#i spent so much time grinding in the gold saucer

[khadobe-exe]

Been playing FFXIV a lot lately! Here's Heather man in his hard-earned Bunny Chief outfit ;3c

[lady-of-the-lotus]

WHASTA DAT TONGUE DO?: Jiang Cheng x Jar Jar Wedding Night

There are some stories the world needs told.

This is not one of those stories.

Here it is anyway.

Jar Jar removes his inner robe, and Jiang Cheng inhales sharply.

He’s beautiful.

Every inch of the tall, stately Gungan is pure perfection.

Jarcheng - E - Read on AO3!!! 1st Fic - 1st Fic podfic

* * * * * NSFW * * * * *

The sun sinks beneath the distant mountains, painting the sky with a riot of pink and gold as the river settles in for the night.

The moon rises slowly as the sky darkens. The brilliant silver disc fills the star-studded sky, faintly illuminating the room with silver radiance and infusing everything it touches with a sense of peace.

A night bird hoots in the distance.

The breeze rustles through the treetops.

Lying in bed, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, savoring the stillness even as his heart pounds in delicious anticipation.

“HEYO! MEESA SHU JIANGA CHENGI! DID YOUSA MISS MEESA?” Jar Jar Binks stands in the doorway of the bridal suite, arms filled with wildflowers. “LOOKY WHAT MEESA BROUGHT MEESA BOOTIFUL HUBBY!”

He locks the door and strides across the room to where Jiang Cheng is lying in bed. As always while watching his husband, Jiang Cheng is struck by the Gungan’s effortless grace, by the grandeur of his noble bearing, by the majestic flapping of his vast ears as his entire body bobs up and down like a tall, handsome stork.

“HAIR, JIANGA CHENGI! A LOB FOR MEESA MELLI SHU!”

“Thank you, A-Jar.” Jiang Cheng accepts the bouquet with a bashful smile, marveling again at what a captivating creature his husband is. He buries his face in the flowers, inhaling their sweet aroma. “They’re very beautiful.” Almost as beautiful as you are, he wants to add, but he’s still shy about saying things like that. Instead, he plucks a flower from the bouquet and tucks it under one of Jar Jar’s impressively fan-like ears.

Jar Jar giggles, coyly batting his bulbous yellow eyes. “OH, JIANGA CHENGI, YOUSA SO CUTE! LIKE DHA ITTY-BITTY FROGS IN LAKE PAONGA!” Leaning forward, he kisses Jiang Cheng, the tip of his long pink tongue just brushing Jiang Cheng’s.

A sudden rush of heat turns Jiang Cheng’s body into a blazing inferno of desire.

“Are you ready, A-Jar?” he asks, almost pants.

“AM YOUSA READY, MEESA BEAUTIFUL JIANGA CHENGI?” Jar Jar responds seductively. “MEESA’VE BEEN READY SINCE DHA MOMENT MEESA SAW YOUSA! MEESA JUST WANT TO MAKEN SHU TO YOUSA AND MAKEN YOUSA SMILIN AND TAKEN CARE OF YOUSA DHA GUNGAN WAY!”

Dha Gungan way. Jiang Cheng shivers with anticipation at the words. Dha Gungan way…

With teasing slowness, Jar Jar removes his red and gold wedding robes, one layer at a time. Jiang Cheng is in an agony of suspense as he watches, arousal burgeoning with greater and greater urgency as each layer reveals another enticing glimpse of moist orange skin.

“Faster!” Jiang Cheng begs. “Please!”

“WELL EXSQUEEZE MEESA!” Jar Jar wags a playful finger at him. “HOW WUDE! JUST FOR DAT, MEESA’LL GOS SLOWER!”

Jiang Cheng groans to himself, his mouth suddenly dry. He’s been waiting for this moment for months.

Months of anticipation, of fantasizing, of dreaming of the moment when A-Jar would fully be his—

Jar Jar removes his inner robe, and Jiang Cheng inhales sharply.

He’s beautiful.

Every inch of the tall, stately Gungan is pure perfection.

His narrow shoulders.

His muscular orange legs with their thick, meaty ankles.

The saggy yellow-white skin on his chest and inner thighs.

The blue nails of his saucer-like feet.

His buttocks, like two large, firm oranges wedged tightly together.

The meaty flesh dangling between his legs, like an awe-inspiring carrot.

He’s truly breathtaking.

Jiang Cheng only hopes he can live up to Jar Jar’s expectations in return.

Trying to hide his shyness, Jiang Cheng pulls invitingly at the bedcovers beside him.

“OHO, JIANGA CHENGI! MEESA BEAUTIFUL HUBBY!” Jar Jar climbs in beside him. “CAN YOUSA BELIEVE IT? WEESA HERE!”

Jiang Cheng reaches out and traces Jar Jar’s delicately-ridged neck with his finger, trailing his fingertips up over Jar Jar’s delicately curved throat and along his jaw.

Jar Jar trembles with pleasure as Jiang Cheng touches his ear.

“You like that, A-Jar?” Jiang Cheng whispers.

“MEESA LIKEN DAT BERRY MUI! A GUNGAN’S EARS ARE BOMBAD SENSITIVE!” As if unable to contain himself any longer, Jar Jar rips Jiang Cheng’s inner robe off, tearing the delicate red silk. He slides his large orange hand over Jiang Cheng’s chest, and Jiang Cheng swallows hard at the feel of the cool, clammy skin, at the sight of the beautiful blue nails against his own pale skin. “DO IT AGAIN, MEESA SHU!”

Jiang Cheng slips a hand around Jar Jar’s long narrow face and licks his ear.

Jar Jar releases a shuddering sigh. “PLEASE DON’T BE STOPPIN! YOUSA TONGUEY FEELEN LIKE AN ITTY-BITTY WORMY MAKIN SHU TO MEESA EAR!"

Paying back Jar Jar’s excruciating slowness in undressing, Jiang Cheng slowly runs his tongue along the length of Jar Jar’s ear, relishing how scaly the skin feels, the batwing-like ridges, the moans of pleasure Jar Jar releases with each teasing swipe.

