (his presence did help you to relax half of the time). Or maybe both. “It’s Mike, you know how he is.”

You took a deep breath, counted till ten in your head and then looked at Felix. “I know but I still want to punch his face. And maybe break his nose too.”

Felix couldn’t stop himself from imagining the scene and chuckling. What a sight it would be. And a lot of trouble too. “As appealing as it sounds, it’s a no.”

“Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” You asked again, trying to do your best puppy eyes (as if it could work on Felix).

“Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

“Y/N.” “Fine! Whatever.” You huffed and turned to look back at the people in the room, avoiding Felix’s eyes on purpose, pouting.

Felix shook his head, quite amused with you. He knew, of course, that if he didn’t object to your wish, you would have done it and damn the consequences. He couldn’t let you do it. “Oh no.” You groaned, noticing that Mike was done bragging and was walking towards you. Even with Felix’s comforting presence, you tensed, knowing that you couldn’t avoid the man and his bullshit.

“Felix! Y/N!” Mike called for you, too cheerful for your liking. “Why are you standing by yourself? Come on! I have some really nice people to introduce you to!”

Whoever considered Mike interesting and believed his bullshit wasn’t worth your time in your opinion, but you forced yourself not to comment.

“We’re fine here.” You finally replied, trying not to sound too annoyed.

Mike cocked a brow at you, clearly unconvinced but it didn’t fazed him that much. He stood by your side and didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist. “Come on, you need to relax, darling.” The nerve, you thought. This was also why you hated Mike with all your guts. He believed he owed everything and everybody; he believed he could touch any woman without consequences. You hated his touch. You hated his scent. And you hated it even more when you felt his hand getting lower, dangerously close to your butt.

“Sorry Mike,” Felix started to attract Mike’s attention on him. If Felix wanted to throttle him, he didn’t show it, but you knew better. He was definitely holding back. “But Y/N and I already have plans. We were about to leave.”

Mike didn’t reply for a moment. He watched Felix, frowning with clear displease but finally let go of you. He stepped back, his eyes going back and forth between you as you neared closer to Felix. “I’ve been wondering for a while but…” He smirked as he stared knowingly at Felix. “Are you guys fucking?”

“None of your fucking business!” You finally snapped, blood boiling, ready to jump at him and finally break his nose. Whether Felix liked it or not.

Before you could do something that would definitely feel good for you but attract even more unwanted attention, Felix grabbed your hand and pulled you against him, holding your hand tightly in hope to calm you down. The gesture only made Mike’s smile grew wider.

“Guess you are.” He commented, “Aren’t you a lucky man.”

Luckily for you or him, you weren’t sure about who was really the lucky one, he left the two of you alone. You pushed Felix away, fuming with rage. You knew, of course, he was right holding you back but in a moment of pure hatred, you couldn’t think straight.

“I can’t believe you stopped me.” You yanked your hand from his gentle yet strong grip.

“He’s not worth the trouble.”

“So I have to deal not only with his bullshits but also with his disgusting behavior?”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t bother. I’m going back to my room.”

*** The moment you got back to your room, you disregarded all your clothes and went straight to the shower, wanting the hot water to wash Mike’s scent from your skin and erase his existence from your mind. It did help. To some extent. But with this shower came also the realization that you hadn’t been very nice to Felix. He was looking out for you and in your anger you didn’t see it. You promised to yourself to apologize later.

Later came sooner than you expected.

You were scrolling through your phone, wearing the oversized t-shirt you brought in your bag, relaxing when someone knocked the door.

You hesitated, wanting to be left alone, yet your curiosity got the best of you.

“Hi.” Felix said, smiling sheepishly at you as you opened the door. But his smile slowly vanished from his face as he noticed what you were wearing. He gulped, trying not to stare, trying to keep his eyes on your face. He cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, instead you moved from his way to let him in. It was your chance to apologize for your behavior but your voice got stuck in your throat as you silently observed him.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” He apologized, taking you completely off guard.

“What?” “I shouldn’t have stopped you. Especially not after he touched you.”

And yet, you knew he was absolutely right stopping you from getting in trouble. You watched him for a moment, watched as he clenched his fists before releasing a long sigh.

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing.” You finally said as you got closer to him. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

Felix shook his head and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I should have let you stand up for yourself. Mike will never learn. Not until someone teaches him a lesson.”

You stayed this way for a moment. Felix didn’t let go of your hand, not that you minded, quite the opposite. His gentle touch was more than welcomed and made your heart beat a little faster.

After a moment, Felix took another step closer to you, your bodies so close to each other, you could feel his warmth.

“You know that I would always fight for you, right?” He said, eyes locked with yours. He was looking at you with so much intensity, with so much longing, you could melt right on the spot. You were always close to him. But this? This was new and too overwhelming. You averted your eyes from him face and gulped - Felix was having none of it. Gently, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “Y/N?”

Was he trying to kill you? Because, you thought, he was doing a rather good job. “Yes.” You managed somehow to say but didn’t sound as confident as you were supposed to.

Felix hummed, satisfied but didn’t let go of your face, his eyes on your lips. “I really want to kiss you right now.” He admitted

Did you want him to kiss you? The answer was on the tip of your tongue but you held back. Crossing the line was dangerous, you knew it and he had to know it too. And yet, he didn’t seem bothered, so should you?

“Say something, please.” He begged, hopeful.

It was pure madness, there was no other way to describe what you were about to do, but you couldn’t deny your own feelings. Because yes, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to hold you in his arms. You wanted to feel his lips, his touches, everything.

“Fuck it.” You cursed under your breath, pulled him by his collar and crashed your mouth against his.

Felix didn’t hesitate, not even for a second; he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you fully against him, lifting you lightly from the floor. Just like you, he wanted to feel all of you, he wanted to know your touch, your taste, everything you were willing to show him, to give him.

“Fucking finally.” He groaned against your lips.

The kiss was just everything you had ever imagined. Needy but sweet. Desperate and yet controlled. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you poured all your feelings, all your needs into the kiss.

Felix lifted you from the floor, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you to your bed, lips never leaving yours. He broke the kiss only to drop you on the bed. He stilled and admired the view before him. Your t-shirt was barely covering your body which made him realize that you wore absolutely nothing underneath. He licked his lips, memorizing every part of your body, every curve, every mole, every little scar. You were perfect and he couldn’t wait to explore you, to make you his.

“It shouldn’t be allowed to look so good.” He whispered and quickly got rid of his shirt, exposing a perfect skin and abs; you couldn’t wait to trace your lips over his body.

“Look who’s talking.” You giggled and wiggled your brows playfully at him.

Felix got on his knees, grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He didn’t hesitate; he kissed your right ankle while having his eyes on you, watching you like a prey, watching as you inhaled sharply. His lips trailed from your ankle to your calf, to your knee, leaving loving kisses here and there. He was so delicate, so sweet, turning you on even more. He was so close yet so far from where you needed him most.

“Felix.” You pleaded

“Hm?” He smiled against your skin.

“Are you going to make me beg?” You asked and regretted almost instantly your question as Felix looked at you (looking too beautiful between your legs) smiling too proudly for your liking. He liked the idea.

He pressed another kiss to your inner thigh. “So tempting.” Yes, it was and you would absolutely beg if it came to that because it was Felix, the sweetest person on earth. Because he was your comfort person. Because you wanted to give him everything he wanted.

“But, as tempting as it sounds,” He started and gave a light lick to your pussy, just to have a taste. He groaned. “I don’t think I can resist your sweet pussy, love.”

Thank god, you thought.

Felix didn’t hesitate any longer and dove in. He licked, he sucked, he feasted on you, already addicted to your taste. How did he manage all this time to resist you was a mystery even to him. Now that he had you, now that he had a taste, Felix knew, there was no way in the world he would let you go. There was no way he would allow another one to touch you.

“Felix.” You moaned and arched your back in pure bliss. But you still needed more, wanted to feel more.

“So sweet.” Felix hummed in satisfaction, memorizing now not only your taste but also your voice, your sweet and lovely moans.

Felix pushed at first a finger inside you, then quickly added a second one, thrusting them in and out, watching how your pretty moans got louder, how you rocked your hips wanting to feel him deeper inside you.

“Fuck, fuck.”

“Look at you, love.” Felix purred, “So eager, so wet. And just for me.”

“Just for you.” You managed to say in your dizzy state. You could barely hear him. You could barely think when he was reaching all the right spots.

His tongue, his fingers were all you needed to fall apart, to come completely undone with one silent scream.

Felix rose from the floor and while staring at you, eyes filled with lust, he licked his fingers, taking his time – you almost came once more with the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“I’ll never get enough.” He admitted

You wanted to taste him too. To mark him. To pleasure him. Before you could do any of that, Felix disregarded the rest of his clothes and joined you, hovering over you, pushing your legs apart a little bit further.

You always knew that Felix was beautiful, but now that you saw him fully naked, his warmth enveloping you, you knew that beautiful wasn’t the right word to describe him. Unable to say anything else, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him for a needy, wet kiss, softly moaning into the kiss as you felt him against you.

Felix slowly eased inside you, inch by inch, stretching you.

“Fuck love, you feel so fucking good.” Felix growled, his voice sounding deeper than ever. He stilled and took a moment to pepper your face with kisses, to kiss your jaw, your neck while giving you a moment to adjust.

Nothing and nobody could compare to Felix, not then and definitely not now. Not when he was gently thrusting into you, setting a slow, loving yet deep rhythm, making you whimper and moan his name, begging for more. The world around you simply ceased to exist as he kissed you, loving you with his every thrust, with his every kiss, with his fingers working their magic on your clit, slowly bringing you to a shattering release you were sure you had never experienced before. Maybe he was that good, or maybe with Felix, everything felt different.

“Can I say it now?” Felix asked, growling as he sought his own release. “I love you.”

Your heart leaped up for joy. You kissed him fiercely, letting him explode inside you as you poured your own feelings into the kiss, hoping he could feel just how much you loved him back.

Felix fell on top of you, head resting on your breast, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin. You ran your fingers through his locks.

“I love you too.” You whispered, “In case you doubted.”

Felix lifted his head to look at you. He gifted you with his sweetest and brightest smile you had ever seen. How could you not love him?

***

Despite the few hours you managed to sleep, you felt happier than ever, filled with new energy – enough to face the face and fight the world if needed. Felix, by your side, mirrored your expression as you had breakfast on the terrace of your hotel. The weather was lovely and so was your sight.

“I think, this seminar was useful, for once.” You admitted between two bites. “I can’t even complain anymore.”

Felix chuckled fondly. “I’m sure you’ll find something to complain about.”

Felix was absolutely right. You would.

“Wait-“ Just when you were about to stuff your mouth with your yummy pancake, you spotted Mike getting to a table by the window. You frowned, taken aback. He was alone which was so out of character, but maybe it had everything to do with his swollen nose. You gasped loudly and dropped your fork. “No way!” You pointed an accusing finger at Felix. “His nose was mine to break!”

Felix tried to look guilty but one look at your pouty face and he burst into laughter. “Sorry.”

It was hard to feign being mad at him when he looked at you like that. Who could possibly be strong enough to resist his pretty smile and his eyes? Definitely not you.

“I promise; next time I won’t hold you back.” He swore. “I’ll try not to.” He quickly added.

“Sounds like a plan.”

#stray kids #lee felix #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #felix x reader #felix x smut

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blakeswritingimagines · 4 months ago

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Dating Yandere Boremund Baratheon Would Include:

Oh, he is very, very obsessive. He hates it when people try to touch his lovers, especially when they are his property. If you are with him, you cannot leave. He will chain you up in a basement just so that nobody can know about you but him. But, as a yandere, he is also very protective of the person that he loves. Nobody will touch you, if you are his.

