#i remember posting about this thing when it was revealed. one of the most confusing pokémon reveals of all time but i guess

[front-facing-pokemon]

[moltengoldveins]

@clingyduoapologist made a really cool “what if DSMP were a stage play” post and basically the instant I saw it I was struck by the muse but I don’t want to just chain reblog the dang thing or make one huge reblog with all my thoughts so instead here are all my thoughts on this concept

i don’t think it’s a musical. I think the tone of the story doesn’t fit. But if it were, it would have a Lot of scenes of unsung dialogue, and that dialoge? Would be rhythmic poetry. It’s Shakespeare Appreciation Time baby.

i do however think there would be a live score and an orchestra. A lot of the music would need to be recorded but there’s at least be a few musicians.

different characters speak in different poetic styles at different times to communicate character and plot development.

to elaborate on that: Characters switch from loose ABBA or ABAB rhyme schemes and vaguely rhythmic meter when chatting back and forth to strict perfect iambic pentameter for tense scenes or political speeches.

Techno speaks exclusively in unrhyming dactylic hexameter, an extremely common poetic form for Greek and Latin poetry. It’s what the Iliad was written in. This has the interesting effect of making Techno sound, at first glance, unpoetic. His speech doesn’t rhyme, and doesn’t follow a common English rhythm scheme, so it wouldn’t immediately register as structured. However, dactylic hexameter is actually significantly harder to write in English than expected because of our syllable stress patterns. Speaking like that would be, objectively, a sign of extreme intelligence, but could easily be overlooked as coarse uncultured behavior.

Techno’s chorus - composed of audience members, background extras, and people (in safety harnesses) sitting in the theater rafters - speak largely in Greek and Classical Chinese, quoting sections of the Art of War and Homer’s work. The major exceptions to this are ‘Blood for the Blood god,’ ‘no,’ and ‘do it.’ They all wear a hat or some form of headband that has a glowing LED eye, hidden, but activated when they speak. The audience plants are all in dark clothes, and when the lights go down they don medical masks/sunglasses. Anything to obscure their faces.

The Chorus, a group of robed masked people who broke the fourth wall and often entered the audience, was a vital part of early Greek theatre. I am an intolerable nerd, and the thought of sitting in a dark theatre only to hear an low distorted voice beside you start to comment on the play as a whole choir of voices echo around you, then turning to see your seat neighbor is a masked person with a glowing red eye in your forehead? Literally incredible.

Dream is the only character dressed in even remotely modern clothes.

Dream is first seen as someone (again, in modern clothes) sneaking around backstage in a black hoodie: most of the audience probably assumes he’s a stagehand and not meant to be seen. Then, at some point, he moves from behind a set piece and enters the scene as an actual character, revealing his mask.

interestingly, this is really similar to what I believe is a bit of myth about why ninjas are dressed in all black in modern media. They wouldn’t have been irl, they would’ve dressed like civilians. But stagehands in Japanese theatre would dress in all-black, and were often completely visible onstage moving sets - it was common courtesy to ignore them. Then one day some playwright had the brilliant idea of having one of the stagehands enter the story as an assassin, and suddenly every actor in all-black was a threat. For the life of me I can’t remember where I read that but it’s a cool thought :D

Dream canonically can interact with set pieces, lighting, and curtains.

Dream actively directs lighting in scenes he is not in, sitting above the stage kicking his feet.

Dream is often used to hand off props to characters instead of having them pull them from a pocket and pretend they were pulled from their ‘inventory.’ This begins to get confusing when Dream is acknowledged later on as the he person giving, say, TNT to Wilbur, or wither skulls to Techno.

characters address the audience as ‘Chat,’ (English’s first fourth-person pronoun my beloved) almost constantly, especially for comedic purposes- most of their monologues are addressed directly to the audience as well. For Wilbur, it’s a sign of instability when he stops addressing ‘Chat’ and start addressing the sides or back of the stage.

philza enters from the lower audience, right by the stage, probably after pooping up from the orchestra pit and taking a reserved seat halfway through so no one sees the wings.

Tommy has by far the least structured or rhyming dialogue - if it weren’t for how carefully crafted it was it would sound like normal prose.

Tommy speaks to the audience by FAR the most. Wilbur only addresses them when soliloquizing. Techno barely addresses them at all: they address him. Ranboo speaks to the audience only when alone, and it’s usually phrased like he’s writing in his memory journal. Tommy speaks to the audience at first like a loud younger brother. As he gets older, it sounds more and more like a plea for help, a prayer for intervention that will never come. Exile is one long string of desperate begging aimed our way.

Tommy stops speaking to the audience so much after Doomsday. He starts again when Dream is imprisoned. He stops for good when he dies in there, beaten, alone.

Sam and the Warden are meant to be played by different actors, ideally siblings or fraternal twins. They wear identical stage makeup and costumes, but the difference is there. None of the characters acknowledge this.

the Stage would need to be absolutely massive and curve almost halfway around the central audience, largely because it should be able to be split at times into two separate stages to show different things happening at the same time. This could possibly also work if there were two stages, but getting people to easily turn from one stage to the other without loosing sight of what was happening would be rough.

Doomsday taking advantage of the scaffolding in the rafters and using them as the ‘grid’ for the tnt droppers.

actual trained dogs for Doomsday my beloved. Would cost a fortune but could you imagine.

the entire revolution arc ripped off Hamilton, we all know that, I think we can afford to have a stagehand step forward in that frozen moment in time when Tommy and Dream have that duel, grab the arrow, and carry it slowly across the stage right into Tommy’s eye. For morale.

throughout the execution scene Techno keeps slipping out of poetic meter, especially when he sees/is worried about Phil. After the totem (which would be freaking amazing as some sort of stage effect with like lights and red and green streamers or smthn dude-) he stops speaking in poetry. The scene with Quackity is entirely spoken dialogue. Chat is silent. It’s only when he gets back and sees evidence that his house has been tampered with that Chat starts up again (kill, blood, death, hunt, hunt, hunt-) and he starts speaking in rhythm again.

Every canon death, Dream marks a tally on something in the background. Maybe it’s in his arm? Like a personal scorecard. Or maybe it’s on the person themselves, a little set of three hearts he marks through with a dry-erase marker or something.

phil and techno have a lot more eastern design elements and musical influences than the rest of the cast, except for Techno’s war theme which is just choir, bagpipes, and some sort of rhythmic ticking or thumping. Phil’s also got a choir sting but it’s a lot harsher, the ladies are higher and them men lower, and the chords are really dissonant (think murder of crows)

Tommy’s theme has a lot of drums, but its core is actually a piano melody. The inverse of Tommy’s theme is Tubbo’s, but Tubbo’s is usually played on a ukulele. Wilbur is guitar, obv, and Niki’s is on viola.

Quackity is a little saxophone lick. He and Schlatt both have a strong big band/jazz influence.

None of the instruments that play dream’s theme play anywhere else in the music. I’m thinking harp, music box, and some kind of low wind instrument.

[dre6ming]

how would austin propose to reader?

Be mine forever?

He’s been dreaming of this moment for so long and every time he saw himself doing something so over the top and special for Y/n, but then he’d take a step back and remember who he was actually dating

Austin’s had the ring for a while now and he carries it with him, just in case one moment feels just perfect

He tries not to think too hard about the time he almost lost the ring, when he forgot his jacket at a restaurant, right after he really felt like that was it, but then the food came and you started to gossip and talk and he forgot

Secretly you’ve known about the ring for just as long as he’s had it, you found it doing laundry, he had forgotten it in he pocket of his jeans and you felt the box right before you threw them in the wash.

At one point you get impatient, Austin gets impatient, his family (who gave him his moms ring) gets impatient, but he just can’t make up his mind

Until…..

One day you step into the apartment, expecting to see Austin greet you excitedly, but instead being met with silence.

Walking further you see a trail of petals leading from the main entrance to your bedroom and your heart rate picks up as you follow it.

The door is slightly cracked and you push it further, revealing the room to you.

The smell is what hits you first, fresh flowers, so many fresh flowers, flowers of all colors, pink, red, white, you name it.

You look around and you see pictures of you and Austin hanging from the ceiling, tears start to gather in your eyes as you remember all the beautiful moments

You hear footsteps and then turn around to see Austin, dressed in white and blue striped pajamas pants, chest naked and hair disheveled, he looks Devine

“Nine hundred ninety nine flowers, nine hundred ninety nine pictures, I thought we could make it a thousand?” He says giving you a pink peony to hold.

The ring is tied around it with pink ribbon and your hands shake.

“Be my wife, be my forever? I’ve been thinking of the best way to ask, but I should have just done the thing I knew you’d love the most, just us two, you and me.” His voice sounds like hot honey and you almost melt to the ground

“Yes!” You say breathless and he hugs you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. Placing both your feet back on the ground Austin’s shaky hands take the ring off of the flower and his delicate fingers hold your left hand up, sliding the ring on.

“A perfect fit!” You whisper absently and he chuckles. “I put it on your finger once when you were sleeping, got it resized after” you laugh at his efforts and thank whatever higher force brought such a man in your life. “I love you!” You say, kissing his nose while he’s preoccupied to look at the ring on your hand, still not believing he actually did it, he finally asked you.

“Now for the one thousand picture.” Austin says, shaking his head like waking up from a dream. You furrow your brows confused as he drags you over to the bed, telling you to sit on it. “I got the camera set up, filmed everything too!” He admits, showing you the small remote used to operate the device.

He sits on the bed with you and smiles, then he hits the button on the remote and you hear the timer of the camera going. Austin takes your left hand in both of his hands and he places a kiss on you knuckles. “ I love you forever!”

Masterlist

Tags - be notified when I post

Tag list: @galaxygirl453

@rainydayz101

@samaraannhan20

@marlowmode

@myradiaz

@areuirish

@micaelainthe60s

@homebodybirkin2003

@pennyroyalcreep

@purejasmine

@strokesofstokes

@lanasfloridakiloss

@denised916

@kibumslatina

@macey234

@melodixs-blog

@shantellescrivener

@chewiethecatus

@guacala

@fangirl125reader

@father-of-2cats

@lucid315

@ashtag6887

@ilovehobi101

@richardslady121

@jensmithin

@julie181

@chrisevansgirl34

@ranaissingle

@onecrazydirectioner

@maria-1287

@austinbutlerssimp

@kingdomforapony

@acoolnight

@tarot-sybarite

@goldenmarygio

@frozenhuntress67

@anonyboo63478338

@littlewhiterose

@thefallofthedamned

@1eminicookie

@rose-deathman

@iheqrtaustin

@desitravelsblog

@prompted-wordsmith

@austinsvlrslut

@crystallizedth0t

@hertvgirl

@peanutbutterinacup

@austinswhitewolf

@saniyahgordon

@thatgirlthatreadswattpad

@slowsweetlove

@jaqueline19997

@formulapierre

@ourlifeforchaos

@sunflowerleii

@b-bradshaw

@dacreshoney

@uknowulovejj

[7brownsuga7]

The God who answers after dark ☆

One - Remember:

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Summary: Time has slipped through your fingers since that last encounter with him—the one where he showed you a side of intimacy you hadn’t known before. His touch lingered long after he left, a haunting reminder of what it felt like to be close to someone in ways you couldn’t fully comprehend. You’ve tried to push it all aside, to erase the memory, but the ache of his absence runs deeper than you expected. Forgetting, you realize, only sharpens the memory, bringing it back with an intensity that leaves you torn between longing and pain. Every attempt to move on is met with flashes of that night, where your body remembered even when your mind resisted. The confusion wraps itself around you, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he exposed in you. You want to let it go, to find peace in his departure, but the harder you try to forget, the more vividly it returns. Remembering, it seems, is a cruel paradox—you cannot forget without confronting everything that you wish you could erase.

Tags&warnings: Jungkookxfemreader, fluff and a bit of smut if you would call it that?!?? Jungkook is obsessed with reader, a bit delusional. Flashbacks, descriptions of penetration. MDNI!!!

Word count: 2k+

Note: took me forever to post this, my bad lol I was procrastinating. Doesn’t have that much smut because idk I’m genuinely tired LOOL? I’m more for fluff nowadays.

Comment to be added to tag list

Tag list: @rutukn

The God who answers after dark ☆ series master list: Here ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You found yourself waiting for the darkness.

Unsure of which one.

The one that lulls you towards a dreamfell night. Where you feel the most comfortable as the stars and moon shine through your window. Where you feel as if it’s just you, the world so still, so silent.

Or the one that races through your mind like water down/through a stream. That reminds you of the night itself. Everywhere you went he was there. You could feel him all around you just like the night you shared together.

He was in the air embracing you

He was the moon constantly changing, revealing different phases of himself with every passing day. He was the odd comfort you felt when you were out amongst the dark sky.

He was the darkness

You missed both.

Falling asleep before the night even came. And too stubborn to call out his name.

A name that you gave him once when you were younger, that he held onto years past that.

The night was as warm as his touch on you that night. The wind gentle like his hold on you. The breeze caressing your skin like how he did, so effortlessly, it felt right.

You’d never admit you was waiting for a particular presence, as much as you loved the night itself , you’ve grown accustomed to something more greater than that.

And even though you could still talk to the wind and the trees like you used to when you were young, it’s not the same as hearing his alluring voice sink into you.

You waited for him to come. Even though you were avoiding him, you hoped he wasn’t avoiding you.

You wonder if he never came because you never called for him. Or maybe because you’re just another human in his little game.

So you laid there reminiscing. Other times trying to forget. And even trying to keep those memories forever, as you wrote them in your diary.

And when day came you missed his presence, even though he still lingered around. The sun kissing your skin like how his soft lips once did.

You were angry because everything reminded you of him. You couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

So you tried to forget about that night. About him. You decided to forget it and only remember what life was like before.

But what was life like before?

He’s been around for most of it.

You aimed to distract yourself with any possible thing.

But how could you when you can still feel his touch lingering on your skin. Like a stubborn burn that stings and leaves a faint scar.

Before how he made you feel. Before you knew what a man’s touch felt like, what his touch felt like. Having him on you, all around you, inside you.

But he’s not a man…

He’s a thing, something so much greater than what you’ve imagined him to be. And that’s what you try to remind yourself, despite you trying to forget him as a whole.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was day again.

You’ve forgotten what night feels like. What it looks like. You miss watching the stars decorate the dark sky. You miss hearing the creatures of the night come out. You miss him… and you miss the quietness the night brought.

The quietness you wish you heard right now as you walk across the busy campus.

Your thoughts run wild, familiar and unfamiliar faces cross your path as you try to reach your destination.

You’re sure you’re loosing it when you feel a familiar presence walk beside you, and feel the familiar chill run down your spine when he says, “Out of all the humans I’ve come across, I always manage to find myself drawn back to you”

You look beside you, once a space of nothing but air now filled with none other than himself.

You’ve been avoiding him as much as you can since the last time you both saw each other. Since you last let him see you in a more vulnerable light.

You didn’t know how to deal with the situation, so you did what you did best and that was avoid.

“You’re not drawn back to me, you simply chose to be here. You can be anywhere in the world and you choose to be on a campus with me” you mutter bitterly.

“Your tone is distasteful y/n. Nothing like how sweet you sounded when you were calling for me”

You pause, stopping in your tracks when you catch the smirk on his face.

“We said we won’t speak about it”

“You said my love. I only make deals, not promises”

Not wanting to feed in to whatever he’s doing, you continue to walk. Not caring if he follows you or not. Still, you ignore the way you feel when you notice him swiftly make his way back beside you.

Time passes.

Just the sound of endless chatter between the people making their daily route, and the faint sound of cars passing by lingers between you two.

It’s nice. It’s not awkward like you had imagined. Tense yes, but when was there ever not tension between you two? It was just right. Like it had been before you both crossed that deadly line. The line you both saw but had never spoke about. The line you had always been curious about, whether you should cross it or not, or let it be just a mere thought you had that you tried to shove to the back of your mind, but would always make itself known whenever you laid in bed thinking of how it must feel to be touched.

“Do you know you’re the only person that’s ever given me a name?”

You peer at him, waiting for him to continue. Your eyes curious as you study the side of his face, wondering why he decided to say that.

His face carved and structured by none other than yourself, yet you always seem so surprised whenever you see him. So in awe at how one’s mind can create such a beautiful thing.

He continues, “I told you before that we don’t get given names, our only identity is the thing we are, the thing we own. For me it’s darkness. I used to love it, it held so much power. It made me feel like I was worth something. Not until you decided to call me-“

“Kook” you say. The name you gave him as a child feeling foreign on your lips. You hadn’t called him that in a long time, deciding to leave that name in the past.

“Kookie” he corrects.

“Hm, well I think you’ve grown out of that now” your tone holds the same bitterness as you continue walking the route to your class.

“I was waiting for you to call on me” his words linger in the air like the aroma of a freshly cooked dinner - warm, inviting, and comforting, making you feel instantly at home .

You’re not sure if you sense a hint of vulnerability hidden within his words. His words seeming more cautious as he continues, “I dont see you staying up anymore. You used to be perched by your bedroom window watching the sky, diary in your hand. Why not now?”

You ignore him choosing not to give him the satisfaction of hearing the truth.

You’ll ever admit that your favourite time of the day is night. That you feel less lonely during that time, less worried and less afraid. You’ll never admit that you look forward to a certain presence that accompanies you during that time.

You’ll never.

Even if he may already know, he’s a god after all.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” His hand catches yours, pulling you to a stop. His eyes are dark, waiting for you to answer him. They mimic the stars. It’s like you’re looking into a galaxy, his eyes holding so many unanswered questions, so many wishes and dreams. You feel yourself falling, falling in everything that is him.

Everything around you turns into night. You feel like you’re stepping on clouds as you get caught up in this little world. Just you and him.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” He asks again and you know it kills him to do that. Pride being one of his main traits.

There’s no escaping this. He’s trapped you.

There was only one other time he’s done this, created a space just for you and him, it’s when you were younger, he took your hand and brought you to this same place, the darkness. It was a way for you to escape your life for a while. He did it without a thought after seeing you cry to him, the hurt in you voice doing something to him that he’s never experienced before. That he’s sure only humans feel.

And now you’re here again, his whole presence surrounding you as his question lingers in the dark.

“Why did you leave?” You retort.

The corner of his mouth twitches, it’s typical of you to brush off his questions.

“That’s who I am. That’s what I do. I come and go. I’m not a constant, I obscure”.

You let his words sit with you, suffocate you, until they seep into your thoughts, twisting your perception, weighing you down with a heaviness you can’t shake.

You don’t blink when you say, “I didn’t call for you because just like you said, You come and go, you obscure. I needed clarity, not shadows” your voice comes out fainter than you had hoped.

You force yourself to look him in the eyes, the deep abyss of what you found yourself always looking forward to see. You didn’t think it was possible for them to darken, but they do, as well as everything around you.

“And yet you still seek those shadows. I know you look for me whenever you see them” his hand delicately brushes against your cheekbone, slowly making its way to caress your jaw. “My dear y/n, you fail to realise sometimes clarity isn’t always what you need. It’s the shadows that show you what’s truly there, hidden beneath the light.”

With his touch still on you, he leans in and whispers, “you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you”

And just like that memories of any intimate moment you both shared flashes around you, flooding your mind, surrounding you in a whirlwind of forgotten warmth. But was it really forgotten?