Jiang Cheng’s own pleasure pump rises higher and higher with each toe-curling moan, until it stands tall and straight like the mast of a proud ship ready to set sail.

Jar Jar, ever attentive to his husband, notices right away.

“OHO, MOOLE MOOLE! LOOKY LIKE LITTLE JIANGA CHENGI IS COM OUT TO PLAY WITH MEESA PADDLEWOMPER!” He grins at Jiang Cheng, the moonlight glinting off his tombstone-like teeth and making his yellow eyes shine like opals. “MEBBE NOT SO LITTLE, HUR HUR! DHA THIRD PRIDE OF YUNMENG, INDEEDY!"

"You're not too bad yourself," Jiang Cheng mumbles, blushing.

“ISA OUR NEW FRIEND READY FOR SPLISHY-SPLASHY, AS WEESA CALLS IT ON NABOO?”

Jiang Cheng nods, blushing harder, and Jar Jar’s tongue shoots out, wrapping itself around the Third Pride of Yunmeng.

Jiang Cheng gasps as Jar Jar’s thick, pliant tongue wraps itself around the most sensitive part of him, the slippery wetness squeezing tighter and tighter, jerking up and down until he comes with a cry. As he comes, every inch of his body alight with pleasure, he reflexively bites down on Jar Jar’s thick, rubbery ear.

Jar Jar releases a long, resonant, and utterly titillating honking noise.

As soon as Jiang Cheng is spent, spluttering out onto A-Jar’s tongue, he starts to apologize, only to be stopped when something sticky squirts up at him.

Jar Jar’s cum is thick and yellow, with a fragment smell reminiscent of delicately-rotting fish. The precious fluid is splattered over Jiang Cheng’s face, dripping from his upper lip and into his mouth. Jiang Cheng licks his lips, trying to catch as much of the delicious liquid as possible.

“OHO MEESA SHU, MEESA BOMBAD SHAMED! MEESA DIDN’T MEAN FOR DAT TO BE HAPPENEN!” Jar Jar looks down at himself, eyes wide. “ITSA JUST BEEN A LONGO TIME, THAT'S ALL!” The sweet fishy liquid is still dribbling down A-Jar’s glorious “Paddlewomper,” and, seized by a sudden fit of desire even greater than the fiery passion he’d already burned with, Jiang Cheng leans down and licks Paddlewomper’s long orange side, then slides the enormous girth into his mouth and sucks hard, straining to extract every last drop of the delectable liquid from the hot slick tube of erotic delights.

“OIE BOIE! DAT FEELS SO BERRY GOOD, MEESA SHU! DON’TEN BE STOPPIN!”

Jiang Cheng raises his head. His cheeks are pink, eyes hot. “I feel—I feel—” He pounces on Jar Jar, peppering his face with kisses as he grinds his groin into the ravishing Gungan’s shapely leg. “What is this, A-Jar? What’s happening to me?”

“OHO! MEESA THINK MEESA KNOW!” Jar Jar’s opalescent yellow eyes are wide. “DERE’S AN OLD GUNGAN TELLO DAT GUNGAN SQUEEZLE IS MAKEN BOMBAD DESIRE FOR HUMANS, BUT MEESA NOSA BELIEVED IT! AND NOW IT SEEM LIKEN IT BE WORKEN DHA OTHER WAY ROUND TOO!”

Jiang Cheng’s response comes in the form of a whimpering moan. “A-Jar—A-Jar—I need more, A-Jar—I need more—”

In a flash, Jiang Cheng is flipped over onto his stomach. Jar Jar’s strong hands raise him up onto all fours, one hand around the Third Pride of Yunmeng, his other hand firmly around Jiang Cheng’s chest, holding him in place. A squelching sound, and one of Jar Jar’s thick fingers enters Jiang Cheng’s love canal, preparing him for the entrance of Jar Jar’s meaty paddlewomper.

“DISA OIL SMELLEN GOOD! ONLY DHA BEST FOR MEESA SHU! SPECIAL LOTUS SEED OIL TO HELPEN DHA WAY!”

Jiang Cheng grips the silken bed sheets as Jar Jar’s thick finger grazes the pleasure pod nestled deep within his secret place. “A-Jar—oh, A-Jar—“

Jar Jar’s paddlewomper enters him with a single quick thrust, stretching Jiang Cheng around its enormous girth. Jiang Cheng cries out at the delightful intrusion, spreading his legs slightly to allow his husband's powerful Gunganhood to enter him more fully. Jar Jar thrusts forward, sliding his thick paddlewhomper in and out of Jiang Cheng, faster and faster as the flame of their fiery passion grows into an erotic inferno of desire.

“OHO, JIANGA CHENGI, MEESA NEVER WANTS TO LETTEN YOUSA GOS!!”

Desperate for more friction, Jiang Cheng rocks his hips, grinding down into Jar Jar's hand. “Harder, A-Jar, harder—”

Jiang Cheng is cut off by a hot slick something sliding inside his open mouth, filling his throat with wet, slippery heat.

A-Jar’s tongue. A-Jar’s muscular, alluringly prehensile tongue, pink as a lotus flower, warm as honey on a summer day, wet as the morning grasses bejeweled with warm dew.

Jiang Cheng almost comes on the spot.

Frenzied with desire, Jar Jar thrusts into Jiang Cheng from both ends, the sloppy wet sounds of their lovemaking filling the room like a symphony dedicated to their passion. Jiang Cheng moans around Jar Jar’s mouth-filling tongue as Jar Jar's paddlewhomper plunges deeper and deeper into the very core of his being, activating the tender love button throbbing hotly in his depths.

Jar Jar spills himself inside Jiang Cheng, marking the innermost recesses of Jiang Cheng’s being with proof of his passion. At the feel of the wet heat inside him, Jiang Cheng comes too, his erotic instrument shuddering desperately in Jar Jar’s hand and spurting its liquidy cargo over the red silk sheets.

Jar Jar pulls free of Jiang Cheng with a loud wet pop.