He’ll give you the world, and he’ll also make sure that nobody can hurt you. He will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Nothing will stand in his way. But he won’t let you go anywhere, you cannot go anywhere alone, and every little thing that you do has to be run by him.

If he sees someone else talking to you, he’ll give them a quick punch. If he’s feeling feisty, and especially jealous, he’ll probably beat them until they need to stay in the hospital for a while.

He cannot bear to be away from you. Whenever you are apart, he is constantly calling to check in on you. He constantly worries. He constantly wants to know what you’re doing, who you’re with, your exact physical location (he makes you share your location with him) and he gets very jealous if you aren’t with only him.

This man is also incredibly possessive. He’ll kill for you, and he’ll kill you if he even thinks that you love someone else other than him. He’ll also threaten anyone he doesn’t like. He’ll threaten your family, your friends, your co-workers, literally everyone that you’re around.

Oh, and he will keep you as a pet. He will give you lavish gifts that he wants you to have, or he will buy things for you to make you feel as if you owe him. He’ll call you my pet, or even my possession. He’ll use you for whatever he wants, and he’ll say that it’s for your benefit. His favorite thing to do is mark you up. He will keep you, and he will never take no for an answer.

But, to add onto how loving he is; if you ever need something, he’ll give it to you. Whether it’s food, clothes, jewelry, etc, the man will just do whatever you want. You could have the most randomest request, and he’ll do the most extraordinary things to fulfill that request.

And he is very caring towards his lovers, so just know that you won’t go without love and attention, not for a second. This man will spoil you, and I can promise you that.

He’ll protect you no matter what, and do everything that he possibly can for you, but he’s very overbearingly protective, and he’ll always treat you as a possession, rather than an equal; though, he will do everything in his power to make it feel that way.

He will usually act very cocky and arrogant, and he’ll be very aggressive and confrontational. He’ll be very possessive of you around others, like pulling you into his side, stroking your hair, wrapping his around your shoulders, and glaring at anyone that looks 'too long' at you, he’s very obvious and very aggressive about it.

Depends on how good or 'bad' you are. It can be anything your heart desires, honestly. Gifts, praise, compliments, whatever.

If you are bad, you might face extreme punishments; such as starvation, extreme pain, being locked up in the basement for days, torture, etc.

is very aggressive, and very short tempered. If you yell at him, he WILL yell back. If you hit him, he’ll do it back, but harder. However, after fighting, he’ll apologize; usually. He’ll give you a gift and do anything to makeup for how he acted. Even if he does think it’s your fault, he’ll apologize, but he won’t think that he is at fault for the fighting. Only you are to blame.

This man will smother you in affection. He is very, very good with giving any form of it. He’ll touch you, all the time. Rubbing your back, stroking your skin, running his hand through your hair, pressing your head to his chest, kissing your face, just everything. He always wants to feel you close to him, whether he can see you or not.

He doesn’t like to go outside for dates. Instead, he’ll set up a nice, romantic dinner at home. He is very good at setting romantic environments. You will see candles everywhere, rose petals, soft music, the fanciest foods, the fanciest wine, a hot tub, fresh sheets, dim lighting, just absolutely everything. He will plan out every detail of this night. Every. Single. Detail.

At first, he’d laugh and think that it was a joke that you wanted to break up with him. Then, he’d start yelling at you, begging you to stay. He’d probably fall to the floor, crying and pleading with you not to leave. Then, he would probably get angry, yell at you to get out, only for him to chase you, and lock you in the basement until you calm down enough. And after that, he’d probably try to lure you back to him, just to make sure that you’re still his.

He wants to get married as soon as possible. He wants to have his darling as his for forever. He’ll ask you to be his forever lover the day you started dating, honestly. He’ll want that wedding as soon as possible. However, he won’t marry you unless he knows that you love him as much as he loves you. If he feels at all like you are lying to him, or are not true to him, he will refuse to marry you, and he’ll make you suffer for it.

He wants kids immediately. Once that wedding is officiated, you will be impregnated that second. He will make sure of it. He loves kids a lot, so he will spoil them. He is very much a family man, and he will keep his family safe.

If you didn’t want or couldn’t have babies, he’ll be very annoyed and very angry. He wants an heir, and he’ll feel like he’s been cheated out of what he wants. He’ll probably want to adopt then or get a surrogate. But even if you can’t have kids, he’ll find some way to make it seem like you are the one to blame.

"You are mine, and only mine. I will never let you go. I will never let you leave me. I will do anything to keep you by my side. You will obey me, and you will do as I say. You are mine, and I will make your life a living hell if you ever try to escape me. You are nothing without me, and you will never find anyone who loves you as much as I do. No one else can have you, because you are mine and only mine."

Edging - Pushing you to the brink of orgasm over and over again without allowing you to cum, the torture and torment can drive him absolutely wild.

Squirting - Seeing you reach such heights of ecstasy that you literally gush with pleasure is an incredible sight. Knowing that he's the cause of such overwhelming bliss fills him with a sense of masculine pride.

Humiliation - Seeing you degrade yourself for his pleasure, begging for forgiveness or punishment, is an incredible power trip for him.

Spanking - The sting of his palm connecting with a firm ass cheek, followed by the warmth that spreads across the skin, it's a recipe for pure, unadulterated lust.

Bondage - Restraining and tying you up, and taking complete control over your movements, the thought alone sends shivers down his spine.

#boremund baratheon #boremund baratheon x reader #boremund baratheon x you #boremund baratheon x yn #yandere boremund baratheon #yandere boremund baratheon x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #yandere asoiaf #dating would include

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0lshadyl0 · 5 months ago

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Hiii !! can you write some generals yandere headcanons about flashy flash from one punch man please ? Nsfw or sfw or a mix of both it doesn't bother me ^^ Off course take your time you have the right to refuse the request, good health to you ^^*

I love ninjas and I really like One Punch Man (my favorites are Saitama, Sonic, Amai Mask, Flashy Flash and Zombieman), so much so that I have an OC for this series (which I'm still looking for a good name for her)

This request was definitely made for me

Flashy Flash Yandere Headcanons

Ok, as I mentioned before, I like ninjas and I like Flashy Flash, but let's be honest, his personality isn't the best, in fact, it sucks

This guy doesn't even consider people weaker than him, he doesn't pay attention to them and basically acts like they're stones in his way, he's proud, arrogant and borders on rude

So sorry to all the civilian darlings, this ninja won't even notice you beyond saving you and leaving you in a safe place

So at the very least, to get his attention you have to be an A-class heroine in the highest ranks (top 3) or be an S-class heroine like him, and even then it takes more than just power to get his full attention, with power you get his interest, but if it were only that he would have noticed Tatsumaki in a more romantic and not challenging way

This ninja's level of narcissism can rival Amai Mask, so in addition to being a strong heroine you must be very pretty, to the level of beauty that as soon as you appear in a room all eyes turn to you

Basically you have to be a mix of supermodel and strength equal to or greater than him, oh and you must also be incredibly fast because he doesn't wait for anyone

Having already specified how to get his attention, we are going to go to the behavior as a yandere, he is aware that his feelings are not normal, due to his upbringing as a ninja (where they were taught to suppress all emotion and become perfect weapons), but on the other hand, he feels that he has suffered enough and he also deserves to be happy and have a relationship (because first him, second him, third him)

His darling won't notice that he's interested in her thanks to his poker face and cold demeanor, she won't even notice that he's following her, because yes, he's a high-level stalker, when he wants to meet you to get closer to you he'll investigate your entire life and past so that there are no surprises for him

Also, it's a good way to know how to approach you and court you, even though he's terrible at it because he has zero experience in that field

When he finds out what city you live in, he'll patrol the area you live in so that both you (although it's not necessary since you're strong) and your home are safe from any monsters that decide to attack the city, consider it an act of love

Although he's a solo worker, you're a clear exception to the rule so whether you like it or not you'll work as a team with him (although he'll try to do everything just to keep you safe/impress you), basically you'll be there to cheer him on

At some point he would have considered kidnapping you if it weren't for the fact that you're strong and very famous, your disappearance would attract a lot of unwanted attention so he discarded the idea

He watches you at night when you sleep (when he has free time to do so of course), he knows by heart what your home looks like inside and sometimes he uses drugs to make sure you don't wake up so he can lay down next to you and on the nights when he feels extra naughty he can touch you inappropriately, he's a tits man so they'll get his most attention (size doesn't matter, boobs are boobs)

Even so, he'll wait for both of you to get into a relationship to initiate sexual relations (not because he's respectful or romantic but because he's a virgin with very little interaction with women and is just researching the female body)

#opm #opm flashy flash x reader #yandere opm #yandere one punch man #yandere flashy flash #shady talks #flashy flash #one punch man #one punch man headcanons #one punch hero

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thegoofyfanaticus · 9 months ago

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(( Art is commissioned from the incredibly talented ArtReplicant. Original story by me. )) Ethan was starting to feel the effects of being smothered under Wyatt's armpit. He could also feel the effects of the brutal punches and claws had on his pecs as well as his abs. Wyatt was certainly the best fighter he had faced in a very long time since becoming The Alpha. Ethan had no doubt as to how Wyatt beat Dustin. He also knew exactly why the GM had started Wyatt with Dustin. Wyatt was the complete package. If Ethan truly wanted to be The Alpha, he would have to use all of his training and experience to not only get out of the mess he found himself in, but to turn the fight around to win. There was one thing that Ethan did not understand however, and that was the sense of pure animosity he sensed from this guy. Ethan was sure he had never fought Wyatt before and he certainly did not know him so why did he feel like Wyatt absolutely hated his guts? Whatever the reason, he would find out later. For now, he was going to reverse the situation and start putting the pressure on The Beta instead. Using his core strength and pushing off with his feet, he did to Wyatt what Wyatt had done to him. Ethan landed the start of an axe kick to the side of Wyatt's face. Ethan was able to get enough force behind his kick to cause Wyatt's head to be thrust backward. The force also got Ethan free from the dragon sleeper. Before Wyatt could scramble, Ethan used his speed and agility to lace his arms around Wyatt's arms and pull Wyatt's elbows back behind him. Ethan pulled Wyatt back up against his chest so the rock-solid back muscles of Wyatt were feeling the flexing and tension of Ethan's pecs. Ethan leaned in and talked into Wyatt's ear, "I'll give you this. You're the most capable Beta I have ever fought. You've got power. You've got strength. You even have skill. However, you're missing something. My skill. You don't have my skill level. I am going to wear you down and then humiliate you as I dominate your ass." Wyatt glared as Ethan talked, "I will see you broken before me and begging for mercy." Ethan responded with feigned shock, "Such hostility. Is this bravado or have I truly done something to warrant your disdain?" Wyatt laughed and started to power out of the hold, "I should have known your pompous arrogant breeder self wouldn't be troubled or care to remember the irrefutable damage you caused." Ethan rolled Wyatt to his side as he tried to move Wyatt's left arm into a hammerlock. What Ethan knew for sure now is something in the past that pissed Wyatt off. This made Wyatt dangerous. He had a purpose and focus in this fight. This wasn't something Ethan could use against him. It was something Ethan would need to account for instead.