As the memories flood in, suddenly you're enveloped in the darkness of your room. The air between you crackles with unspoken longing. The world outside ceasing to exist as your eyes meet for a moment.

You blink as another memory hits. You reaching out fingers trailing lightly along the curve of his jaw, feeling the coolness of his skin under your touch. The darkness around you stills as his breath catches while he gently cups your face, his thumb brushes against your cheek with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The space between you two tightens, your breaths mingling as his lips brush yours, forming into a kiss that is soft and reassuring, filled with a promise of deeper want, need.

“Do you remember my love?”

How could you forget? The way your kisses deepened as you pulled him closer to you with your fingers threaded through his hair. The way your pussy would throb just from his mere presence alone. The way his fingers worked on your body, playing you like one of his instruments you know he loves.

He knew your body so well, even when you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

A flashback runs through your mind every few seconds. Filled with images and feelings of what was and what could have been.

His cock slowly fills you, stretching you, every inch making you feel how tightly your body grips him. He's the only one who's ever had you like this, the only one to feel your warmth, to claim every inch of you. You were so wet and ready. Your moans mix with his, rising together in a rhythm, a breathless symphony that fills the space between you. Each thrust draws out another note, a melody of shared pleasure, building in intensity as your bodies move in perfect harmony.

His scent surrounds you, rich and earthy, intoxicating in its rawness. He's everywhere— inside you, around you, filling every inch of your senses. His touch is light, almost ghostly, yet it leaves a trail of heat in its wake, making your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if even the air between you hums with his presence, leaving you craving more.

You shiver, not from the cold but from the intensity of his gaze as his eyes roamed over you, drinking you in. His fingers brushing along your exposed skin. You remember the way your breath hitched when his mouth followed, hot and wet against your skin, his tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made your back arch, pushing you closer to him.

His other hand, still on your waist, gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

The feel of his cool, bare skin against yours was intoxicating, sending a wave of chills coursing through your body. Each slow, agonizing stroke made your breath hitch, your pulse quicken. Every touch, every movement, was a reminder of how deeply he held you captive-body, mind, and soul. His hands explored with deliberate slowness, as if he had all the time in the world, drawing out every sensation, every shiver. You could feel the weight of each moment, the way it lingered between you, an unspoken intensity building with each soft caress, until nothing else existed but the raw, electric connection.

Everything comes to a stop and you find your self short of breath, just like you were that night.

Your mind is a whirlwind, unable to distinguish between what's real and what's imagined. Between what you’ve lived and what you ache to relive. He’s left you tangled in confusion, unraveling every certainty you once had. He hasn’t just unsettled you—he’s undone you entirely. He’s confused you, he’s ruined you.

When you escape the chaos of your mind, seeking the comfort of his familiar eyes, you're pulled back to that night you shared—only to be left alone once more.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The God who answers after dark ☆

- mimi ☆

[giddyfatherchris]

📱skz texts — how they react/comfort you (when you’re going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. felix, han, hyunjin

warnings. none!

a/n. who am i 😮 posting two days in a row??😮 hehe sorry it took so long for the second batch to come! bang chan and lee know will be next<3 hope you enjoy babies xx tagging my sweet bubs @httpdwaekki as promised hope they measure up to your expectations 🙈

a/n. also i know these are ‘out of order’ but… whatever:)

changbin, seungmin & i.n

bang chan & lee know

Felix

He was just about to get into the car when he got your text.

He hefted up the last bags in before he smiled, knowing only from your words that you would be so happy with the surprise he had prepared for you. As he drove to your school, he reminisced on the last few weeks. 

His knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel as he remembered the first night you had arrived at the studio, crying. Your cheeks were red, and you looked so disoriented. You explained in between sobs that you fought with one of your best friends. School was easy for you, you had to put in your fair amount of work, but it did come to you easier than for other people, aka them. They let that jealousy grow and grow and had it become a nasty tumor hogging everything in its path. Until that one night when they held your success up against you, and it all exploded, leaving nothing in its wake. 

He tried calming you down, but it was one of those moments in his life when he felt the most unhelpful, helpless, and worried. You seemed to be reassured by his touch, but your breathing was still labored, a constant stream of tears flowing down your cheeks. He held you closer, thanking the universe he had been alone practicing, but he knew even if the whole group had been there, he would have let everything down to be there for you. 

Releasing his grip, he breathed through the memories and hung to the truth that it was now over. Yes, you still had to see that person from time to time in school, and they were still being incredibly pissy, but you no longer were hurt by their behavior and attempts at screwing you. Thanks to many, many nights spent with Felix, you talked everything through, and he helped you process the situation. He was so proud of the way you handled things, and since it had been a while since you two had the opportunity to have a special date he impulsively decided to organize this getaway. He smiled as he pulled to the curb, noticing your confused smile.

"Hey you, isn't tonight a recording night?"

"Not for me. We're going away," he answered with an enigmatic smile. He nodded for you to get in, "It's a surprise. Yes, everything is arranged. Yes, your bags are packed, and yes, I'm totally free to go."

You narrowed your eyes as he answered all your questions without you having to ask them. "And, where are we going?"

"I'm afraid I can't reveal that information yet."

You rolled your eyes, secretly delighted. "Okay then, can I ask why?"

At that, he settled and grabbed your hand. "Because I'm proud of you. I know it hasn’t been easy for you lately, but you've handled everything so well and managed to get out of it stronger. There was not much I could do to help, but I can do this. I think you deserve this little getaway for all the hard work you've been putting in."

"Lix..." your gaze softened with his kind words.

"No complaints will be accepted at this moment. You just have to sit back, relax, and let me handle it, sounds good?" He brought your hand to his lips, softly kissing it while his eyes scanned your reaction. 

"Sounds very good." You smiled back.

He kissed your joined hands once more before putting the car in drive. 

You let a beat of silence pass before you tried again with a pleading tone. "You really won't tell me where we're going?" 

He laughed at your impatience. "No baby." 

A smile wouldn't leave his face as he imagined your reaction when you would pull up in the entryway of the little cottage he had booked near the sea. He could already picture your eyes growing in size and your excited screams when you would see the blue waves and sandy beach. Felix felt his heart strain under all the love he felt for you, as he promised himself to keep doing these little things for you forever.

Han

He already knew everything about the situation happening with one of your friends. Honestly, he had a hard time understanding why they were suddenly turning against you. But then again, he always had a bad feeling about them and never thought they treated you half as well as you deserved. 

Still, he hated seeing you so affected by it. He understood why, but he hated feeling so unhelpful. He listened when you needed to vent and tried supporting you as much as he could, but he always felt like it would never be enough. So, when you texted him before heading home from work, hinting at how hard today had been, guilt started gnawing at him.

You got home about 20 minutes later. He was already waiting for you at the door. As soon as he saw the tired look on your face, the dark circles slowly settling under your eyes, his heart ached, but before you could notice his sad puppy eyes, he masked them with his warmest smile.  

"Hey pretty, how are you?" Immediately he took your bag from your hands and helped you take off your coat before wrapping you in a hug.  

"Could be worse, but could be better too," you sighed. "They were extra petty today, I'm not sure how to deal with this anymore."

He pulled back to grab your face, staring at you lovingly as he did. You looked back at him, the sight of his plush cheeks and chestnut eyes already easing the pain in your chest. "But, I'll be okay. I just want to think of something else. If you're still up for it, a movie night would be amazing." 

His face lit up with a sweet smile as he kissed the tip of your nose. "You can head up for a quick shower. I already started the heater and laid down some clothes for you. I'm taking care of everything."

As soon as you disappeared in the corridor he started creating the perfect setup. He made sure to bring all your favorite blankets, pillows, and plushies on the couch. When he heard the shower start he was already preparing hot beverages for the both of you, along with a few of your favorite snacks. He proudly looked at the final result, dimming the lights to create the perfect cozy ambiance. Han would have done anything you would have asked of him tonight. Still, as he looked at his work, a proud smile illuminated his features. As outgoing as he was, he always liked when you said you would rather stay in with him than go out. 

Your soft steps on the floor snatched his attention away from his thoughts. Your hair was still wet from your shower, your face bare, and as planned, you wore the matching pajamas he had laid out for you. You were now both rocking an adorable fuzzy set. His heart tightened at the sight of you, looking so relaxed and cozy. 

"Since you said you didn't know what to watch, I made a little selection."

You snuggled up next to him, listening to his suggestions before adding one of your own. "While I was in the shower I was thinking we could watch one of our comfort movies. If you want to, of course."

"Sure, what were you thinking of?" he asked as he handed you the remote and placed his arm around your shoulders to pull your body closer to his. 

You quickly typed in the movie title, and he felt a smile tug at his lips as he read it. "Are you sure you want to watch Howl's Moving Castle again? I made you watch it just last week."

You nodded confidently, "It's the first movie we've ever watched together and it gives me the best comfy vibes. So if you're down for it...?"

He only pressed play in answer, made sure you were snug in your fort of blankets, kissed the side of your head as you settled against him and the familiar soundtrack started playing.

"I wish I could do more to help you with this whole thing. I hope this still lessens your burden, at least a little. I'm sorry I can't do more." He whispered a few seconds into the movie.

You turned back to look at him, his hair falling in soft curls. The worried expression on his face made you want to hug him as tight as you could. Maybe then you would be able to squeeze it out of his body.

"It's perfect. I couldn't ask for a better partner to go through all this. You do not have to apologize. It's all more than enough." you kissed his plump lips tenderly, "You will always be more than enough." You added before focusing on the movie again, not seeing the beautiful smile now visible on the young man’s face.

Hyunjin

He stared at you in disbelief as you dropped to the floor from extenuation and frustration. You had barely closed the door that you laid your head on the wall and closed your eyes. Your handbag hung limply from your hands, and your coast rustled and creased from the awkward position you were in. He knew what this was about as it wasn't the first night you had assumed that position. The first time you did, a few days ago, he had panicked, thinking you had lost consciousness or were sick. Even if it was nothing of the sort, his worry was still called for when silent tears streamed down your face. That's when you first explained what you were going through, that you had made new friends at your workplace only to discover they were associating with you to steal your ideas. Hyunjin remembers your smile and shining eyes when you first came from work telling him you had made new friends. When you discovered they stole your ideas and presented them to your boss first, that dream had cruelly shattered. You had fought back and proven the ideas were yours, but still, the situation at work was horrible as they had decided to make it hell for you as revenge. Hence the exhausted slide down the door every night.

He crouched next to you, a silent support. "I'm sorry, give me two more minutes, and then I promise to get up and get in my pajamas." You sighed heavily.

"Can I ask you a question?" he softly spoke. You looked up before nodding silently. "If the situation has been solved, if you still have your job, and if your boss is happy you spoke up about it. Why do you still feel like this? I'm not trying to judge or anything I promise. I'm only trying to understand." 

You thought about his question, analyzing his features, so soft and open. "It's just so- conflicting? In a way? I mean, I feel angry at them for doing this to me, but I also feel guilty for ratting them out, even if they deserved it. And I'm angry at myself for not seeing through their schemes. It's just a lot of contradictory feelings. Plus, it hurts... I really thought they liked me at first. It hurts to know they never did, it doesn't help all the little voices telling me I'm worth dirt. I don't know, I've just been stuck in this stupid loop for a week now... I'm not sure what to do to get out of it." 

Even if he wasn't touching you, Hyunjin's attentive stare felt just as intimate. You loved that about him, how present he always was. You knew his silence was no indicator of his level of care. He stared a second more before suggesting, "You know what, I don't think you should get changed. I think we should do something different tonight. What would you say to go out?"

"What are you thinking?" you cautiously asked.

"I'm thinking you need a change of scenery. I think we should go out, have a drink, go for a little exploring, or we could even go to the amusement park! I think changing it up could help you get out of this loop you say you feel stuck in."

You stared at him in silence, weighing in the pros and the cons, still a spark lit your gaze. He dropped his chin on his knees and stared at you with his attentive eyes. You knew if you said you didn't want to go he would support you, but you also knew Hyunjin had that innate sense sometimes where he knew exactly what you needed before you even did. 

"What do you say angel?" he finally asked, slowly reaching out to wrap his slender fingers around yours. 

You simply nodded a slow smile spreading on your lips. For the first time this week, you felt the familiar pang of excitement.

You settled on going to the amusement park as it had been the thing that sparked the most interest in you. Your skin prickled as you neared the gate, it felt so refreshing, so new. You were about to head in when you heard a few familiar voices calling your name. 

You turned around to see Bang Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, and I.N approaching you, broad smiles on their faces. You weakly waved at them as you looked at your boyfriend, a proud smile already on his face.

"I thought you needed to be reminded just how appreciated and liked you are. I'm truly sorry it turned that way with those assholes, but please do not let it make you doubt your worth. You are surrounded by people who love you and think you are the most amazing human being. Me on top of that list." He leaned in to kiss your temple while he pulled you in for a quick hug and you felt your heart overflow with joy at the gesture he had pulled and the seven excited boys joining you.

You truly were blessed with the most amazing people.

[portgasdwrld]

Hello! I read older posts where you mentioned you weren't a fan of your writing. I think you're awesome though! Love your work. c:

I have a suggestion, if you happen to like it. Could we get Zoro (and any other characters) with a shy and aloof female reader who can't figure out they're being flirted with, even though they share the same feelings?

👩🏻‍💻Hey!! Thank you so much for your sweet words it means a lot to me🫶🏻✨ I’m super happy you love it! And yes ofc no problem!! I love the idea 🤭

📂 Zoro+ oblivious shy/aloof reader to his flirting

Featuring: Zoro+ f!reader Warning: none, fluff Note: I rewrote it and very much prefer this version, I hope you do as much as me

Zoro was never the type of man to be outspoken about his feelings

His flirting is somewhat a bit clumsy and he gets frustrated with himself easily. He gets embarrassed by being open with how he feels.

It doesn’t help when you are clearly not reading in between the lines...

He even wonders if you are doing it intentionally to mess with him, but when you just give him a confused look or go on about your day like nothing happened, he questions himself 😭

A sigh leaves the swordsman's lips as his back leans against the railing of the deck. His thoughts wander and they always come back to one thing bothering him: you.

He starts to doubt himself as most of his flirting attempt were fails. A week ago, he complimented your outfit ,but you simple threw a short thanks with a smile as you walked away. Wednesday when he sat next you for dinner and brushed his arm against yours, you just apologized with a blush and slightly took your distance. Yesterday, when he asked to talk to you, but you stuttered a bunch of words and got away from him by grabbing Nami's arm.

He knew better than abandoning. In fact, ever since his feelings for you were revealed to him, all he could think of, was you. You occupied his mind when it wasn't focused on training, he found himself longing to hug you and smile when you do. Although, he thought about not pursuing you, scared it would ruin his focus on his goal. It was in vain, as he realized you were always very supportive of his goal and even cheered him to train harder and achieve his dream. He appreciate it a lot.

The sun is slowly setting on the Sunny, the golden light illuminating the boat. He looks far away, a hand on his swords and his head turns in your direction as your laugh echoes through the ship.

You are playing a card game with Robin, killing time before its time for supper.

His lips naturally curve into a discreet smile as he observes you complain about some move Robin did. You were accusing her of cheating with her ability, sulking over your lost as she quickly denies it with a chuckle. As he watches you, he notices that you did something different with your hair and decide to use it to his advantage.

He approaches you with his usual blank expression, but he slightly hesitate in his steps which caught Robins attention. You smile noticing his presence.

-What brings you here! Wanna play?

You ask him as you show him quickly the pack of cards in your hands with your infamous grin.

-Nah, I’m good. You..you did something new with your hair?

-Oh, yeah! You noticed? Robin said it looked good.

You reply in an excited tone as you touch your hair.

-Yeah, you’re pretty.

-Thanks! I appreciate it

You say with a slight blush due to the compliment, but an awkward silence falls. Zoro stays silent for a moment as he thinks of what he could ad to the conversation but you open your mouth first.

- By the way,..umm I'm sorry about yesterday, i hope it wasn't something important?

You trail avoiding to stare at him as you remember how you embarrassingly ran away too nervous to talk to him. When he pulled you to the side, his eyes staring deeply into yours, you felt like you couldn't breath for a moment. You didn't want him to obviously figure out you like him...

Robin gazes at Zoro before looking at you a small teasing smirk appearing on her lips.

-Oh...Yeah...I was hoping to talk to you, but...uh.

He says as his face gets red. He clearly hates the facts that Robin is here enjoying the little show while you are still oblivious to his advances.

-It can wait

-We can talk now if you want. We were done with our game anyway.

-I have to do something first, but you can meet me in the crow-nest in about 5 minutes?

He lies trying to give himself some time to think about what he's going to say. You nod agreeing with your usual smile that he loves so much.

-Alright then see ya

You watch him leave, curious about what he wants to speak with you. You shrug your shoulders ready to leave too, but Robin is looking at you with a small teasing smirk.

-What?

-Nothing~

She retorts sweetly before waving you off.

++++

The dark sky slowly sets over the head of the Strawhats as the delicious smell of the food fills everyone nostrils. You enter your room to put away your card and as you are about to leave, you take a moment to breath. You didn't notice how nervous you are until you felt your breath getting a little shaky.

Arrived at the location, you open the door and see him sat not too far from the window. He’s looking away but as he notices your presence, he invites you to sit besides him.

-The food smells good

You say breaking the silence. He nods and looks outside again. At around the same moment, an insect fly inside and run directly in your face, making you panic a little. Zoro is quick to catch it and throw it away, making sure you are fine at the same time.

-You’re okay?

-Yeah, it’s just a small insect, I'm good.

-Wait

He gets closer to you and clumsily fix your hair with the use of his fingers.

-Cool

He concludes with a small satisfied smile as he finishes placing your hair. You look up at him with a blush, eyes connecting with his. Zoro clears his throat as he leans back while you stare at your nervous fingers. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you stare now at your friend.

-So, what did you want to talk about?

You see him hesitate as he opens his mouth but close it quickly. His gaze shift from you to the view outside. He sighs and with a blush spread on his tanned cheeks, he finally speaks.

-I like you

Your eyes widen at his sudden confession, not expecting this at all. You furrow your eyebrows as your hand naturally covers your pounding heart.

-What??Since when!?

You ask completely confused. He chuckles a little astonished to your true shock to his confession. You really didn't notice his flirting tactics.

-I thought I made it obvious

-No?? How??

-Uh...with compliments.

-Zoro...

-I don't compliment anyone like the cook, I genuinely think you are pretty.

You gasp a little hiding your face in your hands, half of you not believing this is real and half of you realizing the cause of his strange behavior. You let your hands fall on your laps as you giggle.

-You're so bad at flirting

You joke to try to calm yourself down. Both of you start laughing as he admits it with a nod.

-You are so dense though

-Pfff, not at all

-You clearly can't take a hint

-Wha-

-Y/N SWANNNN, It's time to eat!

You are interrupted by Sanji's scream that startle you a little.

-Look like dinner is ready

Zoro concludes as he prepares himself to stand up, but you quickly grab his forearm pulling him down. You close the distance and give him a quick kiss on his cheek. He looks at you surprised, but he slowly start to smile.

-I like you too

[hwasdvlly]

Starlight | c.jongho

❀ summary: he gets an answer that changes his life.