“ARE YOUSA OKEY-DOKEY, MEESA SHU?” He peers down into Jiang Cheng’s flushed face. A-Jar’s beautiful yellow eyes are bright, his orange face dark with pleasure and exertion. He is the very symbol of virility, radiating potency and strength. “YOUSA NEEDEN MORE LOTUS SEED OIL OR ISA MEESA SQUEEZLE ENUFF?”

“More?” Jiang Cheng gasps.

“IF YOUSA’RE UP FOR MORE SPLISHY-SPLASHY, MEESA IS TOO!” Jar Jar glances down at his husband. Little Jiang Cheng is already back in firing position, the Gungan aphrodisiac pumping through its master's veins. “Paddlewomper” is standing up too, glistening enticingly in the moonlight and casting a long shadow on the wall.

“Yes, please, please, anything you want—"

“JUST SPAKE ‘DOPWOPEE’ IF YOUSA NOSA LIKEN, OKEEDAY, AND MEESA BE STOPPEN!” And Jar Jar’s tongue shoots out, wrapping itself around Jiang Cheng’s hands and binding his wrists to the bedframe above his head. “YOUSHA LIKEN DISH, MEESHA SHU?” Jar Jar asks around his stretched tongue. "ISHA OKEY-DOKEY?"

“Yes, yes, please—”

“AHA, MEESHA ITTY-BITTY LOTUSH FLOWER ISHA EAGER! MEESHA LIKEN TO SHEE IT!” With a coquettish toss of his ears, Jar Jar raises one of Jiang Cheng’s legs onto his shoulder and, coating his magnificent paddlewomper with more fragrant lotus seed oil, thrusts deep inside his husband with a juicy squelching sound.

Back arching, Jiang Cheng strains at his slippery pink bonds. “Don’t stop, A-Jar, never stop—”

It’s almost dawn before either of them are satisfied. The bed broke somewhere between their fifth and sixth rounds, and now they lie in the sticky tangle of sheets on the floor, hand in hand.

“YOUSA HAPPY, MEESA SHU?” Jar Jar asks Jiang Cheng, smoothing his sweaty hair away from his face. “ALL BEING GOOD? NOSA OUCHIES?”

Jiang Cheng laughs. His throat is sore from hours of screaming in the throes of carnal ecstasy, his feet are cramping from all the toe-curling, his back hurts from when the bed collapsed, he’s dehydrated, chafed inside and out, and limp as a wet rag, but despite that he’s filled with a sense of bone-deep peace.

“Nosa ouchies, A-Jar,” he says.

And there never will be, not ever again. Not ones that truly matter.

Not so long as he has A-Jar beside him.

Snuggling up against his husband, Jiang Cheng falls asleep.

* * * *

TANKEN FOR READING!! COMMENTS MAKEN MEESA BERRY SMILIN! DON'T BE SHY!!

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Operation Soulmate | Five

Pairings: Steve x Reader || Steve x Bucky || Bucky x Nat

Summary: A visit to your sister’s house leads to an astonishing discovery

Warnings: None.

Notes: For @marvelous-fvcks‘ writing challenge, with the prompt ‘Heart’. 

Also, I couldn’t come up with any other name for the stone that I liked, but the name I chose is NOT a reference to the Infinity Stone of the same name (you’ll get what this means when you read the chapter).

Operation Soulmate Masterlist

It’s been three days since your run in with Natasha. So far, you’ve been successful at keeping Steve out of Bucky’s business, though it pains you to have to lie to him. You’ve claimed that he needs to switch things up for a bit and play hard to get.

“I just think that maybe we’re trying too hard, Stevie,” you’d told him, as you lay sprawled out on your couch with your feet in his lap. “Maybe we should back off for a while, see if he comes to you,”.

“But what if he doesn’t?” Steve asked, idly tracing patterns on your calf with his fingers. “What if he doesn’t get the message?”.

“Well, we won’t know until we try, Steve,” you pointed out. “Just give it a week, see what happens. If he doesn’t do anything, well—then we’ll go back to what we were doing before,”.

“If that’s what you think is best,”, he sighed, shrugging nonchalantly.

Since then, you’ve been avoiding Steve and Natasha like the plague, busying yourself in Tony’s lab whenever you can, and training with Wanda in the compound gardens when you can’t. You’re aware that this is only a temporary solution — sooner or later, you’re going to have to face the music — but or now, any chance to avoid lying to Steve’s face is a chance that you’ll take without a moment of hesitation.

When your sister, Mia, calls you to say that she’s found some of your things stashed away in her spare room, you very nearly weep with relief. It’s the distraction you’ve been praying for.

“Can you come by anytime soon to collect it?” Mia asks, “It’s just—baby number three is coming in a few months, and Neil and I want to turn this room—Jason, will you stop, give that to mummy, please? Oh, hang on a minute, Y/N—,”. Mia sets her phone down and for a while, all you can hear is her muffled voice as she tries to reason with your oldest nephew.

A minute later, she picks the phone up and huffs out a breath of air. “Right, hi, Y/N, what was I saying?” she asks breathlessly. “Oh, right, yes, spare room. Your things. We want to convert it into the nursery, so—,”.

“You need me to move my things out,” you finish, nodding in understanding.

“Please. Can you?”

“Of course! I’m free today, actually. I’ll leave now,” you tell her, already walking around your room in search of your keys.

“Really?” she gushes, “Oh, Y/N, that’s wonderful! Thank you so much!”. The squawk of an indignant baby sings through the line. “Oh, that’s Maisie, look, hun, I’ve gotta go, just let yourself in when you get here, ‘kay?”

“Sure thing, Mia. See ya,”

“Bye!”

After locating your keys and purse, you change into a pair of distressed jeans and a simple black t-shirt with a hoodie thrown on top. You haven’t seen your sister or her children for over a month, so this visit is well overdue. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect — you’ve been itching for an excuse to get out of the compound, away from all the drama surrounding Steve, Nat and Bucky. You plan on staying at your sister’s house for as long as she’ll let you.