#malevmale #submissionwrestling #submissionhold #wrestling #submission #fight #maleryona #submissiongrappling #fight scene #wrestling match #deviantart #3d render

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24-hourpartypeople · 10 months ago

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I'M ALAN PARTRIDGE S1: I mean, this is not just peak Alan, this is peak comedy. Every other line is a great joke if not a memorable quote yet it all still works in depicting Alan as a three dimensional character and not just a punching bag. It's all slightly exaggerated but gives back a sense of realness because the Alan universe is so perfectly crafted. What's really fascinating is that almost everything you get is from Alan's interacting with other people, but there's a strong underlyining sense of loneliness throughout and that's what makes you sympathetic towards the character. Yes he's opportunistic and arrogant but at times you want him to shut up not because he's annoying but because he's burying himself. Just cringe comedy played perfectly. I also absolutely love how you get comedy out of his little obsessions and pedantry, that's maybe my favourite definying trait of Steve's stuff.

Talking of Steve, he's unreal here. I've said it before but he has the incredible ability to go big while still playing on the subtleties, be it a face expression, the timing of inflection of a phrase or a small gesture. It's quite fitting that one of the most iconic moments of the series has him not speaking a single word. He's completely mastered the character by this point and there's nothing that's off limits for him. But what sticks out is that he's also able to bring the pathos and emotions when needed. Despair, childlike happiness, fear, awkwardness, disgust, it's all perfectly conveyed and even if it's for a laugh there's still another hidden message getting across.

It's very hard to pick a favourite moments but there's 3 quotes that I want to single out because I think in a way they're also either brilliant observations or great character detail.

"Yes, it's an extender". Because as I said I have a soft spot for all these mundane obsessions and they're an integral part of Alan's psyche, he gets worked over all these small, irrelevant things in a way that probably wears people out, or just confuses them. But the reality is, we all sometimes get overexcited about stupid things that bring some comfort to our lives, and your kitchen table being an extender is certainly a plausible candidate for that. It's like when you go to the supermarket and there's a discount on soap or when you come home and your flatmate has already put the bins out. The joys of life.

"At the end of the day you will pay the price if you're a fussy eater". That whole scene is fantastic and works on two level imo. The obvious one is the casual display of ignorance and racism. As the little englander that he is, even without being particularly engaged politically, Alan just looks down on irish people and doesn't even realise that all of his perceptions are based on old, reheashed stereotypes. But then I think the scene also captures something I believe we've all experienced. When you're out for dinner with a group, and there's someone you don't quite know. And that someone will say the most outrageous things without a worry because in his mind the possibilities that he's talking out of his arse, and that the other people sat at the table may not agree with his point of view, just don't exist.

"I just hate the general public". Again, in context, this works because it's just Alan refusing to admit his own defeat and instead blaming someone else, in this case everyone and no one in particular because he can't quite pin down the crowd that was at the event but he still feels they're inferior to him. But it's also such a great line to have come out of a guy that works as a tv presenter, especially a traditional one. He puts on this smiling face and pretends that the audience of the show are this kind of massive extended family when in front of the camera. He works with a different set of guests every time. He talks with executives, producers, collegues, members of crew. His whole career is based on pretending that what he's doing affects the public and keeps them company. And being successful and getting big viewing figures means you're popular with the everymen (and women) down in Bolton or something. Yet he *hates* the general public. Fantastic.

#steve coogan #alan partridge #i'm alan partridge

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year ago

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gwyn x balthazar | 3,2k words | warnings: violence | masterlist

The atmosphere in the whole war camp is electric, charged with anticipation and fear that crackles through the air. The fate of the war camp will be decided here today, and whatever the outcome is, both High Lord of the Night Court and the general of the Illyrian armies won't be too pleased to learn about the happenings of that day.

They should have been informed, of course, but there is no time to think about this now. Balthazar shakes his head, his sole focus going to the battle about to commence.

The young Illyrian waits — like a predator for his prey — for Zave to make the first move. He won't be the first one moving, he allows Zave to do the honour of opening the battle. He knows it is the only way to win it, and his wits have never failed him.

Each heartbeat echoes like a war drum in the young Illyrian's chest, blood rushing in his ears. Never ever has he wanted to use violence to gain what he wants, but sometimes there is no other choice. Right now, in this very moment, there isn't.

Zave and Balthazar circle each other for a while, their movements precise and cautious, both observing the other with an eagle's gaze.

"We don't have to do this, Zave," Balthazar says again, opening his fists, flexing his fingers. "Be smarter than this."

"I don't need your fucking smartass mouth to tell me what I should do! Shut up!" Zave growls with frustration and lunges at Balthazar, done with the taunting and waiting. He is determined to strike Balthazar's face with his first blow. Zave's movement is quick, but Balthazar, as graceful and swift as ever, elegantly sidesteps Zave with a fluid motion, like a leaf dancing on the wind. He kicks out his leg, and lands a jab to Zave's midsection, sending the Illyrian a step back.

Gasps and astonished huffs ripple through the crowed and Balthazar is sure he can make out Gwyn's delighted "Yes!" amidst the noises of the crowd.

Zave's anger flares, eyes flashing vividly, and he charges at Balthazar, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks.

The first blow hits him right in the face, and makes Balthazar feel dizzy for a second, a metallic taste filling his mouth. He spits out the blood, and ducks away, avoiding the second strike and each that follow with incredible agility. He takes a step back, eyes never leaving his Zave's, and offers an arrogant smile. "That's all you got, Zav? And you want to become the next camp lord?" He breathes a bemused and arrogant lough.

Yes, he can be a cocky bastard at times, Balthazar thinks, confidence filling his entire being. He wants Zave to know that he is not scared, not intimidated, and won't be provoked by silence.

Gwyn watches in both awe and fear how easily Balthazar takes the fight. She has always known that he is skilled, talented and strong, but…this is impressive and a tiny kernel of glee blooms in her chest, seeing how Balthazar's confident side seems to frustrate his opponent. Obviously it frustrates him, and that is amazing. Exactly what he deserves.

The battle rages on, punches and kicks are exchanged and now also Balthazar earns himself a few blows, his chest muddy and bloody, his lip split but he looks nothing as bad as Zave does.

The Illyrian brute becomes increasingly desperate, his frustration mounting whenever Balthazar ducks a punch, and lands a blow. He throws a powerful kick that Balthazar narrowly avoids, and then, with a sweep of his leg, Balthazar sends Zave flying to the ground. The crowd erupts in cheers, Corrian and Thena most definitely being the loudest voices.

However, Balthazar refuses to gloat. He merely brings his hand up, clearing his face of both sweat and blood and then he offers a hand to his Zave, sitting in a sprawl, chest heaving with ragged breaths, mouth open, his right eye surrounded by dark blue skin.

"Let's end it here, Zave." His voice is steadfast, strong, dominant.

So dominant it makes Zave's rage boil over, and he knocks Balthazar's hand away, leaping to his feet with a snarl.

He lunges forward once more, slamming into Balthazar with more force than expected. He shoves the young Illyrian backwards, trying to hit and kick him. His attacks grow more frenzied and brutal, he is driven by anger and bloodlust. It's clear that he will stop at nothing to win — he wants the camp lord position more than anything else.

Balthazar remains steadfast, he continues to evade Zave's strikes with grace and, only resorting to aggression when really needed — a punch here, a kick there, but nothing as brutal as he has to take from Zave.

The fight continues, all of the Illyrian warriors around the pitch cheering for both of them — it becomes a blur and no one is really sure anymore who they are for.

Balthazar's sister and mother watch nervously, just like Gwyn and Corrian, feeling both hopeful and worried as they see how things go. A shiver cascades down Gwyn's spine and she leans further into Thena, hoping her closeness can bring her comfort. She can't lose Balthazar. Not after everything. Losing him would truly break her forever.

"Otto's suddenly for Balthazar?" Thena asks with the raise of her brow, first looking at Gwyn then at Corrian and back to the young Illyrian now cheering loudly for Balthazar.

"He is a pathetic piece of shit," Corrian huffs. "I think he senses Zave's losing and wants to be on Baz's good side when he becomes camp lord."

Thena shakes her head and breathes a cold laugh. "I'll make his life a living hell." She smirks and turns to Gwyn." For scaring you. Baz told me how they encircled you and Lady Morrigan. He will pay for it — I'll make it slow and painful."

For a moment Gwyn averts her focus from Balthazar and looks at his sister. "You don't have to—"

"I do. You are family now, Gwyn. The sister I never had."

Tears glisten in the Valkyrie's eyes at the mention of sister. Catrin will never come back, she has lost her sister forever, but maybe in Thena she can find something like a sister again. Someone who is her family and who loves her just like a sister does.

"You are my brother's mate. I will protect you with my whole life - call it Illyrian bullshit or not, but you are mine to protect as well, Gwyneth."

Gwyn's surprised look must have given her away and Thena merely tabs her nose. "You can scent certain things," she says with a chuckle and a wicked glint in her eyes. "Like mating bonds. Or…other things."

Gwyn realises in this moment what else fae can scent, but a wail from the pitch stops her from pondering about how strong Balthazar's scent must cling to her.

Zave is unrelenting, unleashing a rapid fire of punches that Balthazar tries block with his forearms, but one or the other strikes him sight in his rib cage and makes him cry out.

"You are going to die today, you wimp. You pathetic little asshole!" Zave growls. "You should have never made it out of the Blood Rite!"

Balthazar is done with not giving in to violence. He has to do what is needed in this moment. The hit he lands against Zave's jaw is loud and it sounds like bones are braking, and the crowd roars in approval and Balthazar allows himself a moment of confusion about suddenly having so many of them on his side. What violence and a good battle can do to people—can do to Illyrian brutes.

Blood trickles from the corner of Zave's mouth as he wipes it away with the back of his hand, but he doesn't stop. He returns with a row of kicks and punches, some only landing in the air, some striking Balthazar where it hurts a lot. They weave in and out of each other's attacks, each receiving and delivering blows and kicks.

A quite powerful jab from Balthazar makes Zave stagger, but fuelled by fury the Illyrian counters with a brutal knee strike to Balthazar's gut, causing the younger Illyrian man to double over in pain. He cries out, and Zave sees his chance there. He throws a series of hooks. Balthazar's vision blurs as he fights to regain control and when he lifts his gaze, looking through the crowd he sees her. Not only her. Gwyn is wearing her Invoking Stone. She must have brought it along and put it on.

She is wearing it. He is mate is wearing the stone she has never felt worthy of.

Pride and bliss, despite the pain all over his body, fill him and make him regain energy and control in an instant. He flings around, movement swift and agile and lands a blow right to Zave's abdomen.

Blood and sweat coat the ground beneath their feet as the battle rages on. Every movement and strike, is executed with precision and power. Zave's right eye is swollen shut, and Balthazar's nose most definitely broken. They circle each other, their chests heaving, and their bodies aching, but neither is willing to yield. They know that one mistake could be their downfall and now there is no way either of them would give in.

Zave, his face a mask of lethal brutality, unleashes a flurry of punches, targeting Balthazar's already wounded ribcage. Balthazar cries out in pain, momentarily stumbling a little.

Gwyn holds her breath, heart hammering against her ribcage and a silent, "No," slips through her lips.

Balthazar grimaces in pain but manages to counter every new strike and finally lands a kick to Zave's thigh, causing him to wince and momentarily lose his balance. But, he is not ready to give up. Zave lunges forward, his fist connecting with Balthazar's face. Balthazar brings up his knee, hitting home. Zave stumbles backward, dazed and bloodied and Balthazar seizes the moment and lunges at him. With a powerful shove, the younger Illyrian sends Zave crashing to the ground, his body wounded and his vision blurred.

Gasping for breath and spitting out blood, Zave wreathes on the ground. Balthazar follows after him, wipes his bloody hand down his face and glowers down at the Illyrian on the ground, then lifts his foot.

With his foot pressed firmly against the base of Zave's throat, he holds the power to end it all. The crowd falls into an eerie silence, the tension so thick one could cut it with a knife. Everyone — including Gwyn holds their breath.

