#in your queue shall burn

[scottysketches]

jedi survivor spoilers below the cut because I'm playing through it again and I have some Thoughts and Feelings

doesn't matter how many times I play through this game, every time I reach the point where Bode betrays you and kills Cordova I feel the same betrayal Cal feels, and when Vader kills Cere and she dies in Cal's arms and he's crying because now he's lost not just a friend but his second Master to (Imperial) treachery I also cry

the fact that this is all preluded by Cal and Merrin affirming their relationship (which I have wanted since they became allies/friends in fallen order) makes this despair all the sweeter

also I know I'm not the only person to point this out, but it certainly seems as though jedi with the psychometry ability (Quinlan Vos, Cal Kestis) have a natural inclination towards being with Nightsisters (Asajj Ventress, Merrin)

also, going into the game, I already knew that Cordova was going to die

I knew that Cere was going to die

and after the prologue mission on Coruscant I knew that Bode would end up betraying Cal

but I didn't expect to see another Cere v Vader match (let alone actually get to play it this time)

(it's kind of a shame that Cere apparently didn't hear about Obi-Wan breaking into the Fortress Inquisitorius on Nur to rescue Leia and then goad Vader about his not-so-impenetrable fortress after having done it herself with Cal five years earlier, but then I suppose we don't know at what point in the year survivor takes place with regards to the Obi-Wan mini series - both take place in the same year, after all, 9 BBY)

I didn't expect Bode to shoot Cordova point blank in the chest (twice!)

I didn't expect BD-1's agonised mechanical screams as his original master is killed in front of him

yeah, this game makes me Feel Things and I just needed to write them down

[scottysketches]

Yes. Let's normalise taking people at their word when they say they don't want kids, or identify any way other than cishet.

I had to have this argument with a fertility doctor when I went on blockers at 16 as part of my transition (though of course at that point they were pretty much useless). She kept going on and on about how going on testosterone would make me infertile - which is wrong, by the way, it doesn't make me fully infertile, it just makes it more difficult for me to conceive naturally - and was horrified when I stated that kids weren't in my long-term plan. She refused to believe me when I confirmed I didn't care about the possibility of being infertile, and insisted that I would end up changing my mind (all the classic arguments of "when you meet someone, you'll realise you do want kids"), and she only shut up when I said, very bluntly, "I can hardly take care of myself, let alone a small child." Bearing in mind this was all at the Tavistock gender identity clinic for trans youths in the UK. Like, lady, did I stutter? No. If I say I don't want to have kids, then I don't want to have kids.

I'm older now, and I'm a little more open to the idea of being a father at some point in the future (as in, mid-thirties and onwards later), but I'm sure as hell not going to be the one carrying the sprogs. In that sense, my mind hasn't changed - I don't want to have a baby, I don't want to get pregnant.

So yeah, if someone is particularly certain about something that they do or don't want in their life - at any point - let's just believe them. Chances are, that will continue on into adulthood.

stop telling your teenage daughters who say they don't want kids that they'll change their mind

[burncdheart]

@diverse-hearts asked: “  i’m gonna fucking kill them.  ” - Chuuya (Genshin) protective prompts - always accepting

Eyes fixated on her father. His words surprised and did not surprise her. Latter because, she had already figured out that they were more alike then she’d like to admit. It wasn’t just in terms of looks that made it visible that they were definitely related. Though, she guessed that most might would might mistake him rather as a brother of hers, considering how young he looked. Coming to think of - how old was he anyway? Somebody - she was unsure if it had been Venti or Eiji - had already told her that he was an immortal.

If that was true - what did this mean for her brother and herself? Were they mortals, like their mother? Or immortal, like their father? There were so many possibilities she had entertained so far, but Taru knew very well that nobody, not even her father, could answer those things. Ironically only time would show.

“Well, that’s the whole story of my master and me. At least everything I still remember.”, her words came out as a sigh. The ginger doubted that this would become any easier to talk about any soon. It did feel like she betrayed the man who had raised her even more - even if she had all right to do so. After all, it was the blonde to do so first.

“Do not kill him though. I know, it’s surprising that this comes from me - but there’s worse than death.”, she finally looked away, instead gazed at the morning horizon stretching away in front of them. It was a weird feeling, how much she felt at peace like this. Watching as the sun slowly started to raise and drowned the city of freedom in such dim light.

Hadn’t she met her father after finishing something for the Abyss Order, she probably would have long rushed back to Amadeus and their puppy. Now, after rethinking her past and comparing it to the present - things weren’t as bad right now. Actually, they went much better than they did back then. Was this, what freedom meant? She wondered.

“I warn you, father.”, her voice was hushed as she spoke, “Don’t do anything without thinking it through when it comes to master. It might be just what he’s waiting for, he could have set traps. He’s far from nice and even further from stupid.”.

[scottysketches]

friendship tattoos and sweet kisses 🥹

(aka korkie, amis, lagos and soniee went and got matching tattoos to represent their bond with each other - then soniee snapped a picture of korkie and amis kissing and sent it to satine with some sarcastic & flippant comment about "they're gay, your honour")

[bethanydelleman]

Can you rank the Austen men from most to least likely to be unfaithful to their wives?

Ya people with your great questions messing up my carefully organized queue... lol, who am I kidding I have no organization. Excellent question!

I honestly believe that Jane Austen wrote and imagined these men as faithful, but given their personalities, moral codes, and circumstances, I shall sort them into two buckets, More Likely and Not Likely

Not Likely:

Fitzwilliam Darcy - I buy the argument that Darcy is demisexual, so I don't think he seeks out sex without emotional attachment and he'd definitely consider an emotional attachment cheating. I doubt he's a virgin, but I think he'd be faithful when married.

Edward Ferrars - he may have accidentally fallen in love while engaged, but he remained faithful to a woman he didn't even like. I cannot see him cheating on Elinor in a million years. Also, with his profession and dislike of London, he has low accessibility (a big factor in cheating).

George Knightley - perfectly content to mostly stay at home and hang out with Emma and her dad. I can't say he's ever seemed terribly sex motivated to me. Also, rarely leaves Highbury so low access.

Henry Tilney - My best boy would never do that to Catherine!

Colonel Brandon - No one in the history of the earth has ever exuded such a strong monogamous vibe. It is Marianne Dashwood or NO ONE.

More Likely:

Captain Wentworth - I think it really depends if Anne is able to travel with him. I'm mostly putting him here because I do get the feeling he has a fairly high sex drive and the navy means long separations and high availability. If Anne is pregnant or has children, traveling with him may be difficult or impossible. Emotionally though, he's all Anne.

Edmund Bertram - He'd feel very bad about it afterwards, but I can see it.