——————————

You’ve borrow one of Tony’s cars — a sleek black BMW — to drive to your sister’s place. It’s just under forty minutes away from the compound, in a quaint little suburb, where all the houses are decked out with pristine white picket fences and neatly-trimmed lawns.

When you let yourself into Mia’s house, you are greeted by excited squeals, as three-year-old Jason comes thundering down the hallway, hands outstretched to grab you. “Auntie Y/N!” he shrieks, giving you a big toothy grin as he wraps his arms around your legs and jumps up and down excitedly.

“Hey sweetie,” you giggle, crouching down to give him a hug. Mia rounds the corner just then, baby Maisie hoisted on her waist.

“Y/N!” she greets, “Thanks for coming,”. She stretches her arm out to the side and you stand up to give her a brief hug.

“Hello Maisie,” you coo, running your fingers through her soft curls. She gurgles happily at you, waving the biscuit she’s clutching in her fist around.

“How’s the pregnancy going?” you ask, running your hand gently over Mia’s barely-rounded belly.

Mia groans. “I’m so tired all the time,” she admits, “But besides that, it’s okay. Not too nauseous this time ‘round,”. She begins to sway her body back and forth as Maisie starts snuffling and rubbing her eyes. “Okay, I’ve gotta put these two down for a nap, but I’ll come join you after, okay?”

“Sure thing,” you agree, turning to head up the stairs, Jason trailing along after you. “Where exactly is my stuff?”

“Oh, there’re a couple of boxes stashed in the corner of the room,” she replies, “You can’t miss them, they’ve got your name on,”.

“Okay, thanks,”.

——————————

The boxes are enormous.

You lug the first one into the centre of the room and use your key to slice open the tape holding it shut. Inside are some trinkets that used to decorate your bedroom; a poster of your favourite band, some pictures of you and your friends, the funky elephant ornament that someone had given you as a birthday present and so many other items that bring back a whole host of memories.

Your family had spent months searching for you all those years ago, when you were kidnapped by an eccentric science-cult. After a year with no leads, the investigation came to a grinding halt and you were presumed dead. Grief-stricken, your parents had sold off or donated most of your things, only saving a handful of your most treasured items in these boxes.

You set about splitting the items into piles. Some things — like the little scrapbook you made with your friends when you were fifteen — are definitely worth keeping. They’re coming back with you to the compound, if you can find something to carry them in. Other things — like your baby clothes and your first pair of shoes — would probably be more appreciated elsewhere.

Mia pads into the room when you’re nearing the end of the first box, perching herself on the stool beside the dressing table, one hand resting protectively over her belly.

“You doin’ okay?” Mia asks softly.

“Yeah. It’s kinda weird looking through my old stuff,” you admit, “I don’t remember much about…that life. It seems so distant,”.

She nods sympathetically. “Yeah, I can understand why,” she murmurs.

You sort through the last few items in quick succession, then turn to the other box, slicing the tape open in much the same way you did with the first. The first item you pull out is a small, blue, velvet box. Inside is a stunning ring; white gold, with clusters of diamonds surrounding an enormous aquamarine gem in the centre. It’s not yours, that’s for sure.

“This was Nana’s, wasn’t it?” you ask, turning the box around so that Mia can see the jewellery inside it. A wistful smile crosses her face when she catches sight of the ring.

“Yeah,” she answers, “She wanted you to have it,”.

“Oh,” you breathe, running your thumb over the smooth band. Your maternal grandmother had died of cancer whilst you were in captivity. The two of you had been pretty close, so you were distraught when discovered that you hadn’t been able to properly say goodbye to her. She was a charismatic woman, but what fascinated you most about her was the soulmate bond she had with your grandfather — it had seemed so strange and mystical to you. This ring is a trinket you’ll treasure forever.

“Pull it out, I wanna see what is look like on,” Mia urges. You acquiesce her request, sliding the delicate band onto your right ring finger. To your astonishment, the gem in the centre begins to change into a brighter shade of blue upon contact with your skin.

“Mia!” you cry, thrusting your hand into her face, “Wha—what’s going on?”.

She is as stunned as you are, mouth gaping open and eyes as wide as saucers. Thinking that perhaps it’s just a trick of the light, you slide the ring off, twisting and turning in the sunlight spilling through the window. You are unable to recreate that same bright blue glow, but it comes back when you slip the ring back onto your finger. You stare at Mia in shock, using your eyes to silently plead with her to explain what’s going on.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, after a tense moment of silence. Mia runs her fingers through her hair and breathes out slowly, trying to collect her thoughts. She swallows, then looks at you with a level gaze. “You know that Nana and Papa were soulmates, right?” she asks. At your nod, she continues. “Well, that ring you’re holding is a Soul Ring. The gem in the centre is a Soul Stone,”.

“A Soul Stone,” you repeat, staring at the ring on your finger in disbelief. “I thought they didn’t exist anymore!”

“They’re a rarity,” Mia corrects you, “Hard to find, but there’re still some floating around. Most of the ones on the market nowadays are just pimped up mood rings,”. She jerks her chin towards the ring, “But Nana’s is genuine, passed down as a family heirloom,”.

Soul Stones, much like soulmates themselves, are one of the few remaining mysteries in the modern world — the only real evidence that magic exists. Or, well, existed. Though the origins of Soul Stones are largely unknown, researchers have concluded that they are imbued with some type of ancient, long-forgotten magic. These Stones — and the Rings fashioned from them — are the only way for a person to definitively know if they have a soulmate or not. The gem’s colour will change as the wearer of the ring nears their soulmate; you’ve seen this phenomenon happening with your own eyes. The memory is foggy, but you seem to recall this very same ring on your grandmother’s finger changing from its usual blue to a paler green whenever she was around your grandfather. You’d never heard of a stone glowing before, though.

“What does it mean when it glows, Mia?” you ask hesitantly, hating how your voice comes out like a timid four-year-old’s.

Mia draws her bottom lip between her teeth and tilts her head to the side before answering. “Well, if I’m not mistaken,” she says slowly, “I think it means that you have soulmate,”.

“What?” you gasp.

She smiles brightly. “The universe has granted you a wonderful gift, Y/N. You’ve got a soulmate. He or she is out there, you just gotta find them,”.