"Don't kill him," Gwny whispers and Thena grabs her hand. As much as she would love for Balthazar to end the Illyrian's life there, as it would be what he deserves, she doesn't want Balthazar to carry the burden of having taken a life. This is not like Balthazar and he would never get over it, she knows this.

The crowd is silent as Zave struggles to rise, but he is not able to. His body gives in and he slumps back to the ground, head hitting the hard soil with a loud thud.

Balthazar, adrenaline blazing through his veins, his chest rising and falling with deep inhales, is poised to deliver the final blow, but something in him hesitates. He can't do it. He won't do it.

He sees the pain in Zave's eyes, the shame etched upon his features. "I should kill you," Balthazar growls. He spits right next to Zave's head, the liquid a deep red. "But I am better than this. I am better than you. And that is why I am the new camp lord of Windhaven."

Balthazar lifts his foot, allowing Zave to breathe. Their eyes lock once more, and they share a silent understanding.

The fight is over, and the new leader of Windhaven has truly been found. He was found a long time ago, but now there is no denying anymore. Balthazar is camp lord of Windhaven, with or without inauguration. Everyone will bow to him up here, he holds the reigns, he holds the power. He is the one in control and no one will ever deny him this position ever again.

Balthazar stands in the middle of the pitch, bloody and bruised, wounded from head to toe, but nevertheless triumphant and confident. His shoulders are squared, his chest swells with pride as he raises his voice high, declaring, "I, Balthazar Attas, am the new camp lord of Windhaven!"

The words reverberate through the camp, echoing off all the huts and tens and reaching nook and corner.

"It might not have been clear to everyone before this battle, but I am the rightful camp lord of Windhaven war camp and nothing is going to change anything about that anytime soon. If anyone has a problem, you come to me and we talk about it, no more of this violent, brutish bullshit."

His proclamation, still to his surprise, is met with cheers from all around him. The voices of the Illyrians rise in unison, calling him the new camp lord and wishing him luck. They holler in unison, howling, growling, clapping their hands and stomping their feet onto the ground. What impact violence can have on people. On males…

"Things will change in this camp. We stand here as one," Balthazar continues, his voice loud and steadfast, "We are united in our purpose — females and males equally powerful and strong—, determined to make this camp the best there is in the Night Court. Our strength unwavering!"

The crowd roars in agreement, either ignoring the statement about the females, or finally understanding the necessity of letting female's fight.

"One for all, all for one — one for Windhaven, Windhaven for one!"

The Illyrian warriors repeat the stance and rush onto the training pitch, old and young ones, males and females, all congratulating the new camp lord, patting him on his shoulder. They must have had a change of mind, or simple see a new chance in the camp lord. Maybe it is also Balthazar's talent and skill in combat that convinced them that he will be a great camp lord. Whatever it is, Balthazar accepts it and even Otto and some of Zave's former companions join in.

Balthazar elegantly and swiftly weaves his way through them, thanking some of them, but he only has one target on his mind. Only one person he needs to see.

He can make her out in the distance, already awaiting his arrival.

In this moment, he cares about nothing and no one, except for her, standing there with teary eyes and atop her head, she wears her Invoking Stone. His heart swells with pride and happiness, lips parting in silent admiration and astonishment.

Balthazar wraps Gwyn into his arms, lifts her up, and kisses her. "You are wearing it," he breathlessly expresses and kisses her again. "Your Invoking Stone." He chases her lips, deepening the kiss and when they part, he smiles at her. He gently places her down, every part of his body aching, but in this moment he couldn't care less about his pain.

"Don't care about me!" Gwyn brushes her fingers down his bloody cheek. "You are the official camp lord, you did it. The inauguration will be held shortly."

"I always care about you, Gwyneth, and you wearing the stone," —he rests his forehead against hers, nearly touching the Invoking Stone— "was the necessary strength I needed to win. I am so proud to call you my mate. I love you, Gwyneth."

His family and Corrian join them, embracing the camp lord tightly, both cheering for him and sobbing.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Trying to keep the happenings of the previous hours a secret is not possible with a High Lord that can enter minds, and also not necessary. Balthazar wants to prove himself to be a loyal ally to Rhysand and Cassian, the whole Inner Circle of the Night Court and so he put the cards on the table the moment they arrived for the official inauguration. He had to tell them and so he did.

None of them was really pleased about what had happened, but they didn't let it show.

Everything was sealed, anyway, Balthazar emerging as the new camp lord.

Gwyn helps him put on his siphons again, channeling his raw power, and also cleans up his wounds, then bandaging him. It doesn't take them too long, and when they finally return from Balthazar's home, having held each other for a moment, simply enjoying the embrace of their loved one, Rhysand and Cassian, but also Morrigan, Azriel, Nesta and the High Lady of the Nigh Court are already waiting for them. So are the other Illyrians, now everyone from the war camp having joined, also Zave, sitting on the ground, bloody and broken.

Rhysand holds a sword in his hand — a large and powerful sword, one that will soon belong to Balthazar.

The young Illyrian knows what he has to do. He draws in a deep inhale, meets the High Lord's gaze and then kneels down in front of him. "Do you, Balthazar Attas, accept this decision and the responsibility that comes with leading a war camp."

"I do," Balthazar speaks, voice steady, not a hint of nervousness in his body. He is sure now, confident and proud.

The High Lord's speaks with nothing but power in his voice, reaching every single individual, when he says, "It is with great pride and honour that I, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, bestow upon you the title of 'Camp Lord of Windhaven'. You shall carry the power and responsibility over the camp and all its inhabitants and not one day take advantage of your position. May Windhaven thrive in new glory and strength."

A murmur of approval ripples through the crowd and Rhysand's words are met with applause. The High Lord grabs the sword in both his hands, its hilt adorned with precious teal gems and intricate engravings.

Approaching the young camp lord, the High Lord raises the sword and gently taps both of Balthazar's shoulders with the flat of the blade. "You may rise now, Balthazar Attas, and wear your title with honour."

His siphons start to glow when the young Illyrian rises, grinning from one ear to the other. He reaches out and pulls Gwyn to his side and kisses the top of her head. "Carynthian, Valkyrie and now Lady of Windhaven. Remind me again how I got so damn lucky."

Then he turns his attention back to the cheering people surrounding him, nothing but pride in his sister's and mother's eyes, smiles that mirror Balthazar's on their faces.

Things are going to change for the better, and that very soon, starting tomorrow.