❀ pairing: jongho x fem!reader

❀ genres: romance and fluff

❀ word count: 0.9k words

❀ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, idol!jongho, non-idol!reader, very emotional yet so cute

❀ a/n: wowie! it has been sooo long since i last posted. i wanted to do create something that'll make everyone cry lol but still enjoy it

“Hyung, I don’t think I can do this.”

A handsome gentleman in a suit with adorable bear-like features is a nervous wreck. Jongho did his best to clean himself up and tried remembering his speech all night. Hongjoong hears the anxiousness in the maknae’s voice. As a kindhearted captain, he brings Jongho into his arms. “You’ll do great. We are all proud that you found your happiness. Now, you want to make it official. The guys and I are positive that Y/N will say yes.” Hongjoong pats Jongho’s back for reassurance. 

For years, the youngest member of ATEEZ has been in love. He met you during his early idol days. He was walking down the streets of Seoul and discovered a brand-new cafe. Jongho steps in to grab beverages for his members. But his heart began to flutter when his warm brown gaze laid on a beauty dressed in a simple uniform and welcomed him. Jongho shyly greeted you with adorable blushing cheeks and purchased cups of americano. 

You never knew he had a music career. Jongho laughed it off later on when he revealed what he does for a living. To you, it felt unreal to date a celebrity because it can be complicated. Nevertheless, you loved Jongho. Indeed, there were circumstances to overcome, and Jongho tried not to have his reputation go downhill. But as the relationship got more intimate and the love grew stronger, he believed it was time to put a ring on your finger.

Plus, you are ATEEZ’s best friend and little sister. Everyone adores you, and Jongho will talk about you every minute of his life. Atinys can tell he is madly in love, but it’s precious. 

Jongho and his hyungs set out a plan for the proposal in a public area. It’s their concert stage where hundreds of Atinys, Jongho’s family, and your family will attend. Weeks before the day, Jongho gave you and your loved ones free concert tickets, but he purposely did it so you could be with him. And, of course, to have fun. You are his number-one fan, after all.

When it was close to the end of the event, the guys wore casual clothes, and Jongho wasn’t present. San speaks through his handheld microphone. “Where’s our maknae guys?” He questioned as if he had no clue. They all have confused expressions, pretending they don’t know what is happening. Mingi speaks, “He said something about wanting to look presentable.” He reasoned, which had the audience believe him. 

On cue, Jongho exists backstage in his stunning suit, appearing like a classy movie actor. Wooyoung gapes, “Why are you so dressed up?!” He asked in the most dramatic acting. The guys couldn’t resist their laughter because Wooyoung would not take things seriously. Jongho meets up with his hyungs and starts to explain with sincere words. 

“It’s because I am about to do something that’ll might change my life. As you may all know, there is someone who has a special place in my heart. I was hesitant to do this, but I realized Y/N means so much to me that I don’t see anyone else to make me feel alive and know what love is. Yes, I have Atinys, my family, and these people or whatever.” He nonchalantly waves his hands, gesturing to the members. The crowd laughs at their slightly hurt faces. 

Jongho chuckles but continues with his speech. “So, I took the time to think about what I want my future to be like. I also want to ask a significant question.” His eyes roam to the sideline of the stage, where he spots you, your family, and his family together.

He shifts his body to approach you. Jongho lends out his hand to have you go on stage. Your eyes widened at his silent offer. You skittishly move your legs to have your hand link with your boyfriend. Jongho has a sunny smile and makes you walk to the center of the stage. The members stand around the couple. They are smiling so much, and their excitement is skyrocketing. 

The man looks into his lover’s eyes to say, “Y/N, there are millions of reasons why I see you as the brightest starlight in my world. I am curious to know if you’ll answer my question.” He lets go of your hand to go down on one knee and pulls a small box out of his pocket.

With an adrenaline rush, you have your jaw dropped, and the people in the building are uproaring. Jongho sees your glassy eyes. He brings the microphone to his lips. “Will you be my wife, Y/N?” He finally asked. 

In a simple response, you nodded your head earnestly. “Yes!” You said. 

Your boyfriend felt his overwhelmed emotions washed away. He is so relieved that he did it. He gently puts the beautiful ring on your finger—an item dedicating two soulmates to live a forever happy life. A round diamond with a rose gold band. Jongho brings you into his arms as he buries his face into your neck. He tries to hide his tears, but the hyungs can see he is emotional. Not to mention, the guys have water coming out of their eyes. 

Jongho peeks over your shoulder to see the fans cheering. He even notices his family and yours are proud. His mother is crying tears of joy, his little brother is clapping for him, and his father has a merry expression. Jongho lifts his head off your shoulder to have his forehead against yours. He stares into your tearful eyes but you are smiling.

The man softly presses a kiss onto his now wife-to-be’s lips. 

[soobuneary]

A Kiss, and then a Bite (1) - Choi Soobin X Reader

Warning: vampire bites, bloodsucking, mature content, cursing, minors dni!

Summary: You knew something was off about your roommate Soobin ever since the beginning of your living arrangement. One night he reveals his true self to you, and you know you can never go back to how things were before. Not that you would want to, anyway.

Word Count: 2k

*cross-posted on ao3

Song: Angel Eyes by New Years Day

You knew something was off about your roommate ever since the beginning of your living arrangement.

Soobin Choi was an odd guy. You hardly ever saw his groceries in the kitchen move. When you had joked about it with him one time he answered he ate out a lot, and yet you never saw fast food wrappers in the trash. But you let it go, his eating habits weren’t any of your business.

There were some odd things about him you just couldn’t help but wonder about. He was rich, you knew that for sure, but he never spoke about his family. There was no way he was rich on his own. He was a college student just like you. Where was the money coming from? Again, it wasn’t your business, but you wanted to know so desperately how he had so much cash to blow on expensive clothes and gifts for his legion of female visitors.

Oh yeah, there was that one detail worth mentioning here. Soobin Choi had a group of five girls he brought over in rotation. You couldn’t complain too much. You never heard them engaging in adult activities. But then again, that confused you even more. What was he doing with these girls that spent the night? You watched as he showered them with gifts like jewelry and flowers. You wondered if the girls knew about each other, or if he was fooling them all. Was there anything romantic going on, or was it a weird, rich person's way of maintaining friendships?

Soobin Choi was an odd guy for sure, and although you let most things slide, there was one thing about him that bothered you so much you couldn’t help but wonder about it. The blood.

About two months into living together you came home to something you knew you shouldn’t have seen. His door, which seemed permanently shut, was wide open. You remember every detail of that night so vividly, and you don’t think you could ever forget the look on his face when he noticed you. His usually pretty face contorted with so much pain, and then suddenly twisted with anger before he slammed the door.

But you had seen it already.

Blood splattered up the wall, so much of it that it made you nauseous. The smell wafted through the cold air of the apartment. It flooded your senses and burned itself into your memory. You spent the whole night awake wondering if you should do something. Did he do something? Should you call the police? Did he hurt himself? Was he okay? You wanted to ask but fear kept you trapped under the covers of your bed.

But the next morning, sure enough, you heard him talking with one of his female guests like normal. Like nothing scary had happened at all. So whether it was wise or not, you let it go.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t wonder about it.

You stopped questioning how he never ate and you quit questioning the money. You tried your best to push the memory of that night into the untouched parts of your mind. You have been living with Soobin for seven months now, and today Soobin asked for his first favor.

Don’t come home before 7 please. My parents are here.

You looked at your phone screen: 8:37. Surely his parents were gone by now, right? You had even waited an extra hour and a half to give him some time. You were curious, you had to admit. He had never mentioned family before, and now they were here. You regretted listening and wished you had come home earlier.

Or at least, that’s what you thought before reaching your door. You heard muffled yelling, and you wondered if you should wait longer before going in. Against your better judgment, you put an ear to the front door and tried to listen.

“I refuse.”

A female voice answered. “I’m not asking, Soobin! I’m telling you it’s time to come home.”

A male voice spoke up drenched in anger. “You’ve had your fun fucking around. I won’t allow it anymore.”

“I don’t need your permission, Father.”

You wanted to save him from the situation, so you unlocked the door and entered. Three pairs of eyes seemed to pierce through you as you awkwardly spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your parents would still be here.”

His father was strikingly handsome. Though, he didn’t look much like Soobin at all. His hair was blonde, his eyes were green, and he was shorter than his son. He turned to face Soobin and spoke in a softer voice, but you could still hear. “Is she the reason, son?”

“No, and I think it’s time you both leave.”

His mother cleared her throat and you fully focused your attention on her. She was beyond beautiful, and yet, didn’t look like Soobin either. She had dark hair and eyes like he did, but her facial structure was completely different. She replied, “This is not over.”

You finally stepped out of the doorway to allow his parents to leave. The sound of the front door closing allowed you to release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You waited a moment to let the tension in the air dissipate before asking, “Are you okay?”

He faced away from you, but you watched as his shoulders tensed. “How much did you hear?”

“Nothing really. I just heard yelling out in the hall.”

He plopped down on the couch, and you joined him. “Sorry about that. I was hoping they’d be gone before you returned home.”

“It’s okay.” The silence that followed was incredibly awkward, so you attempted to change the subject. “It’s Tuesday. Is anyone coming over tonight?”

“Shit, it’s Tuesday.” He groaned, before asking, “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me, Soobin? You having girls over all the time or the fact that they definitely don’t know about each other?”

He laughed, and you were happy to hear it. At least you could cheer him up a little bit. “They all know. I’m not exclusive with anybody. Do you think of me as that type of guy, Y/N?”

His smile made your insides feel like jelly. Your roommate so obviously knew how attractive he was. It showed in his confident demeanor, and yet, this didn’t turn you off like it sometimes would. His confidence was justified in your eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know much about you.”

His smile fell slightly at that. “Really? I feel like I know a lot about you.”

You scoffed playfully. “Like what?”

“Well, I know Cheerios are your favorite cereal, and I know you have math tutoring on Thursdays.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Wow.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, “You’re quite a Y/N expert.”

“At least I know some stuff about you. I bet you don’t even know my major.”

“Easy. Art History.”

Determination overtook his eyes as he leaned towards you. “How old am I?”

You leaned towards him engrossed in the competitive air. “Twenty-one. I saw your birthday on the lease agreement.”

“Is that cheating?” Before you could answer he shook his head to himself. “It doesn’t matter.” He smiled at you again, but this time with so much sincerity you weren’t sure how anyone who saw this face didn’t fall in love with him on the spot. “It seems you know more about me than you think.”

You simply stared at him. You weren’t sure what to say to that, and how close the two of you were suddenly seemed to weigh on your mind. Soobin refused to break eye contact with you, and you weren’t going to chicken out and look away first. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim lighting of the living room, and maybe you were hallucinating from the lack of air as your body refused to inhale, but it seemed like he was ever-so-slowly leaning closer toward you.

He opened his mouth to speak but there was a knock at the door. You took the opportunity to quickly break whatever bubble the two of you had been enclosed in. You stood up and offered him a small smile before retreating to your room. He didn’t say anything to stop you. Not that you thought he would, anyway.

When the door to your bedroom had closed you finally let your carefully constructed expression fall. What was that? Soobin and you were always friendly, sure, but that was… flirtatious to say the least. However, you were not interested in joining his rotation of girls at all. A rush of conflicted feelings swelled in your chest as you started getting ready for bed.

Soobin was, in every sense of the word, your type. He was taller than average, he had hair as dark as a starless night sky, and you guessed that was because all the stars were stored in his eyes. Every time he looked at you it made you feel exposed. The intensity of his stare, even when in passing, seemed to eat through your composed act entirely. Not to mention, his deep dimples when he smiled were an added layer of handsome.

His personality, though, is what made your heart weak against him. He was a nerd, said affectionately. You had come home a few times to anime watch parties and game nights with his friends in the living room. You had even watched a few shows with him casually and listened as he excitedly explained the lore.

Maybe you really did know more about him than you thought.

You hoped that his guest would do the rest of the job of cheering him up. A few hours later, however, you woke up to the sound of yelling. It was annoying, but you couldn’t stop the worry welling up inside you. Soobin and his guests hardly ever made noise. The thundering of stomping whooshed through the living area until you heard the front door slam.

Your brain fought itself because as much as you believed you should leave him alone, you knew he’d had a rough day already. Slowly, you made your way to your door before peeking out. Soobin stood in the living room with his back to you. The door creaked open, and you called out, “Soobin?”

There was a few beats of silence before he spoke. “Close the door, and don’t come out.”

You pushed the door fully open. “Is everything alright?”

“Close the fucking door, and don’t come out.”

His voice sounded strangely calm, and a bit of anger swelled up in you. You were trying to help him. He fought with his parents, and now with a potential romantic interest. Surely he could use someone to talk to.

You closed the door behind you and gathered your courage the best you could before taking a few steps toward him. “I know today was rough, so if you need me I’m here. You’ve always been kind to me. Let me help you.”

He turned to face you. Your blood ran cold. His normally brown eyes were a deep red, and his face held an intensity you had only seen once. The night with all the blood.

The night you had tried to let go.

“Soobin?”

“You want to help me?” He laughed cruelly and began to walk towards you.

You took a step back. “Yes,” you said, but you sounded weak in your resolve. “I want to help you.”

“Then let me do it. Just once.” He crept towards you, and you kept walking backward until your back hit your door. He stopped when his face was so close you could feel his cold breath. It was hard to breathe and your chest felt so tight it might explode. “Y/N.”

This close you could see his fangs. Fangs? This couldn’t be real. “Let you do what?”

He used one hand to hold your head while his face nuzzled your neck. He barely spoke above a whisper. “You’re smart, Y/N. I think you know what.” You felt the fangs you’d seen graze your neck as he spoke. “Your blood, let me have it. Just once.”

A million questions bounced erratically around your head. Was this a sick joke? Was he messing with you?

Would he do that?

At that question, all others fell silent. You may not know him that well, but then again, you might. He wouldn’t lie.

Right?

“Okay.”

He hummed against your skin.

A kiss, and then a bite.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I think part of the trouble with reading ML as a magical girl team is that it’s really written to be Marinette as the Lone Hero.

Sticking with Winx Club as an example (which I absolutely loved), even though Bloom was clearly the main character, the other girls got focus and attention and their own narratives unrelated to Bloom’s. Alya doesn’t have that; nearly the entirety of her scenes and focus are still for or related to Marinette’s story, which the writers have outright told us is always meant to come first.

As such, I think the more solid reading of ML is that it’s a poorly written superhero romcom that pretends to be a magical girl team, but only ends up offering crumbs. It’s why we’re shown the extra Miraculous and given a “core four/five,” only for it to be revealed that the new holders aren’t actually permanent team members. A decision I remember thinking at the time made absolutely no sense, but now in hindsight can be perfectly explained by how doing so would necessitate that attention/focus be taken from Marinette, which ML absolutely refuses to do.

In fact, I’d wager that’s the actual reason Chat Noir has a crush on Ladybug before Adrien falls for Marinette: it keeps his attention even as a hero focused on her. There’s plenty of salters who love to deride him for not focusing enough on the “job” and making LB pick up his “slack,” but that fits the show’s intentions perfectly. Chat can’t be written to (as) capable if LB is to shine. Hence why we had the whole Catwalker argument being nonsensically centered around “perfection.” 😭

(Post with the Winx club example for context.)

You're absolutely right. Miraculous is trying to be a loan hero show (or perhaps a serious hero and silly sidekick show) where Marinette is the only important character outside of the villains, a magical girl team show where female friendships are the most important relationships in the show, and a heterosexual rom-com all at the same time which leads to a ton of nonsense choices because those are three genres that really don't mix!

While I never outright said it, the post about rom-coms vs magical girl team shows was spawned by the fandom conflict over Alya's writing in the later seasons. I wanted to take a moment to point out why she keeps being given the roles that people expect Chat Noir to get and why both sides of that fandom conflict have very valid feelings given the way that the show is being written, so I didn't talk about the lone hero thing since that doesn't really play a part in Alya and Adrien's fight for narrative importance. If we're looking at Miraculous as a whole though, then it's 100% a piece of the puzzle when you're trying to figure out where the writing went wrong.

I've mentioned a couple of times that they're putting way too much on Marinette's shoulders. The main reason that I feel that way is because they also decided to give her a full team of heroes to work with which is deeply confusing. If they really wanted to go the Marinette-is-the-only-real-hero route, then we should have never gotten any additional heroes beyond Ladybug and Chat Noir. Keep Chat Noir as the comedy sidekick and let Ladybug use all of the other miraculous as powerups without ever handing them out.

After all, when it comes down to their actual role in the narrative, most of the team feels like nothing more than a powerup since they basically just do whatever Ladybug tells them to do. Outside of Viperion and Bunnyx, there's no reason why Ladybug can't just dual, triple, or quadruple wield. This is extra true because they took the time to tell us that Marinette is able to wield more miraculous than most people and then... never really did anything with that. Why have a line like this one from Kwamibuster if you're never going to have Marinette do more than the occasional dual wield?

Master Fu: No Miraculous owner in all of history has ever been mentally and physically strong enough to use that many Miraculous at the same time. Wayzz: Marinette truly is special, Master.

Switching from a team back to a duo would also fix the awkwardness of Adrien's writing as that really wasn't a problem back in season one. The hero who does all the cool stuff and their wacky comedy sidekick who keeps things fun is a classic setup for a reason!

[nalyra-dreaming]

I have a question because I don't remember what actually happened in the books, just what impression it left on me. But I keep seeing people talking about Armand and Lestat like it was this grand passionate MUTUAL love affair and I always saw it as pretty one-sided on Armand's side. Lestat came to love him eventually, but to me it was never passionate or romantic. More like the way you have love for someone who has been around most of your big life moments so that history creates connection and love. More of a platonic, familial type of thing. But then I just saw someone describe them as "feral for each other" and I'm confused. Am I remembering wrong? Or are people creating headcanons?

Wellllllllll.... It depends a bit on how you want to see it I guess.

I do think that Lestat is mightily attracted to Armand. And Armand to him. And in the "Cinderella scene" (I'll post it below), there is a lot of talk about love and desire.

But it also becomes clear through the scene that Armand is spell-binding Lestat, in order to (force-) feed on him. And thereby blows it - ultimately forever.

And against the far wall, a backdrop of satin and filigree, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, like something imagined, Armand. Armand. If there had been a summons, I never heard it. If there was a greeting, I didn't sense it now. He was merely looking at me, a radiant creature in jewels and scalloped lace. And it was Cinderella revealed at the ball, this vision, Sleeping Beauty opening her eyes under a mesh of cobwebs and wiping them all away with one sweep of her warm hand. The sheer pitch of incarnate beauty made me gasp. Yes, perfect mortal raiment, and yet he seemed all the more supernatural, his face too dazzling, his dark eyes fathomless and just for a split second glinting as if they were windows to the fires of hell. And when his voice came it was low and almost teasing, forcing me to concentrate to hear it: All night you've been searching for me, he said, and here I am, waiting for you. I have been waiting for you all along. I think I sensed even then, as I stood unable to look away, that never in my years of wandering this earth would I ever have such a rich revelation of the true horror that we are. Heartbreakingly innocent he seemed in the midst of the crowd.