Charles Bingley - Sorry dude, again, I can see it. The fact that he constantly falls in love worries me. I do think he's too nice to ever let Jane find out.

Hm, those are just the heroes. Here are some bonus guys rapid fire:

Cheating/Cheated:

Willoughby, Wickham (canonically), Sir Thomas (hinted canon), Frank Churchill, Mr. Rushworth (Maria told him to), William Elliot, Robert Ferrars (ego boost), Sir Walter (his kids are too well spaced), General Tilney

Not Cheating:

Sir John Middleton (actively having babies), Dr. Grant (too lazy), John Knightley (he would never), Robert Martin (he would never!), John Dashwood (fears Fanny), Mr. Bennet (canon), Thomas Palmer, Mr. Elton, Mr. Collins (fears reputation damage), Admiral Croft (too in love), Captain Harville (ditto), Charles Musgrove (burns his energy hunting), Mr. Woodhouse (can't even imagine), Mr. Price

Not Included: Henry Crawford because we don't know if he'll marry and John Thorpe because who in their right mind would marry him!

[scottysketches]

One of my favourite books that helped me improve in drawing people and more dynamic (read: not stiff as a board) poses is Figure Drawing For Artists, by Steve Huston. I have a physical copy that I keep on my desk at all times, and compared to other books I've seen in stores over the years is relatively cheap? You can get a physical copy for £16 / $20 on Amazon, or the e-book (Kindle) edition is around £8 / $10. I'm sure someone has uploaded a free pdf version of this book if you're unable to buy it.

Can also recommend Design Doll, and for those who do digital art exclusively on iPad there's also Magic Poser, which is a little more limited than Design Doll from what I remember (the only model you can use in Magic Poser is a male one, you have to pay for the female model) but for an iPad app it's not too bad.

Can't afford art school?

After seeing post like this 👇

And this gem 👇

As well as countless of others from the AI generator community. Just talking about how "inaccessible art" is, I decided why not show how wrong these guys are while also helping anyone who actually wants to learn.

Here is the first one ART TEACHERS! There are plenty online and in places like youtube.

📺Here is my list:

Proko (Free)

Marc Brunet (Free but he does have other classes for a cheap price. Use to work for Blizzard)

Aaron Rutten (free)

BoroCG (free)

Jesse J. Jones (free, talks about animating)

Jesus Conde (free)

Mohammed Agbadi (free, he gives some advice in some videos and talks about art)

Ross Draws (free, he does have other classes for a good price)

SamDoesArts (free, gives good advice and critiques)

Drawfee Show (free, they do give some good advice and great inspiration)

The Art of Aaron Blaise ( useful tips for digital art and animation. Was an animator for Disney)

Bobby Chiu ( useful tips and interviews with artist who are in the industry or making a living as artist)

Second part BOOKS, I have collected some books that have helped me and might help others.

📚Here is my list:

The "how to draw manga" series produced by Graphic-sha. These are for manga artist but they give great advice and information.

"Creating characters with personality" by Tom Bancroft. A great book that can help not just people who draw cartoons but also realistic ones. As it helps you with facial ques and how to make a character interesting.

"Albinus on anatomy" by Robert Beverly Hale and Terence Coyle. Great book to help someone learn basic anatomy.

"Artistic Anatomy" by Dr. Paul Richer and Robert Beverly Hale. A good book if you want to go further in-depth with anatomy.

"Directing the story" by Francis Glebas. A good book if you want to Story board or make comics.

"Animal Anatomy for Artists" by Eliot Goldfinger. A good book for if you want to draw animals or creatures.

"Constructive Anatomy: with almost 500 illustrations" by George B. Bridgman. A great book to help you block out shadows in your figures and see them in a more 3 diamantine way.

"Dynamic Anatomy: Revised and expand" by Burne Hogarth. A book that shows how to block out shapes and easily understand what you are looking out. When it comes to human subjects.

"An Atlas of animal anatomy for artist" by W. Ellenberger and H. Dittrich and H. Baum. This is another good one for people who want to draw animals or creatures.

Etherington Brothers, they make books and have a free blog with art tips.

As for Supplies, I recommend starting out cheap, buying Pencils and art paper at dollar tree or 5 below. For digital art, I recommend not starting with a screen art drawing tablet as they are more expensive.

For the Best art Tablet I recommend either Xp-pen, Bamboo or Huion. Some can range from about 40$ to the thousands.

💻As for art programs here is a list of Free to pay.

Clip Studio paint ( you can choose to pay once or sub and get updates)

Procreate ( pay once for $9.99)

Blender (for 3D modules/sculpting, ect Free)

PaintTool SAI (pay but has a 31 day free trail)

Krita (Free)

mypaint (free)

FireAlpaca (free)

Libresprite (free, for pixel art)

Those are the ones I can recall.

So do with this information as you will but as you can tell there are ways to learn how to become an artist, without breaking the bank. The only thing that might be stopping YOU from using any of these things, is YOU.

I have made time to learn to draw and many artist have too. Either in-between working two jobs or taking care of your family and a job or regular school and chores. YOU just have to take the time or use some time management, it really doesn't take long to practice for like an hour or less. YOU also don't have to do it every day, just once or three times a week is fine.

Hope this was helpful and have a great day.

[stellari-s]

heyoooo!, I don't know how to ask for a one shot so as not to seem rude... if you want, could you make an ithaqua x reader(survivor)?.

Survivor, she met Ithaqua when they were younger, because she almost froze to death in the storm in the snow and Ithaqua as a teenager helped her and took her to her mother to help her, after helping her for a few months the tragedy passed, Ithaqua sent the survivor away but she didn't Ithaqua knew that he was in love with him and Ithaqua never knew until,He arrives at the mansion with a letter saying at the end that he will find a person he left a long time ago, and at this point the survivor was still in love with him although a few years had passed, since Ithaqua sent her away to protect her from her deceased twin brother. Maybe Ithaqua will stop seeing her as a younger sister now as something different... I don't know how this is fluff or anguish...If you want you can do it? I'm sorry if I use the feminine a lot, I'm used to it but if you want to make it gender fluid, have a good day!