"I love you, my camp lord. More than anything in this world!" Gwyn rests her hand on his chest, and beams up at him and it is this smile that made him fall in love with her the first time he saw it.

~~~~~~~ tag list: @a-frog-with-a-laptop @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel @callmeblaire @headcanonheadcase @waternymphia @autumndreaming7 @devilsfoodcake22 @readercacau @sv0430 @bubybubsters @cyntia-ktn @honeysuckle-daydreams13

#gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x balthazar #balthazar #balthazar acotar #acotar #acosf #acofah #acourtoffateandhealing

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 2 years ago

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So I rewatched TMNT 2012 cause my brain is fully committed to being obsessed with TMNT and here are my thoughts:

Thankfully it has knocked me out of my month-long writer's block but before I start writing headcanons again (for either series) I want to put my hot takes out there

I don’t hate April

Do I love her? Absolutely not

She’s annoying and impulsive and arrogant and selfish and she can be incredibly one-dimensional at times

But so is the rest of the group

She’s not my favorite character but she’s not my least favorite either

She’s just a teenage girl written by old men so it’s not surprising that a lot of people find her unrealistic

I fucking hate Casey Jones/j

I want to strangle him but I also want to hug him

I want to punch him and sew little pockets into my clothes so I can take him with me everywhere

He’s so stupid and my favorite character

I like Donnie but I skip most scenes with him and April

I chose to ignore the stalker plot-line

In my mind, it’s nonexistent and adds nothing to the story

I treat the whole Karai/Leo thing with the same energy

Because why the fuck did the writers think that was a good idea

Every single relationship was poorly written

April is an aro/ace queen and I will accept no arguments

They should have kept Karai and Leo’s relationship purely platonic

I would have loved to see her become sort of a mentor to Leo but all we got was a disgusting love story that went nowhere and added nothing to the plot

I think we should swap out every “my love interest is actually my sibling?!” plotline with a “my rival/enemy/mentor is actually my sibling?! Fuck yeah!” plotline

Shini and Karai had the most chemistry and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were secretly dating

I lowkey ship Casey with everyone except the girls

But I mainly ship him with Donnie… Don't judge me I love enemies to lovers

Leo is a trans woman, Donnie is nonbinary and uses he/they pronouns, and Mikey and Raph are gender-fluid (no I will not elaborate)

I’m fully convinced that every single person who claimed Raph Donnie and Leo were terrible brothers are only a children

If I see one more person edit depicting Mikey as this helpless victim while the others are these evil abusers I will rip my hair out

Are there moments when Leo/Donnie/Raph hit Mikey when it is unnecessary? Yes

Are there moments when they ignore him when he brings up a good point? Totally

Could I make a 30-minute compilation of the boys insulting Mikey’s intelligence? Absolutely

But I can’t bring up all of that without mentioning the hundreds of times when Mikey is being an asshole

He’ll make fun of Donnie or tease Leo or mess with Raph

Because that’s what siblings do!! (especially younger siblings)

They shove and they tussle and they poke fun

Some of my siblings show affection in a very similar way to Raph (they’re not great with words but they show their love with their actions) so when I see people write shit like “Raph is a terrible brother” it frustrates me to tears

I have this memory that I will always cherish of my older step brothers and sister dragging me into a wresting match that ended with me at the bottom of a dog pile

And I almost cried not because I was in pain but because it was something I had watched them do when I was younger and never participated in because it felt like a “sibling thing”

And they knew this and I knew they were telling me in their own way that no matter what anyone says I’m their little sibling

Splinter is a fantastic master but a terrible father (no I will not take criticism on this take)

I wanted to turn off my laptop every time Shredder came back

Like don’t get me wrong I love a recurring villain as much as the next enby

But he’s so one-dimensional that I tuned him out after season 3

Now I will be rating all the seasons

Season 1: 8/10

In my personal opinion, it’s good

Not outstanding but it’s a good foundation

Season 2: 9/10

I loved this season

I honestly loved the whole conflict between April and the boys

And it introduced my baby/rat bastard

Season 3: ♾️/10

My favorite season out of all of them

I wish they stayed at the farmhouse

Everyone seemed happier there

‘Race with the Demon’ is my favorite episode

‘In dreams’ is my second favorite

Season 4: 7/10

I fell in love with fugitoid

Also, this might seems stupid but half of my enjoyment of this season could be credited to the voice actors

And I also recognized a lot of them so it turned into a fun little game of where’s waldo

I would be listening to an episode and go “doctor who?” “Godbrand??” “Andrias?!” “CASSANDRA JONES!!”

I loved the fact that Karai and Shini were trying to build their own foot clan and make it honorable and I wish they talked about it more

I like Apri’s corruption arc but I feel like they completely swept Donnie’s death under the rug

Like they immediately forgave April even though they watched as she pulled Donnie apart molecule by molecule

Season 5: 0/10

Throw this dumpster fire away

God I hated this season

It felt so random

There was no rhyme or reason

It just feels like they shoved half bakes ideas into a season and expected us to like it

It made my viewing experience incredibly bittersweet

Cause I just watched season after season of amazing episodes to end it with this charcuterie board of half-baked ideas

#hi....#I'm not dead #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt april #tmnt casey jones #I am once again begging only children to shut up #please stop talking about situations you dont understand

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kuiilandtorch · 1 year ago

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you know what, I was gonna yell my agreement in the tags but I have too much to say so I'm just gonna-

Mando Luke in both cameos doesn't feel fully human, and yes, it's primarily because the CGI is grossly hampering the performance (along with this iteration of him being Young Jake Skywalker™) - it doesn't matter if the BOBF version of him "nailed" his features better onto the less uncanny side of the Uncanny Valley, this illusion still only functions at its best when the face exhibits the bare minimum of expression, and it still can't seamlessly capture and convey all the nuance of real human movement. So we have this bizarre semi-lifeless doll recreation of Mark Hamill instead of letting the perfectly capable actor underneath just do his thing. It chaps my ass to no end that this guy was a glorified meat puppet. I've seen those gifs here on tunglr - not to mention in some of them it looks an awful lot like an alternate/extra/deleted scene was filmed with Graham on what appears like a Tatooine set, make of that what you will - and Graham would have made an adorable Luke.

But I want to stress why I agree so much with this sentiment: I've been a SW fan for 26 yrs in one nearly unbroken hyperfixation, and the only exception I made in there was a brief stint in Superman/DC fandom, because I have a Type™ - soft superpowered farmboys with salt-of-the-earth parents with soul-crushing responsibilities. What else do these characters have in common?

Why do people in-universe love Superman? It's not just because he can juggle airplanes and punch monsters and looks hot - it's because he's kind. When he helps people, he's warm and reassuring and friendly; he goes above and beyond getting them out of danger, he makes sure they feel seen and safe and comforted. His compassion radiates out in his personality.

All the way back in the Mando S2 finale, underneath all the contagious hype from everybody else losing their shit over Luke's appearance, I was lowkey put off by how he was portrayed. The instant he took the hood off, it no longer felt like him at all. Luke Skywalker would not break the 4th wall in arrogant self-awareness of his iconic status to bask in the stares of those he was rescuing, standing there after he walked in because the show was clearly telegraphing this as a HEY AUDIENCE THIS IS WHERE YOU LOSE YOUR SHIT moment. The stage-yness of it was, I'm gonna say the bad word, cringe. And then dead-eyed CGI Luke just tonelessly rattles off a few lines and leaves. It felt like watching a bad animatronic on the side of a Disney ride. Contrast that to his entrance into Leia's cell in ANH.

"But this is post-ROTJ Luke! He's a Jedi Master now and he's all serious!" Luke was already pretty fucking mature in ROTJ, only 5 yrs prior, and did he at any point in that movie feel dead inside to you? Even in his quietest, most restrained moments you could still feel the emotional turmoil or resolve simmering within him. Hell, people who mostly hate ROTJ will still almost universally admit that Mark was carrying the majority of the movie on his shoulders, putting his whole Jedi pussy into it. Luke can be a serious, restrained Jedi and still feel alive.

And yes, even in ROTJ when he's under an incredible amount of stress and angst, Luke bothers to crack the fuck up at space teddy bears and Han getting figuratively and literally roasted. He hugs and smiles at his friends numerous times. He's all grown up, but he's still the silly, lovable Luke we started out with.

IMO, it would've gone such a long way for Luke's initial cameo to have him say something as simple as, "Is everyone all right?" as soon as he walked into the bridge. To have a flash of recognition and wonder and wistfulness cross his face when he sees Grogu for the first time, and a welcoming smile, because yes, this is a fucking baby Yoda and he's also just a little kid who went through something horrific and Luke wants to reassure him. For his smile to turn bittersweet when he watches another father reveal his face to his son before departing. There were so many opportunities for subtle enhancements to his performance to bring this amazing character back to life other than WOO YAS HE FIGHT GOOD, but no, we can't have all the nice things.

Luke doing the seagulls backpack run with Grogu in TBOBF was cute, and even though we all fucking know it was in there purely for nostalgia goggles to get eyeballs on screens it did actually make sense for his character because why the fuck wouldn't Luke want to fondly remember his old teacher, the circle is now complete, it's like poetry it rhymes yada yada. One of the only moments that connected for me was this split second, this one expression they managed to pull on that unholy face, because this was a legitimately sweet look that felt like the real Luke vibing with Grogu:

No, I'm not saying Luke needs to be a goof all the time, I'm just agreeing with OP that Luke is a very expressive character, even when he's not making overt emotional displays. Deepfakes, de-aging, whatever the fuck they're using, is forcing so much of this normal human performance off the table, and then it's compounded by the sheer jackassery of the script and/or direction, whatever rancid concoction led to the nonsense we got. I'm not exaggerating, it took me less than 10 minutes to come up with better alternatives to what Luke said and did with Grogu without drastically changing the show. He Would Not Fucking Say That, the "canon" edition. But I digress.

Personally, I like the idea of Luke calling Grogu "sprout" because he's little and green and tenacious, and a sprout of anything in the desert is a joy to behold.

okay i guess what pisses me off is that luke wouldn’t act like that in tbobf. and i’m not talking about him giving grogu a choice, i’m talking about how he acts in general. he’d smile, he’d laugh, he’d play, he’d call grogu little names like “bud” or “silly” or “baby”. when grogu did that little jump? luke would’ve put his hand over his mouth and would’ve tried holding back a chuckle. luke would make it fun for grogu. he’d mess around, and let a little loose. yes, he’s a good jedi and he teaches very well but he’s also alone with a literal baby. he’d relax, he’d carry grogu around, he’d play with grogu in catching frogs sometimes, he’d eat the critters grogu offers him off the floor. he’d handfeed grogu food.

what i’m saying is that luke would make it fun. luke knows grogu is obviously talented, but he also knows that grogu is small, he’s barely past being a toddler, and he’s been traumatized. luke would be compassionate. he’d be kind, because that’s who he is. under all the layers of rage and war under his skin, it all boils down to him being truly good and kind. he’d smile and laugh and play because he never got that kind of training, but now he gets to do that for someone else.

but i guess you can’t really show that with cgi, can you.

#i'm sorry i had to clown on your post OP but i've had these feelings pent up since 2020 & they just got worse with...y'know #OP i'm banging pots & pans with you & also kissing you on the mouth & i don't even like kissing #meta #luke skywalker #grogu #the book of boba fett #the mandalorian #mando critical #star wars

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mmorpg-escapism · 1 year ago

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danger: what’s one thing that makes your OC angry? what’s their temper like? how do they respond to people who make them mad?

mic drop: what accomplishment is your OC proudest of? do they brag about it, or are they more quiet?

proof: what is your OC looking forward to? what best moments in their life are yet to come?

A threebie! Alright, a cut, then, for length: (spoilers include Stormblood and beyond)

danger: "Garleans. Bullies, one and all. And that's the good ones." Perhaps as a result of dealing with young kids for so much of her life, Besany has an incredible amount of patience. It takes shock or just a very long time to piss her off, with one notable exception: Garlemald. All she knew of the Empire is that they hurt and took whatever they wanted, and they cost her two families as a result.

As far as response, it varies. If you manage to out-annoy her patience, she might punch you or just walk away. On the other hand... Garleans tend to be kill on sight for a very long time. Hien had to have four people restrain her when Asahi & co showed up as a delegate, and poor Maxima had to endure a combat situation in Endwalker for her to finally fully trust him. When the Scions were getting isekai'd ahead of Shadowbringers, the only thing that stayed her hand on Gaius was Alphinaud. Etc, etc.

Cid might be the most notable exception because of how he starts as an amnesiac + continuously shows genuine regret and attempts to fix things. He's also the reason she eventually gets over the generalized hatred and stops

mic drop: "I've survived for this long, haven't I?"

Besany is pridefully humble, if that makes sense. She is very proud of not boasting about her accomplishments, but it comes out just a bit arrogant sometimes. Prior to her Echo awakening, her claim to fame was besting Rostik in a duel on two separate occasions - though he swears up and down that he let her win both times.

After the Echo... Well, we'll let the piles of Primals and Ascians speak for her. By the end of it all, her proudest achievement is winning that duel with Zenos. She walked (limped) away. He didn't.

proof: "It's been non-stop for so long... I guess I'm most looking forward to finally getting a break."