Yet I saw crypts when I looked at him, and I heard the beat of the kettledrums. I saw torchlit fields where I had never been, heard vague incantations, felt the heat of raging fires on my face. And they didn't come out of him, these visions. Rather I drew them out on my own. Yet never had Nicolas, mortal or immortal, been so alluring. Never had Gabrielle held me so in thrall. Dear God, this is love. This is desire. And all my past amours have been but the shadow of this. And it seemed in a murmuring pulse of thought he gave me to know that I had been very foolish to think it would not be so. Who can love us, you and I, as we can love each other, he whispered and it seemed his lips actually moved. Others looked at him. I saw them drifting with a ludicrous slowness; I saw their eyes pass over him, I saw the light fall on him at a rich new angle as he lowered his head. I was moving towards him. It seemed he raised his right hand and beckoned and then he didn't, and he had turned and I saw the figure of a young boy ahead of me, with narrow waist and straight shoulders and high firm calves under silk stockings, a boy who turned as he opened a door and beckoned again. A mad thought came to me. I was moving after him, and it seemed that none of the other things had happened. There was no crypt under les Innocents, and he had not been that ancient fearful fiend. We were somehow safe. We were the sum of our desires and this was saving us, and the vast untasted horror of my own immortality did not lie before me, and we were navigating calm seas with familiar beacons, and it was time to be in each other's arms. A dark room surrounded us, private, cold. The noise of the ball was far away. He was heated with the blood he'd drunk and I could hear the strong force of his heart.

He drew me closer to him, and beyond the high windows there flashed the passing lights of the carriages, with dim incessant sounds that spoke of safety and comfort, and all the things that Paris was. I had never died. The world was beginning again. I put out my arms and felt his heart against me, and calling out to my Nicolas, I tried to warn him, to tell him we were all of us doomed. Our life was slipping inch by inch from us, and seeing the apple trees in the orchard, drenched in green sunlight, I felt I would go mad. "No, no, my dearest one, " he was whispering, "nothing but peace and sweetness and your arms in mine. "

"You know it was the damnedest luck! " I whispered suddenly. "I am an unwilling devil. I cry like some vagrant child. I want to go home. " Yes, yes, his lips tasted like blood, but it was not human blood. It was that elixir that Magnus had given me, and I felt myself recoil. I could get away this time. I had another chance. The wheel had turned full round. I was crying out that I wouldn't drink; I wouldn't, and then I felt the two hot shafts driven hard through my neck and down to my soul. I couldn't move. It was coming as it had come that night, the rapture, a thousandfold what it was when I held mortals in my arms. And I knew what he was doing! He was feeding upon me! He was draining me. And going down on my knees, I felt myself held by him, the blood pouring out of me with a monstrous volition I couldn't stop.

"Devil! " I tried to scream. I forced the word up and up until it broke from my lips and the paralysis broke from my limbs. "Devil! " I roared again and I caught him in his swoon and hurled him backwards to the floor.

Now, Lestat fights Armand off after this, but I think this is what a lot of the passion stems from - and also the reason why it will never come to pass.

Because Lestat does desire Armand. But Armand forced him, just after Magnus forced him. And that ended it, before it could really start, until time changed it into a more gentle love.

[shall-we-die]

Can I please request Moriarty brother and Sherlock crushing on a female detective reader? Reader has a special type of psychic power where she can read people's mind and also she can see dead people's souls and can interact with them. Because of those powers she quickly became one of the top detectives. One day she met the Moriartys and Sherlock and they started to develop feelings for her (individually) but she doesn't want to be with them cause she knows their true nature and that they kill people.

Thank you ❤️

╔‌‌‌‌═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚

{"Why not me?"}

☰[Main list]•⊰ Moriarty the patriot

↬[A/N]•⊰ Hello dear anonymous 🫂

Thanks for you patience. Hope you enjoy my writing and sorry if it's not good enough.

╚═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

As far as I can tell, y/n doesn't like Moriarty brothers, why should she like men who hurt others? Although she is not interested in Sherlock either, but spending time with Sherlock is definitely more enjoyable than Moriarty brothers. However, in this post, Sherlock is not the main character, but Moriarty brothers are. They think the y/n is interested in Sherlock... and now, they're jealous.

He is fascinated and attracted to them intellect and their occupation as a detective.

He knows that he should avoid them but still cannot help but find them attractive and wants to be closer to them.

He secretly admires y/n for their determination and their ability to solve cases, which he finds both impressive and admirable.

He struggles to balance his growing feelings for y/n with the knowledge that he is a criminal who must keep things from them.

His usual serious demeanor is shaken whenever he interacts with y/n, he sometimes ends up stuttering and becoming flustered.

He tries to control his reactions around them, but sometimes his heart skips a beat when she gives him a sharp glare.

He occasionally gets lost in thought while looking at y/n, only to snap back into reality when he remembers that he needs to keep his distance from them.

He starts to become more cautious and cautious when speaking to y/n, making sure not to say anything that could potentially reveal his true identity or actions.

He secretly wishes that y/n could see past his criminal life and see the person that he truly is beneath his mask.

William would be frustrated and jealous, feeling that Sherlock is stealing the attention and affection of his potential love interest.

He might feel annoyed and irritated at Sherlock's behavior, especially when Sherlock flirts with y/n or shows off his deduction skills in front of them.

He might try to undermine or sabotage Sherlock in some way, either by setting him up for failure or using his own intelligence to outshine Sherlock in some way.

William might also try to understand why y/n is attracted to Sherlock, trying to figure out what Sherlock has that he lacks. He might even start to doubt himself and feel insecure about his own abilities and qualities.

William might feel conflicted about his feelings for y/n. On one hand, he feels attracted to them and longs for their affection, but on the other hand, he feels frustration and annoyance at their preference for Sherlock.

He might try to analyze and understand the dynamics between them, perhaps even trying to manipulate the situation to his advantage.

Oh... it seems y/n has changed the whole story.

If Albert's love interest is a detective, who isn't attracted to him because they know he's a killer, he'd be a little frustrated to say the least.

He'd most likely try and swoon them, or at least get them interested in him, and would *definitely* tease them in an attempt to gain their attention.

He'd probably send them flowers often, and would be very confused as to why they are not attracted to him.

Obviously he'd also ask them why they aren't interested in him, and would probably be in denial if they actually told him the honest truth.

He'd also try and do "smooth" flirting, and would *definitely* be a lot more subtle with how he shows his attraction to them. He'd tease them every chance he could get, and would continue to give them gifts.

Y/n ends up slapped him on the face.

Sherlock is incredibly jealous of the amount of attention the Moriarty brothers are paying to his crush.

He has a habit of watching his crush like a hawk whenever they're within view of the brothers. He is constantly analyzing every interaction they have together.

He will try to make his intentions clearer and become more obvious in his affections. He will find any excuse to interact with his crush, in an effort to be close to them.

He becomes a little territorial and jealous. Especially if y/n gets close to either of them.

He will try to show his crush that he is better than the brothers in every way he can think of.

Sherlock will go out of his way to help them for whatever thing she's investigating, because he's a simp (secretly).

[tumblingxelian]

Chloe & Heroism

Chloe Bourgeois as a hero early on is a premise that often evokes either questions, like "How" and "Why". Or expectations that she is either already on a path to self improvement, or will be forced onto within a short timeframe.

These are not bad questions and the former definitely are necessary to consider for a story. However the expectations I tend to feel a bit murkier and while I have no issue with how some authors handle this topic.

I want to outline why I think you could do a good "Hero Chloe" story before she gets character development, but first, house cleaning!

1: I have not watched and largely ignore everything post season 3, so don't bother bringing up Derision. Remember, season 1 Kim was afraid of spiders.

2: In canon. Chloe only revealed her ID publicly because her abusive mother she is obsessed with pleasing (who killed her the day before) chose a girl other than her to take to New York & then tore her to shreds in front of everyone. 

With all that in mind let's examine where Chloe's values and understanding of the world comes from and how she perceives them! 

1 - Media/Social Media 

This would be a mixed bag, because on one hand they have Mighty Majesta comics that try to instill good values, but also shows built around lying to and humiliating people are evidently popular television and the internet seems similar in regards to pranking VS trying not to be terrible. So she's gonna get mixed signals at best. 

2 - Her family & Circle 

This is where 90% of the problems come from. Of the important adults in her life, her father, mother, Gabriel and Nathalie are all varying shades of corrupt, abusive, cruel and ruthless, while the lesser evils like Jean and Emilie are largely consigned to the role of enablers. 

Worse still, even if we ignore the emotional abuse, neglect and other elements that led to her both having trauma and her trauma response manifesting in aggression. We still have issues like Andre, during the brief periods he bothered to parent, explicitly teaching Chloe that, Stealing, extortion and threats are all appropriate ways to succeed in life.

IE, she isn't compromising her morality when she does these things, she is very much doing what she is taught was right at least consciously. This isn't helped by a 24/7 Audrey impression as Audrey deems being in her vicinity as reason enough to hurt people unless she deems them useful. 

Long story short, the values and people she was brought up around are all explicitly some shade of bad, or enabler, or outright teaching her to harm others. 

3 - Societies & Class 

However, we know from season 2 that Chloe is not entirely unaware that there are issues with this. Because while she spends much time boasting of how she's beloved and brilliant, when stripped of that and exposed to someone she trusts she is entirely willing to confess that she knows everyone hates her and that she feels she has no worth. She may not be able to articulate why or how this came about but she knows something is wrong. 

Despite this, school is not the best place to figure this out, especially for someone who obviously struggles with social cues and the like. The teachers run the gamut from indifferent and unpleasant, to extremely gentle and accommodating, to simply not wanting any form of drama and usually caving to whoever makes the most noise and none of them have the authority to do much outside of class hours. 

The class is not significantly better, because students like Kim and Alix can and do casually throw around snark or do pranks and at worst only get brief bursts of anger while Chloe's garner a more intense response. This is because her relationship with the class and motives are varying shades of different, but for someone with issues reading social cues, it's just going to seem like a confusing double standard. 

We can also see all this demonstrated in her relationship with Adrien, as Chloe clearly takes the lead in their relationship in Origins and outlines her logic behind the pranks, but is then surprised when Adrien seems to turn against her. What's more, it seems Chloe is aware that Adrien is more gentle/naive than her given she tried to educate him on these matters & turns to him for comfort and protection at times, while seeing no inherent contradiction between her expectations for their relationship and how she treats others.

Adrien does not help matters with seeming indifference to how she treats staff. 

Thus, while she knows 'something' is terribly wrong, actually being able to understand it and work through it is another matter. 

4 - Chloe's Conclusion 

So, what is the conclusion Chloe comes to in order to square all of these circles when she isn't just in full denial mode? The answer is quite simple and even demonstrated in the show itself, playing one's role. 

IE, Chloe the mayor and style queen's daughter is different to Chloe the hotel owner's daughter and we see this in her being able to stamp down on her usual instincts and slap on a customer service role when Jagged Stone enters the hotel and guide her father into doing the same. VS how she conducts herself during a class election, IE explicitly threatening and extorting people, to how she conducts herself day by day with her Audrey impersonation. 

A separate example and way she'd view this for others would be that Marinette the baker's daughter of course has to be nice and sweet and giving because that is how customer service roles work, while Marinette the aspiring fashion designer or would be class president is sneakier and will lay traps so people trying to steal from her are sabotaged. This isn't wrong, this is how she expects people to behave when in these circumstances and roles. 

Final Conclusion 

Which is why Chloe could easily play the role of a successful hero, because she would not be "Chloe Bourgeois, mayor's daughter, hotel heiress and Style Queen's daughter" as Queen Bee, she would just be Queen Bee, a superhero.

They have wonderfully defined roles that would be easy for her to pick up & follow through on: assure the public, save people from danger, protect allies, defeat monsters, all things Chloe was shown doing very well when chosen as a Miraculous Holder. 

I think that eventually the contrast in how she is received as Queen Bee VS Chloe Bourgeois would start grinding on each other and bleeding through both sides of the mask. 

But the infectious nature of empathy and a larger support network that don't have the worst impression of her would give Chloe the room she needs to explore and grow.

If she is too snippy as a hero, or shows a ruthless side, these won't be taken in the context of "Chloe that person I dislike" but "Queen Bee my ally" and can allow for more honest and even handed reactions that give her the necessary breathing room to grow and change. 

So yeah, I think season 1 Chloe could have, under the right circumstances, done a great job as a hero be it Queen Bee or another hero even before any outside circumstances or internal changes might have forced her to chart a new course in life.

Provided the role of Chloe and the role of hero do not intersect and become one almost immediately, because in that case it gets a lot harder for her. 

[rosedere]

The Liyue Lotus and the Merchant from Snezhnaya (Pantalone x Fem Reader)

MDNI +18

Cw: kidnapping, Stalking, non con elements, Graphic violence (later chapters), Yandere content *will update as the series goes

Cross posted on AO3

Part 1,Part 2,Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,Part 7, Chapter 8: The lotus sailing into Port (you are here), Part 9, Part 10~

Synopsis: Unfortunately, The Regerator develops a fixation with you while you are working undercover for Yelan. And there’s no one who can get in his way of his prized Lotus.

You tell me you're the best I'll get

Just don't know how to treat you yet

You pin me down, I make you let

Me do what I like and baby you're mine

Even learned to like the way

I get so close to say your name

And baby we'll learn to ride that wave

You could give it time, you'd learn to be mine

-

You didn't realize how soon you were supposed to go to Snezhnaya.

But you didn't expect the next weekend that was already upon you. Naturally, you didn't know what you needed to prepare when you went to the most frigid region in all of Teyvat.

And worst your missing Bow and Vision were nowhere to be found, bothering Galina every day if she had found your vision only for her to insist it had been nowhere once more, you were going to be completely vulnerable in a new world.You tried telling yourself through the small panic that it probably was at most going to be similar to Pantalone's recent trip back to Liyue.

This was going to be a vacation at best; maybe you'll finally figure out what he was currently planning with his various branches of banks. And maybe he might grow tired enough of you to slip away.

But oddly enough you weren't finding him to be as unbearable as he was when he first decided to court you.

Pantalone's entire demeanor changed since he had come back from his business trip. The quaint smile you remember when you first crossed paths with him was back as he carried on with his duties in his office downstairs.

And to your surprise he would now allow you to wander the outside courtyard you barely knew existed, coming up with his work sometimes or just to read beside you on the bamboo benches underneath the tall trees.

Of course, his lone eye was watchful as you busied yourself with various hobbies Galina and Fedor had gotten you into as he sat in blissful silence with you.

You couldn't place your finger on what was making you feel off about his abrupt mood change, but every day since then he would also come to check on you.

Sighing to yourself you gave up trying at the task you were busying yourself with before bed by packing your things.

Abandoning the small bag filled with just the basics you could think of you looked back towards the bed briefly before you began to walk back downstairs.

Pantalone was only casually browsing some papers in the bed that you couldn't see, just assuming they were notes he was making to himself, his hair casually let down revealing the true length as you heard him scribbling on the paper.

Deciding not to bother him you only slipped out of the room entering the hallway.

Reaching the spiraling staircase you were beginning to descend, your foot on the lower step when you heard the pained hiss and groan from below you.

Your ears perked up at the sound you turned back towards Pantalone's open bedroom behind you making sure it wasn't him.

Only once more was he in his world scratching the document with his ink pen.

Deciding it probably was something you confused for the stairs you kept going down the stairs, your destination to once again bother Galina. 

At a third of the way down the sound once again was heard, this time very clearly.

“A -aaa h” 

Stopping in your footsteps you leaned over the guardrailing of the stairs staying hidden as you looked over. You couldn't see anything in the lower foyer but the hallway was brightly lit up, unusual for this time in the evening since most of the help would be in the kitchen or cleaning before bedtime came.

“I—is it bad ?” 

“ It's got to be bad if you aren't saying anything ” 

“Hold still Lina– I can't properly see with this ambient lighting ” 

Your eyes widen in realization, their voices sounding hushed and panicked from the usual formal tone they had around you gone.

“Did you inform the Lord harbinger?” 

“Of course not– This is more of an urgent matter anyway” 

“But Fedor that spy is trying to take (Name) to god knows where ”  

A pained groan was heard once more before the shushing from Fedor.

“Please Galina calm down, I will take care of it before we depart tomorrow back home”

“Right now I need to make sure the arrows didn't pierce your vitals ”  

“but what if she attacks you? That goddamn psycho woman almost killed m e ”

You didn't need to think too deeply about the words from the conversation you weren't supposed to be witnessing's actual meaning.

Yelan. 

Starting to feel bad about what you had accused her of only weeks ago about not trying hard enough.

But you only let your frown take over as you realized the stakes once more in this highly complicated infiltration.

Deciding it was best to withdraw with your new knowledge you returned up the stairs assuming you'd see Pantalone back at his desk writing diligently.

But a thankful surprise was instead waiting there. 

At the desk was the silhouette of your boss and roommate sifting through the journal he had been occupying most of his time filling out when he wasn't focusing on you.

You took a few footsteps to approach before you saw the blue and white flash beside you grazing your cheek.

The damp spot turned to frost as you gazed at it with your fingertips before it bled out little rivets of scarlet.

“You're losing it (name)” Yelan chuckled before flickering her deep sapphire eyes at you standing in the middle of your bedroom.

“well maybe if I was back on the field I'd be strong as ever” You pouted your lip, “You know I lost some vitamins since pretending to be his girlfriend?”

Yelan only raised a brow at you, noticing her face you realized she had certainly been roughing someone up by the few scratches she had on her neck and hand.

“Hopefully he wasn't poisoning you or anything; I'll have to get you checked out by Dr. Baizhu once we get back to the safe house” She muttered to herself.

“Wait? Like today?”

I'm finally free? 

“Of course; He murdered all of my operatives that bastard— and if what I'm reading is true…” she shook her head.

“W-wait but I can't leave yet I haven't found my vision or my bow yet,” you said to her looking over to where your bed was

“I had it and I lost it a few days ago; I have zero idea where it could have gone” you panicked.

“Unfortunately you're going to have to abandon them for now; the Fatui are all leaving this fortress tomorrow to Sneznyhaya we can retrieve them after they leave” Yelan reassured you putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Come on; let's get out of here before he realizes I'm not down in the dungeon he has” She grabbed your evening dress sleeve pulling you towards the balcony; you didn't have any shoes but if it meant your freedom you assumed you could handle a few rough pebbles as you and yelan ran off towards the open balcony.

“Lián !” 

You paused but Yelan only pulled you along by your dark navy sleeves.

Fedor was standing in the entrance with his sacral blades out around his form.

“Hurry! This is our only chance!” Yelan pulled harder on your sleeve almost ripping the delicate fabric.

Your eyes flicked back at Fedor for a moment; you had spent so much time with him and Galina but your freedom to go home was finally here.

Desperately you flashed a look of apology before running along with Yelan towards the balcony.

“Lord Harbinger The target has Lián!” You heard Fedors deep voice call from behind the paper screen panels lined across the balcony.

Yelan got up first over the railing, grabbing your hand you tried to get yourself up on the railing, but every time you tried your bare feet couldn't get a grip only causing you to slip under the sleek metal.

Desperately you tried to lift yourself into the metal. Finally feeling defeated you found some success in grabbing the railing hoisting yourself up and semi heavy gown you'd pick for the night.