💌

hey, anon! no worries, it's not rude to request for a one-shot at all (｡･ω･｡) i tried to incorporate the things you mentioned to some extent but i hope i didn't misunderstand anything,, hope you enjoy nonetheless though!

request; yes, by anon! requests are open (with a bit of a queue), so feel free to send in your ideas 💕

wc; 1 113.

tags; gn! survivor! reader, pre-manor flashbacks, canon-typical vibes, ithaqua & reader sibling relationship, a bit of violence, some angst.

summary; the past is much like a dream in this cold and lonely place. by the time you can finally meet him again, it is under the circumstances you wanted the least.

everything feels like a dream.

yet, even now you can recall with striking vividness the feeling of the cold snow against your skin along with warmth from the company of others close to your heart.

nothing from that time was a dream.

yet, in this point in time when the coldness is a hodgepodge of pain and loneliness, everything feels like one.

the only proof you have despite your blurry memory is an amulet, left behind by your foster mother, who had raised you with a certain boy whose name you have forgotten.

gripping the amulet, you think back to the moment when your life was engulfed in a sea of orange flames.

screams made the flames waver back and forth, and seeing the woman who was allegedly deemed a “witch” by a cult led by someone whose face was identical to his, your breathing grew more uneven by the minute.

“this woman, a widow, is hereby a witch as declared by our god who bestows us with his wisdom,” he declared, a sick expression plastered on his face, “and thus here she shall now atone for her sins - may they burn to ashes.”

his words were like an order; with a flick of his wrist, a large group came in with torches and threw them inside. your foster mother was chained with nowhere to run.

meanwhile, your brother ran toward you. he stumbled a few steps, but then he crouched down before you, his hands lightly gripping your shoulders, perhaps in an attempt to comfort you amid the chaos.

“listen to me,” he said with a hushed voice, his wide blue eyes tinted with a slightly orange hue, “you have to get out of here, alright?”

“but what about you?”

“i’ll stay behind and save mother and get her out of this. but for now, you have to get out.” he almost sounded desperate at this point. “please, i can’t afford to lose you too.”

something tugged on your heart when you saw his expression and heard his voice, almost begging you to run away so he could at least be comforted by the idea that you were alive, somewhere he didn’t know.

but alive nonetheless.

tears started to stain your eyes and cheeks from the smoke and a mountain of emotions, but you found the strength, albeit barely, to stand up and run out of the house.

you took your amulet and ran, only daring to look back when the sea of fire looked like a faint warm glow.

the fire threatening to burn you is almost apparent, even now, sitting within this cold manor.

you look down at the amulet in your hands, gripping it tightly before loosening your hold, and then enveloping it in the warmth of your hands once again, desperate to keep the memories close to your heart.

right now, it’s your only way to cope.

you always dread that knock on your door with an invitation to another “game”. you know whoever is chasing you will don a distorted appearance meant to scare you. and the manor owner wants that. you have seen it all: a girl forcibly bound to a wheelchair carrying a chisel, a man with long sharp claws, spirits who reside within a cursed umbrella…

just who is going to be next?

that is the only thought running through your mind as you run through the dark woods. trees and bushes obstruct your vision, and eventually, you slip into a small body of water that looks unnaturally green, like some man-made light is illuminating from below.

you try getting out, but the water slows you down, enough that the hunter could find and catch you.

the encounter is brief - you can make out a mask, an axe, a lantern, but he is nimble and swings without hesitation. when your mind is yelling at you to dodge but your legs don’t move, you have to hit them before they finally fight against the water.

the axe lands beside you with a splash, and panting, you look up at that white mask.

for a moment, time seems to slow down.

everything in your surroundings seem to slow to a stop and lose its color as you look at the hunter before you.

your chest tightens; it’s as if someone had reached into your heart and slowly started stretching it from both sides. you are wide-eyed, unable to blink at this boy, who looked like a stranger out for blood yet so, so familiar.

that’s right… his name is-

the blade stops just short of your face. seeing it so close to you makes your heart hammer out of your chest - the hunter looking so tall with the stilts don’t help your nerves either.

“(y/n)?”

hearing your name once again coming from the person you miss the most, tears are beyond your control, your chest laden with pain.

yet, you didn’t want to meet him again here, not under these circumstances.

you wanted to meet him while viewing the first snow, or fall asleep together while mother sang a lullaby.

why did it have to be now, after mother was long gone? after happiness has long been broken?

you can’t bring yourself to stun him the entire match. you can only run away, avoiding that lantern’s flicker, until you find yourself back in your cold room.

lying on the bed, you look over with heavy eyes. to the side on a plain mahogany desk is the amulet.

next to that is a single vase, filled with pink carnations.

ithaqua, now alone in the room with no prying eyes, slowly takes off his mask.

beneath the mask is a perplexed expression, light blue eyes seeming to waver slightly.

he walks to the desk where a letter lays, the red flower-shaped seal ripped but the letter still folded neatly within. with nimble motions, he takes out the folded piece of paper and unfolds it, reading the invitation.

dear ithaqua,

i hope this letter finds you well. i’m writing on behalf of the owner of oletus manor to ask for your help with a rather large-scale experiment.

after some consideration, we have determined you to be a perfect fit for what we are looking for, so we would like to formally invite you to participate in a series of games for us.

of course, we will not ask you to do this for free. we will compensate you handsomely with any reward you wish for should you adequately complete what is asked of you.

if this offer strikes your fancy, we hope to see you at oletus manor, where a certain reunion may await you.

sincerely,

miss nightingale.

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love, part 14

Sorry about Sunday's empty post ☹️ I must've accidentally put a draft template in my queue because I am basically tired and rubbish and life isn’t the greatest right now. Anyhow.... Whoops and really sorry again!

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Eddie POV

When neither Steve nor Robin show up after ten minutes, Eddie begins to freak out. 

He, Hopper and El are still waiting for the car, out of sight among some ferns. Hopper’s getting antsy, muttering beneath his breath, while Eddie’s wriggling like he’s got ants in his pants. Which he genuinely might have, though that’s not what’s bugging him:

“Uuuuh, shall I see what’s taking them so long?”

“You do that,” says Hopper. “What’s going on with that guy? He could barely stand! How the hell could he…”

Eddie tunes out, retracing their journey into the trees, calling Robin’s name then Steve’s. Maybe Steve passed out, and Robin got lost searching? Somehow, he doesn’t buy it. A heaviness slows his feet, and his guts twist sourly. 

They wouldn’t just ditch him. Surely? Surely!?! 

Fifteen minutes later, he winds up where he started: “They’re not back?” 

“What do you reckon?” Hopper’s breathing hard and red in the face. Evidently, he’s been running in circles like Eddie has.

“This is for you.” El nudges Eddie and presses a scrap of paper into his hand. “I think Steve left it.”

“What? Where?” Eddie’s stomach clamps tight again. 

Her eyes stretch very wide. “Fell out of your pack.”

Turning the note over in his hands, his fingers stiffen, as if shrinking from the task, bracing for… something. In the event, he gets a literal slap around the face.

“You make me sick,” Steve wrote.

Eddie’s skin burns with the blow. Wow! This is why I never have and never freakin’ will write love songs.

“What does he say?” demands Hopper.