I have no idea which one (ok I have a little idea but we haven't met them all yet as of this writing so shush), but there's going to likely be a ship with one of the Scions... She really wants time to have them all to herself. After saving the planet several times and the universe at least once in 6 years, some time off would be nice.

#a realm rewritten: asks and memes #a realm rewritten: characters #just give the blorbo a break #and keep her away from Garleans

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merrysithmas · 2 years ago

Text

Anakin & literacy

It seems likely that Anakin, as a slave, would have never had initial instruciton in Basic or Reading.

Of course, he is preternaturally gifted in mechanics and a prodigy with such skills (which is actually a Force ability called mechu-deru).

Given these advantages, he was likely able to teach himself some basic symbol interpretation for practical engineering, or worked to at least superficially comprehend discarded, out-of-date droid instruction manuals which had little to do with the tech he had at hand.

More importantly, for his survival, I postulate, he was able to decipher numbers ledgers and invoices given to those cajoled by Watto into overpriced and unquality services.

And of course, we know Anakin can speak several language. Basic, Bocce (another standard of Tatooine), Huttese & Jawaese (both trade languages of Tatooine with Huttese being the most commonly spoken language). Anakin could also likely understand others such as those spoken by the various Tusken tribes & Toydarian. His skill with spoken language likely far outstrips most classically trained Jedi padawans.

But for the most part, in regards to written language, it seems that Anakin was likely illiterate when Qui-gon found him and brought him to the Temple. It is very much easy to imagine a strung-out, grief-lagged young Obi-wan carelessly depositing a stack of beginner texts on simplistic rules of the Order meant for Younglings in front of the unusual Anakin, who looks up at him, perplexed.

"What am I supposed to do with those?" the boy asks in his innocent, direct manner.

Obi-wan -- already wearied and short of fuse from the barrage of new responsibilities which follow knightship, the ever-watchful concern of the Council regarding his "special assignment" of Anakin, and the hard punch of social curiosity regarding his slaughter of Maul (and so reliving Qui-gon's death daily) -- assumes this is some childish and unmannered inquiry, and vexed, replies, "Why to read, young Skywalker. Now please attend to your duties as I attend to my own."

Obi-wan hardly thinks much else of it until one day, not too far later, he sees Anakin holding a book upside down. It's only then he realizes his mistake and assumption and guides Anakin to the Temple teachers to catch up on what is a considerably delayed instruction in the basics of Reading and Writing. This is something Obi-wan has taken for granted and that he hadn't truly given much thought to at that point besides the ubiquitous airy sentiment of "we are so lucky to live in Coruscant, the farther reaches of the galaxy don't have what we do".

Anakin undoubtedly becomes well-versed in all manner of literacy by the time he is a General, receiving and sending communiques constantly, but it is still likely that, given his penchant for direct action over delayed patience, he may prefer holograms and other spoken communication.

Anakin's habit of action-over-patience is a proclivity that certainly comes from somewhere. It is well known he is arrogant which is connected to a keen sense of doubt and self-perceived inferiority. His lower than average reading comprehension - and his consequent natural penchant for learning through action - is a probable contributor to this sense of nervousness and displacement. Especially in the context of schooling, where he may have wanted to prove himself growing up - such as when around his contemporaries (the other universally-educated Padawans). Also, it stands to mention the incredible awe he must have had of young Padme & young Obi-wan's skills in these areas.

This routine of showing off what he can do is clearly an effort to contribute in his own way, to fit in, and to distract from what he can't do- a habit which does not serve him well later in life, and is often interpreted as pure bravado.

His desire to prove his skills equal to (or superior to) traditional bookishness is apparent especially in his early relationship with Obi-wan. Obi-wan, who is desperately, white-knuckled clinging to the rules and regulations. Obi-wan who suffers from a terror and self-doubt in his own abilities, seen as inferior by Qui-gon. He truly doubts his ability to handle the undue aquisition of the Chosen One. Thus, he reacts in contrariness to Anakin's criticisms and complaints. They just do not see eye to eye and are both struggling individually, not seeing each other.

Anakin sees Obi-wan's skills and reliance on the rules as weak (propped up by the summation he heard Qui-gon give of Obi-wan's abilities himself - "he is headstrong and has much to learn of the Living Force... there is nothing more I can teach him"). To him, pedantics are a poor substitute for real-life experience. And it is worth noting Anakin does have a point. That even as a child he had a considerable amount of experience and knowledge of the "real world" in a way all of the other Padawans (and even many of the knighted Jedi) did not. Their actions & inexperienced appraisals of even common social situations must have seemed at times incredibly ignorant and unjust to him.

Obi-wan on the other hand, sees Anakin's restlessness and discomfort with Temple norms as disrespectful and premature. In a way, of course, Obi-wan is also correct. Anakin lacks the formal finesse and structure of the Order, the foundational skills to the responsibilities he seeks to have as a Jedi as written in their carefully crafted syllabus. Anakin certainly lacks the building blocks of respect for his incredible natural gifts - something Obi-wan struggles mitigating.

I do think Anakin was right (at some points): Anakin was very observant and sensitive in the Force - it is likely that he was correct in his observations, that Obi-wan was jealous, young and unpracticed as Obi-wan still was. Obi-wan who was hypersensitive of rules and process, an unforgiving perfectionist who stuck to dogma like glue in order to become the most pristine version of himself. His gave his utmost efforts to fulfill the vision of the Order, to please his inscrutable Master & the Council - and so feel self-worth. Anxious padawan Obi-wan who worked and studied tirelessly for every perfected skill he had. Anakin wasn't the only one searching for approval and praise as a padawan...

That Obi-wan... faced with someone so naturally talented and shirking of core basics as Anakin? That must have, indeed, irked him like no other! Anakin on the other hand also equally harbored a jealousy of Obi-wan - someone who could focus so keenly and work so diligently and through that alone nearly match his skill. Obi-wan worked to be so good. Anakin's skills were Force-given, and in his own doubtful mind he must have asked himself... were they unearned? am I a sham?

They both distrusted one another before they realized, in an immense stroke of binding fate, that they were more alike in the ways that counted than different, and their differences strengthed and empowered the other. Anakin eventually sees Obi-wan's observation, patience, and practiced mastery as unmatched - the perfect companion. He is stabilized and turned inward by Obi-wan's influence. In a way, tamed. He is shocked by Obi-wan's ability to be so wise & skilled by focus alone. Something he sees as a Obi-wan's great gift. Obi-wan on the other hand, learns to truly live with Anakin by his side. See life for what it is, not what he learned. He is set free.

I always wondered when reading The Jedi Path, when I'd see scribbled notes in the margins of the text from Obi-wan, Ahsoka, Tyranus, etc: out of all of them, Anakin's seemed the shortest, the least detailed, the most succinct. Why? His petulance and disinterest aside, it was likely, out of necessity. His lack of skill in reading and writing at that point (as a Padawan). And realizing this, many of these feelings we observe in him (petulance, impatience, restlessness) may have arisen in the academic sense because of his learning curve with both reading and writing.

Lastly, I'd like to note in The Book of Sith when we see Vader's scribbled notes they are far more eloquent, written in impeccable cursive, and insightful. It is interesting that Vader is so different from Anakin in this sense and that he seems to pick up many of Obi-wan's defenses - a mask of eloquence and neatness. This may be in an effort to become a "perfect" Sith, (as Obi-wan struggled with his pursuit of being the "perfect" Jedi) when he knows he is not truly capable of such (Anakin always inside, as it was Anakin's love that was manipulated to form Vader).

Vader's manner of diction and formality can be linked to all of the above ("Anakin Skywalker was weak)". It is an exhausting effort by Vader to distance himself from the prime ego Anakin Skywalker. Vader, the alter ego, seeks to pursue a mask of monstrosity for both his own psychological shield and to project an identity he could not, infuriatingly, get to entirely stick.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #darth vader #obikin #qui gon jinn

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ironstrange1991 · 2 years ago

Text

Intoxicated

+18 Smut

Pairing: Supreme!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A specific task at work causes the reader to spend the afternoon working with Stephen which leads to a certain disagreement and with her being punished in a different way.

Word Count: 3,6k

Warnings: A bit of angst, toxic behavior, narcissistic behavior, exhibitionism, smoking, slight bondage (magic rope), male and female masturbation, p in v, creampie.

A/N: I used the plot of this fic to delve a little deeper into Supreme Strange's personality. He is unbearably cocky and arrogant but I hope you enjoy reading him as much as I love writing him. Also this was the song that inspired this fic

It was just another ordinary day at the Baxter Institute. Ultron robots were helping your father carry materials for the expansion of his new laboratory and that filled your heart with a nostalgic feeling. He was working in some new armor even more powerful than the last one. You still remembered that at first when he started working on the Mark II after being kidnapped by terrorists he worked from home, turning the basement of the Malibu Mansion into an advanced workshop full of new creations.

Sometimes you would go back to your bed, other times you would sleep on the sofa he purposely placed there for you. However, after he built the Stark Tower in NY and created the Institute with Xavier and Stephen he went to work there and you moved to the Tower. Those nights became just part of your memories.

God you missed that house. You loved that place, you loved the smell of metal mixed with the loud classic rock music and the sound of him hammering those armor pieces.

You remembered that sometimes you would lose sleep in the middle of the night and find him there working. You used to make hot chocolate for the two of you, or brought two cans of soda if it was hot and you would spend the rest of the night talking.

That afternoon you were following your father's orders, trying and failing to come up with a magic containment device, basically handcuffs for sorcerers. It was something Stephen suggested at one of the Illuminati meetings to calm Mordo who was obsessed with the idea that there were too many sorcerers and little way to contain them.

You thought it was all unnecessary and you were quite annoyed when your father gave you the task as he had better things to do of course. The only good part of working on it was that you were spending most of the day with Stephen, after all you needed to know if it was working and the best way to test it was with the closest sorcerer who happened to be your arrogant boyfriend.

"That's ridiculous" You said annoyed when he again managed to free himself from the handcuffs with a wry smile on his lips that made you want to punch him in the face.

"No, it's not ridiculous, you just need to find the exact amount of magical material to use without rendering the sorcerer, me in this case, unconscious."

The magical material he was referring to was the Nisanti sands which you carefully dispensed into a small glass vessel attached to the handcuffs. You removed his handcuffs and went back to open the tiny little flask depositing more sand with the help of a microscope.

Stephen approached you hugging you from behind "I love watching you work, honey. You look so serious in your lab coat, looking through the microscope. It makes me completely horny, do you know that?"

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" You sighed in annoyance when he fidgeted with your arm causing you to drop more sand in the small flask than you would have liked "Stephen.. I'm working!"

He chuckled and released you sitting on top of the counter you were working on. You shot him an irritated look. You also thought he was incredibly sexy in a lab coat, normal blue robes and sneakers. Not that you didn't like his sorcerer clothes, but that way he looked more human and less like a magical being, almost divine as you saw him when he wore his blue Sorcerer Supreme robes and his majestic blue cloak.

"Why didn't your father do that? I bet he didn't want to spend so much time with me. He's been avoiding me since we told him we're dating."

You closed the little glass jar and remounted the handcuffs "Or he's just too excited about his own projects and has nothing to do with you." You said moving away from the microscope. He nodded, holding out both hands for you to put on the cuffs. "Not everything has to be about you Stephen Strange" He smirked "Sorry but I find this hard to believe."

He sighed, getting up from the counter and moving his hands again properly now, using all his strength. The green sand inside the glass seemed to glow, he staggered and you grabbed his arms "Hey Stephen, are you ok?"

You closed the cuffs and he moved his fingers normally as he always did for magic, but this time nothing happened. He groaned insisting and you smiled satisfied "It seems to work" You stated. He raised an eyebrow "And you seem to like it more than you should. Come on, take this from me." You chuckled standing on tiptoe to kiss his lips "I'm just celebrating the result of my work. Come on, try harder Stephen, an evil wizard won't give up so easily."

He frowned and you were quick to apologize “I mean sorcerer”

He supported his body weight on you shaking his head and looking at you a little surprised "How much of that sand did you use?" You frowned "More than I intended." You took off his handcuffs and he took a deep breath "It works" He stated.

You agreed pulling a chair for him to sit down "It works" You repeated stroking his face and checking if he was ok "Are you ok?" He nodded pushing you away from him "I'm fine, finish your work" He replied rudely.

You sighed heavily putting away the things that were on the counter. Stephen was too proud to give up his tough sorcerer pose and you knew that even if you was just doing your job he was going to make you pay for what you did to him in some not-so-subtle way.

"Should I call Mordo and say it worked or do you want to run some more tests?" You asked coldly, disguising the way his attitude hurted you.

He shook his head negatively "No more testing. If it's strong enough for me, it should serve Mordo's purposes" You nodded taking your cell phone from your pocket and calling the Master who answered promptly. You agreed that he would fetch the handcuffs the next day, you had plans to make it a little more interesting before handing it over to its proper purpose, but any idea that had crossed your mind quickly dissipated when you realized that Stephen would never give up control to make it work.