“Grab on tightly (name) I've never used my glider with two people before” Yelan grabbed your hands placing them around her waist.

You tried not to look down; despite being inside a cave the drop was still at least as tall as a skyscraper below in the carved rocky surface below.

Closing your eyes you braced for the drop as Yelan jumped and began to glide.

Trying to resist the urge to kick you held on so tight to Yelans curved waist you thought you were going to squeeze the life out of her as you felt the cool breeze around your bare feet.

The sound of chatter and banter coming from the balcony growing distant from behind your billowing hair from the small draft in the cave opening coming slowly into view.

You began to squint as the choppy wind began to subside now smoothly gliding forward down out of the tall cave mouth.

Calming a bit you busied yourself with looking down at the passing clouds and the small amount of fog forming from below the mountain.

“Yelan what happens now?” You asked still holding onto her tightly.

“Well first things first we're not going to the Harbor— those rats are going to try to swarm and search for you over there before they decide to check in the mountains,” she said still focusing on gliding down towards the opening.

“And of course, our home is off limits for a bit— were going to take you to Chenyu Vale near Fontaine so if they do find you at least it's going to be hell for them to get into the village” Yelan dropped a little lower finally reaching the mouth.

Your stomach dropping now being completely in the sky with no ground in sight for meters on any side of you.

“Darn, I thought I could make sure all my snacks were still in my stash and not in the stomach of a certain Official I'm riding on” you teased. 

“Tch– your snacks are all in the cupboard, I've mainly been running around doing what you and the trio used to do,” Yelan said.

After a bit of gliding through the tall mountains that made up the Mt. Aocang Yelan began to glide down slightly.

“Man this is a workout I wasn't expecting to make but at least we're away from That spiraling battle palace that rich guy has” Yelan sighed to herself.

“I see a flat patch of ground there maybe we can stop,” you said pointing towards a flat plain below the two of you.

Taking your advice Yelan began to gracefully glide down towards the quiet grassland.

Your feet were firmly planted to the ground as you both landed.

Of course, you practically fell forward onto the grassy knoll below you as you sighed in relief.

Yelans laugh once again becoming a melody that would be familiar to you as she stood over you.

“Yeah definitely once we get you back to work you're going to do some stamina training once again–” Yelan teased before she stood next to you.

Groaning you only peeked up at her.

“ugh anything but that— I’ll admit maybe thats the only thing I'll miss about pretending to be his girlfriend” You sprawled yourself on the grass.

“Speaking of, now what do we do about him? Since there's no more intel on him what are we going to do” you casually asked.

Yelan looked in the distance at the starry sky beginning to form above the both of you.

“well I did find a lot of stuff when I broke into his estate— Him and the Knave and Il Dottore are all in cahoots together,” She said scratching her chin for a moment.

“He was the one responsible for the attempted infiltration to become the new Tianshu— he even admitted to getting his agent to flee and hide out in the place you were staying out before secretly letting him slip back to Snezhnaya” 

“Woah so he has his secret agents working with him?” You narrowed your eyes.

“If what I read was true; he's got a whole prison down there in the mountain,” Yelan said

You shuddered remembering everything you had seen down in the mountain after following the mountain water stream.

“So did he ever mention me? Was I good enough at hiding my identity” you asked rolling in the grass to lay on your back.

Yelan only stayed silent looking back up at the sky for a moment.

“Come on!!! I thought I did a good job I even pretended to have feelings for him and everything”  You punched the side of her leg from where you lay.

“Maybe too good of a job (name)” Yelan lowly said

“What do you mean?” You snorted not picking up on how tense Yelan had become.

“Do you really wanna know?” Yelan said to you.

“I mean yeah I wanna know if you're going to torture me and force me to become someone's lover again” you bickered, “it was already difficult since he kind of looks like him if he was younger” 

Yelan flinched at the mention.

“You still think about that traitor?”  Yelan scoffed 

“He was probably going to turn on all of us and do what that damn Harbinger did to all our shadows” Yelan coldly said, not an ounce of compassion she usually had

You frowned looking up at her now.

“How dare you say that— we were a team and he was going to Abandon the Fatui and work with us permanently” 

Your words however only went into the empty void of the sky as Yelan began to keep gazing out towards the rolling hills surrounding both of you.

“Well I'm all rested now; we should hurry towards the Vale before the Fatui follow my energy” Yelan gestured to her back getting ready to walk off the edge of the hill.

You only quietly followed grabbing onto her waist once more getting a sturdy grip onto her before you both took off down the mountain once more.

-

It was after midnight when you both crossed the unofficial border towards Chenyu Vale. The lights and different water that flowed through the secluded mountains were otherwordly, different turquoise and deep reds were all around the two of you as you both were gliding down.

Only occasionally coming here once every 4 years to do errands it was a welcomed sight to the horrible trip to Snezhnaya he had probably planned for you.

Most likely selling you off to someone as the human trade in that region was high in demand .

Shuddering at the thought you only focused on the close-approaching the wooden planks of the small boat dock near the main village you and Yelan had been to before.

“you glad to see something that isn't mountains,” Yelan asked you as she landed with grace onto the open landing.

Trying to shake your legs awake you only merely nodded, rubbing your calves in discomfort.

“I just can't wait to see a bed; way past my bedtime” you murmured as you began to observe your surroundings.

“Well, follow me; Thankfully we aren't that far from the room you'll be staying in” Yelan gestured for you to follow.

Both of you weaved past the few people in the stony streets, some people still roaming around due to the weather and the clear skies as you both walked almost to the edge of the village towards a small run-down house.

“I'm not going to lie it's not the best quality but Once Dr. Baizhu checks you out and makes sure you're clear you can come back to our home in a new disguise” Yelan smiled.

You only observed the small run-down house, it was a step down from what you had been staying in.

Grabbing onto the creaky rickety door you walked in to see a cozy one room; one bed beside the window and a small stove and bathroom on the side of the house; nothing too special from what you had seen in the harbor.

Reminding yourself this was temporary as you plopped onto the bed sprawling yourself over the stiff mattress.

“Ah~” you let out a sigh of relief as you rolled onto your side.

“I still can't believe this is real— I thought I was going to be married off officially in Snezhnaya tomorrow” You stretched your legs letting yourself get comfortable on the bamboo mattress below your body.

You looked up to see yelan looking back at you with a small smile on her face.

“And I'm glad that at least I was able to rescue you from the trio,” she said before going towards the small 4x4 table near the stove and sitting on top of the small oak stool.

“You should get some rest (Name) I'll just be on watch here just in case Pantalone and his little pitiful guards come by again” She let her feet stretch underneath the table leaning with one arm folded on top of the table.

“I will but I can't sleep without you being here too,” you said propping your arm up on the bed.

“Like I said maybe once we go back home we can but for now” she looked over her shoulder towards the window.

“I gotta be on the job” she smiled at you.

-

Once more you practically had no recollection of how you fell asleep.

Or how long...

But you were being carried in someone's arms.

You couldn't open your groggy eyes but you heard the sound of something opening akin to a window maybe.

Before falling asleep you did fall asleep right next to the wide gated window you calmed down realizing it was probably Yelan closing the window before she crawled into bed herself.

The arms around you did feel like her after all.

You lazily swatted turning away from whoever was holding you.

But your sense came to you when you realized you weren't in your bed; the fabric around you was similar to a sheet.

And heavily insulated.

“Ye…?” You mumbled with barely functioning lips.

“Hmm? Oh, are you finally waking up?” 

The voice was not Yelan.

But neither was anyone you'd heard around you either; Their voice was hearty and light with a hint of a fontainian accent.

“Yelan?” You asked once more in your groggy voice, your eyes were still heavy with sleep however leaving you to just see the spaces your eyes created.

“You must be silent Lián– If that spy woman notices anything is amiss We might not make the ship in time” 

Lián…

Oh no

You carefully let your eyes flutter open just enough to see a slit view of whoever was carrying you against their chest.

You could see a dark ebony hood over her snow-white hair peeking from underneath her hood.

Her face was obscured by a dark black mask, adorned was what seemed to be her darl red eyes.

Looking inside of the now cracked window where you were just sleeping in.

You froze.

This had to be an assassin from the Fatui ,no way was this associated with Liyue. 

You only shut your eyes tighter. When trying to think of anything to save yourself an irrational thought occurs.

Maybe if you make yourself heavy you could fall from the woman's grasp, she was only barely holding onto you anyway as she was balancing out of the window trying to shut it at the same time as holding you in her arms.

Concentrating you tried making yourself heavy in her arms; she didn't budge now but you knew if you let yourself stay heavy she would either drop you or just give up.

“The coast is clear” she whispered.

You felt yourself jolt up.

Was she flying? 

You felt yourself being transported in the early morning winds.

Despite the urge to try to open your eyes, you kept them closed only experiencing your trip through sounds and smell as you heard the two of you fly through the night.

A soft thud indicating you both landed was how you knew you were not in the small sleepy village anymore.

The sound of water rushing was all you heard like the oppressive sound of waves crashing at sea.

“Lián!”

This time you knew exactly who was calling you from somewhere behind you.

“Galina— please allow me” The timbre tipped you off who it was exactly.

A precession of footsteps came from out of nowhere around you and the woman holding you.

You tried to relax your breathing pretending you were still asleep, or at the very least unconscious.

“Oh? I didn't realize how popular your beloved lotus was” your feminine kidnapper said to Pantalone somewhere in front of both of you.

“trust me when I say it was an unexpected ambush by the Tianquan of Liyue's eyes, Snatched away and taken to a dump of a town for god knows why” Pantalone snickered.

“Maybe she was going to be a bargaining chip,” Your kidnapper said extending their arms into Pantalone's feeling the weight transfer now in Pantalone's arms.

“Perhaps; but if it's who I think it was the vendetta that woman has against me knows no bounds” Pantalone replied.

Silence for a moment from what you could hear.

“Are you heading back to Snezhnaya? To the capital of course,” the woman asked.

“Yes, I decided to immediately go from here to the port before That spy tries to harm my lotus once more” You felt his gloved hands run a finger over your rustled hair as he said this.

“You need not worry Knave, I will not back out my word— the funds agreed upon for the children and the house of hearth will be immediately released by the bank once we arrive” 

“I thank you for your kind patronage,” Pantalone said once more.

“Bon voyage Regerator” She said, the sound of heels hitting the wooden planks below away from the group near you.

Now was a good time to pretend to wake up.

Fluttering your eyelashes open you now were greeted with a dock that you weren't familiar with. The water was reminiscent of Chenyu Vale but was more Blue and clear.

The grass was not the same as the familiar grass from Liyue.

And of course to confirm your worst fears was Pantalone looking down softly at you; his hair tied back into a neat bun and his heavy insulated cloak around his body.

A whole squad of fatuus on each side of both of you from what little you could see over their shoulders.

The urge to widen your eyes in silent shock was suppressed when you realized the ship you were supposed to board tomorrow was also on the horizon.

“Pantalone?” You managed to say.

“Where am I?” 

Instead of answering your question, however, he only began to walk towards the luxury liner in front of the small dock.

Feeling every step underneath he crossed the dock towards the unloading ramp only feet away from you as he brought you inside the small vessel.

-

It was around daybreak when you sailed from the small port near Fontaine.

Pantalone had left you in his private chambers; once again lying on the plush mattress facing the enormous wrap-around window.

You were defeated.

It seemed like this morning would have been spent going back to your small run-down upstairs room with Yelan.

The sunrise was pretty however, you thought to yourself.

You still haven't changed from your dress; mostly since you weren't sure where any of your things were.

A lurch was felt in your abdomen.

You clutched your stomach instinctively.

A feeling akin to butterflies was beginning to burn into your lower abdomen wall near your pelvis.

Now rolling yourself into a ball as the sensation began you assumed the worst— you had never been on a ship as long as this one before maybe you were getting motion sick.

But as much as you laid in your form under the dark amethyst silk sheets you realized it wasn't hurting.

Just a small flutter.

You heard the heavy metal door behind you swing open.

“Lián?” The familiar sing-song voice was heard.

You unsprawled yourself looking over your shoulder; Galina was holding a tray of a simple breakfast, some fruit, and a glass of water. 

However, you were more concerned about the bandages on her arms and shoulders.

Yelan must have gone in on her from the way Galina struggled to walk over to your bedside.

“I didn't realize you would be awake” She smiled from underneath the mask.

“Thank goodness my timing is impeccable even under the Hydro archons region,” She said leaving the tray on top of the desk furthest from the bed near a small wardrobe similar to the layout of his home in Liyue.

“Were in Fontaine?” You asked with alarm.

“Of course, Thankfully your kidnapper was dumb enough to take you near the Knave's territory; a little small favor to them and they brought you back safely home” Galina smiled to herself as she sat herself in the desk chair firmly bolted to the ground with nails.

You smiled masking your unease by trying to get up off the bed.

Momentarily you forgot the weird sensation in your stomach until you felt it once more when you went to retrieve the tray.

“Are you alright Lián?” Galina asked from where she was sitting.

“Not sure—” you dismissed waving with your hand.

“I think my stomach is trying to be seasick despite only being a few meters away from the dock still” you smiled to yourself.

Grabbing a hold of the tray before returning to the side of the bed grabbing for the piece of Sunsetta sitting on the furthest corner.

The door was once again opened; this time being faced with Pantalone as he entered the room.

“Oh? Am I interrupting something” 

“No, I was just sitting for a moment before I headed back” Galina began to get up from the chair, slightly hissing from the speed at which she got up.

“Galina I told you it was fine to rest during the Voyage— you defended with honor during the attempted kidnapping” Pantalone smiled interlacing his fingers together.

“I know, I just wanted to be sure Lián was safe” She finally steadied herself before brushing her cloak off.

“Besides, I won't see her for a while once we return” 

“Wait what? Are you leaving” you asked with surprise dropping the half-eating Sunsetta in the tray.

“ah– yes I'm taking a temporary leave along with Fedor once we reach the port of Snezhnaya” Galina responded meekly.

“But don't worry! Once you get to the palace you will see us again” She smiled.

Suddenly they both began discussing something unrelated to the conversation leaving you to sit with your thoughts as the boat began to rock slowly, the flutter beginning to grow intense with each bite of the fruit.

Patting your stomach helped you enjoy the rest of your meal sitting next to the warm sunlight hitting your backside.

-

[muiitoloko]

A few days ago I remembered some videos/posts that talked about how Judge Turpin and Minister Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre-Dame) looked alike, well, imagine if our dear Turpin had a partner with a strong personality like Esmeralda has, who doesn't obey the judge's orders and one of her biggest hobbies is to irritate him (whether by doing silly things like pasting drawings on his things or even something like leaving the house when he had said no) but despite everything they get along well and love each other in their own way

You don't have to write about it, only if you want to of course, I just had to ramble about it with someone

(Isso tá remoendo minha cabeça desde o final de semana juro pra ti 😭)

Title: The Witch and the Judge.

Summary: Despite everything, Judge Turpin loved his damned gypsy.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: Haha, can you imagine Judge Turpin dealing with a partner like that? It would be like trying to control a whirlwind with a mind of its own! 😄 But hey, who knows, maybe underneath all that irritation, they'd find a strange sort of harmony. Love can be weird like that!

Your life with Judge Richard Turpin is a complex dance of irritation and affection, a performance that seems to bewilder and entrap him in equal measure. Despite his stern demeanor and the cruel reputation that precedes him, his infatuation with you is a peculiar mix of fascination and frustration, which you wield with the deftness of a seasoned performer.

One crisp morning, you decide to step out into the bustling streets of London without his permission. Dressed in your colorful gypsy attire, you wander through the market square, the scent of fresh bread and spices filling the air. The whispers and stares of townsfolk follow you, a stark contrast to the grim respect they show Turpin. When you finally return, his expression is a storm of fury and relief.

"Where have you been?" he demands, his baritone voice echoing through the grand halls of the mansion. You merely smile, a knowing glint in your eye, and brush past him, leaving him to stew in his mixed emotions.

On another occasion, the mischievous glint in your eye turns towards his prized judicial robes. Waiting until he is preoccupied with one of his many cruel decrees, you sneak into his chambers and don the imposing black garb. The heavy fabric swirls around you as you stand before the mirror, mimicking his haughty stance and imperious glare.

When he finds you, he is momentarily struck silent by the absurdity of the sight. His stern mask cracks, revealing a flicker of amusement before the inevitable exasperation sets in. "You are impossible," he mutters, shaking his head. You laugh, a light and teasing sound that softens his scowl.

Perhaps the most audacious stunt you pull involves the elaborate wooden closet in his study. With a cunning and agility that both amazes and infuriates him, you manage to tie him up inside, gagging him with one of his own silk cravats. You then stride into his courtroom, his robes billowing around you, and take his place on the bench.

The courtroom murmurs in confusion, but none dare question the judge—your judge. You bang the gavel, summoning an authoritative tone. "Order in the court," you declare, relishing the power. The charade lasts only a few minutes before Beadle Bamford bursts in, eyes wide with shock and horror at the sight of you impersonating his master.

Beadle grabbed you firmly by the arm and led you out, his grip tight and his face a mask of concern. You allowed yourself to be guided, playing the part of the innocent and bewildered gypsy wife.

He whisked you into Judge Turpin's office, his steps quick and urgent. "Tell me where the Judge is, now!" Beadle demanded, his voice sharp with worry.

You tapped a finger against your cheek thoughtfully, pretending to ponder. "Oh, Judge Turpin? Hmm... I seem to recall now. I believe I left him somewhere."

Suddenly, a muffled buzzing noise filled the room, as if someone was screaming but gagged. Beadle's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "What have you done this time?"

With a flourish, you pointed towards the large wooden closet in the corner of the study. "Why don't you take a look inside, Beadle?"

Beadle hesitated for a moment, then approached the closet cautiously. With a swift motion, he opened the door and Judge Turpin tumbled out, bound and gagged, falling into Beadle's arms. Turpin's eyes blazed with anger and humiliation, but his words were muffled by the silk cravat gagging him.

"You! You treacherous witch!" Turpin's voice was muffled but filled with venom. "I'll have you hanged for this!"

Beadle swiftly removed the gag from Turpin's mouth, allowing him to spew threats and curses. Turpin squirmed in Beadle's grasp, struggling to free himself. "Beadle, you fool! Release me at once! This is insubordination!"

Beadle obeyed with a reluctant nod, releasing Judge Turpin who stumbled to his feet, his face contorted with rage and embarrassment. As Beadle swiftly exited the study, leaving you alone with the seething judge, you turned to face him, the smirk on your face only serving to further incense him.

Turpin lunged towards you, his baritone voice thundering, "You damn gypsy witch! What foul magic have you used on me this time?" His hooked nose twitched with disdain as he grabbed you by the shoulders, his grip tight and unyielding.

You met his furious gaze with a playful glint in your eyes, pretending to be both innocent and provocative at the same time. "Oh, my dear Judge," you cooed, your voice sweet and mocking, "I just wanted to remind you how it feels to be at my mercy."

Turpin's anger only seemed to grow, but beneath it, there was a familiar gleam of desire. "You are an infuriating creature," he growled, his face inches from yours. "You toy with me like a cat with a mouse. Do you take pleasure in humiliating me?"