“Tell me more,” you beg, scooting closer until you’re practically sitting on her feet. “Please, Mia, you’ve always known more about this than I did. Tell me,”. Mia is eight years older than you, meaning that she’s spent more time with your grandmother, and has had more of a chance to learn about soulmate-lore through firsthand account. Beyond that, you know that Mia’s read heavily around the subject, as it was a key part of her university dissertation. If there’s anyone who can explain this to you, it’s Mia.

“Okay, okay,” she laughs, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Calm down, will you? You’re just as bad as Jason, I swear,”.

“Sorry,” you mumble, smiling at her sheepishly.

Mia takes a deep breath and starts to idly comb her fingers through your hair. “Well, the first thing you need to know is that there’s still a lot of confusion surrounding soulmate-lore,” she begins. “There are so many conflicting schools of thought, because no one really knows how all of this works. I’m just going to give you some of the generally accepted principles, but if you want to know more, I can lend you a couple of books, deal?”

“Deal,” you reply, looking up at her expectantly.

“Good. Okay, let’s start with how soulmate pairs work,” Mia says. As she speaks, she seems to sit up a little straighter, like she’s steeling herself to deliver a well-prepared speech. “A soulmate pair is described as a pair of people — of the same sex or not — whose auras are compatible with each other. What’s an aura, you ask?”

“I didn’t,” you mutter.

“I’m going to pretend you did, and I’m going to answer by saying that your aura is the…energy that your body emits, okay? That’s the simplest way to think of it,” Mia explains.

“Soulmates are two people whose energies mesh with each other. Got it,” you confirm, nodding your head resolutely.

“Right. Now, the universe, somehow, magically knows when two auras are compatible with each other, and it will endeavour to set up events to bring the two of you together—,”.

“Like fate?”

A pinched look comes over her face. “‘’Guess you could call it that. But ‘fate’ makes it sound like an inevitability, and soulmate pairs don’t always end up together. But we’ll get to that in a minute,” she says. Mia pauses for a minute, absentmindedly twisting together strands of your hair as she ponders her next words.

“So, that’s what soulmates are. Now, how do the Soul Stones come in? Well, the Stone is able to sense the aura of the wearer—,”

“Through magical means?” you interrupt.

“Yes, via magical means, and it can sense whether or not the aura of the wearer is, for want of a better word, incomplete,”.

“Incomplete?” you echo softly.

Mia nods. “Meaning, not with your other half, or away from your mate. Soulmates, as they are part of a pair, will have incomplete auras. And, as a way to notify you of this incompleteness, the Stone will begin to glow, or change hue whenever it is worn,”.

You frown, brows drawing together in disapproval. “‘Incomplete auras’ doesn’t sound like a good thing,” you mutter.

She huffs impatiently. “Okay, well, incomplete is perhaps the wrong word to describe it. It’s more like…unfulfilled, I guess. Not living up to your highest potential. Which is not a bad thing, it’s just…undesirable,”.

“So…it’s okay to have an incomplete aura?” you ask, still slightly mystified by all this soulmate-lore.

“Yes!” Mia says firmly, “There’s nothing wrong with you if your aura is incomplete. You’ll just….” her voice trails off and her hands gesture wildly as she searches for the right word. “You’ll just feel this restlessness inside you, I suppose,”, she says finally.

“Right. Okay,” you murmur under your breath. Then, raising your voice so that Mia can hear you, you ask anxiously, “So, what about this changing colour business. I’m not wrong, right? They do change colour?”

Mia nods, “Yes, yes they do. And how it works, again, no one knows for certain, but the general idea goes something like this: the Stone senses the aura of the wearer. And, as you draw nearer to your soulmate, you aura is changing—,”.

“Becoming more complete?” you interject.

“Exactly. And because the Stone can sense this whole-ness in your aura, it will change colour. The more whole your aura becomes — in other words, the closer you get to your mate — the brighter the colour will be,”.

You hum thoughtfully, twisting the ring on your finger as you turn over her words in your head. “Is there any other way of knowing that you have a mate?” you question.

“Nothing definitive,” Mia replies. She chuckles dryly, “From what I’ve read, it largely depends on the pair. Some people have described it as a tugging in their heart or gut. Other have found that they have an inexplicable pull to a particular place. I’ve heard of people feeling those stereotypical ‘sparks’ when their skin touches. A lot of people experience less obvious things, like an accelerated pulse, or giddiness, or breaking out in cold sweat,”. Mia laughs mirthlessly, “In fact, there have been cases where people say they don’t feel anything at all!”

“Gee, that’s real helpful,” you drawl, rolling your eyes sarcastically.

“I know right?” Mia snorts. “The point is, there’s no way to know for sure if you’ve found your mate, unless you’ve got a genuine Stone on you,”.

“You said mates don’t always find each other…?”

“I did,”. Mia shakes her head sadly, “The universe, like I said, tries to bring a soulmate pair together, and it does so by pulling your auras towards each other,”. Her hands start moving animatedly, to emphasise her point. “But certain things can alter the aura of a person, making the…pull of the auras, or their attraction to each other less strong. In these cases, soulmates find it harder to meet their pair,”.

“What kind of things?” you ask curiously.

“Medication, mental illnesses,” she pauses, eyes narrowing as she thinks. “If your mate is in love with someone else, that could also be a dampener,”.

“That sucks,” you grumble, scrunching your nose in discontent.

“It does suck,” Mia agrees. “And, I should point out, that because of the sheer number of people on this planet, the, I guess, ‘signal’ of your soulmate’s aura is lost amongst a lot of static, which just makes it that much harder to find them,”, she adds.

“I see,” you hum, chewing your lip thoughtfully. A moment of silence passes between the two of you, as you let your mind absorb all this new information.

“So really, despite the fact that you are meant for each other, the odds of you finding your mate are pretty slim, Y/N,” Mia sighs, stroking your check tenderly.