"If you don't mind Stephen, I have work to do now." You said walking away and sitting at your desk determined to finish the reports you promised to deliver to Reed by the end of the week. He raised an eyebrow realizing he was being dismissed.

"I upset you" He said getting up slowly and you struggled not to take your eyes off your computer screen. "Honey I'm sorry, I was a little surprised at the effect the sand had on me, that's all." You sighed staring at him without bothering to try to hide your angry expression "You need to learn to control your temper Stephen. I'm not obligated to accept being treated this way" He walked around your desk and positioned himself behind your chair, both hands massaging your shoulders "I know, you're right. I'm sorry."

You sighed in frustration, your body reacting to his touch as it always did. "I need to work now, I need to deliver this paperwork to Reed by Friday…" He placed both thumbs on the back of your neck massaging in circular motions and you interrupted what you were saying with a low moan. "It's good, isn't it?" He asked teasing you. You nodded.

"What if we take the rest of the day off? Tomorrow I'll help you finish whatever you have to do."

You vehemently denied "I need to finish this..." He interrupted what you were saying by forcing your head to the side and arranging your neck for him and placed an open mouth kiss on the area just below your ear "Please" He kissed again and continued kissing the entire length of your neck making your skin crawl "Please" He repeated with his baritone voice that drove you crazy.

"I promise you won't regret it" You moaned louder now as he moved his hand down your chest touching your breast over the fabric of your shirt and kissed the back of your neck and your head obediently lolled to the side revealing the other side of your neck to him. There was no use in resisting, he always won in the end. "Promise you'll improve your behavior, Stephen." He hummed in your ear and bit your earlobe "I already apologized honey"

You shook your head "You always say sorry and then do it again. You know it hurts me" He shushed you and raised his hand from your breast to your face and turned your chair so you were looking at him and lowered himself to kiss your lips "I love you y/n I know I'm not easy to deal with but you know I love you don't you?"

You nodded surrendering "I love you too Stephen." He smiled, that cocky sideways smile that make your heart race and fill your stomach with butterflies "Okay, so get your stuff and let's go home" He said authoritatively giving a quick kiss on your lips, but you cupped his face in your hands kissing him properly without realizing your father had walked into your office. He cleared his throat so you would notice his presence.

Stephen stepped away "Stark" he greeted in an arrogant and mocking tone of voice. You turned to face your father, totally embarrassed. "Is everything okay, Dad? Do you need something?" He crossed his arms, not bothering to hide his displeasure at the scene he'd just witnessed.

"I came to check on the progress of the work, but it seems you already finished." You got up going to him and opened the drawer where you kept the handcuffs and handed it to his hands "It works. Stephen tested it and it's ready to use. Mordo will pick it up tomorrow morning" He agreed throwing an unfriendly look at Stephen who seemed to be amused. "Fine, I won't bother you anymore." He returned the handcuffs to your hand and left before you could say anything. You sighed putting the cuffs back into the drawer.

"Your father is an idiot." You glared at Stephen angrily "Why do you think he doesn't like you Stephen? Does it have something to do with your behavior?" He smirked "It’s probably because I stole his little girl and I have no intention of given you back."

He walked towards you and wrapped you around your waist kissing your lips "Forget about him, let's go home" You frowned "Home?" He shrugged, "You spend more time in the Sanctum with me than you do in the Tower and I bet there are more of your clothes in my closet than in your apartment." You touched his face, caressing the smooth skin of his freshly shaved face "I hate you sometimes, you know that?"

He smirked "I know, but I'm irresistible." You sighed pulling away and taking off your lab coat and reaching for your purse "You'll never change Stephen." He chuckled opening the portal to the Sanctum and the two of you walked through it.

…

"You are such a baby sometimes, honey" Stephen said as you wrapped your arms around him and tried to kiss him "I said no touching remember?" You sighed in defeat as he moved his fingers and your hands were tied to the headboard with a rope of blue magic. You hit your head on the headboard huffing in rage "You promised you wouldn't use magic" He laughed getting up from the bed "I lied."

He got rid of the sneakers he was wearing and the top of his work robe, leaving only the pants that hung far below his waistline leaving his v line visible You bit your lower lip and he smiled satisfied "Do you like what you see? I haven't even started yet, honey"

A frustrated growl escaped your lips "You are a narcissistic bastard" You spat out the words and he widened his smile "Guilty"

He slowly lowered his pants kicking them away and was only in his white boxers, his cock was visible through the fabric, it was hard and positioned to the side. God, he was big and you could feel your body reacting to that sight, your panties totally soaked with your lubrication. He grabbed his length through the fabric teasing you and you moaned, a shameless loud moan "And you are a dirty little thing, did you know that?" You shook your head biting your lip "Yeah? You wanna see it? You wanna watch while I stroke my cock? You know I like to be watched, it turns me on so much"

You impatiently groaned "Please, do it for me. I wanna see it." He smirked pulling down his boxers and kicking them away, his cock was fully erect and he held it in his hand stroking it slowly.

"You're so big, it feels so good when you are inside of me"

He chuckled walking over to the nightstand drawer and picking up a small bottle of lube. "You say those things honey, then you complain I'm egotistical." You moaned watching him position himself standing at the foot of the bed and pour a generous amount of the clear liquid onto his cock. He threw the glass onto the bed and began to stroke his cock slowly first and then increasing the speed, the wet noise of it filling the silence and making you impossibly horny. He groaned loudly, his eyes fixed on yours. “How do you prefer, slowly or fast?’’

"Fast.” You quickly responded “My god, Stephen, you look so good" He grinned, a beautiful and cocky grin, his hand going to the base and then to the tip circling the head slowly, he wasn't in a hurry, he wanted to put on a show for you. "Look how hard I am for you, honey. Watch what you do to me" He increased the force and speed with which he stroked his cock and groaned moving the fingers of his other hand and stripping away your clothes leaving you totally naked.

"Open your legs for me, let me see that pretty pussy" You obeyed, opening your legs outrageously for him. He bit his lips hissing seeing your glistening pussy totally wet with your slick, his hands jerking his cock hard and steady "Such a nice pussy you have, it matches my big cock perfectly don’t you think?" You moaned trying to free yourself from the magic bonds "Stephen please..."

"Tsk tsk, no honey, keep your eyes on me, you said you wanted to watch, you'll watch and just watch. This isn't for you, this is for me." You whimpered pulling your hands trying to get free and he tsked again dramatically.

"I'm going to let go of one hand, but you're going to behave, do you hear me?" You nodded obediently. He moved his fingers and one of the bonds dissolved, disappearing into thin air "Okay honey, touch yourself for me" You reached down to between your legs, but he tsked again "Not yet, touch your tits first" You obeyed, at that point you would do anything he told you to. He hummed satisfied as you licked your fingers bringing the saliva to your nipple and circling it letting it harden and then cupped your breast in your hand squeezing it.

His hand moved so fast on his cock, the wet sounds was so obscene "You have such nice tits, y/n, I love that. Now rub your clit for me, show me how much you need me"

You gladly obeyed, groaning as soon as you got some friction, your hips moving against your hand and your moans getting louder and louder. "That’s it honey look at me, keep your eyes in my cock, look how nice and wet it is, how big and hard it is. Do you think you deserve it?" You hummed whimpering feeling your entire body shake "Don't you dare cum before me, I didn't authorize it."

You slowed down the movements of your fingers, bringing them down and dipping two of them inside your wet and aching core. "Fuck honey, it feels so good isn't it? Tell me how much you want my cock, tell me how much you want me, I need to hear it."

You licked your lips "I need you Stephen, I love your big cock, you have such a nice cock, please fuck me, I am begging you."

He raised one eyebrow "Oh you're gonna beg"

You nodded.

He stopped the hand movements and spat on his cock rubbing the saliva along the entire length and went back to stroke himself "Beg for it, beg or I won't give it to you"

You moved your fingers inside you faster fingering yourself "Please Stephen, please I need you. I need your cock, I am nothing without you, only you can make me cum, I am yours, let me please you, let me be your whore"

He groaned loudly stroking himself impossibly hard getting carried away by your words "I am sorry honey..." He groaned loud and a load of his cum spurted on the mattress "oh fuck... keep looking honey, eyes on me.. . oh god"

His semen ran through his fingers and even though he had just come his cock didn't fully relax. He chuckled seeing your angry face and running the back of his hand across his forehead catching a bead of sweat that dripped. "Don't be mad, you know I have a few more rounds to give you"

He conjured a tissue and cleaned himself then winked at you and crossed the room taking a cigarette from the pack and lit it dragging and blowing the smoke slowly knowing full well that your eyes were locked on him. He sat down in the farthest armchair and snapped his fingers freeing your other hand.

"Be a good girl and give me a show, I want to see you cum" You huffed angrily, but gave in to the urge to seek your own climax. You took your index and middle fingers to your mouth and sucked them pornographically making a popping noise as you took them out of your mouth and brought them to your entrance rubbing the saliva there and finally penetrating your aching pussy, you moaned softly, moving your hips as your fingers moved in and out, your eyes closing in pleasure.

"Keep your eyes on me, honey" Stephen said, a malicious smirk on his lips, he took another drag on his cigarette, holding the smoke in his mouth for a moment and letting it out through his nostrils with a satisfied sigh.

You were close, so close that your legs were shaking, your body begging for well-deserved relief. You ran your fingers up to your clit rubbing it, your eyes locked on Stephen's oceanic eyes. You bit your lower lip containing your moans and he tsked annoyed "Come on honey, don't hold it back, you can be a lot louder than that. Give it to me"

You moaned louder obeying his instructions knowing that even your orgasm wasnt for you, Stephen wanted everything for himself, he made everything about himself and you couldn't fight him because you didn't want to win, not when losing was so pleasurable.

Your moans got louder and your breathing more ragged, your legs shaking as your fingers worked faster and faster until they stopped and you screamed Stephen's name, your climax snapping inside of you. Your eyes went shut, your head hanging back and from your lips only oaths of love and sweet praises came out like prayers.

You were too lost in your high to notice Stephen approaching, noticing only when he was already in bed pulling your legs and making you lie with your back on the mattress the weight of his body making your legs open so he fit between them.

He grabbed you by the back of your neck and kissed you, his tongue penetrating your mouth, the taste of cigarette on your tongue was intoxicating and you gasped when without warning he entered you thrusting so hard you saw stars. He didn't let go of your lips for even a second, his thrusts didn't falter or lessen even for a moment and your hands grip the sheets to keep you aware of something earthly as you felt yourself touching the sky as he pounded against you. .

"Stephen...you're going to make me come again" He groaned claiming your bottom lip, sucking it, one of his hands gripping yours intertwining his fingers in yours "Do it, do it now" He pounded you with absurd roughness and you groaned when it exploded inside you, your pussy squeezing him so hard dragging him to his own climax. He lowered his lips to your chin placing open mouthed kisses and kept going down, he bit your neck grunting as he thrusted his cum deep inside you, marking you as his.

"Fuck Stephen... I love you"

He grabbed your chin making you look at him, his eyes were like fire "You are mine and always will be" You nodded and he kissed you passionately and rolled onto your side pulling you to his chest caressing the side of your arm "I need you, I need you by my side, I can't live if you're not with me and it scares me" He confessed.

You smiled touching his face "This is love Stephen. You're discovering that it's possible to love someone other than yourself ." He nervously chuckled "I love you so much more than I love myself honey. I would do anything for you. I would die for you" You kissed his lips softly “What makes you think i wouldn't do the same?”

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snortoborto · 6 months ago

Text

People who shit on a teenager for being traumatized by the death of his kid brother and struggling with mental illness straight up just lack empathy and probably haven't read the book since they were 15.

I swear to god, people who shit on Holden are just trying to have a contrarian take, for the sake of feeling smarter than everyone else.

People who say he's a piece of shit are very clearly just going into it already having the preconceived notion that he is. If you actually pay attention to the way he treats people in the story, he is so fucking forgiving and kind and generous to everyone around him, even when they're being rude, or straight up MEAN to him.

-Ackley is an inconsiderate douche, who doesn't respect Holden's privacy and talks shit about his friend (Stradlater) and Holden is still willing to have a conversation with him and keep him company/hang out with him and invite him out, cause he knows no one else wants to.

-Stradlater is an arrogant ass, and everyone knows it, but Holden still helps him with his composition, which Stradlater is incredibly ungrateful for, and incredibly dismissive of the personal care that Holden put into it.

Holden lets Stradlater borrow his jacket, even though he's afraid Stradlater will stretch it out, cause they're not the same size.

When Stradlater reveals he's going on a date with Jane Gallagher, Holden stands up to him about the way he treats women, encouraging him to be respectful of Jane.

After Stradlater punches Holden IN THE FACE, he still just let's Stradlater keep his fucking jacket.

-When Holden is leaving Pency and meets the mother of a classmate that his peers don't particularly like, he talks him up, and reassures the mother that her son is well liked, just to protect her feelings.