Eddie scans the note one more time, scrunches it in his fist. “I’d hazard a guess he’s gone back to Hawkins.”

“Goddammit! Robin’s gone with him?”

“I think that’s a safe bet.” A wobble in the back of Eddie’s throat finds its way into his voice. Because, boy, is he still processing.

You make me sick. 

What does that even mean? To be fair, Eddie did make Steve sick. More than once. But why the heck write… that. Would suck less to be dumped without a word. 

Thanks for the overkill, man.

“Don’t you even think about scooting off,” growls Hopper. “Your uncle would never forgive me.” 

Oh yeah. Wayne. The only person who ever actually cared about him.

Eddie plonks his butt down on the ground and waits for the car.

…

Steve POV

“C’mon, giddy up,” says Steve. He and Robin make their way along the muddy bank of the stream towards home.

“Is this some kind of race?” she asks. “While I’d forgotten your former life as a douchebag jock, you’re doing a stunning job of reminding me, and… Uuuuugh!” 

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong this time?” He spirals about, plants his hands on his hips—he’d ditched the sling a while ago. 

She scrubs madly at her lips. “I swallowed a bug! Ugh, ugh, ugh, mega-gross. Eeeeurgh!”

“Maybe if you weren’t complaining, like, constantly, there’d be less opportunities for bugs to get in.” 

“You shut up, shit-bird! I could die of malaria.” She spits into the stream. “Ew! EEEEEEEW!” 

“Ssssh! Hop said the military will be crawling everywhere soon, or—”

“Eddie might hear?” His heart heaves a loaded thud. She looks back sharply, purses her lips. “You know, he could be lost in the wilderness, all alone. Being hunted by evil army thugs. Or bears! Did you think of that when you sauntered off?”

“I did, yeah. I left him a message saying not to follow.” He shades his face from the afternoon sunlight, which shafts between the trees. Also, he can’t look her straight on and say this: “It was kinda brutal, I guess. It was for his own good, right?”

“Oh. Riiiight.”

“You done spewing insects?” he snaps.

“Still heavily grossed-out here. Gimme a minute, ’kay?” She plonks herself on a rock, crumpling forward.

He mops his brow, strips his sweater, and takes the opportunity to check in on his bat bites. They’re still sore, the bandages a bit bloody. Nothing too fresh, though. For the billionth time, his thoughts fly back to Eddie. He hopes Eddie doesn’t get hurt and need healing while they’re apart, and… Holy shit, will he ever see him again? He ties his sweater around his hips, trying to make fumbling hands look casual.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Other than the fact I’m modelling a ‘shoot-me-now-why don’t-you?’ Hellfire Club t-shirt,”—and that I want to punch myself in the face about that moronic note—“I’m good, Robin.”

“You know what? I don’t doubt it.” She brushes her flyaway hair from suspicious eyes. “You’ve gone from death’s door to super-human speed in, oh, I don’t know—feels to me that we’ve been marching for a week. I think it’s been barely an hour.”

“Yeah? We got a long way to go then.” He starts off along the stream’s edge, forcibly slowing his pace. He senses her puffing, panting, then following on his heels.

“Look, Steve, this water goddess who’s pulling you back, whispering in your ear—”

“I can’t actually tell if they’re male or female. Does that matter?”

“Not in the slightest. So, your water… deity. Have they, by any chance, enlightened you as to some kind of divine plan? Or told you exactly where you’re heading?” 

“I got an idea where I’m going, yeah.” To the second place he died, swept away on that blood-red tide—even now, he sees it in his head, like a few frames of a horror VHS stuck on eternal repeat. “Where’s the best place for army generals with dodgy agendas to hang out in Hawkins? There’s never been an army base, apart from—”

“You’re kidding me?” She grabs his elbow, jerking him back. “The Soviet tunnels?” He nods, and her obvious dread has her dropping him like a stone. “No way! I don’t think I can go anywhere near without a major panic attack."

“I’m not gonna march straight in.” He’s already wandering on. Trouble is, now he’s said the idea out loud, it’s become real and terrible. And he’s gotta pretend like his blood’s not congealing to ice. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get in anyhow. I mean, the Starcourt lift is buried under a ton of rubble. I think Hop might’ve know other ways—”

“Oooh, I got a great idea. Let’s go back and ask him.”

“Yeah, real subtle.”

“Steve!” She seizes him again, twisting him around with a furious force. “I know you want to help El, but what can you ACTUALLY DO?” He shrugs before he can stop himself. “Rain? Lightning? How does that benefit us—especially in underground tunnels? Plus you’ve had literally zero time for practice. If we don’t slow down and come up with a decent plan, this is tantamount to suicide.”

“We? Seriously, Robin, I…” His teeth clamp his lower lip. Any moment now, he’ll tell her how terrified he is, how he really, really doesn’t want to get tortured again, let alone die; how the idea of anything bad happening to her is as frightening as any of it. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Steve,” she says, gentler now, though her grip gouges into his flesh. “It’s screamingly obvious you’re not thinking straight. You’ve been ill for days and now you’re in a funk, beating yourself up over Eddie.”

He yanks himself free, glares. “That doesn’t make any dif—"

“Bullshit! Trust me, however ‘mean boy’ your literary masterpiece got, Eddie won’t want you to do anything this dumb. Oh, and your resident gender-fluid angel saved your life. They’re not gonna want you to sacrifice it pointlessly.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. He laughs—not a particularly happy laugh, but not totally miserable either. “You win,” he says, kinda sagging with relief. “You got a plan, smarty-pants?”

She laughs with him, equally edgy. “I say we go to Lover’s Lake, wait till it’s dark. If that’s too dangerous, we find some hidden pool where you can practise whatever badass moves you think you got. Hopefully without the puking. It’ll be a bit like Band Camp. But for Magic. Magic Camp. Okay?”

“You really aren’t gonna be happy until I’m a bigger nerd that any of… Shit!” 

He’s been considering hugging her. Instead, he seizes her sleeve, dragging her down into a deep, wet gully. They land with a splash, crouching low, close. She doesn’t complain, because she’s heard what he has.

The distant sound of barking dogs. Likely, army search dogs.

“Dog barks travel for miles, huh?” he whispers.

“Possibly.” She sucks in a scared breath. “One thing for sure—those sniffy wet snouts can pick up a human scent from the next county.”

“We’re in a stream, Robin. They can’t pick up our scent here, right?”

She crinkles her nose, dubious. “Dogs’ sense of smell is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah? Let’s hope this bunch caught colds or something.” 

He’s now the one clutching her way too tight, and he half-wishes he’d ditched her with a bitchy note too. Though, not quite. She smart; he needs her, and she’s really has gotten him thinking clearer: 

“We head for Lover’s Lake. C’mon.”