“It’d be nice to have a mate, though,” you murmur dreamily, thinking back to how happy your grandparents were. They were so attuned to each others needs. As a couple, they weren’t necessarily more in love, or happier than your parents or other couples you knew, but you could always sense this underlying contentedness in their relationship, that seemed to be lacking in others.

Mia’s sharp gaze snaps towards you when she hears your words. “Don’t get obsessed about this, Y/N,” she warns, her dark tone drawing you back to the present. “People have gone mad, or worse, died, because they’ve gone on elaborate quests trying to find their soulmate. You don’t need to find your soulmate in order to live a happy life, okay?”. Without warning, she leans down and slings her arms around your shoulders, pulling you in for a crushing hug. “I’ve already lost you once,” she whispers fiercely, “I can’t go through that again,”.

“I know,” you breathe, leaning into her touch and wrapping your arms around her as best as you can. “I won’t. I promise I won’t,”.

The room is silent for a while as Mia holds you in her arms, burying her nose in the crook of your neck. She’s breathing deeply, as if trying to compose herself. You just close your eyes and rest your cheek against her head, letting her embrace you for as long as she needs to. Finally, Mia releases you, discreetly brushing the back of her hand over her eyes as she sits up. “Sorry,” she mumbles, laughing weakly. “Okay. I’ll let you finish up in here, yeah? Will you stay for dinner? The kids’ll love that,”.

“Of course!” you reply, a broad grin spreading over your face, “I’d love to stay,”.

“Great,” says Mia, returning your smile. With a great groan, she heaves her herself off the stool and heads over to the door. “Come down whenever you’re done. I’ve got laundry to fold!”

“Okay!” you call, turning back towards the second box.

Left alone to your thoughts, you mull over the ring now on your finger. Where the stone had previously been a lovely azure blue whilst the ring was in the box, it has now morphed into a brighter cerulean colour, indicating that somewhere in the world, your soulmate awaits you. You can’t help but wonder who they might be, what they might look like, whether or not they know that they have a soulmate.

Could they possibly be someone you know?

That question pushes you into another line of thinking.

You wonder if you should ask Steve to wear the ring. Though he doesn’t believe in the notion of soulmates, it can’t hurt to see if he does have one. And, even if the ring does glow, that’s not definitive enough evidence in support of your hypothesis that Bucky is his soulmate. You could try to convince him to wear the ring around Bucky, perhaps, to see if it changes colour. If your hunch turns out to be correct, and Bucky is, in fact, his soulmate, then maybe that’s all you’ll need, to help bring Steve the happiness he deserves.

Though of course, that still leaves you with the uncomfortable situation of dealing with Natasha.

It’s possible, though, that once Nat realises what Bucky is to Steve, she’ll be willing to let them be together, and Operation Soulmate — ha! How fitting the name proved out to be — will have its happy ending, after all.

You have to remind yourself that all of this is hypothetical, and that the end result is riding on a long string of ‘what ifs?’, but you can’t help but feel a little bit optimistic, nonetheless.

The door creaks open just then, and a sleepy-eyed Jason comes padding in, clutching his stuffed monkey close to his chest. “Auntie Y/N?” he mumbles, ambling over to your side. When he sees the piles of your stuff spread around you, his face immediately perks up, eyes coming alight with interest. “Wha’s dat?” he asks, pointing towards the ring on your finger.

“It’s a ring, Jason,” you reply, petting his hair fondly.

“Shiny,” he coos, poking it with one stubby digit.

You laugh. “Yes. Shiny. You wanna help me look through my things?”

“Yeah!” he cries, plopping himself on the floor beside you and clapping his hands eagerly

You shove thoughts about soulmates and complicated love triangles into the back of your head, telling yourself that there is plenty of time to worry about that later. For now, you have one wide-awake nephew to entertain and a whole box of memories to look through. It’s a distraction that you need to savour for as long as possible.

----------------------- Tagging: @hollycornish @awinterloveuniverse  @aquabrie @onceuponahiddleston @bi-diana-prince @after-avenging-hours @patzammit @braelyn250 @theoutlinez @toc1985 @girlyfandomfighter13 @winchestersmut @wildefire @mynameischica

[tweedpawn]

Gold Leaf- Cold Apathy of the Force

((Arkley Belongs to @quartervirus/ @awkwardtimezone. I always ask for permission before posting work with other characters. I have had a particularly productive moth with my warmups and my own independent writing (hour long rendering times will do that) ))

There came a time when the weight of the city became suffocating and the tiny hostel stirred restlessness in two sentients within its walls. The daily act of surviving became routine with ordinary melodies and repetitive lyrics. Days were spent gathering resources and teaching. The evenings were spent keeping ears and eyes out for danger, a gift Della had a knack for.            Not that it afforded much sleep for either Jedi or Padawan. Obtaining proper rest was like trying to get a rusted out engine going. It came in fits and starts, until pure exhaustion took over. They would wake up too quickly, limbs feeling sluggish and heavy.            It couldn’t go on like this, Arkley thought. Della was going stir crazy. She paced constantly between the room and the lobby, maybe taking time to loop around the fitness center to try the treadmill for the tenth time that day. Her studies had hit a wall. She was becoming frustrated with her language and her understanding of what Arkley was trying to teach her.

He knew the signs of cabin fever. There had been times on a long journey that he had been closed up and isolated. It could be maddening. 