You chuckled softly, not breaking eye contact. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your hands reaching up to gently touch his face, tracing the lines of his furrowed brow. "But you love it, don't you, Richard? Admit it."

Turpin's expression softened slightly, his sharp features relaxing under your touch. His voice was quieter now, filled with a mix of frustration and longing. "You bewitch me, woman," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. "I should have you arrested for this insolence."

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. "But you won't," you whispered, your voice a low murmur filled with promise. "Because deep down, you want me just as much as I want you."

Turpin's grip on your shoulders loosened, his resolve weakening. "You are a dangerous temptation," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should resist you."

"But you won't," you repeated, a playful smile spreading across your face. "Because I'm the only one who truly understands you, Richard. The only one who can challenge you."

Turpin's hands slid from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. His voice was low and urgent. "You infuriate me to no end, woman," he breathed, his lips finding yours in a possessive kiss.

You melted into his embrace, knowing that despite his harsh words, you held a power over him that no one else could match. As his hands roamed over your body, you whispered against his lips, "Just admit it, Richard. You love me."

Turpin pulled away slightly, his dark eyes boring into yours. "Damn you," he muttered, his voice thick with desire and frustration. "I love you, you wretched gypsy."

You smirked, tracing a finger along the edge of his jawline. "And I love you, my Judge," you replied, your voice filled with equal parts affection and mischief.

Turpin's lips curved into a reluctant smile, a rare sight, as he watched you waltz away in his judge's robes. His eyes followed your figure, a mixture of frustration and reluctant admiration evident in his expression. He shook his head slightly, knowing that your antics would continue to both infuriate and intrigue him.

As you reached the doorway, ready to disappear around the corner, Turpin acted swiftly, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you firmly against his chest. His hooked nose buried in your hair, he inhaled deeply, the scent of your wildflowers and spice overwhelming his senses.

"Damn witch," Turpin murmured softly, his voice a mixture of exasperation and desire. "You've bewitched me from the moment I saw you."

You tilted your head back, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "Have I, Judge?" you teased, knowing full well the effect you had on him.

Turpin's grip tightened around you, his baritone voice low and urgent. "Yes, you have," he admitted gruffly. "And now, my dear, it's time for you to learn your place."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "And what place is that, Judge?" Your voice was teasing, but there was an underlying challenge in your tone.

His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "Today, I'll be teaching you how to be a proper wife."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mix of anticipation and curiosity washing over you. Turpin's intentions were clear, yet you couldn't help but smile mischievously.

Before he could act further, you danced out of his embrace, slipping away from his hold. With a flick of your wrist, you threw off the judge's robes, letting them fall to the floor. You turned to face him, standing there in your gypsy attire, a smirk playing on your lips.

Turpin's eyes followed your every move, a mixture of frustration and desire evident in his gaze. As you began to walk away, he couldn't resist any longer. He lunged forward, capturing you in his arms once again. This time, he didn't let you slip away.

"I warned you, you vexing woman," he growled, his lips finding yours in a fierce kiss. His hands moved possessively over your body, pulling you closer against him.

You melted into his embrace, knowing that despite his stern exterior, he was captivated by you in ways he couldn't resist. His kisses were demanding, his touch possessive, but there was a rawness in his desire that matched your own.

When he finally released you, Turpin rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "You are a maddening creature," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "But you're mine."

You smiled, tracing a finger along his jawline. "And you're mine, Richard," you replied softly, your voice filled with a warmth that surprised even you.

Turpin's eyes softened as he looked at you, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Come," he said finally, taking your hand in his. "Let's put an end to these games for now."

You followed him willingly, knowing that while your playful antics had brought you closer together, there was much more to discover about the complex dance that had entwined your lives.

[autistic-sidestep]

sidestep scar map

here's all the physical scar mentions of step's ive discovered so far that aren't choice dependent! (choice dep scars will be in another post). lemme know if i missed any!

edit: hi people from r/hostedgames o/

edit 2 (nov 8th): added some more i missed!

(cw for sh/sui mentions and graphic injury description)

general

"Have you seen me?" You don't bother to hide your sneer. Even with your clothes on, there are enough scars and marks that many people would pay dearly to remove them. (ch 22, argent meetup) Regenerate…the notion is a tempting one; could it work on your tattoos? You've tried cutting and burning, but there's just too much, you'd be scarred and mutilated before you were done, but this…this prototype, could it help you too? (ch 19, etc, regenerator discovery) "What?" A moment's confusion and then—finally—he adds up the dots. His frown deepens, and he looks between your face and your chest, marred by scars and brightly orange tattoos, marking you as other. As not human. "Are you saying that—" (ch 22, flystep apartment scene) "Do you like scars?" you tease, taking one of [Daniel']s hands, tracing it across one on your chest. An ugly one, a remnant from an angry attempt to carve away your tattoos until the drugs couldn't keep the pain at bay any longer. (ch 22, flystep apartment date) It's a slow, circling motion over the small of your back, palm against skin, warm fingers tracing the deep scars you both know are there. And a few that ${he} doesn't. (ch 17, hoots makeout) ${his} hands are running over your skin, over your back. You know ${he}'s tracing scars, the same as you, and having an easier time of it. No fancy hospitals for your body, just your own skills, and no need to make it look pretty. (ch 21, chargestep apartment nsfw)

autopsy (incision) scar(s?)

"I obtained…pictures." He lets out a sigh, rubbing his face. "Classified. Highly classified. I assumed they were from the autopsy." He focuses on you. "Your autopsy." […] "The damage from the fall was horrific…you looked dead. Opened up." (ch 22, steel bar meetup)

legs

You remember that [Psychopathor] fell against the wreckage, and it moved and caused you to scream out loud as it dug into your leg. There's still a scar there somewhere. (ch 2, warehouse fight)

face

"Yeah, things changed. For me." You touch your face without intending to. The thin scars there are the most obvious legacy of your fall, of the window tearing into you like memories. (ch 21, hoots) "I'm not the only one with scars." He rubs the side of his face as he looks at you, and you have to fight not to do the same. You can feel your own face itch with the need to pick at your scars. "Yeah," you admit with a tired sigh. "Looking into the mirror is not fun." For more reasons than one, but you'd be lying if the scars weren't one of them. Bad memories imprinted on your flesh, a reminder of nightmares you can't ever forget. It's interesting, really, the way they see you as another vet. Are you looking out of place enough for that? A helping of scars. The nervous awareness. (ch 22, steel bar meetup)

hands/wrists

"Does it say that the scar on your hand always itches when you're stressed?" (ch 22, flystep apartment date)

"I'm not sure about this," he says, looking down at your scarred hands as if he could read your mind. Soft. Human. He doesn't want to hurt them. (ch 25, post puppet crash step leg rights, chen apartment minddive)

You let Ortega take your hands in [theirs]. Warm. Calloused. Scarred. Just like yours. You can't help but trace the edge of ${his} mods where they break the skin, strangely cool to the touch. (ch 21, trans mc ortega apartment reveal)

You look down at hands so much cleaner than your own. $!{puppet_name} hides all scars. (ch 18, puportega stakeout)

"It feels like they do," you say, scratching one of the scars on your hand a little nervously. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't." […] Your hands are clenched. Hard enough that your knuckles are white. There are a few scars across them, memories of punching things you shouldn't punch. People. Armor. Walls. […] You press two fingers against your wrist, feeling your pulse, feeling the scars. It's a familiar sensation, but instead of the weight pressing against your shields, you feel like a balloon, ready to burst. (ch 17 - finch therapy scene)

arms

tattoo removal attempts

You tried to get rid of them after your first escape. A specialist, suitably coerced. You still have the scar on the inside of your arm where the lasers didn't quite take. Too deep. Something she had never seen before, and she wasn't lying. Almost as if they were regenerating. (ch 15/ch 17, reader regenereveal tag )

You've tried lasers to remove them. You've tried dermabrasion. You even flayed off a piece of your own skin, and while that worked, it left another scar, a deep one. You know it's not possible to do that for your entire body. It's too much surface area; the process would kill you or leave you maimed. Not exactly the life you want. _(ch 15/ch 17, reader regenereveal tag / ch 19, puppet auction)

You tug at your sleeve; it keeps clinging to your sweaty skin. The small hairs on the back of your arm stand on end. The scars are visible now, the ones you made yourself. The ones where you tried to remove them. (chapter 19, argent regene reveal)

"I'm not lying anymore." You very slowly tug your sleeve up, rolling it past the scars, past the places where you tried to obliterate the tattoos, up to where they peek out beneath the fabric. Sharp. Orange. Inhuman. Like you. You look away, regulating your breathing, keeping a straight face as ${mhis} fingertips trace the edges of the design. There's a slight "tsk" at the burn scars that cut them off, no doubt ${mhe} is adding the clues together. […] "I tried to burn parts of them off," you say, […] so ${mhe} doesn't need to ask. "Didn't work too well. Needs third-degree burns, or they'll grow back." "Really?" $!{mhe} bends your arm, and you shift to allow it. "Fascinating." "Flaying works if you cut down to the flesh." Your voice sounds dispassionate even to your own ears, and Dr. Mortum takes a step back with a shocked look on ${mhis} face. "I'd hate to know how you found that out." "Other arm." You tug your sleeve down now that ${mhe}'s stopped touching you. (ch 20, "good" mortum mc reveal at the lab)

Holding your breath, you raise your arm in front of you, watching the pale green hospital robe slip back, revealing the intricate tattoos etched into your skin, broken only by scars. Neon orange. (ch 24, mccrash, revoked legrights)

dog bite

Some [dogs] were kept to guard the perimeter; you got bit once for straying outside. You still have the scar on your arm, a reminder that things that are hurt inevitably turn on each other. (ch 15, 1st boneyard scene)

general arm scars

It's so easy to feel human around ${him}. So easy to ignore the fear. Your sleeves are rolled up to your elbows. Anything more would risk revelations you aren't ready for, but even like this, the scars are enough for conversation. […] *if suitag: The bubbles hide most; you keep them buried deep in the soapy water to make sure ${he} doesn't look. (ch 21, ortega apartment dishes)

sh scars (suitag dep)

The scars on your arms are hidden under your sleeves, and maybe they would be something you could talk about. Something she would expect. A safe revelation of self-harm. *if suitag: Across. Not lengthwise. Your one deal with yourself. Not yet. You have things to finish first." (ch 17, finch therapy scene)

[darth-kote]

The Bug Collector - Codywan, (~10.5k words, rated t-m for descriptions of fear and slight violence)

𓇢𓆸

The very first time Cody lays eyes on his general, he also happens to be met with a sharp glean in his visor: a ray of light bouncing off the silk of a spider's web that had been set up in the tree behind the Jedi, similar to the way the rest of Cody's men are setting up camp just east. He's thankful his helmet's over his head so his darting eyes don't act as a dead giveaway to his distraction. First impressions last, the voice of Alpha reminds him, causing him to straighten his back and stand at attention. "CT-2224, Sir." He needs to be good at this, to make his general happy. He doesn't want to think about what Nala Se might do to him if he isn't up to her standards. "Reporting for duty. The rest of the men are unloading the weaponry and setting our post." He maintains his posture, and his eyes never leave the spider for long. That is until his Jedi turns around to face him.

"Ah, good." The man before him had seemed smaller to Cody before; with a brown cloak draped over his figure, he'd been almost formless. But now, the hood has been pushed back, revealing a full head of hair the color of a... well, Cody didn't know what to compare it to. It was unlike any clone Cody had met; he imagined a wild beast would be proud to don the mane. It's like gold and blood and iron. His eyes, oppositely, are like pools – not raging waves, but crystal clear, calm pools. "I've been awaiting your arrival." Cody is brought back to the moment by a kind smile, the sort that has only ever been offered by his little brothers when they wanted his attention. "It's good to meet you, eh.."

"CT-2224." He reminds his general.

And there it is again, that smile. Cody hadn't said anything to earn that, and the sense of confusion must somehow become apparent to his Jedi, as he explains. "I remember the number the Kaminoans gave you, yes. But is there something else you'd like to be called?" Cody understands the prior hesitation now, and he feels like a reject clone for being so slow to compute. Now, though, he is left torn between the fear Nala Se has instilled in him and the Jedi's magnetic draw. It feels like a hand has been extended toward him even though they are still separated by meters. The spider still rests, fat, in its web, and Cody is relieved.

Cody swallows, tipping his chin down in contemplation. He knows the Jedi has no facial features to go by - only his body language, which he is mostly thankful for. The name Cody, Kote... it is something only his brothers call him by, and never within earshot of an outsider. He isn't sure if he should trust the Jedi general so quickly, especially with something so close to his heart. But he figures that if he is blindly willing to die for the man, he'd better kriffing know his name first. He deserves a proper prayer said for him when if he dies, at least. "Cody."

Now, the Jedi's face contorts with a wide, toothy grin. "Beautiful. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cody." The name rolls off his tongue like it's the most natural thing, and it causes something inside the clone's gut to quiver. He's used to the number assigned to him, the awkwardness and mismatch he feels in his bones when someone uses it in conversation – like his body knows the label is a restriction. It feels like what he imagines a restraining bolt to feel like on a droid, intrusive and cold. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," he says and holds out his hand.

Cody gathers the sing-song to be the Jedi's name, and he grasps the held-out extremity without hesitation. He smiles back at the man despite the expression's lack of reception, feeling welcome in every sense of the word.

𓆙

Cody's gut instinct had been right. Obi-Wan has proven himself quite trustworthy to the clones and to Cody himself. He's been the general's right hand for just short of one standard year now, and the battles they've fought together have been hard on both of them. Cody has seen many brothers come and go, just as Obi-Wan has witnessed more Jedi fall than he ever brings up in conversation with Cody. They've deliquesced into a comfortable dynamic nurtured by long meetings in each other's quarters, shared laughter in the depths of hyperspace, and acts of utter selflessness.

Obi-Wan prays over the bodies of Kote's brothers, entertains their questions about his jetii lifestyle, and even encourages them to create a culture of their own. All of this proves he sees them as equals – as living beings that are connected to the Force despite what anyone else might try to have them believe. He once told Cody, to his face and without a drop of hesitation, that he deserves to be humanized. It shouldn't have kept him awake as long as it had the night he'd heard it... but he'd be lying if he said it didn't gain the Jedi his utmost respect. Of course, the Jedi treats just about every living thing with complete care, which Cody never forgets after getting the shab off Geonosis.

"No, no. Sir," He says disapprovingly, helmet cradled in his arm as he enters Obi-Wan's quarters to restrategize for the next campaign. A heavily fortified glass container sits atop the general's desk, and the Jedi is in front of it, watching the contents squirm and thrash intently. Cody chuckles dryly, then, "Tell me I'm dreaming. It's just a... bad dream." He carries on talking to himself, trying to soothe the pit of anxiety that's starting to form in his chest. He's never mentioned his fear of bugs outright; it's pathetic that the Republic's "finest clone" could have a fear as maladaptive as his. Besides, blasters usually made them easier to deal with. The worst is when they (the bugs) come into his territory.

"Not a dream, Cody," Obi-Wan replies, causing a new wave of worry to wash over the clone from head to toe. What if it gets out? What if it bites him? Or worse, his jetii or brothers?

"Don't let your worries get the best of you." Kenobi turns around in his chair, and Cody can see his hair and beard aren't as well-groomed as they might typically be in the war room or when he prepares to speak to the Council. In no way is he a mess (Cody doubts that's even possible.), but he is in a more defenseless state than Cody has ever seen. The marshal commander can tell from the stray flame-like hairs and the verging-on-bloodshot eyes that his Jedi has been sitting over the desk for some time. "This," he motions back to the jar behind him, "is one of the worms used by the Geonosian Queen to... force her will upon her people. I'm sure that if we can return it to Coruscant, research could be done to reverse its effects."

Cody is now squatting low near the wall, his eyes going back and forth between Obi-Wan and the grotesque being beside him. "There's not much difference between us and them, you know." The Jedi's words catch Cody off guard. Sometimes, the general has a way of knowing exactly where his commander's thoughts are. He's heard, time and time again, that the Jedi don't have mind-reading abilities, but when Kenobi pulls something like this, he has a hard time not getting suspicious.

"As far as I'm concerned, we are very different from it. It crawled into... brains, Sir. I saw it, we both did. My brothers they-"

"Weren't themselves, yes." Cody watches the Jedi rise from his chair and waltz to the kettle atop his counter across the room. "I'm not saying they're harmless; nothing alive is. I would just like to have more research done on it, in case something like this happens again. This worm may be the key to similar cases in the future." Cody nods, trying to see from Obi-Wan's perspective.

They both stay quiet for a moment, the only sounds filling the bedchamber being the water starting to boil for tea and the brain worm's slimy squirming. It seems rather docile in the container, but Cody knows that if Grievous were to intercept them, the jar would surely be knocked over and the bug released. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, not wanting to think about what if. He is here, sitting safely on the floor of his general's quarters, back against the wall, armor on, his helmet less than an arm's length away if he were to need it.

"I won't let it out of my sight," Obi-Wan once again breaks his reverie, stepping closer and offering a mug of steaming liquid. Cody has tried it a couple of times, and he prefers caf's stronger bite to tea's mellow kiss, but he is glad to have something in his hands to keep him grounded – to warm his lips, which had started to tingle from the coldness of space. Cody sips it, forcing his facial muscles not to give away his disdain for the beverage, and he makes sure to thank the Jedi standing above him. "I assure you, it'll reach the capital without any of us being harmed." He says it with such conviction that Cody begins to feel the knots in his stomach unravel, just loosely. And there is a lilt in Obi-Wan's tone that causes Cody to feel warm inside, and in a distinct way that is not from the tea. He takes another sip before setting it down to grab his datapad.

Obi-Wan chuckles as Cody glues his eyes to the screen. Something about the general vowing, no matter how indirectly, to protect his brothers and himself... makes Cody feel like a pile of macerated fruit: sweet, sticky, sickly. He reminds himself that any Jedi would do the same, it isn't in their Code to stand by when tragedy strikes, after all.

"Now, then, Commander," Obi-Wan sits on the floor beside him, his datapad and tea in hand. "Let's begin."

𓆨

Cody loves being on Coruscant. It's never been where he sees his future when he's done being a soldier, but he finds it much more endearing than the vacuum he's usually surrounded by. There are people, music, literature. And since the entire planet has been terraformed into a city, there is hardly ever a bug in sight, at least not the non-sentient kind that have a way of immobilizing him in fear. Hardly.

Things reach a breaking point one day when the Commander goes for his helmet and watches a long silver centipede climb up the side and make itself at home within. He retracts his hand as if it had been burned by hot coals, and he backs away from the geometric face he's used to associating with his identity. He doesn't like the juxtaposition, the fear striking him at the thought of approaching a bucket that's protected him from so much.

Cody could admit that he hasn't always been the luckiest man, but this? It's starting to feel like the Force is toying with him.

There's no room in Cody's mind for logic now, and he can feel his heart beginning to pick up its pace. He hates how his body reacts when he sees a measly, killable bug. He wants to be courageous enough to take it outside and set it on the ground like Waxer or Trapper would, or the follow-through to put the creature out of its misery like Hardcase had demonstrated many times when they happened to be on a mission together. He's too cowardly to proceed with gentleness and too empathetic to proceed with malice. Cody sighs, keeping his eye on the helmet as he backs himself into the corner. His comm, luckily, is attached to his armor, and he needs only flick his wrist to reach out to a savior.

"Come in, General?" His breath is shallow, wary that his most minute movement could trigger the crawler to come for him. He feels sweat at the back of his neck. After a moment of static: "Obi-Wan?" It has to be him. Sure, it might be embarrassing to admit the reason for the urgency in his voice, but he couldn't tell a brother. They'd never see him the same; he is supposed to be strong so that they could be too, and he's sure he would no longer be a respectable Marshal Commander if this secret were to reach the lower ranks. Or worse, Nala Se.

An uncontrollable shiver runs down his spine, just as the voice he'd been hoping to hear crackles over the commlink, tinny but familiar. "Cody? I apologize for the delay – Jedi business," the words are so casual that the clone almost forgets his urgent business that needs tending to. "Are you there, Commander?"

Cody shakes himself and feels his muscles tense when he sees the bucket teeter as the centipede's weight shifts toward the visor. He forces himself not to take his eyes away, despite the tide of nausea that rises in his throat. "Yes. I... ran into a bit of a problem, Sir. Would you mind stopping at the barracks?" The quiver in his voice causes him to screw his eyes tightly shut, disturbed by the loss of composure. He feels pathetic and weak, and secretly wishes they were on the battlefield so he could prove that he has the mettle to withstand more than most.

Obi-Wan is silent on the other end for a moment, the ambiance of the Coruscanti streets being the only sound resounding over the speaker. "Of course. In fact, I was already headed there." Cody feels the pressure in his ribcage begin to ease just slightly. He doesn't care to ask what business Obi-Wan was originally coming to take care of; all that matters is that he's en route, and the bug would soon be removed from his space.

When his Jedi does arrive, Cody is still standing firmly in the corner. The door opens without quiet hiss, and the two men meet eyes from across the small room. Cody can see the question on his general's face – the singular cocked brow and his twitching lips are the only signals he needs. At first glance, the room looks completely typical: nothing is knocked around or broken, all of Cody's belongings are still there, and, of course, Cody himself stands unharmed. A flash of what seems like surprise enters the Jedi's eyes as he takes in the sight, as if he had been expecting much worse. "Well," Kenobi begins, a relieved chuckle in his tone, "I've certainly seen you in worse condition."

Cody tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which are still flooded with dread. "My helmet," he points to it, hand unsteady, "get it out." It sounds desperate because it is, and he watches the Jedi's face shift into a more curious expression, thick eyebrows knitting together as he steps toward the center of the room.

Cody backs himself into the wall and watches as the Jedi carefully walks toward the overturned bucket. When he's right above it, a flicker of delight enters his eyes, and a smile dances on his lips. Of course. He nearly reaches to touch the kriffing thing but seems to remember Cody's presence because he turns to meet the clone's eyes. "Cody?"

The commander swallows hard, his throat dry and taut; he hates whatever it is in his brain that pulls such a reaction from him. "I'm terrified." His voice is breathy and nearly gone. It's an admission at its core, and Cody feels vulnerable like never before.

"That's why I'm here." The statement is matter-of-fact as though it is Obi-Wan's sole purpose to save Cody from his fear. He takes an empty jar from the counter, tilting the helmet slightly and calmly until the centipede topples over due to gravity, its legs and antennae nearly indistinguishable as they tap on the glass. As soon as it's in the jar, a lid is secured on top. "I'll release her in the garden. She'll serve us well there. Better than in here, surely." He smiles and looks through the convex glass with what seems to be admiration.

Once his curiosity has been quenched, he slips the jar into the folds of his robe and turns to face his commander again. Cody is silent. The Jedi had made it look so easy. Probably because it is easy. Cody is the outlier here, not everyone else. He is humiliated at how he'd behaved, and even more so because he still wouldn't deem his helmet safe to wear if anyone were to ask. A thorough cleaning will certainly be in order once he is alone again. He feels ashamed and frustrated. "Thank you," is all he says.

Instead of accepting the words at face value, Obi-Wan offers a hand to the man. "We all have something we're afraid of, Cody. But you mustn't let your fear rule you. It's no way to live." The words are brimming with understanding, and it makes Cody wonder what it is the Sith-slaying jetii could possibly be afraid of.

Rather than prying, he somberly takes the Jedi's hand and queries, "How do I overcome it?" He's warmed by the smile that is given in response. Obi-Wan guides Cody to sit at long last.

"You won't like what I have to say," Obi-Wan shifts his weight and crosses his arms, looking at Cody with a sliver of a challenge in his eyes. "It takes being around the things that fill you with fear to overcome them – realizing the endless possibilities in your head cannot all occur in reality. It's something we Jedi focus on heavily in our training. Allowing fear to rule encourages the Dark Side to prevail. You see, our fears can lead us to impulsivity, greed, and suffering. When we overcome them, we can make decisions with a clear mind and heart."

Cody understands. Or at least he thinks he's beginning to.

A yawn suddenly erupts from his chest, the cortisol thrumming through him. He looks around, a last defensive move, to make sure no other bugs have made their way inside somehow.

"I'll leave you to rest," the general smiles, his hair tousled handsomely. As he makes his way toward the door, just as it slides open at his suggestion, he leaves Cody with this: "If you should need my heroics again, Commander, don't hesitate." And then the room lost all its warmth, just the barracks of another sad soldier.

𐀔

Cody takes a deep breath in as he looks out over the rolling green hills and valleys of Kiros before him. The Togruta colonists, now safely out of Separatist hands, are being trained in basic combat by none other than Cody and his brothers. Whether it is by their own choice or the Republic's, the marshal commander isn't sure, but he's glad to know he won't be leaving them defenseless.

He has been on planets similar to Kiros before, practically unaltered by the people who inhabit them, although it is rare for him to have the downtime to explore his surroundings. He usually does so only to gain intel or perform recon. It's typically a strategic necessity alone. But before and after training, which finishes in the early evening, Cody finds he is free to fill his time however he chooses.

The thing is, he's never been granted this freedom before, and if he isn't careful, he might find himself standing in one spot for hours just contemplating his next move. The vacant holes in his schedule could be debilitating, but he quickly fills his time with busy work and solo missions of little actual importance.

Before any of his brothers, he rises with the star on the eastern horizon, much before their designated hours thanks to the planet's axial tilt. He's grateful to have a tent to himself when, by the second week, he doesn't stop waking in a cold sweat, the tendrils of his nightmare lingering in his mind. The ghostly sensation of some insect crawling over his skin cannot be erased from his memory.

He doesn't attempt to go back to sleep like he had done the first several nights. Why suffer with the silence and his rampant mind when there was plenty to distract him outside?

He rises from his cot and glances at the reflection of his face in the visor of his helmet as he passes it; he won't go without it, but first, caf. He taps the button on the dispenser settled atop a crate, the smell of the brewing beans making him instantly more alert.

On this particular day, he plans to trek across the river surrounding the Togruta settlement to explore the bank and nearby plains; he wants to be sure no Separatist weaponry or droids have been left behind. At least that's the make-believe errand he's assigned himself since he doesn't operate well without one.

Once his tin cup is empty, he sets it upside down to drain like he does each morning whether on Coruscant, The Negotiator, or even Kiros, apparently. He slips his bucket on, the world muffling as the last of his senses are stripped away, then steps into the foggy morning air. Training would not take place since the colonists have decided to spend the day mourning those whose lives were stolen from the galaxy not so long ago. The Jedi and the Clones agreed it was the least they could do to give them space to grieve, though the latter's opinion didn't much matter to the Republic when deciding how its property would be utilized. Fortunately, Obi-Wan's position in the Council had swayed the Chancellor's the Senate's decision to give them all a day of rest.

The clouds hang low as Cody moves through the camp, his brothers sleeping bodies all around him. It is undeniable that he feels responsible for them and assumes the role of their protector with no hesitation, but it also feels nice to know they are all safe and that his wandering off for a few hours at most would do no damage. He deserves it, though it is difficult to remember that fact at times.

Snoring and the creaky shifting of weight begin to ebb into the ambient sounds of the planet granting them fleeting sanctum from the war. Cody is thankful - if not for himself, then for his brothers and their jetii. They deserve a moment of relative peace.

As he follows the dirt path that leads outside the perimeter of the colony, he notices the birds of the planet are perched in the trees above his head, their sleepy cooing not yet turned to morning chirps. He appreciates the colors of their feathers, the purples and blues of which he had no knowledge to draw from to make a fair comparison. He allows himself to lean into the small smile blossoming over his face as he continues to walk on, the moat-like river's babbling becoming louder with each step.

When he pushes through a final stretch of overgrown grass and comes to the water's edge, he surveys his surroundings like any good soldier. The river flows quickly, splashing the banks and wetting the top of his boot, but he knows it is not strong enough to keep him from crossing. He ensures his blaster is safely secured to his person before stepping into the current.

He can feel the water pushing against the plastoid as he takes slow, steady steps, and it flows freely into his armor once the gaps above his calves and thighs are below the waterline. Despite the shocking cold, Cody grits his teeth and trudges through the lapping stream until his knees hit the opposite bank. He turns around and rests awkwardly on his backplate until most of the water has vacated his suit. He stares at the sky, the dark greens and grays beginning to bleed into a sobering yellow. He stands with the rallying of the sun.

Once firmly on his feet, he begins to search the ground for any mines or other traps possibly placed by Separatists and never removed or detonated. He goes on for a few meters, spotting nothing, which he'd expected. Dooku had taken what he came for and left. This is simply Cody's excuse to wander.

He comes to the cliff's edge, and he feels beckoned closer until he can crane his neck to see directly below. The land is ripe and green. He muses about how his stomach remains unflinching despite the drop he could take at any moment, while an arachnid or any of its peers would send chills down his spine. He stares out over the precipice longer than he'd allow if he were on a mission with his brothers. But now, as Kiros' sun lends its warmth to the dirt and animals, he removes his helmet and takes a deep breath in, savoring the crisp air as it enters his lungs unfiltered.

It's then, as his peripheral vision is filled in, that he sees a distant hunched silhouette to his right, veiled by high-growing flora and the fading morning mist. The brown cloak, down on the figure's shoulders and hanging like a crescent down its back, reveals a muss of red hair. Cody's heart leaps into his throat, wanting to call out the Jedi's name instinctively. He fights the urge and instead makes his way quietly toward where the man sits, settled on a rock beneath a shady tree with his legs crossed. He doesn't intend to surprise him – assumes it to be impossible. He is instinctively pulled toward his Jedi's presence and wishes to be nearer, by some logic he doesn't quite understand. Perhaps it's because he is one of the only people to treat his brothers and himself with any consideration.

Perhaps it has something to do with the Force. He doesn't question it, opting to blindly follow orders instead.

He leans against the trunk of the tree, the twisted bark something Cody has never seen before. But the sight he truly cares about has nothing to do with the vegetation. And the sight below the cliffs has long been forgotten.

He stares unashamedly at Obi-Wan, remembering other times he has seen the man in the same position. In most instances, Cody had walked into the general's quarters to find him on the floor, unmoving and absolutely focused. On what, he never knew, nor did he venture to ask. His facial muscles always seem relaxed when he is in this state, and the beauty of it is something Cody has never craved to disturb. Each time, he retreats to the bed or the kitchen chair as he gives the Jedi space to rouse on his own, sometimes dozing off to sleep as he waits, but prepared to work when his name is spoken in that familiar soothing timbre.

Standing here now, he takes shallow breaths, almost afraid he will give his presence away if he inhales too greedily. He feels like he's watching something private while still struggling to find the strength to look away. He wonders if Obi-Wan can feel his eyes on him, has since the first time he caught him like this. Something in Cody knows it's useless to ask, just something his ego brings up to numb the guilt of partaking in such intimate acts as watching his Jedi for a summation of hours. To convince the shame to recede, he tells himself that the purpose of his creation had been to keep an eye on the man, to protect him; for he is a key element to the Republic's agenda.

He feels a hot blade of frustration slice through him at the realization that the man leaving the camp had not been on his radar. Especially at such hours, when no one was awake to accompany him. Perhaps the nightmare hadn't been such a nuisance since it had led him to discover Obi-Wan.

A shift in movement between them catches Cody's eye, and he forces himself to look down to see the abdomen of a plump bee sticking out from the center of one of the horn-shaped flowers scattered about the meadow. Its striped orange and black coloring is like a bright ember against the bruise-hued flowers it swims in. The commander's heart rate spikes helplessly, and he freezes like he has since Geonosis.

"Breathe, dear," Obi-Wan's voice, as Cody has come accustomed to, pulls him back to the world around him and out of his mind. His eyes remain on the pollinator as it dances from flower to flower, her sistren nowhere to be seen. At least it's not an entire swarm. The voice of his Jedi, ever calm and guiding, fills Cody with a warmth no sun could compete with. Despite the wretched bug before him, he tears his attention away from where it rests to find those blue eyes piercing into him as if they were made from the same power source as the lightsaber stowed at his hip, not mere mortal cells. He sighs in relief at the sensation that washes over him.

"Come, sit with me." It isn't said in the tone he chooses on the battlefield, but Cody knows an order when he hears one. He maneuvers around the bug and its feast, not wanting to disturb it and get a stinger in his throat or temple. The thought of it dying afterward terrifies him more. The bee drifts closer to Obi-Wan, who watches Cody sit on the stone before him, ignoring the buzzing creature beside him. They are across from one another, but the Jedi is settled above him like a prince among his people, a lecturer with his students. Cody feels a surge of submission, something he is not used to. He knows Obi-Wan sees him as a worthy partner in the combat zone, but he'd have to admit how difficult it is not to feel like a shiny all over again under the other man's gaze. He glances down to study a patch of moss that has grown attached to the boulder supporting his weight.

"See, you've nearly forgotten her already," he smiles and waves his right hand toward the bee, bumbling about in the flowers. "She wants nothing from us, and neither we from her." Cody likes being grouped in with Obi-Wan. "She gets her meal, and we're able to meditate. Harmoniously." The Jedi looks around the space as if there is something Cody isn't seeing.

"Meditate, General?" The word has been used by the jetiise throughout his time around them, but it never held much meaning to Cody. "Is that what you were doing?" His mind returns to the image of Obi-Wan with that tranquil expression.

"Indeed. It's pertinent that we Jedi take the time to clear our minds and refocus. Of course, it's not just us who can practice. Anyone can benefit from quietening the mind..." He trails off like he's thinking of someone else who could use such a practice, and Cody detests the brief but unmistakable burn of jealousy he feels at not being at the forefront.

"Would you ever want to try?" It's what he'd hoped to hear, and now that it's on the table, he's quick to help himself.

Cody nods stiffly, cautious but eager not to disappoint – to be better than whoever had just been on his Jedi's mind. Ideally, traitorously, he'd like to be the only thing on the man's mind. He forces his eyes to stay steady on Obi-Wan. He focuses on the sepia speckles that adorn the jetii's cheeks and nose bridge, noticeably darkened due to the prolonged terrestrial stay. Cody blinks slowly, burning the sight into memory for when they'd return to space and the freckles would go pallid again.

"It's nothing too complex," Obi-Wan begins, his tone becoming that of a wise monk. "Start by closing your eyes." Cody appreciates the air of gentleness and straightens his back instinctively at the words of direction, eyelids clumsily falling shut, the muscles refusing to relax without a fight. Without sight, he can't help the consternation that rises to his ribcage; he only ever closes them to rest to fight the next day. He wouldn't be Marshal Commander of the Galactic Army of the Republic if that weren't the case. And Obi-Wan's recommendation for him to be in the position was enough proof for Cody.

"Perfect."

The word hangs around them for some time, and Cody's mind performs an instant reboot trying to process it. No one's ever used that word concerning him or anything he's done. He knows the Jedi - his Jedi in particular - have a way with words, and he tries to dismiss it as null and void, a mind trick to get Cody to continue complying with this so-called meditation. He inhales, a shaky effort that nearly fails.

"Keep breathing, Cody." He follows orders and exhales before taking another breath in. He tries not to wonder whether Obi-Wan's eyes are also shut, or if he is vigilantly watching his commander do as he says. Then, "Focus on the feeling of your lungs expanding and contracting without effort."

He has never attempted to zero in on something as infinitesimal as his breathing. Even when his helmet's on, the amplified sound of his new ventilation system is consistently overshadowed by what he sees through his visor.

But the trust he holds for Obi-Wan overrides all Kaminoan programming, at least momentarily, and Cody does as he's asked. He breathes in deep to the point his lungs ache beneath his muscles and bones, the dull sort of pain that reminds him he's alive, organic.

A breeze washes over the field, causing the tree's leaves to rustle like an ancient lullaby. The clone exhales as the wind tousles the short-cropped curls ornamenting his head, an unfamiliar but welcome sensation. "Feel what is here and now. The rock holding you up, the wind on your skin." Cody isn't sure, having no visual cues to confirm his suspicion, but he thinks he hears a smile in the general's words.

The thought flees as he mentally reaches out and focuses on the stone's coolness; his perfect posture falters helplessly as his mind unwinds. There's nothing but right here, in this moment with Obi-Wan, who echos this sentiment when he speaks. "There's nothing here for you to fret over, nothing to fix or fear."

Cody's eyebrows twitch as he digests what has been said. Obi-Wan doesn't rush into another teaching point and lets the man sit with the blade of his words plunged into his chest. Cody doesn't know what it means not to scan for tasks that need completing or enemies that require defeating. He feels a tightness in his chest that could rival the grip of a Sarlacc, and an unexpected wetness burns at his lashes.

He isn't sure what the tears mean, and the confusion only draws out a few more. He refuses to open his eyes, remembering the first instruction he'd been given: breathe. He parts his lips, and a breath stumbles through his airway.

As he breathes out softly, he's brought back to the moment and away from the tempest of emotions swirling within. The bee's buzzing has come to a respite, softly emanating what Cody imagines is contentment. He tenses slightly but once again goes back to what Obi-Wan was putting so much effort into teaching him.

He remembers the rock, the breeze, the Jedi before him. The bee is nearly forgotten. His shoulders sag without thinking, the scar on his face shiny with rebirth. He believes he can smell the undertones of the flora, sweet and subtle.

"You're safe. Let the things you notice pass." The discipline finally begins to ease. Obi-Wan doesn't have the same expectations the Kaminoans do, not in this time and place. "You are the only constant, Cody." The tone slips into something personal, so the marshal commander's imagination convinces him, and it compels his heart to clench. He feels it now, an anchor tethering him to this moment - an undeniable focus on the serenity of the man commanding him.

Time passes unnoticed as Cody loses himself in the exercise, a newfound clarity falling over him. The war is distant from this sliver of the galaxy, forgotten and nonexistent; it's just Cody and Obi-Wan. Not even the bee had made it over the threshold with them. He focuses for so long and hard that at some point he realizes he's aware of the Jedi's breathing pattern - the rise and fall as predictable as any moon's. He envisions their breaths being connected, flowing in through one set of lungs as quickly as it exits the other pair, a balance unspoken and natural.

Selfishly, Cody wishes he could remain in this state for the rest of time - or at least until the primary sun Kiros orbits stops burning and folds into a black hole. Logically, externally, he knows his time here is limited - his brothers, the Togruta, and millions more just like them all depended on Cody for something. They're all alright, he thinks, probably still sleeping soundly, not far away. But Cody is still new to releasing control over anything let alone everything.

"How do you know when it's time to stop?" His voice is lower than he intends, nearly breaking like back in his days as an inexperienced cadet. The only real differences now are that scar carved into the side of his face and countless fallen brothers. Hidden deep below his guts and armor is that same irrational, untrained boy.

"You can stop whenever you feel overwhelmed," Obi-Wan states gently, judgment nowhere to be found. "Open your eyes when you need to," he suggests, and Cody does so immediately. He thought it would be like waking from a rare dream and all the peace he'd started to feel would disappear into nothing. He is pleasantly surprised it's not that way at all. He feels lighter than he has in far too long; his mind flashes helplessly back to Geonosis before a deep breath comes in to tame the memory.

He offers a smile of gratitude to his general, who he now notices has a hand half-extended toward the commander's armored one. "Sir?" Had Cody cut his chances of receiving a touch by opening his eyes so quickly?

"I apologize," the jetii practically spits out the phrase, his tone making it clear how honest it is. His hand retracts to rest on his knee like when Cody first joined him. He swears he sees a rose color creep up the man's neck and cheeks as his eyes engage in a careful dance of avoidance.

No. Cody doesn't want to be avoided; he doesn't want to stumble around alone and afraid forever. He knows Obi-Wan won't try it again now that the moment has "passed." But life isn't a neatly edited holo-vid or a novel; it's a messy, complicated, painful battle at times. It requires bravery to get through - stubbornness and determination. Whatever word you choose, Cody doesn't care at this exact moment.

He breathes in and physically reaches out, bursting through the seams of everything he's ever been taught. His hand tenderly rests on the one Obi-Wan had pulled away, the latter's bare knuckles caressing the underside of Cody's gloved palm. It's the most intimate touch they've ever shared, and Cody doesn't require that it ever happen again. He feels blessed that the other man hasn't ordered him to fall back, and he isn't ready to push for more.

Instead of paying mind to the apology Obi-Wan had offered, Cody gives thanks to the man. "You have no idea how much you've done for me." He pauses, trying to find the words. He was specifically designed for war - for death and destruction. He could recite the BlasTech Industries leaflet that had been provided with his DC-15A blaster rifle instantly if someone ordered it because that made him useful. Knowing how to take down hundreds of droids in one fell swoop, how to plan and execute strategies that have earned the Republic victory after victory: these are tasks he was designed to perform well. Emotions, on the other hand, are much more gruesome.

He wants to tell Obi-Wan about the nightmares plaguing him each night or go even further and describe how he hasn't been able to truly relax since the burning red sands of Geonosis bound him to fear. He wants to tell Obi-Wan that he is the one who makes all of it more bearable. "I feel lighter," is where he settles. He nods as he says it, recognizing the truth in the statement.

An unsteady breath escapes him. His eyes are locked onto his Jedi, knowing that much of what Obi-Wan wants to say at any given time can be read through his eyes and actions. The man's face has softened again, eyebrows cocking incrementally with interest, beard twitching from the smile it works to conceal.

"Well, we could make a habit of it - together. It's helped me many times, and Anakin too, if you'll believe it. I know it's daunting when it's new, but you did so well, Cody." The clone easily follows the string of words, filled equally with attempted diversion and outright praise. He feels his flesh get warmer. His blacks are suddenly suffocating.

"I think that would be helpful," he says as he unclenches his jaw, almost afraid to let the full extent of his enthusiasm be known. He glances back down to where their hands meet. Though it may never reoccur - or perhaps for that exact reason - Cody begins to rub a small oval into the thenar muscles in his Jedi's hand. He silently hopes his general will feel the difference the next time he wields his lightsaber. He expects nothing in return; all he's received from the man has been more than enough.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

Something feels wrong.

Cody stands under the cover of a plant he's never seen before this campaign. It towers like a spindle into the sky, the underside incandescing bright purple. There are hundreds more like it all around him, like a forest of tentacles or insectoid legs emerging from the dirt to trap him there like prey. Umbara is a planet of utter darkness other than the few bioluminescent lifeforms that have evolved with it; Cody is certainly not one of them. Luckily, the night vision built into his helmet is getting him through.

He grits his teeth and tilts his head to glance at Obi-Wan, a few meters to his right in a similar anticipatory stance. His lightsaber is disengaged to minimize foreign lighting that would give their position away. He worries about how limited the jetii's vision might be, knows his general is probably rather unperturbed by the matter. He trusts Cody not to leave him behind in the darkness, just as he would if their situations were reversed.

The rest of the men are closer to the perimeter of the capital city, ensuring no straggling Umbaran soldiers are lying in wait before they begin their assault. The general and commander follow not far behind to cover their tail. Although nothing stands out to him as he listens to his surroundings, Cody can't help the unease that rises in his chest. A deep breath enters his lungs through his ventilator, grounding himself to the present. Focus.

Obi-Wan nods in silence in the direction the rest of their men have headed, signaling that they should keep moving. Cody forces himself to let go of the last of his concerns for Waxer and his platoon; he must trust that they will see each other again on the other side of this long and treacherous battle. Instead, he brings his attention back to where the Jedi's thermal signature had just been through his visor, now another patch of darkness. His heart drops into his stomach, and a splinter of fear pricks his mind at the loss of the man.

"General?" He asks through his commlink before slowly crawling forward through the brush. The sounds of artillery fire descend upon the landscape as his men engage the enemy somewhere further north, distant but near enough Cody feels stuck.

Before he can rationally decide what to do next, an ear-splitting scream rattles through his comm and pierces deep through his armor and into his bones. He knows exactly what it is before he sees it, and the grunt of his jetii that follows right after forces Cody's legs to sprint forward to find where the man had gone. His boots sink into the gray-tinted dirt without thinking, the previous worries about all the vines and Vixus now residing in favor of being brought back to Obi-Wan, who he can hear panting in exhaustion.

Just then, he breaks into a small clearing, the shadows seeming to garner an unfathomable amount of mass. The flora here is impossible to make out, seeming like monsters a child would imagine in the darkness of their closet. The only light comes from the beast pinning his jetii to the ground. The banshee is huge, nearly covering Obi-Wan's entire body with its own. Its biological lighting is green in a way Cody despises, nothing like the lightsabers he's seen some other Jedi carry. It makes him think about the lower levels of Coruscant or a radioactive spill tainting the molecular basis of everything it touches.

Its wings are splayed out around it as if attempting to lift the general's body, but something has stopped it in its tracks. It makes snarling rabid sounds as its mandibles extend and try to shred the flesh of Kenobi's face. Cody freezes as he takes in the scene before him, and he catches sight of the general's face contorting with effort. His hair is a mess around him, sweat beading on his brow. It's now that he realizes the Jedi must be calling on the Living Force to keep the creature at bay.

Even in a moment like this, where his life is being threatened so short of notice, he is able to focus enough not to let his fear overtake him, and Cody will never stop admiring it. During the beginning of the war, he had dismissed the man as reckless, and he has kicked himself for it many times since. Now, though, he tries to take a page from the Jedi's book.

He reaches for his blaster rifle, knowing he can't leave Obi-Wan to fight the thing alone any longer. But his hand doesn't land on the metal of his weapon. It continues to swing through the empty air until returning at his hip. He nearly cries out when he feels it isn't at his side. How had it fallen and he not notice? Kriff, perhaps Nala Se should recall and retire him after all. He panics, unsure how to get the banshee to leave his Jedi besides possibly offering himself as bait.

He can hear Obi-Wan's voice, all those months ago now on Kiros, "Breathe, dear."

He isn't sure if it's just a memory surfacing organically in his time of need, or if it's the jetii influencing his mind, but he finds that he doesn't care either way. He does as the Jedi always reminds him and breathes.

There is a metallic hint to the air that enters his lungs and swirls about - different, but nothing he can't get used to if that's what's needed. There is nothing but him in this brief moment, and he is reminded by the Force that he has made it through worse than a banshee and a few shadows. Obi-Wan has survived worse, and with Cody's help, he'll survive this too.

He opens his eyes, not noticing that they'd fallen shut; he remembers a time when he'd stare at a caterpillar or another similar bug for hours when he was particularly on edge and too mortified with himself to ask someone else to handle it. He inhales through his nose; the past does not exist, only now.

He assesses his options, and wonders if he should comm for backup; he knows he won't distract his men for anything. He considers jumping on the creature's back, but he despises the idea of touching it or being carried away to be mauled and eaten alive. Then he sees it, the sheen of the banshee's light reflecting off that cool metal he's had in his hand many times thanks to his general's constant running head-on into the next problem needing to be solved. Cody has always made sure to retrieve and return it to its brandisher.

Now, he bends to wrap his hand around the saber, engaging the crystal without a second thought as he straightens his spine.

He feels a power surge through his body that not even his blaster had ever made him feel. The blue light emanates from the blade like a celestial spirit in his hands, and it causes all the shadows that had surrounded them to recede. The beast trapping Obi-Wan screeches as if its putrid heart has somehow been filled with terror for the first time. Cody chokes on empathy, imagining the beast sitting with that feeling he knows intimately well.

He steps forward, swinging the saber out in front of him, a defensive pose that he hopes will send the banshee running takes over his muscles instinctively. He's never wielded a lightsaber or any other longsword, but he's watched Obi-Wan in battle enough times to be able to imitate some of his confidence.

When the creature remains on top of the general, claws on either side of his head, Cody knows he won't be able to spare its life. He sways the sword, the sounds of it cutting the air almost as comforting as the voice of his Jedi, though not quite as sweet. He swears he feels a swell of pride surround him, choosing not to dwell on how it hadn't come from within. He raises the blade with both hands gripping the hilt, its light dancing across his features as he swings down hard and fast.

Another scream enters his ears, one of pain and regret and death. Cody can't distinguish whether the sound is from the insect or himself. The banshee's leg is sliced clean in half at the joint. Blood and gristle are cauterized by the heat of the blade - even the chosen weapon of the jetiise offers some mercy. The creature wails in presumed agony, losing its balance and falling to the side like a spider-roach sprayed with pesticides. It thrashes and its wings shake, the ordeal more than Cody's senses can handle.

He forces himself to move around it and pull his Jedi out of its reach, the lightsaber having been disengaged but still in his palm. When they're a safe distance away from the bug, Cody finally looks into his general's face. His hair is wet with sweat close to his scalp, utterly exhausted from the Force work. The commander wants nothing more than to tear his helm away from his face and nuzzle into the jetii's temple. He wants to press his lips there and sob a disorderly, chest-racking sob.

Soldiers don't do such things, though, so he settles to press a thumb into the other man's beard. It's a light touch, almost ghostly, and he wishes they were back on Kiros more than ever before.

The Jedi's eyes flicker to his saber, still resting in Cody's right hand. He notices, sitting up and holding it out to the man it belongs to. He feels a jolt of pride as he looks at it, eyes adjusting to the darkness now that the fight has concluded. But it's mixed in with a sense that he'd done something very wrong, like taking a brother's bucket and wearing it as his own.

"Thank you, Cody," his Jedi speaks quietly, his fingers latching around the marshal commander's wrist instead of the lightsaber. Cody swallows at the sensation, aware they should keep moving despite what they've just endured. He nods silently before remembering Obi-Wan's lack of sight.

"Of course," it doesn't exactly translate all of the emotions in his heart, but it does enough for now. At least he thinks so until Kenobi starts to offer him praise after praise.

"This is more than a weapon, Cody," his hand twists to tighten their grips around the helve simultaneously, "and not everyone who wields one knows when to quell their power. You're disciplined in ways the Kaminoans can't comprehend." His tone is admiring, proud. The touch, the words - Cody feels like he'll melt into the dirt below if the Jedi gives him anymore. He can hear and feel his heart pounding against his sternum like a prisoner in Citadel Station, desperate for escape.

He nods and moves his other hand to rest on top of where the two men meet at the lightsaber; it's the thanks he can't vocalize. Obi-Wan's expression is steady whereas Cody's feels unsure and stiff, and he appreciates how understood the jetii always makes him feel. No matter the layers of darkness, armor, and social conditioning (or lack thereof), he appreciates how Obi-Wan always looks at him like a person. He never looks at him like the test-tube experiment gone wrong he often feels like.

"Now, how about we join our men?" General Kenobi asks, that resilient smile creeping over his lips. "They'll be needing our expertise soon, I'm sure." It's an attempt to bring Cody's mood up, and the clone can't help the curt chuckle at the Jedi's cockiness that rears its head more than is technically appropriate for someone so dedicated to the Order. Of course, none of the clones complain; they've learned many of their favorite witticisms from the jetii, and Cody finds it endearing to hear his brothers try to replicate the general's delivery.

He stands first, then pulls Obi-Wan up with little effort since their hands are conveniently clasped together over the lightsaber, which subsequently goes back to its owner.

Both standing, Cody is overwhelmed with relief that he'd been able to do what had been needed to keep the other man alive. He almost goes down the terrible path in his mind that would make him wonder about all the things that could have gone wrong. He manages to catch himself before spiraling out of control, shaking his head and taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts.

As they slip back into the Umbaran flora, Cody follows his general's lead, his gaze firm on the nape of the other man's neck.

𓇙

The suns hang high in the sky, beating down on Cody with relentless heat. He welcomes the burn as he studies the stark shadow of his hand against the eroded stone of Obi-Wan's abode, the darkness of his fingers caked with an off-white plaster. His breathing is coming and going in a steady pattern, only because he has carefully labored it to be that way, helping to keep his mind focused on patching the cracks in the wall.

From the corner of his eye, he sees something dark scuttle a path through the harsh sand. He looks down to find a scorpion rushing by his boot, glinting like a blood-drenched jewel. He narrows his eyes against the particles floating in the wind, watches as the arthropod finds sanctuary in the crevice of a nearby boulder.

He remembers the voice of his general, all the lessons he'd been given. He's ached for that guidance for far too long, and it makes his chest tighten at the memories he's been struggling to keep oppressed since the last time they were face-to-face. Utapau. Order 66. His skull still aches in the spot where it'd been sawn open to remove his implant, his curls starting to grow back to conceal the new scar. He's not used to the silence of his own thoughts without those four haunting words underlying them. Good soldiers follow orders.

A deep breath fills his lungs; his attention is brought back to the task at hand. He fills another fissure in the wall with plaster, smoothing it with the pads of his fingers - he makes sure to be diligent with his work, having no other way to make himself useful in this place. Though things have undeniably changed, Cody can't help the yearning for their bond to return despite having no way to earn it back. He and Obi-Wan had once trusted each other blindly. Yet he had given his brothers the go-ahead to shoot him down; the rather benign nightmares about insects have been replaced with the memory of that day, and Cody knows it's deserved. He is the one who had shattered things while knowing their already-delicate nature.

He risks a glance to his right, finding Obi-Wan kneeling in the nearby shade provided by a makeshift awning, eyes closed, and muscles relaxed. He's meditating. Of course, he is. It's not quite the same as before the fall of the Order, but then again nothing is. His beard is full and a tad scraggly, not having access to the razors, mirrors, and gels he used to take advantage of, and his hair is longer than Cody's ever seen it. He swallows hard as the guilt washes over him like a wave, wondering uselessly if any of this would exist if it weren't for his weakness. He returns to his assignment on the wall, focusing on each breath entering and exiting his lungs.

During the night, the two sit in the confined kitchen of the desert home. A pot of soup simmers over a fire; it isn't a lot, but it's flavorful and comforting compared to the rations Cody's eaten practically his entire life. Their dishes rest on the table as the men sit across from each other, the winds outside audible from where they reside.

"What did I tell you?" The Jedi smiles as he listens to the sound of active weathering, bringing Cody's attention away from the grain in the wood of his spoon. He'd been focusing on trying to stay quiet so as not to disturb the nightly routine of the other man, so it takes him a second to catch up to the conversation.

"Oh," he says, his mouth falling open before closing again. "The sandstorms. Is it a nightly thing this time of year?"

"Most nights, sadly. It's a pain if the walls aren't tended to properly," he sips his soup - choosing to forgo the spoon - which is no longer scalding from the fire. Cody remembers the man's predilection for food on the colder side, and it comforts him to see that hasn't changed. "I've not had the energy recently." The jetii looks down into his bowl, an almost bashful look on his face. Cody recognizes a roundness to the man that hadn't been there during the war, a rosiness to his cheeks when he came home from the market with new fruit for Cody to try that morning. The clone has only been here for a month at most, and Cody can't deny the ease with which Obi-Wan seems to be settling into his new life. Something he can't yet say for himself.

Of course, there had been much time in between, which Cody had not been here for. He doesn't know exactly what Obi-Wan is going through or how he's dealing with it, but he's pleased to hear him laughing more than he ever did during the war. His brow furrows because he remembers thinking neither of them would be able to laugh again after everything that happened.

"Thank you for taking care of it." It's said in such a measured tone that Cody can't pretend to mishear or misinterpret it.

He jerks his chin down toward the table, "Of course, General." As soon as it slips off his tongue, he wants to throw himself into the fire their dinner is cooked on and keeps their bodies warm at night. He expects a scolding - the Empire likes dealing those out much more swiftly on the clones than the Jedi had - but one does not come.

"I don't know how many times I have to remind you to call me Ben before it sticks." A toothy grin lets Cody know he's not in too much trouble, but he digs his nails into his palm as a reminder to himself not to make the mistake again.

"It's my pleasure... to do what I can, Ben." He looks up and meets the man's eyes, that same crystal-like blue he's always known. "I want to make up for what I've done."

The jetii's eyes soften at his words, seeming to know what he means despite the lack of clarity. Cody's heart tightens as the man stands abruptly, his sand-colored robes sweeping the floor. He takes the few short steps to close the distance between them, and he's looking directly into his old commander's face. His hand comes up and the tip of his thumb traces the curve of the clone's scar from where it starts on his forehead and ends at the apple of his cheek. "Cody, none of that was in your control. You must realize that before this guilt consumes you." Obi-Wan bends so that his forehead comes to rest on Cody's, their eyes still locked until the Jedi's slip shut.

The clone can feel his hands beginning to tremble and his throat constricting. He makes fists in an attempt to calm his nerves, but it makes no difference when a tear tickles his lashes and spills over the edge.

"You've come so far," his jetii whispers, their breaths mingling in the dark. And that's all that Cody's battered mind can handle; a thunderous sound rumbles through him, a sob that's waited years to be freed. Tear after hot, burning tear rolls down the man's face, his hands still fisting into nothing at his sides. Obi-Wan covers his knuckles with his palms, reminding him that he's physically not alone. "None of this is because of you. You only did what you believed was right. I have never blamed you for anything that's happened, Cody."

The words cause a heavy weight to lift off his chest, just slightly. He's carried this shame with him for so long, it's hard to convince himself to fully forget all the pain. It'll take time, which seems alright since they have so much of it now. He'll have to meditate more on how things tend to happen for a reason, perhaps with Obi-Wan as his teacher if he'd have him. He nods against the other man, their foreheads still touching, and he breathes in through his nose as the sobs begin to calm.

No sand or scorpions would be bothering them tonight, thanks to Cody. If he has any say in it, and he does, he'll make sure to patch the walls each day so that Obi-Wan sleeps soundly each night until his rapid aging catches up with him and steals his final breath.