-When Holden is dancing with some girls at a bar, he notes that he's not particularly attracted to them, and he thinks one of them is kind of an air head, but he is never anything but kind to them. Especially complimenting one of the girls on what a great dancer she is. Just cause he's not attracted to them, doesn't mean he doesn't treat them with respect. A novel concept for men in the 1950s.

-When Holden is eating lunch and meets those nuns, he engages them in conversation, despite being a "sacrilegious atheist," and respects what they have to say, even donating more money to them, than he really has to spare, and wishing that he could talk with them more.

-When Holden hires Sunny (a sex worker) he never degrades her for her line of work. Instead just wanting to talk to her and know more about her as a person, considering she looks to be not much older than him. She is rude to him the entire time, but he's never rude back.

They don't even engage in sex, yet Holden still pays her the agreed upon rate, and she turns around and tries to extort him for more, resulting in him getting the shit kicked out of him by a grown man.

-Everyone is a fucking asshole to him about the ducks, but he's always just genuinely curious and isn't a dick back.

-When Holden takes Sally to see a show, and she spends most of the time hanging out with some other guy, Holden still agrees to go skating with her.

The only time he's ever outwardly rude to someone is when Sally reacts poorly to his proposal that they should run away together. He calls her a "pain in the ass" and is upset with her for like a split second before profusely apologizing. He's also very clearly in the middle of a mental health episode (for the entire book) but specifically in this moment. He has a moment of weakness in front of her, being venerable by sharing his hair brained idea to run away. When he gets a negative reaction, it's obviously hurtful because his mental health struggles have left him so raw. He needed understanding and compassion, not to be written off and told that he was essentially acting crazy.

Yeah, it's rude to call someone a "pain in the ass," but have yall really never, in your entire life, said something you regret?

-When Holden meets up with his "friend" at the gay bar, the guy was rude to him the entire time, almost refusing to engage him in conversation and essentially implying that being there was a waste of his time, but Holden was never rude back and was just happy to be hanging out with someone.

Yes, he calls people flits and queers (it's the fucking 1950s) but he never implies that they're any less human for it, or that it makes them bad people. He just notices that they look gay. Which is like, pretty understanding for a cishet, white teenage boy in the 1950s. His internal monologue does include words that would be considered slurs now, but were normalized in the 1950s as appropriate things to say.

-The way Holden cares so deeply for Phoebe, his sister, and adores every little thing she does is so incredibly compassionate. He buys a record for her, with some of the last of his money, cause he knows she'd love it. Not to mention going out of his way to get the original record, recorded by a black woman, and not the white washed version that doesn't sound as good. The way he carries the pieces around after accidentally dropping the record, because he still wants Phoebe to have it is so fucking heartwarming.

-The way that Holden looks out for his sister, and little kids in general, speaks to his moral character. He encourages Phoebe to indulge in things she thinks she's too old for, like riding the carousel. When he plans on running away, he ends up staying, just because he doesn't want Phoebe to try and follow him. He abandons his plans simply because of how much his sister loves him and wants to be around him, even though he knows that he'll get in trouble for dropping out of school if he stays.

The way Holden wants to care for and protect people more venerable than him is literally given away by THE TITLE OF THE BOOK. When he's thinking about what he wants his purpose in life to be, he settles on wanting to BE the catcher in the rye. A proverbial role that he has invented, where his entire job is to protect kids from fucking falling off a cliff as they play in the tall rye grass. He wants, more than anything, to protect people because he couldn't save his brother Allie from dying of cancer at 11 years old, he couldn't do anything for the kid who's suicide he witnessed at Elkton Hills, and he can't save himself from his own mental illness, as its revealed that he's been committed to the psych ward before and is indeed writing his story from the inside of another fucking psych ward, where he got committed after the events of the book. You know, because the entire time he's in an active mental health episode????!!!!!

In motherfucking :O) conclusion:

People give Holden Caulfield such a hard fucking time because the book is written from his perspective. It's a look inside the mind of a profoundly traumatized, mentally ill child. He has unkind and unstable thoughts (which he never acts on, besides one moment of weakness in front of Sally) and complicated relationships with the people in his life. His grief and mental illness make his mind an uncomfortable place to be, but the audience is being trusted with the full venerability of what it's like to be mentally ill. An honest portrayal of what it is like to be Holden Caulfield.

If anyone, and everyone, were granted access to the inside of your head, you (the reader) would not come away looking like the perfect, virtuous person you'd like to portray yourself to be. Especially if you're someone who suffers from mental illness. This is where the themes of authenticity or "phony-ness" that people get so caught up on, come into play.

Holden, as a mentally ill child, assumes that everyone's brain, everyone's thought processes are like his. As a lot of mentally ill people do, before they realize there's something different about them. That's why he doesn't understand how or why people hide it so well. It's so hard for him to constantly be masking his mental illness that he doesn't understand how other people do it. He doesn't get that everyone else isn't constantly masking their suffering like he has to, but that other people can be, and are, genuinely happy. He doesn't get that other people don't think about things as deeply and constantly as he does. That other people are genuinely content with frivolous things. He doesn't understand that, no, these people are NOT "phoney," that they're NOT putting on an act. He doesn't understand that other people can be, and are, genuinely happy.

Holden just wants someone like him to empathize with his internal world, but he doesn't understand that other people's worlds aren't as bleak as his. He thinks they're just trying to keep up appearances at the expense of genuine connection. He doesn't realize that others just fundamentally don't understand him. And the thing is, even if they did, they'd probably keep it under wraps anyway for fear of being sent to a fucking asylum. There's SO much more going on there than just, "damn, all these bitches are fake, except for me," and I genuinely feel bad for people who refuse to think about it any deeper than that.

The way people react to Holden is a litmus test for their ability to extend empathy to those suffering from trauma and mental illness. And I don't mean cute, woobified mental illness. I don't mean meme-ified "he's too shy to ask for ketchup," #relatable, marketable mental illness. I mean the TRUE struggles of mental illness. The stuff that is not pretty, that affects your relationships, the stuff that people find off putting or annoying.

People lose all empathy for the mentally ill the second that illness makes them even slightly uncomfortable.

People don't understand grief when it doesn't go away after an "appropriate amount of time." After they've decided they're annoyed by it.

People don't understand that trauma is traumatizing. That it changes you and stays with you forever.

If you are mean to Holden Caulfield, I will rip you apart and ruin all things you hold dear. I'm so fucking tired of you people.

He is not a "male manipulator." He's a kid that desperately needs to be understood.

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theweirdhybrid · 2 years ago

Note

How you think the wukongs would have reacted if they met corrupted king and the lady bone demon

Hmmm, I have two answers, one serious and angsty and the other pure crack bc it’s one Wukong against five more, easy win yknow? (Unless more than one was possessed, that’s a different story 👀) So, I’ll answer it as them reacting to LBD (serious) and Possessed!King (comedic) separately. If y’all want the opposite reactions for either lemme know! (Also, if either of these situations were to ever happen timeline wise, the Wukong’s would’ve had to have arrived during season 3 instead of after. Reminder that this au takes place after LBD’s defeat, King’s possession and Mac’s redemption. However, I am willing to make a timeline where they arrived during s3, if anyone is interested in that idea. I’m a writer and I have many ideas regarding this concept in general, all y’all need to do is ask for them :])

:: Lady Bone Demon Reaction (Serious) ::

Fear and a sense of unease, for the most part. Only four of the present Wukong’s have met her, and only one had trouble defeating her before. Remember, in King’s universe things are a little different, while for Uncle, Sage and Sunny (while Sage’s movie takes place during the Ginseng tree which is before he meets his LBD, I moved him just a little bit further up in his timeline for conveniences sake, and Sunny’s LBD was the Jade Witch) they killed/got rid of her with ease, King had to lock her away just to stop her and still couldn’t stop her without help both times. That, and this LBD was originally a goddess that, apparently, the Jade Emperor had personally known and trusted and was powerful enough to pose a genuine threat to the universe. She’s not someone to take lightly, and King makes sure to inform his counterparts of this.

Sunny would likely be the most uneasy of them all (King is not included bc we already know how he reacts to LBD), since he hasn’t faced anything of this magnitude yet. Despite that, he shows the most courage and hides his fear well, up until LBD sends him flying into a mountain so hard he’s out cold for a few minutes. Then he shows his fear, because the last few times he faced someone strong enough to take him out of the battle even for a minute he’d nearly died. He gets out of this one only a bit banged up, but still shaken. After that he takes to sticking close to the Not-Wukong’s (MK, Sandy, Pigsy, Tang, etc etc) to protect them should any debris or LBD herself gets too close.

Lucky, while wary, isn’t terribly concerned with LBD and is actually the most confident out of everyone present. Little reminder, Lucky never got trapped under the mountain, and thus didn’t experience getting his ass handed to him on multiple occasions and certainly not the torture the others did courtesy of Tripitaka. In fact, Lucky had a father figure. I mean he’s dead but he passed from age so like. Anyways, he’s the most confident of them all that they’ll beat LBD no sweat. He keeps this energy up until he sees Sunny get bodied into a mountain and then not get back up, then he stops pulling his punches and starts taking the fight seriously. (RIP to LBD’s host, she’s not dead but she’s definitely feeling those broken ribs)

Sage, being the arrogant monkey he is, tries persuading the others to let him handle this one, he’s got this. I mean he defeated a demon ancestor on his own and came out the other side alive and got a sick god mode form out of it, he’s got this guys- only for the other Wukong’s to tell him to cut the shit because they know he’s actually scared they’ll get hurt and wants to handle this on his own bc if he died once and came back stronger because of it he’ll probably do it again right? Wrong. So, basically, Sage is incredibly scared he’ll lose this new family he cares very much about and wants to protect them by taking the danger on himself, which is a trauma response to the last time this happened and he witnessed his entire family die right in front of him. So. Hm. Yeah.

Dasheng keeps everyones morale up, gives pep talks and pops shitty jokes at every chance he gets to keep anyone from spiraling from fear, which is his own way of stopping himself from spiraling into the ever-present fear he’ll be too late to save those he cares about and will have to deal with the knowledge he was this close to saving them, but was ultimately too slow to stop their death.

Uncle is, surprisingly, the most serious about the whole situation. He keeps everyone focused and on task, directing them on what to do and where to go on and off the field. Again, trauma response. Everything these guys are doing in this situation can be boiled down to a trauma response. They are scared and they are trying their best and they’re refusing to outright say so because they’re Wukong’s and a true Wukong never admits his feelings amirite?

They end up defeating her, obviously, but not before they get a lot of scares and quite a few humbling moments. The only reason they struggle is because they’re all simultaneously trying to take LBD down and trying to keep each other from getting horribly injured and also avoiding each others attacks. It’s one thing for one Wukong to fight one enemy with a fuck ton of replaceable clones, it’s another for six shooting off one powerful attack after another while simultaneously dodging their enemy and each others attacks that go awry.

:: Reaction To Possessed King (comedic) ::

While initially they’re put off by the possession thing, it very quickly turns into glee. Finally, an excuse to see who’s stronger! Oh, uh, what? Yeah yeah totally trying to get him back don’t worry just give us another thirty minutes I haven’t seen if he can withstand being crushed under the staff yet-

It very quickly turns into one big game of keep-away, where they keep King and LBD high enough in the air everyone on the ground can watch peacefully while eating some snacks and making bets on whose stronger. One monkey tests their mettle against King, while the others make sure King and LBD stay in the area of the sky they’ve designated as their arena.

The entire thing frustrates LBD to no end and she is so fed up she drops her host (who is quickly caught by Mac and returned safely to the ground) and takes advantage of the brief scramble to catch the host to try and body Dasheng. Emphasis on ‘try’. Dasheng, the powerhouse that he is, swats her away like a fly and sends her into a mountain. This breaks her hold on King, whose first reaction to being free is “Fuck, I wanted to keep fighting!!” Which earns some Looks from Mac and everyone on the ground. Listen, in his defense, he has never been able to go all out against someone that wouldn’t immediately die in one hit, it’s exciting being able to do so for the first time! MK stop- stop looking at me like that-

#into the wukongverse au #lmk #one situation causes more trauma for the wukongs the other gives LBD trauma

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

-------------------------

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

-------------------------

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

-------------------------

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

-------------------------

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

#Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Yan Dooku #Ben Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #Xanatos du Crion #Jango Fett #Komari Vosa #time travel #de aging #age shifting #family #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #500 notes

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