                       When news spoke of Imperials increasing on the planet, Arkley knew that they only had a window of opportunity to leave. Why were they increasing in this area? Arkley assumed the answer. They just had to know that he was here. A jedi for them to hunt.            He instructed Della to pack her meager things. They were leaving now. When Arkley went to the front desk to pay for their visit, the hostel manager sighed.            “You were a good ticket, buddy. Probably my last customer though.” The Manager said. Arkley raised an eyebrow.            “Something I don’t know?” he asked. The Manager was a short cathar, wrinkled and grey. He gave a low growl.            “There’s an investor in the area. He’s buying everyone up.” said the Manager. Arkley thought on this. That wasn’t typical Imperial behavior.            “You never saw me or the girl.” Arkley waved his hand in front of the eyes of the Manager and left a pile of extra chips on the counter. He hated to do that to a well meaning sentient, but there could be no chances. He looked at Della. She had tied her ears down with a crude necklace and wrapped a head scarf around her. She was scared.            “We’re going to walk quickly and quietly. Pretend we are normal. Understand?” Arkley said in a hushed tone to her. He placed an arm around her and kept his senses open for danger. They ducked into a darkened alleyway when a group of troopers strolled by.            “Already.” He growled. Della’s teeth were grinding, as they did when she was starting to tense. Arkley took a deep breath, hoping that by being calm and allowing it to flow to Della, she would also keep a level head. He patted her hair in the space between the ears. She looked up at him, trying to understand.            He needed to get to the spaceport without any delays. His heart pounded as he saw more and more troopers in the area. Luckily none of them seemed concerned. One even apologized briefly for bumping into Della, before lecturing her to be more careful.            Arkley saw the port within sight, his feet were already killing him from the blocks they strided. Della watched him like a hawk, anticipating his every move. She would nudge him, usually by standing too close to him.            They were about to step into the doors of the lobby of the space port, when Arkley felt an ice cold grip in his chest. It knocked the wind out of him. He felt his fingers turn frigid.

No, not here. He gulped. He pulled Della aside, just out of view of a suit that stepped out, guarded by a great brute of a man.

           This first man, tall and elegant, had ice blue eyes and perfectly styled black hair. He carried a briefcase and smiled coldly at the city. He had detailed, but subdued, embellishments that screamed money. He was prim and fashionable with a face that could sell pictures.   

That was the sith? Arkley had to confess that he was shocked. Sith never looked so financial. Arkley studied the brute. There was nothing remarkable about him. But Arkley would not underestimate him. Always two, there are.                 “It feels good to be back.” the more elegant of the sith remarked. He busied himself with something on his chronometer, and Arkley began to hope that they had not been sensed.            Della looked dreadful. She was pale; her eyes glazed over. She shaked like she had a fever. Arkley brought Della close with one arm, like a parent trying to comfort a child. His mind caught flashes of far-off fields. Eyes glittering in the dark.            Then the suit stopped. His arms went to his sides and Arkley could sense the frigid calculating aura of the Sith seek out and locate. Certainly, they had sensed him and Della now. The two sith looked at each other, and then began to walk towards the direction that Arkley and Della were seeking shelter.            Arkley was thinking fast now. He could not take on two sith with a terrified, unarmed, padawan. They were going to have to run, but not in panic. When Arkley took a step back, The Sith stopped almost by intuition. The way the smaller one paused , with the precision of a chronometer, was artificial.            Arkley no longer waited.Pulling Della by the neck of her outfit, he darted into another alleyway. His eyes looked skyward. He saw great work of construction all around him, like a web being built before his eyes. Everything shiny and new, threads of steel beams to close in on the impoverished while the spiders weaved more great shrines to industry and capital. Topped off with gaudy decorations of gold leaf and pseudo-classical revivals.            There had been a great old tree near the port. It was a fountain now with a geometric sculpture erupting from its center.  It was circular and flat, almost moon-like. A silver ring held thousands of clear polyglass shards. There was a smaller circle inside of it.            Something about that statue inspired dread that Arkley had rarely felt. It felt hot and humid. His chest tighten. He sensed that something great and terrible would come to pass. The truth twisted and became a pinpoint light that Arkley swore would burn right through him.            As if a million voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced. He was revulsed by the sight of this little innocuous piece of corporate “Art”. He wanted to smash it to pieces. He felt called to throw a great stone to rid the landscape of this obscenity. They tore down a tree for this trash.

“You’re one of those has-beens” said an icy voice. Arkley saw one man with a great long shadow pointed like a dagger, then two, and at least five identical copies of the Sith with the Briefcase. Illusions. They all watched like cameras, their gaze fixated on the two Jedi. They moved with jerky ticks, like intricate gears.            There was silence in the air. Arkley’s hand rested on where his lightsaber hung. Della was close behind him. The Sith stepped forward, expression candid and focused. On his hip there was no blade. There was a pistol carved from some sort of black stone. Ornate and dark as the suit he wore. There were geometric designs around the barrel of the gun inlaid with red kyber crystals.Never, had Arkley seen such a blaster. Uncivilized.            “Your bags are packed.” The sith remarked with a twitch of a smile. He appeared like a suited tomcat watching a bird flap helplessly on the ground. But where was the other hunter?            “You noticed me. And my associate? He’s closeby, I assure you.” said another one of the copies.            “You hide behind illusions, and get some goon to do your dirty work.” snipped Arkley. All five copies raised an eyebrow.              “Dirty work?” they said. The Illusion in the center stepped forward.            “On the contrary,” He said. “My work is legal; I do not unclean my hands hunting down some invalid and his litter.” He stopped and glared at Della,locking eyes with her, terrified, round saucers. The sith’s eyebrows pressed together, recalling some fact or piece of information that stubbornly refused to materialize completely.            The illusions were all staring at her. Arkley hid the panicked girl behind him, stepping forward. Her fear was powerful. It caused his mouth to dry out and his pulse to quicken. The illusions stepped closer.            “And just how many chronometers are you hoping to buy with our heads?” Arkley’s lips snarled back. The illusions stopped in their paces. The Sith’s sculpted faces turned upward to the emerging buildings on the horizon.            “Those properties? They are worth more than you. I bought your temples. Refurbished one into an incredible planned community with a shopping center and flats. ” The sith remarked proudly.

Arkley then realized that what he had sensed from the Sith was not fear, anger nor hate. It was Apathy. It was the type of apathy that allowed war crimes to occur in far flung places. It was the reason the impoverished suffered. It denied its own accountability, while demanding it from others. It’s not my problem that some screwup ended up on the streets. They should have gotten a real job.