…

Eddie POV

When the sound of the car engine finally reaches his hearing, Eddie feels almost nothing.

“Don’t move.” Hopper pitches Eddie a forbidding look and grabs El, keeping them low behind the ferns. 

An owl hoots. Despite the hollowness in his chest, Eddie silently cracks up. Seriously? Top secret government goons can’t think of a better signal than me and Robin? 

Hopper’s grip slides to the firearm at his side. He rises slowly. “Over here.”

Peeping between the foliage, Eddie can make out a limo-style saloon with blacked-out windows. A severe-faced woman in lethal stilettos climbs out. “Chief Hopper, I presume? I apologise for the delay. O’Sullivan’s got men everywhere. We must leave right away.”

Hopper, nevertheless, remains stood well off the road with Eleven, not rushing for the car. And Eddie? 

You make me sick.

Steve’s made it simple for him. He should cut his losses and take this chance of escape. Wayne would want him to. Apart from… Eddie literally can’t. What was it that Steve said? Oh yeah. That he was being stretched in the wrong direction. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, I’m feelin’ it, Stevie. 

Nothing supernatural, nothing hinky. You kill me that bad, Babe—even after you turned meanie-King-Steve and dumped me. Oh, and went back to goddamn Mordor without me! 

Gonna trust you had your reasons, and I’m coming anyway.

He turns on his dirt-clotted heels and flees as fast as he can.

Part 15

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl, part 2

Well, I managed to churn out part 2 of this! Take that, flu >:) Anyways, read part 1 here

I listened to the rest of the class with a single ear, so busy with plotting our next move was I. Mrs Cheng was going to want to take revenge for my little ploy, and that meant I had to keep on my toes. Things were going to get significantly more dangerous.

Dane, fool boy that he was, had taken it upon himself to become the teacher's pet, a deadly thing to do when the teacher in question was Mrs C. All through the day, I cursed him as I watched him present neatly written equations to Mrs Cheng with glee. It was a small mercy that she had no knowledge of our relationship, for my sanity and for his safety, and suspected naught of him.

As the bell rang and we were released, I shot her a mocking bow and strolled out the door. Soon as I was out of sight, I grabbed Dane's elbow and sunk my nails into his soft flesh. “You idiot,” I hissed in his ear.

His wide prey-eyes met my narrowed ones. “What did I do? Training today wasn't that bad, was it?” When my glare did not let up, he batted at my hand. “Kat, let go, please. I don't know why you're so pissed with me, but you're going to draw blood! So unless you want my mom to have some very awkward questions, you have to stop.”

I glanced down at my hand, with its too-long fingers and too-sharp nails. “Tch,” I said. “You nearly got yourself killed with your antics just now. And all the not-terrible training in the world isn't going to be enough when you end up going toe to toe with C.”

“C? You mean Mrs Cheng? Wait…” Realisation dawned on his broad features. “Oh shit. You gotta be kidding me, right? It's her?”

I barked a laugh at that. “Yes, Dane. It's her. Her and about a quarter of the school faculty. So think twice before you draw any more attention to yourself, understand? You're not nearly ready enough to fight one of them.” 

Biting his lip, Dane nodded. “I'm sorry, Kat. I should've thought things through more. Can I get you an ice cream to make it up to you?”

His inanity brought a smile to my face. “Don't apologise to me, silly. I'm not the one who's in danger. But yes, I would love to have an ice cream. Shall we try the gelato place that just opened up?”

He pulled out his wallet and made a show of noting how little there was in it. “You're going to drive me broke, Kat. These cafes are overpriced, you know. The convenience stores work just fine,” he whined.

I tapped him on the nose, and replied, “When you've lived a life like mine, you learn to appreciate the finer things in life, little Dane.” Besides, I thought grimly, I had upset the things running the convenience stores a tad too much to be comfortable eating something from there.

We walked, hand in hand, down the noon-burning street, and I could not help but revel in the heat. Truly, global warming was doing me a favour. Dane did not share my views, sadly. He leaked rivulets of sweat, fanning himself with a piece of paper and he strolled next to me.

It appeared we were not the only ones to crave icy relief, for the cafe was brimming with people munching on artisanal gelatos and sipping iced tea. There was only one person at the counter, a gorgeous woman with hair that fell in auburn waves and overalls that proclaimed her to be an employee. I slipped through the doors and pulled Dane behind me. Without them ever quite noticing, the customers parted around me, and I snuck my way into the front of the queue.

Without turning around, the woman manning the counter chirped, “Hello and welcome to Jelly's Gelatos! How can I help you today?”

I put on my best smile. “Oh, I'd like two scoops of chocolate gelato, please! In a cone. And two scoops of… Matcha, wasn't it? Also in a cone,” I said, winking at Dane as I did so. Matcha was his favourite flavour, and it had always delighted him when I remembered that, so I made the effort to. Indeed, he brightened up when I made his order correctly, and squeezed my hand appreciatively.

Smoothly, the woman scooped out our order. “You two make a cute couple,” she said as she did so. “I didn't know you liked little boys, Katherine.” My uniform had no name tag on it, and neither did anything I carried.

Ah, shit.

I tensed up, sliding into a fighting stance. “How the hell do you know my name?” A protective hand on Dane's shoulder, I leaned in to peer closer at her.

She looked up and tilted her head to the side. Eyes like burnished copper met mine, her pupils just a tad too elongated to be normal. Her hair was down, but I had a suspicion that it hid pointy ears. “Don't you recognise me, Katherine? I'm disappointed,” she purred. 

That voice was familiar, and not in a good way. I'd met her kinden before, men and women too beautiful to be purely mortal, the children of unholy unions. They were never up to any good. “You should be,” I replied, baring my teeth at her. “Don't expect me to remember the name of every random person I come across.”

The insult stung, as it was meant to, and she thrust my order under my nose. I took my chocolate and handed the matcha to Dane, who accepted it cautiously. “You think you're so high and mighty, Katherine? You've made too many enemies, and it's only a matter of time before one of us gets you,” she snarled, her pearly white teeth stark against blood-red gums.

I rolled my eyes in my best approximation of a rebellious teenager. “Sure, like, whatever. I'm so frightened by random minimum wage workers,” I jeered. “C'mon, don't expect me to quiver in my boots at you. You're only scary to the children of helicopter parents who point at you as an example of what happens when you fail your exams.”

“You bitch,” she hissed.

“So close, but no cigar, sweetie,” I replied. “And I don't think that's the proper way to treat your customers, is it? No tips for you.” Picking up a handful of change from my pocket, I dumped it onto the counter. “Toodles!”

On that cheerful note, I pushed my way back out into the sunny sidewalk. Dane followed like a lost puppy, looking increasingly concerned. “What was that about? That woman looked like she was gonna kill you!”

I shrugged. “Get used to it, kiddo. Everyone wants me dead. And when they find out about you? Well, you can bet they won't want sunshine and warm hugs.”

[scottysketches]

This is so alien to me because I've spent pretty much my entire life around computers, thanks to my dad working in tech support. I had my very first laptop when I was six. Six! It was big and clunky for my tiny hands, but my younger brother and I would balance it on our laps and play games like Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc, Jimmy Neutron vs. Jimmy Negatron, etc. In some shape or form, I've always had a computer around me.

The idea that people either my age or younger don't know how to use a computer - because they're all so used to the closed networks of smartphones and chromebooks - is actually somewhat distressing.

this can't be true can it

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Philip | You, Always You | Romantic

Requested: Yes

Whilst reminiscing on the past, you realise the love of your life has always been right in front of you.

Forcing the yawn that threatens to escape back into your system, you rub your eyes tiredly as the light of the flames hurts your eyes. Seated against a log that digs into your spine, you pull one leg a little closer to your chest, hoping to get more comfortable. 

The day has been long and tiring, with crowds of people constantly gathering around Jesus and requiring His attention. Although there is no better place than at the Messiah’s side, you are aware that all of you need rest from time to time, including Jesus Himself. Constantly staying alert whilst ushering people into fair queues whilst Jesus did His work was worth it yet physically draining.

Ever since returning to camp, all you’ve been yearning for is to crawl into your bedroll, drape over an extra pelt to keep warm and close your burning eyes. With a rich stew warming your belly, you feel your exhaustion creeping up on you as all of camp slowly starts calling it a day, most Disciples already having withdrawn themselves to their tents, and you are about to do the same when a familiar voice says your name. 

You blink in surprise at Philip’s sudden appearance behind you and you turn to face him, your heart fluttering pleasantly at the sight of his smile. “Are you headed somewhere?”

“Well, yes,” you breathe, “I was about to go to bed, actually. Is anything the matter?”

Something sad flashes behind Philip’s eyes, but it is soon replaced by something hopeful. “Well, I was supposed to keep the first watch with Nathanael, but he fell asleep and I can’t get him to wake up.”

You chuckle at the image you can vividly imagine. “That’s typically Nath.” you laugh lightly, “Nothing new with him, hm?”

Philip grins and shakes his head. “He never changes in that regard.”

You hum and are silent for a second, staring at the flames whilst your heart is torn between two things – to call it a day or suggest to stay with Philip for a little while to keep him company – but his request decides for you: “Say, (Y/n), would you like to stay with me for a while? Otherwise, I’ll be so lonely during the first watch. It will only be about two hours until Thomas and Zee will be taking over.” 

“Sure,” you tell him, your heart pleasantly skipping a beat. Spending some extra time with Philip is always a dream, but it also makes you worry that you’ll slip up one day, or that you would say something embarrassing that causes him to not like you anymore. For as long as you can remember, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and the last thing you want is to ruin your friendship by running your mouth. “Where shall we sit?”

“I was thinking, maybe on the other side than where you are sitting right now? That way, we’ll have a better view of the plains.”

You agree to that and shift your position to the other side of the fire, where he takes a seat next to you. 

A brief silence befalls you two and Philip is the first to break it. “I can boil us some water.” he suggests, “If you can pick a few herbs, we can soak them into it.” 

“Of course,” you tell him, rising to your feet to gather some fresh mint leaves that grow in the shade of a rock formation, whilst Philip rummages around for a bit. You quickly pop a mint leaf into your mouth in the hopes of making your breath a little fresher, for if you’re talking in a low volume, he’s bound to get closer to you. The idea makes your cheeks flame. 

After collecting enough sprigs, you return to his side, for Philip has already put on the kettle and has found two clean cups that he brushes clean from dust with the end of his tunic. “Here you go,” you say, handing him the mint leaves, which he divides evenly. You watch him work whilst getting comfortable. “I remember that we used to make this on days that we didn’t feel like going into town to buy food. When we were still with John, I mean.”

“I miss these days sometimes.” Philip muses, “The wild honey we’d add was so sweet, too. I remember your small obsession with the stuff.”

Blushing, you swat his arm. “Hey, I was not addicted to honey. Okay, maybe a little, but it was over as soon as I got stung in my mouth that one day.” 

Philip laughs at the memory, swirling the water around the kettle carefully to distribute the heat. “Oh, yes, I remember that. You couldn’t eat properly for two days. Your extraordinarily chubby cheeks looked very cute on you though.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the way he had considered you then, but Philip avoids eye-contact by pouring scalding water into the two cups, handing one to you carefully. His hand brushes yours in the process and you have to prevent yourself from startling too much lest you spill anything, your heart skipping a beat regardless.

“Luckily, it was only temporary. After all, such an experience is not recommended.”

Philip hums and blows some air into his cup. “I can only imagine, and I did feel really bad for you then.”

“You were basically panicking when it happened and my face started to swell up.”

He smiles. “Well, I couldn’t exactly help you in the same way you had helped me when we were children. Remember the incident with the tree branch?” 

It takes you a moment to realise what he means, but when a memory about Philip being stung in his thumb after poking a beehive he had expected to be empty, you cannot fight the laugh. “I’ve never heard you scream that hard ever in my life, nor have you screamed like that after.”

Philip smirks and takes a careful sip of his drink whilst the two of you look at the fire. His upper arm snugly pressed against yours makes you soar, his proximity welcome, familiar. 

“I do remember that you gave me a kiss on my thumb after removing the sting, and it was as if the pain was gone instantly.”

Your cheeks turn red; You had totally forgotten about that detail, and the fact that Philip still remembered made your gut swarm with butterflies.

“Well, I am glad to have been of service.” you try to hide your sudden abashedness. Philip lets out a pleasant sound, his knee hitting yours playfully.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve often thought back on that moment.”

Flustered, you blink in puzzlement. “Oh? Why?”

Philip finally dares to look at you, his gaze containing something that you cannot quite place. 

“Because it was the first time I ever had such contact with a girl.” Your heart drops, then tightens at the implication that he has been kissed by another girl later on in life. “Of course there have been moments during our teens that girls showed their interest by kissing my cheek, but none of them had evoked such a reaction as to when you had healed my thumb that day.”

With reddened cheeks, you avert your gaze. “Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that I’ve had such an impact on you.”

He smiles wryly. “You must think I’m weird now.”

You frown. “How so?”

“Because that was… How long ago? Twenty… Twenty-five years? And I still think about it from time to time, truth be told.”

You nearly drop your drink and carefully put it down on the ground beside you.

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” you muse, “I had completely forgotten about it.”

The glimmer in his eyes dies down. “Do you mean to say that it meant not as much for you as it meant for me?”

Regret immediately shatters your heart, you firmly shake your head, and you lean towards him. “No– No, of course not! I-I mean… Of course it meant something to me, but… Perhaps I was afraid of how much it would mean to me, so I pushed away the memory.”

Philip lets out a sound of confusion. “Afraid? Of what?”

You fall silent, embarrassment clawing at your throat. For a second, you scold yourself mentally – you should have gone to bed, now you’ve said something dumb that will potentially ruin your friendship, just what you had warned yourself about – before you open your mouth to respond.

“I don’t know.” you shakily say, eyelids fluttering as you force back your blush. “Why did you… Why did you never mention it again?”

Philip lets out a sad scoff and lowers his gaze, shrugging. “Well, I always thought you were going to get married to Boaz.”

“Boaz?” you let out a laugh, “Really? Where did you get that idea from?”

With genuine surprise on his features, Philip meets your gaze. “What…? Do you mean that you weren’t going to marry him?”

“No!” you chuckle, “Never even thought about it. I thought he was way too childish for someone who was nineteen and… Well, I wanted to reserve myself for someone else.”

Philip’s eyes widen. “Oh… What happened?”

For a second, you hesitate. “He never asked.” you say at last, which is the truth. “And I fear that he never will.”

The flow of your blood is so loud in your ears that you hope you’ll be able to hear Philip speak as he visibly mulls over the words. “Well, I think that man would be very lucky to have you as his wife, and if I ever run into him I’ll tell him he’s pretty stupid for letting you wait for so long. If it had been me, I would have asked you ages ago.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. Is this a confession? 

Suddenly short of breath, you bring your fingers to your lips to touch them, completely in shock. With your free hand, you reach for your tea, that has cooled down enough to be consumed. 

“Are you okay? You’re a bit pale.” Philip worriedly queries when you remain silent. For a moment, you’re worried you’ll spit the drink back into the cup. You take a moment to gather yourself and try to come up with an answer. 

Yes, this is a confession, you decide then and there. And you’d be dumb to let it pass. 

“Then why haven’t you?” you break your silence. 

Now it is Philip’s turn to grow flustered, momentarily confused with your words until he thinks it over. When everything seems to fall into place, his eyes shimmer with hope. 

“Are you… What are you implying, (Y/n)?” He tilts his head slightly in question, as if he is still unsure. 

You take a deep breath. “What I am trying to say is… The man who I was waiting on to ask for my hand in marriage was… Well, you.”

The silence between you two is heavy with unspoken emotion as you stare at one another, neither of you looking away. 

“Really?” Philip croaks, “Am I… Am I dreaming?”

Laughing in relief, you shake your head. “No, Philip, I’m very serious and this is very real.”

His gaze flickers back to the flames and he runs a hand down his brow, grunting in frustration. “Oh, I am such an idiot. Have I been that blind?!”

You giggle and put a hand on his arm. “To be fair, I haven’t been very assertive myself, either.”

Philip hides his face in his hands and lets out another sound, still processing what he has just heard. 

“Forgive me, (Y/n), I am just… Oh, forgive me for making you think I wasn’t interested, because I am. I have always been.”

“As have I,” you admit, “Since we were teenagers.”

“I’ve loved you since long before that.” His words are so soft that you nearly melt and his gaze meets yours, gently, patiently. “Please, forgive me–”

You cut him off lest he feel bad for any longer: “I have already forgiven you,” you breathe, “There is nothing to forgive, anyways. It turns out that both of us were too afraid to come forward with our feelings and misunderstood the other.”

Philip smiles and takes your hand in his. “Then please don’t misunderstand this, (Y/n).” he mutters, and your breath hitches in your throat as he moves forward slightly. 

“Misunderstand what?”

“Marry me.”

Blinking rapidly, you try to comprehend what he has just asked you. When it takes you a few seconds to reply, Philip’s face falls into embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry if I am going too fast, I didn’t mean to pressure you–”

“Yes.” you interrupt, “Yes, I will!”

He exhales in alleviation before grinning from ear to ear, putting a hand over his mouth in disbelief. “Oh!” he murmurs, “Oh, that is… Yes! You’re serious! This is the best day of my life!”

You can’t help but laugh and scoot a little closer to him. “The best is yet to come, Phil.” you muse, and he softens, looking you in the eye. 

“Feel free to say no, because it’s not really part of our customs, but… I’ve been wanting to properly kiss you for so long, and at this moment…” He sighs and cups your jaw, thumbing gently at your cheekbone. “I would love to just…” 

His voice trails off, and you don’t reply verbally. Instead, you lean upwards to connect your mouth to his, for he has not been the only one to have mustered that desire for the last fifteen years. 

Softly pulling you closer, Philip returns the sentiment, wondering why he has ever waited  this long, and imagining a beautiful future with you at his side, promising you silently in this moment to always be there for you, like he always had been.

[mostmagical]

hello . it is in fact THAT part of your week .

let me set the scene for you (am not a writer, but we shall try)

zo comes back from her physics exam, defeated and dulled. not even the 'little treat' she bought for herself is enough to brighten her mood. but then . she follows a reblog to nic mostmagical's blog and sees that she has a chapter of FDAH to read . crops watered, skin cleared mood (mostly!) fixed etc etc

HI (first of all, what is this "not a writer." @zodoods makes great,funny and often heartwarming comics and that is WRITING)

sorry it took me a bit to respond I have been offline!!! which I know it probably seems like I'm online all the time because I actually have a queue that runs with no queue tag and I schedule my self reblogs so no one knows

putting the rest of ur asks under cut

I'M GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT!!!! ngl I get nervous that chapters without direct lovesquare interactions are boring- which is why I do not believe I would ever be able to master the art of the slow burn- but I'M SO GLAD. parkour marinette is based on me. irl. contorting my body to try and find my neighbor's hamster because those guys are TINY. and then combined with that scene from stormy weather where she is dashing around the apartment trying to catch manon when she's babysitting. silly girl

adrien will be okay :) eventually :)

HONESTLY I KINDA WISH I WENT WITH PLAGG ANYWAY. but I had the idea too late and I wanted to post the chapter and I have this too much thing where I don't know how to end things and I think I would have ruined the stage for the next chapter. but a lot of people keep commenting on plagg so maybe I'll make a bonus IDK. he is a main character technically and I love to let plagg shine.

THANKS FOR READING ZO!! I hope your exams went well or if you still have more that they go well💕💕💖💕💕💖

[scottysketches]

say it louder for the people in the back

hey enjoyer of media who participates primarily in fandom of said media. whats your opinion on this female character and DO NOT use the word "girlboss", "mother/sister", or allude to her being the groups guardian. you have five seconds or else the saw trap goes off btw

[burncdheart]

@diverse-hearts asked: ❛ the fact that you are here is proof that whatever tried to beat you lost. ❜ - Albedo

"People who'd think otherwise truly are fools.", Taru spoke with such seriousness in her tone, "Nothing that's mortal can beat me at this point, and even some beasts stood no chance against me. I'd like to think that I'm stronger than most.".

The ginger knew that she might seemed too confident in the eyes of others. But what did she care? Slowly, the female tilted her head, eyes focused on the blonde in front of her. If he remembered well, he was one of the knights? She remembered

Nobody on their right mind would travel on the snowy mountain, unless they were used to the freezing colds from Snezhnaya or, well, tired of their life. "And even if they get to the point of beating me somehow, I'm not going down that quickly. I survived worse.".

[scottysketches]

wip wednesday

ch 4 excerpt, fresh off the press :)

-----

The plains of Utapau stretch out around them, littered with the crests of the enormous sinkholes that house the Pau’an and Utai population of the Outer Rim planet. From where he’s sitting, outside the one-man tent that Anakin is currently occupying, he can see five of the planet’s nine moons, shining in the sky, each at different points in their lunar cycles. Directly above him is the fullness of Utapau’s largest moon. Far off in the distance, the lights of the various isolationist Amani tribes glitter on the horizon.

He stokes the firepit they had hastily built up with a stick, wrapping his outer robe tightly around himself. Even with the warmth of the flames in front of him, the fierce winds bite through the fibres of his clothes, chilling him to the bone. He holds his hands out to the flames, shivering, the wind tousling his hair.

Anakin’s snoring from within the tent is so loud that Obi-Wan might have missed the chiming of his communicator, had it not been clipped to his bracer and therefore almost directly in front of his face as he sits with his arms around his knees, keeping watch on their surroundings. He fumbles with the sleeve of his outer robe, pulling it up just enough to be able to access the device, and he presses the button to answer the call.

A miniature holographic Satine greets him, visible from the waist up, and he smiles, even as the chill of the wind stings his cheeks and raises goosebumps over his skin. “Hello, cyar’ika,” he murmurs, his teeth chattering.

Satine smiles up at him. “Ben,” she says, her voice soft. “How’s your investigation going?”

Obi-Wan chuckles, though it’s bitter. “Not well,” he admits. “Anakin and I have had to make camp on the plains for the night, and it’s bloody freezing out here.” With a grumble and an attempt at filthy humour, he adds, “I might have lost a couple of inches.”

Satine rolls her eyes. “Ha,” she deadpans drily. “Yes, I can see the headlines of the gossip magazines now — the cock of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is now only just above average, after a mission to Utapau goes awry.” They both laugh, and Obi-Wan brushes his hair back from his face.

“What about you?” he asks. “How are you?”

Satine waves him off. “Oh, I’m fine. I’ve had the apartment to myself the last couple of nights, Korkie’s staying with Amis.” She smiles fondly. “It’s nice to see them happy. It reminds me of us, back when we were young.”

But there’s something in her countenance, a hesitation, that piques his curiosity — and his concern. He frowns. “Satine?” he says quietly. “What is it?”

“What’s what?” She’s deliberately avoiding the subject, glancing off to the side and fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve — a nervous tic she had developed during their year on the run.

He frowns. “Whatever is bothering you must be significant,” he points out, though he keeps his voice low, not wishing to disturb Anakin’s slumber.

Satine swallows anxiously, still not looking at him. But when she does finally turn to meet his eyes once more, he’s shocked to see that she’s crying. “Satine?” he asks hoarsely. “What’s wrong?” He reaches out a finger, wishing he could actually touch her right now, wipe the tears from her face. “Please, tell me.”

She gasps, lets out a slow breath. Her jaw trembles and her eyes glance down towards the floor. “I…” she starts, her voice breaking. She sniffles, brings a hand up to cover her mouth for a moment. “I thought… anyway, I’m not, and even if I had been, I’m not sure what we would have done, but—”

Obi-Wan hushes her. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “You’re not… what?”

Satine looks up at him, her eyes shining even over holo. Her mouth opens and closes several times as she tries to find the words to say.

“Pregnant,” she finally says. “I thought I was pregnant.”

His head spins. “You…” His voice is hoarse, his expression shocked. “Pregnant?”

Satine shakes her head. “I’m not, Ben,” she says, and he thinks he detects a hint of misery at the statement. “I guess my body has just been through so much trauma over the last couple of months that I missed my cycle.”

“Yes,” he says, frowning. “I remember you experienced that a couple of times when we were younger. Constant stress and worry delaying your cycle.”

Satine sighs, her hand unconsciously coming to rest on her abdomen. “I don’t even know what we would have done, had I been pregnant.” She looks up at him, a small frown creasing her brow. “Would you… even want another child?”

Would he? He can’t deny having fantasised about having another baby with Satine, raising the child together with her, even if it were still in secret, keeping the child’s existence hidden from the Jedi Council. He thinks of all the experiences he missed out on with Korkie — first words, first steps, all the significant milestones that Satine remembers, even if it had been as the loving and doting adoptive aunt. He wonders what they would name their child, were they to have another. Would they choose another name from Stewjon, or would their child get a more traditionally Mandalorian name? Who would they look like more: himself or Satine?

He shakes his head, tries to clear his thoughts. “I’m… not sure,” he admits. “If we lived in a galaxy where there was no war and I wasn’t forced to hide our relationship?” He smiles sadly. “Yes, I think I would have liked to have another child with you.” But his face falls, then. “But we don’t. And some days I don’t even know if I’m going to live through this war—”

“Don’t say that,” Satine interjects, her voice sharp. “Of course you’re going to survive.” With a facetious smile, she adds, “You have no choice, because you know that if you did die, I’d just drag you, kicking and screaming, from the afterlife.”

Obi-Wan snorts at that. “Of course you would, cyare.” He frowns as he looks back to Satine’s holo visage in front of him. “What about you? Would you want to have another baby?”

She smiles, and it’s a bittersweet smile. “Maybe,” she says. “I know our situations were vastly different, but we both grew up with other children around us. Korkie didn’t really have that. And I’ve always hated that he’s been an only child…”

[scottysketches]

This reminds me of the scene from Thor: Ragnarok on the bridge after Thor loses his eye where someone replaced Led Zeppelin's 'Immigrant Song' with 'Holding Out For A Hero' by Bonnie Tyler. Truly a masterpiece.

here’s the qui-gon and obi-wan vs darth maul fight from phantom menace but tracked to gimme gimme gimme by abba