The Sith’s chronometer went off, and the illusions frowned. They looked back at the Jedi like they were trespassers in a ritzy neighborhood.              “ The jedi never realized that a man is worth only what he is able to produce. You stopped producing. Parasite. I have no time for you.” The illusions became four shadows as they melted towards the center Sith. He stood in the contrasts of shadows and light. Whites and blacks crisscrossing into spears and arrowheads.              In a blink, he was gone. But someone else had taken his place. The Brute. And he came charging towards Arkley like a boar on fire, blade ignited and power roaring like a train. Arkley ignited his blade just in time to block. Della screamed in horror. The force of her terror shoving both men away from her into a tumble of blades and limbs.

The Brute fell onto his back. Arkley fell onto his elbows and knees, the pavement coating them in pain. The Brute seemed stunned; his head had struck the concrete. Arkley himself prayed that his own wrists did not get sprained.            He looked to Della, She looked confused and shocked as to what happened.  He knew exactly what she had just done. He would have to talk with her about it, but her action had afforded a chance. Seeing an opportunity, he scrambled onto his feet, as the brute started to regain his senses.            “Run!” He shouted. But the monster had already caught back up.              Another clash of blades. Arkley knew they only had a limited amount of time before Stormtroopers showed up, and then only the Force knew what would happen next. But the Brute did not call for reinforcements, and he fought to kill.

Parry. Strike. Lunge. Dodge. Deflect. The Brute was starting to wear him down. They had been evenly matched. Arkley blessed his skill and experience. He cursed the power of his opponent's youth.            But then the Brute seemed to pause for a second, just as he looked at Della as a potential source of weakness for the Jedi. Looking at his quarry with the same confused stare as the Suit did. It was a distraction Arkley used to his advantage, cutting the tip diagonally across the left arm, chest and nicking the neck. No blood poured out of the cauterized wounds, but they were deep. The smell of burnt flesh meant that shock from inflamed nerves would set in quickly and at least provide a chance to escape.            Arkley grabbed Della by the wrist, pulling her to his speed as they made their dash to the ship.            “Running late! Out of the way!” He shouted past stormtroopers and guards. He paid the port guard, no, bribed the port guard. And the ship was ready for take off within moments. Moments that felt like an eternity.

He strapped himself into his seat. Della shakily imitating him in her own chair.

Arkley felt his heart jump into his throat as there was a sudden influx of troopers in the bay. They fired at the vessel and scattered to prevent the ship from leaving. Even as the ship elevated and left them all in the dust, he did not dare to breathe.

He leaped into Hyperspace. Then another. On the third jump, red warning lights flashed. His hands tightened around the steering. His teeth bared down. He prayed it would hold together. Della looked around in alarm, trying to understand anything that was happening.            Finally, there was only calm.

The escape had been narrow. Arkley wasn’t sure that he was still alive, the deafening pounding of his blood in his ears being the anchor that reminded him he still had yet to cross the veil. He looked to his left in the cockpit of his ship. Della looked green with sick.            Arkley quickly helped her unbuckle the safety harness and winced as the poor girl ran to the refresher to vomit out her insides. As she hurled and coughed, Arkley reached for a bottle of water, rehydrating himself. Sweat on his face mixed with the liquid, slightly salting it. He withdrew into the Force, feeling its coolness wash over him. He fell back into his chair.            As his body succumbed to its peace, Arkley became aware of the temporary weakness in his limbs. His hands were shaking. The wearing off of adrenaline. He dug for a protein bar and quickly scarfed it down.            What had alarmed him wasn’t how close he came to capture or execution. But the overwhelming fear his padawan felt. It was like a tidal wave. It had manifested. What was the saying? The mantra? Fear leads to anger…            Della had no anger, that Arkley was aware of. He viewed this as a good sign. The Masters had outdated notions on how to deal with fear. There was an excellent chance that with training and kindness, the root of Della’s fear could be turned into something that drove her to help others that struggled.            Your old fears will become wind in your sails. The sink turned on as Della cleaned up whatever mess she made. She returned to the passenger seat, still pale. But, she looked a little better. More tired than terrified now.            “You’re dehydrated.” Arkley gave her some water, which she gulped down quickly.She then removed the head scarf and the jewelry that tied her ears down. They looked out into the stars, recuperating energy and settling nerves. Della knew exactly what they had run into. She had seen them before.

They were the ones in the fields with the golden eyes and dark cloaks. The ones her snamreg friend saw in a past vision that terrified and haunted him. They had the sticks that Arkley had. Except one of them had a gun that fired light. That had been the one who caught Della.            Her mouth tasted of the bile she had spat up earlier. When she was offered a snack of some sort, she forced herself to eat it to forget the taste of her stomach contents. Her entire body felt weak and shook.            Della didn’t want to talk about those awful men. Something happened, didn’t it? She did something that made Arkley and The Sith go flying away from her. She looked at the hilt at his belt. Della never liked it. She remember seeing it cutting across metal like it was butter. Today, she saw what it could do to people.

What was so important about that weapon that Arkley had one? Couldn’t he just as easily carry a gun? Arkley, practically slept with that thing at his side. Della’s stomach churned again. Had he killed someone before? No. Not him. He was a kind man.

           She felt a strange calmness. Just like when she first met Arkley. She looked over at her guardian, who had his eyes closed and was taking long, deep, breaths. His palms rested on his lap. He looked asleep, but his face did not carry the placid ease of dreaming.            Della had seen him do this before. The first time it happened, she thought the man had fallen asleep upright. He had a word for it, meditation.            It was a funny way to spend the time, Della thought. But, he looked at ease. The longer the stillness continued, the more Della felt calm and settled. She wasn’t sure why. She buckled herself back up and continued here gaze into the stars. The hum of the ship was like a lullaby now. It felt reassuring.Everything is working properly.            It wasn’t until her eyes felt heavy, and she thought she would drift off to sleep, that Arkley quietly started to navigate the ship to some unknown location. He turned on some of the strange space music that sounded electronic and organic at the same time. She would catch a familiar sound every now and then, a bit of brass or string.

Della did not bother with stirring herself awake. Her exhaustion from the encounter with the Sith had consumed a great deal of energy.            She didn’t remember falling asleep. Every now and then, her head would jerk up, and her eyes open just to see more starlight. Then, her ears would droop and her mouth slacken as she drifted off to rest.

               :Arial;coп0;R: