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angelofthenight01 · 1 month ago

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The witch's secret

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

genre: fluff || warnings: none

Summary: You're best friends with Pietro and Wanda is avoiding you as much as possible. Little do you know that the reason is that the witch is falling in love with you.

The stale, recycled air of the Avengers training room hits you like a damp rag as you step inside. You wipe the sweat from your brow with the corner of your shirt, already feeling the familiar ache in your muscles. It’s been a long morning, dodging energy blasts and deflecting vibranium projectiles, all courtesy of your best friend, Pietro. He’s leaning against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he examines his nails like some haughty prince.

"Took you long enough," he crows, pushing himself off the wall and stretching his arms high above his head. "I was starting to think you’d finally given up on keeping up with my god-like speed."

You roll your eyes, already used to his theatrics. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Quicksilver. Some of us need sleep." You grab your water bottle, taking a long swig. You’ve known Pietro since�� well, since forever. You met at one of those weird, half-way houses run by the government when you were kids. You’d bonded over shared experiences and the inability to understand why everyone was so obsessed with being “normal”. You’d been inseparable ever since. And, naturally, that meant you’d gotten to know his twin sister, Wanda, very well too.

She’s… different. A chaotic storm wrapped up in a quiet demeanor. She’s a puzzle you’d gladly spend a lifetime trying to solve. However, lately, solving her has been like trying to catch smoke with a butterfly net. She’s been avoiding you, and not in a mild, subtle way. This is avoidance of Olympic proportions. If you’re in the kitchen, she’s suddenly urgently needed in the library. If you’re on the training floor, she’s busy meditating on the roof. It’s as if you’ve suddenly become radioactive.

"So," Pietro says, breaking your thoughts. “What’s the workout for today, oh, mighty planner of our pain?”

You shrug, pulling out the tablet and swiping the screen. "I was thinking a bit of hand-to-hand, maybe some sparring. What do you think?"

"As long as it involves me winning spectacularly, I'm in." He flashes that trademark grin, and you can’t help but chuckle.

You spend the next hour getting pummeled by Pietro’s ridiculous speed and impressive strength - but you also get some good hits yourself. You know, he may be fast, but you have been learning from the best. As you’re catching your breath, you hear a door open behind you, and your heart skips a beat, just like it always does.

It's not Wanda. It's Kate Bishop. She's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a look on her face that spells trouble. You like Kate, she’s funny, quick-witted, and a total bad-ass with a bow and arrow. She's also Wanda's best friend, which is why you’re sure she’s about to deliver some cryptic message or distraction.

"Hey, guys," she says, her tone a little too casual. "Wanda needs my help… with… uh… quantum physics equations."

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "Since when does Wanda dabble in theoretical physics?"

Kate's face is a picture of forced nonchalance. "Since… now? Yeah, she’s on a real quantum kick. Anyway, gotta go, quantum stuff, you know." With that, she’s gone, leaving you and Pietro alone again.

“Quantum physics,” Pietro says, shaking his head and chuckling. “That girl is so awkward. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s trying really hard to avoid you.”

You almost choke on your water. “Avoid me? Why would she avoid me?” you ask, trying to sound casual, as if you hadn’t noticed.

Pietro shrugs. “Beats me. Maybe you smell.” He wrinkles his nose dramatically, making you laugh.

The next few weeks continue in the same vein. Every time you try to talk to Wanda, she vanishes as if she's a figment of your imagination. You find yourself increasingly frustrated, not just because you have no idea what you did to annoy her, but because you really miss her company.

One afternoon, you’re attempting to meditate in the common room, hoping to find some inner peace when you hear footsteps. You open one eye to see Kate Bishop walking towards you, a determined set to her jaw. You see the mischievous glint in her eye, and brace yourself.

"Okay, look," she says, grabbing the cushion next to you and sinking down. "This whole thing has gone on long enough."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if she’s finally about to let you in on what’s going on.

"Wanda likes you," Kate blurts out, her cheeks turning a shade of pink.

Your eyes widen. "Likes me? Like… as in a friend?" you ask, even if you already know the answer.

Kate groans. "No, as in, she’s completely head-over-heels smitten with you. She’s been losing her mind about it ever since you saved her from that rampaging Ultron drone last year."

Your stomach does a backflip. “Wait, what? But why is she avoiding me?”

Kate sighs. "Because she's Wanda. She’s not good at this whole 'feeling' thing, especially when they're feelings of the lovesick variety. She's terrified you’ll find out, and then laugh at her or reject her, or whatever other dramatic scenario she's conjured up in her head. So, she decided the best course of action is to run away."

You shake your head, a smile playing at the corner of your mouth. "That's... incredibly Wanda." Something warm blooms in your chest, partly from the revelation, partly from the fact that, if Kate is to be believed, your feelings for Wanda are reciprocated.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Kate grins, that mischievous glint back in her eyes. "Now, we set a trap. She has got to face this. And maybe… she could actually go on a date or something? She’s been miserable, poor thing.”

The "trap," as it turns out, involves a suspiciously placed book in the library, a strategically timed fire alarm, and a very confused Pietro. You find yourself facing Wanda by the garden, which, somehow, you’d been guided to under the pretext of a "minor training accident".

She's standing by the rose bushes, her back to you, her shoulders tense.

"Wanda," you say softly, approaching cautiously.

She turns, and her eyes are wide. She’s beautiful. As always. And your heart is about to burst.

"I… I…" she stammers, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

You take a deep breath. "I know," you say.

Her brows furrow. "You know?"

"Yeah, Kate told me. About… everything."

Her cheeks flush a vibrant red. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I’m so embarrassing. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just… you're so… I…" She trails off, unable to form a coherent sentence.

You step closer, reaching out and gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Wanda," you say, your voice a low hum. "I'm not uncomfortable, I'm… I’m glad. Because… I feel the same way. I’ve been… completely, overwhelmingly, kind of in love with you since forever.”

Her eyes widen further, and a small, hopeful smile flickers across her face. "You… you do?"

You smile, nodding. “I do.”

The silence stretches between you, charged with an energy you both feel. You lean closer, and she does too, and then you’re kissing. Her lips are soft and sweet, and the world disappears around you. It’s perfect, and magical, and everything you’ve ever wanted.

As you pull away for air, you hear a snort behind you. You turn to see Pietro standing nearby, his face a mask of exaggerated disgust.

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy," he groans, putting a hand over his eyes. "I’m going to be sick. My best friend and my sister? It's disturbing, revolting, and completely not acceptable. I need to go drink something and forget I ever saw this.” He is clearly overdoing it, and you end up bursting into laughter, which is soon joined by Wanda's giggle.

You look at her, and your heart flips over again. This is it. This awkward, beautiful mess of a romance. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch

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shakespearesdaughters · 1 month ago

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Books To Read In 2025

A Brief History of Time

Agamemnon by Aeschylus

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Animal Farm by George Orwell

Babel or the Necessity of Violence

Beasts by Joyce Carol Oates

Bobbsey Twins by Laura Lee Hope

Brave New World

Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu

Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellors

Crime and Punishment

Corpus of Mycenaean Inscriptions from Knossos

Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

Invisible Man by H.G. Wells

Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice

Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott

Lycidas by John Milton

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

Marino Faliero by Lord Byron

Mémoires by Duc de Saint-Simon

Men of Thought and Deed by E. Tipton

My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh

Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Orestia by Aeschylus

Othello by Shakespeare

Paradise Lost by John Milton

Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

Poetics by Aristotle

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Republic, Book II by Plato

Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Bacchae by Euripides

The Broken Heart by John Ford

The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Collector by John Fowles

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle

The Iliad by Homer

The Lotus Eater by Homer

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Malcontent by John Marston

The New Testament

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Pirates of Penzance by W.S. Gilbert

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

The Trial by Franz Kafka

The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Untimely Meditations by Friedrich Nietzsche

Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

Why Fish Don’t Exist by Lulu Miller

With Rue My Heart is Laden by A.E. Housman

Journey from Chester to London by Thomas Pennant

Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist

The Club History of London by ?

The World Book Encyclopedia

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

Rover Boys by Edward Stratemeyer

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead

The Shining by Stephen King

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Normal People by Sally Rooney

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides

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polarisjisung · 10 months ago

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MOTORBIKES & MELATONIN

synopsis: sleep doesn't find you in the comfort of your own home or under the covers tucked safely into your bed— sleep finds you in the warmth of park jisung's arms

wc: 1.1k pairings: jisung × fem!reader, established relationship genre: fluff warnings: insomnia + mentions of using sleeping pills/supplement use of the word drug (literally once), speeding (follow the speed limit 🙏) notes: emosung brainrot is in full swing (though there's not a lot of emosung mentioned) mostly self indulgent so probably not my best work since I was all up in my head but 🤷‍♀️

you're laying on your bed, aimlessly bouncing the soft tennis ball in your hand against the empty space of the wall just above your headboard. sleep never came easy to you and tonight is no different.

you'd tried it all, counting sheep, drinking warm milk, even meditation but nothing ever worked. instead you spent nights tossing and turning restlessly despite being tucked into the warm covers of your bed, chasing sleep.

just as you reach for the purple bottle that lays next to your bed, ready to pour half the jar of supplements into your hand and gulp them down with a glass of water, you hear it.

your perfect form of melatonin and serotonin mixed in one— your drug, your purpose.

the rumble is distinct. it comes with the soft vibration beneath your feet and the deep reverberation in your ears. the roaring of the v twin engine has you shooting up into a seated position as realisation washes over you

there's a dim red glow cast across your room by the break lights as you grab the loose fit leather jacket that rests over the back of your study chair. the woody oriental cologne still lingers through its material as you place it over your shoulders and run out of the front door.

there he is, helmet gripped loosely in his left hand, his right arm open and ready to welcome you into his embrace.

jisung's black hair flows in the wind, his forehead on show— paired with the soft smile he flashes you, you can't help but think he looks perfect.

"didn't even give me a chance to sneak into your room" he sulks taking you in between his arms, giving you a quick spin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead

"can't blame a girl for wanting to see her boyfriend" you sigh, taking in his warmth with a smile

"yeah?" he pulls back to get a better view of your face, "miss me that much angel?"

"you know it sung"

his laugh is deep yet gentle, eyes sparkling at the sight of you

"well I'm here now"

jisung takes a quick step around you, his touch feather light as he gathers your open hair into a low ponytail, reaching for the hair tie on his wrist to tie it back

"too tight?" he says, voice full of worry and concern— when you shake your head he smiles, placing his helmet over your head

you wonder how people could ever think jisung was anything but the sweet, kind and warm hearted lover you knew, who wouldn't dare let you move an inch to do something he could do for you, like how he gently takes ahold of you in his arms and places you onto the seat of his bike, eventually taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist

"hold on tight" he whispers in that caring tone of his, that's reserved solely for you, ready to whisk you away for the night and you do just that, gripping his waist securely, but not before lifting his visor and pressing a quick kiss to his temple

jisung drives off, wordlessly but with a smile that speaks volumes

there's a warmth that radiates from jisung's body, the only thing keeping you from freezing as the wind rushes past you, blowing with harsh whistles, tyres screeching against the ground as he takes sharp turns through the streets leading towards the countryside

you'd snuck out before, driven way too far over the speed limit, done countless things that would define your reckless youth and yet nothing had your veins coursing with quite so much adrenaline as this, driving way too far, way too fast, with jisung, the person you loved way too much

like always, you find yourself in jisung's lap, god forbid he let you sit on the grass, wet from the fresh morning dew that rests over it, warm hues of orange and light pinks taking over the sky as you hold one another close, the wind still blowing strong gusts your way, your hair blowing in your face until jisung decides to take it between his fingers and hold it back in his palm

"I like this" you whisper, just loud enough that jisung hears it, his lip rising just enough for his teeth to come on show

"I like you" he responds, watching the warm glow of the sun reaching over the horizon through your eyes

"you do?" you smile, wider than you previously had been, it's a smile that reaches your eyes and jisung's unwavering gaze grows brighter at the realisation

"you're my girl, of course I do"

this time it's his turn to press a quick kiss to your forehead, but jisung's greedy, especially so when it comes to you and he can't help but want more, honey brown eyes resting on your lips

"give me a kiss and I think I'll love you forever" you can't help but giggle at the tickling feeling of jisung's hair against your neck as he pouts up at you

"yeah? didn't know my boyfriend needed kisses to do that" you tease with a roll of your eyes

"didn't know your what?" he asks, and you know exactly what jisung's doing, so you whisper the answer with nothing more than a shy smile straight into his ear

"my boyfriend"

"present" jisungs hand is raised and his voice is confident when he looks at you again, it's like he's begging you to tug at his shirt and crash your lips against his, and who were you to say no to him

"you're so cute" you let out between kisses, the bridge of your nose resting against jisung's, who now wears a look of faux offence

"yeah?" he asks, hoping you'll change your mind, though you don't let up, reaching out to ruffle his black hair "only for you"

somewhere between the late hours of the night and the early hours of dawn, between the quietus of your bedroom and the roar of his engine, between gazing up at the stars and watching the sunrise by the harbour— jisung hears your soft snores replace the quiet whispers of awe you once breathed out.

despite it all, jisung's smile remains all the same, radiant, warm and masked by the matte black helmet resting atop his head

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cruel-hiraeth · 2 months ago

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Every ten years, two young adults from your village are offered to the King of Curses as human sacrifices.

A pair of souls plucked at peak ripeness is all that will appease the mythic monster. Otherwise, the selection process is random—or so the elders claim; you suspect that happenstance alone isn’t why the chosen are always orphans. There’s no harm in throwing away the lives of those who have neither social status nor loved ones.

Who will mourn their loss?

Since you were a knobby-kneed child, you assumed you would have to forfeit your existence for the “greater good” (though you never believed your meager life would account for much). Whispers have followed you like a shadow for as long as you can remember.

Rumor holds that your parents abandoned you to the elements because you consumed your twin in the womb; you were born a demon, a cursed child. The only reason you walk the earth today is because a monk took mercy on a wretched babe, delivering you to an orphanage for a life of isolation and servitude.

It’s a somber morning when it occurs: inky clouds are a funerary shroud over the earth. Your breath remains steady when a procession arrives at the door of your master’s home, announcing that you bear the honor of representing the village this year. Unable to so much as gather your few belongings—what does a spirit require in death?—you leave the residence immediately, heart heavy with foreboding.

The next several weeks are a blur. You reside in a crumbling temple on the outskirts of the village where you begin the purification process—an endless cycle of fasting, meditation, and ablution. Here you meet your companion on this journey to premature death: a fellow orphan named Itadori Yuuji. To your knowledge, you have never met him before; you’re positive that you would remember him if you had.

He’s too striking to forget.

Itadori is tall and broad, his skin sun-warmed and tawny, with freckles smattering his shoulders and face. His eyes are swirling pots of honey, smoother and richer than anything you have ever seen—is the gilt nectar as luscious and sweet as they claim? The shock of hair atop his head is a coppery gold, more befitting of royalty than a poor farmhand.

But perhaps his most distinct features are the identical, crescent-shaped scars that outline his eyes. You wonder how they got there and what they mean. Are they an omen? A generational curse? A mark of death? You never muster the courage to ask him, though, as the day of your offering is upon you.

The wind whips the hem of your silk robes, the chilly air seeping into your bones, a shiver wracking your frame. You wobble to you knees before the shrine as you begin reciting the sacrificial rites—the elders standing back at a safe distance—waiting for the King of Curses to claim you. Your heart is a storm: sorrowful rain, vengeful thunder, thrilling lightning. Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, Itadori grasps your left hand, his palm dwarfing your own.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers.

You glance at him in your periphery; a knowing smile tugs at the corners of his lips. What makes you so sure? you want to cry out. You taste the words on your tongue as his scars crack open to display another set of eyes a bloody claret, dark tattoos unfurling across his face and limbs. He now speaks with a gravely voice, much deeper than he ever has before:

“This isn’t the end, brat—it’s merely the beginning.”

#reworked from an old drabble if it looks familiar #i added more detail about reader’s background that offers interesting parallels #and i think—perhaps—there is more to the story of *how* the selection process works #perhaps sukuna was waiting for the right pair to stumble before him…………#anyway i think about this concept often #sukuna’s involvement is NOT romantic i must add #in fact he’s horrible in this au #— musings #— itadori yuuji #— sukuna #— jujutsu kaisen #yuuji x reader #sukuna x reader

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lex-the-flex · 1 year ago

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Cosmic Veins

Luke Skywalker x reader

Summary: Rekindling after an unfortunate assignment, Luke devotes himself as the wonderful man that he is to strengthen your relationship, and fulfills only a fraction of his destiny.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, the reader and Luke just being in love, all the feelings; (both good & bad), mentions of amnesia, the reader + Luke being slightly insecure about the future, just two Jedi in their prime, Luke being a dutiful Jedi Master, the duo discovering their love languages, 18 + – PURE SMUT, loss of virginity (reader), oral f! receiving, body + skin appreciation, and unprotected sex. (wrap it before you tap it, kids)

A/N: It’s about time that I wrote for Luke! It’s been a hot minute and I love this man so much. 18+ FIC, MINORS DNI!! Thank you to @dailydragon08 for the AMAZING lines to kick off the smut. You're an absolute god! Feedback is always appreciated and enjoy!

Salt and lavender lingered through the air whilst the calming sounds of Naboo’s endless waves turn your room into the private sanctuary it was meant to be. The sun threatens to peek over the horizon of the still ocean while you stir in your sleep beneath the fresh silk bedding. Turning your head into the layers of plush pillows, your brows scrunch at the visions behind your eyes. Jolting awake, you gasped for air, praying that the dreams would soon end.

The conflict finally subsided in the past, but the wounds remain on your heart. Luke had returned from the Dark Side, from the vile control of an evil presence that you never got to meet. Unfortunately, when Leia couldn’t find it in herself to fight her own brother, her twin, you were put on the chopping block.

And it nearly cost your life. You were thrown into a coma for two months, but the worst part: you suffered from a miniscule moment of amnesia. You couldn’t remember anything about Luke Skywalker or your friends. Luckily they refused to give up and you recovered in time with the Rebellion by your side. Once you did, Leia immediately prompted a change of scenery for you and Luke. The two of you needed to get away from everything to heal.

Removing your hand from your chest, you ran it along the empty side of the bed where you expected Luke to be. But he wasn’t. He refused to sleep in the same bed as you, in fear of hurting you, so he took to the marble floor. Gazing over to his usual spot on the floor by the changing screen, the makeshift bedding was messy, and he was gone. Twirling the engagement band around your ring finger, you fixate on the pale amethyst encased in silver within the dim light, and you remember why Luke gave it to you in the first place.

Wiping your face, you spotted your dark ebony robes neatly folded on the desk, and the room’s scents kickstarted the day. So with a heavy sigh, you quietly got dressed, and your faithful handmaid, Winter, brought you breakfast and to announce that Luke promptly requested to see you on the beach. You could feel that something was different in the air; he had good news to share, and a smile finally filled your lips for the first time in a long time. Descending the stone steps of the courtyard to the beach, you finished your early breakfast and discarded the pear’s core amongst the flower bushes where it would be finished by the sparrows momentarily.

Rounding the corner, you spotted Luke amongst the dawn as your boots crunched the pebbled sand below. Noticing that he was deep in a meditative state, you quietly kept your distance, not wanting to disturb him. Glancing back towards the staircase, you thought about leaving for a second, but your feet remained planted.

“No, don’t go. You’re as strong as the waves, Y/N.”

Inching closer to Luke, a large smile overtakes his lips, and he closes his arms around you. Feeling yourself let go in his embrace, his warmth was comforting as if it was something you were missing. Basking in your company, Luke kisses your forehead.

“Everything alright? You’re trembling.” He asks, running his hands up and down your arms.

“I’m fine, Luke. I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” You reply, gazing into his blue eyes.

“Are your dreams still bothering you?” He asks.

Raising his hand to your temple, Luke silently begins to peer into your mind, ready to discover what’s troubling you. But you take his gloved hand in yours instead.

Rubbing your knuckles, he quietly understands that your nightmares are at their end, as is the shared exile.

“They’re not the worst thing I’ve dealt with. Trust me.” You smirk.

Chuckling at your response, Luke shields his eyes at the sight of the morning sun starting to peer out from under the waves. Basking in your company, Luke clasps his hands around your shoulders and a burst of excitement fills his face.

“So, I have a small surprise for us, Y/N. Before my security team arrived, my Commander told me that he discovered something just off the coast.” Luke explains, leading you further down the beach.

“A surprise sounds lovely, Luke. Besides, it gives us a chance to evade the power hungry Senators and staff for once.” You laugh at Luke’s proposition.

Following Luke towards the end of the beach, the various oak trees start to blend with the damp sand and pebbles. Reaching the beginning of Naboo’s uncharted woods, the sight of a few broken rock walls line the shore before descending into the water. Taking in the new beauty of the planet’s nature, Luke playfully covers your eyes, careful not to spoil the surprise.

“Are you ready? We’re here.” He teases.

“Yes! The suspense is killing me, Luke! What is it?” You ask, trying to break his fingers apart.

Removing his hands, you’re suddenly greeted with the view of an old and abandoned stone tower jutting out from the water. Surrounded by a ring of ferns and moss, the tower perfectly camouflages in the rest of the planet's green fauna.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor at this awesome sight. Sure you and Luke had discovered many old ruins in the past, but nothing compared to this.

“It’s an old lookout tower. Long before the Clone Wars, Naboo’s trading system used to operate on its soldiers living in lookout towers. Commander Uphsur said that this is only one of two remaining. I've already taken a look at the other one, but there’s something special about this tower. Like it’s calling to me.” Luke confidently explains.

Refusing to believe him, you shoot him a nasty look.

“Did you just make that up?” You question, crossing your arms together.

“Yeah, I just made that up.” Luke nods, admitting his defeat.

Nudging his elbow, you both smile at his joke.

“Alright, Master Jedi, how are we getting across? We could jump.” You advise.

Climbing to the top of a small boulder, Luke offers his hand and you join him, getting a better view of the tower. Then, without thinking, he dives into the cold water and resurfaces with a gasp for fresh air.

“Luke, what are you doing? You’ll catch a cold!” You shout, hesitant about jumping in.

“Come on, the water’s only a little chilly! Let’s enjoy the ocean while we can!” He emphasizes, wiping his wet hair from his face.

With a deep breath, you launch yourself from the boulder and jump into the salty water below. Whining at the freezing water, the sound of Luke’s laughter fills the nature sanctuary.

“Oh, you liar! You actually thought swimming during the spring would be a good idea?!” You shout, frantically swimming towards Luke.

“I had to get you to join me somehow.” Luke replies at his victory.

Splashing a wave in Luke’s direction, he uses the Force to block the water before meeting up at the base of the tower.

“Now that’s cheating! How dare you block my shot!” You say, making your way to the tower.

“Don’t doubt my abilities, Y/N! Besides, we all could use some fun in our lives.” Luke answers, extending his hand down to you.

Joining your palm around Luke’s, he pulls you from the stream, satisfied with his trick. Shaking your drenched robes, you scoff at the foggy weather. Opening the old door, Luke rams his shoulder, cracking the weather wood in the process. Wandering inside the tower, the blinding light of the morning sun shines on the light grey stone flooring.

Squinting inside, the once lived in tower remains empty with nothing inside. Squeezing your braid, you try to get as much of the water out as you make a circle around the room’s interior. Scrunching your brows, you take in the emptiness of this place, wondering as to why Luke brought you here.

“There’s nothing in here. Why are we here, Luke?” You ask, unlatching your heavy cloak from your shoulders.

Standing above the remnants of an destroyed tiny desk, Luke wipes off his dusty gloves.

“Can’t I spend some time with my fiancée before we return to Ossus? That’s all I want right now.” Luke replies, with his back to you.

“Luke, why are we here?” You ask again with a more serious tone, determined to get an answer.

Turning to face you, Luke steps toward you, stopping to look you in the eye.

“I couldn’t have the Senators and the others in the Palace eavesdrop. I already feel like a foreigner in my mother’s domain and you know I’m right. The truth is, I’m scared, Y/N. I’m terrified of what the future will bring …especially after I hurt you. I nearly killed you with my own hands and I wasn’t myself.” Luke’s shaking voice makes tears fill your eyes.

A lump rises in the back of your throat whilst Luke bends his head down to you, almost as if he’s bowing to you out of respect. Taking your hands in his, he guides his thumb over the engagement ring he gifted to you out of pure duty.

“But I’m here. I’m alive and stronger than ever because of you, Luke. I know the gem doesn’t feel like much, but it means the world to me. It means you love me with all our heart. I’ve never had anyone step up the way you have, regardless if they were a Jedi or not. You are your father’s son, Luke, but you are so much like your mother.” You explain, taking Luke’s face in your hands, with your eyes fixated on his facial features.

“Will this change us from our paths, Y/N? I’ve gone past the Code. I’ve been on both sides of the Jedi Way, but this feels different from anything else I’ve felt before. Even though we aren’t meant to know the future, I can’t help but decide what I want, what I need.” He explains, walking closer to you.

Placing your hand in the center of his chest, Luke leans his forehead against yours, matching his heartbeat in time with your soothing rhythm. The pale amethyst beams up into Luke’s peripheral vision, allowing him to fully combat the moment. His bright icy eyes reflect against your e/c orbs just as his pink lips hover an inch above yours.

The presence of his hands playing with your belt’s sash makes butterflies rise in your stomach. As the two of you stood here in this private intimate point in time, the two of you were no longer Jedi. But two people who are in love with each other to the very core.

“What do you want?” You ask, raising your chin.

Breathing out, Luke swallows his pride.

“You.”

Closing his lips around yours, you barely have time to register his answer as his hands begin to wander along your drenched robes. Roaming against the seams and stitching of the sash at your hips, Luke quickly rids you of the tight knot, while guiding you backwards into the growing sunspot. Discarding the ebony robes from your chilled form, freeing your exposed chest underneath. Descending your goosebumped filled body, Luke glides his lips along every part of your exposed skin, and tugs around the shape of your breasts, letting go once you begin to shiver unnaturally from the cold.

Untying your boots, he pulls your pants from your shaking legs, hoping to quickly get you warm. Ridding himself of his frigid clothes, Luke is suddenly hypnotized by the beauty of your nude form, his lips pressed along the crease of your hips, and continues towards the sensitive skin of your thighs. Collecting your throbbing folds in his lips, your mouth falls open just as Luke’s tongue plays with the bundle of nerves.

Running your fingers through his dirty blonde hair, Luke inserts his tongue past your virgin entrance, hoping to explore all of you first. Moaning at this unfamiliar feeling, your fingers repeatedly scratch his scalp as the booming sound of your heartbeat fills your ears, drowning out every other sound.

“Luke?” You call out.

Immediately stopping, Luke stands up in a heartbeat and gives you all of his attention.

“Yes?” He responds, taking your chin in his hand.

“I need all of you.” You whisper before him.

Collapsing your arms around his broad shoulders, your nearly exhausted pants fill the air.

Deepening the kiss once more, Luke captures your taste in your mouth, before laying you down in the middle of the floor on top of his cloak. Hovering above your body, Luke gives you soft kisses along your jaw, allowing some of your tension to disappear. Closing the space between you, Luke guides your legs around his waist, opening yourself to him. Shifting yourself to get comfortable, Luke adjusts his weight to his knees, and presses his hands on either side of your face.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N.” Luke says, touching your nose with his.

“You won’t, Luke. I trust you.” You whisper, closing your eyes.

Capturing your neck with a series of kisses, Luke gently touches his manhood against your openings causing you to gulp at the sensation of it all. Teasing your throbbing folds with his erect tip, a gasp escapes your lips and you grip his broad shoulders at the unknown feeling of your bodies melting around each other. Your bundle of nerves soak up Luke’s warmth and he slowly thrusts himself past your entrance, Luke desperately wanted nothing more than to be deep inside of you, allowing you to surrender to his euphoria. Wincing at this foreign feeling, you lean into his arms, silently begging for support and Luke senses your growing desperation.

“Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He asks into your ear.

“No, I’m alright. Just keep going.” You answer.

Smiling at your sudden boost of confidence, Luke quickened his pace, wanting to feel you around him. Trailing his lips down to your collarbones, the sweet sounds of your shared moans became more valuable than anything on Naboo. Gliding your hands down Luke’s muscular form, you suddenly became overwhelmed with all the love and lust in the world, causing a few tears to fall down your face.

Pepper kissing your tears away, Luke’s lungs suddenly clogged with lust as he opened himself up to you, and he buried his face in the softness of your neck. Stretching himself out, you welcomed his pleasure into your heart as he placed his hand on your chest. Discovering your sensitive spot, you both moaned and whimpered at how good everything felt. Digging your nails deeper into Luke’s hot skin, you felt a fluttering in your stomach.

“I’m here, Y/N.” Luke says as his voice echoes in your ears.

Nodding at his declaration, you couldn’t handle the tension for a second longer, and your walls squeezed around Luke. Finishing after you, your whole body went numb and Luke’s ears started to ring. Shielding your nude skin from the cold, Luke pulled his cloak around tired body. Hugging his muscular form, the warmth of his cloak made your eyelids grow heavy as Luke gave you his arm to lay on.

“I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N. Even until the end of time.” Luke declares, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I love you beyond the limits of stars, Luke.” You reply, feeling sleep take over your mind.

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tinfoil-jones · 3 months ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch.20

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Believe it or not a large section of this chapter was actually one of the first things I wrote for this story, it was written out before the first chapter actually and I’ve been really excited to show it. This chapter is super long and has shifting perspectives.

This chapter also mirrors Ch.10. This is a long chapter.

First - Prev - Next

WARNING: T/W implications of past sexual assault. Implied past torture. Character death.

CH.20

“So you’re gonna show me that super off-limits study room?”

“Yes. I only ask that you keep an open mind, and please do not judge me.”

“Alright PhD, I’ll only judge you the normal amount.”

“Come inside.”

“-Woah- ahhh. You really like …Triangles, huh?”

“Stanley, you’re shaking.”

“It uh, it kinda makes me uncomfortable, not gonna to lie. Are you in a cult?”

“No. Come here, follow me to the mat in the center.”

“Okay…”

“Now, what do you think of this? Does it remind you of anything?”

“A newspaper clipping? Uh… That’s a pretty messed up car- oh, wait, yeah it does remind me of something.”

“What does it remind you of?”

“I used to have a car just like that. A red El Diablo.”

“And what happened to it?”

“...I don’t remember, actually. I’m trying to remember but it just makes my brain feel like it's on fire.”

“How did I not see this before…?”

“See what?”

“Stanley, when you were first traveling with Sanchez, were you sick at all?”

“Oh yeah, totally sick. I had this massive chest infection. Kept knocking the air mask off when I was delirious. If Rick didn’t constantly shoot me up with weird sci-fi drugs, it probably woulda killed me.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Where’re these questions coming from Doc?”

“I’ll explain soon, but I need to show you something else. Sit down on the floor.”

“Okay…?”

“I’m going to sit back-to-back with you. I need you to fall asleep.”

“You want me to… sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Doc, you know I got problems sleeping.”

“I doubt it will be a problem this time. I’m going to meditate, but I need you to sleep.”

“You’re not setting me up for some ritual sacrifice, right?”

“Do you trust me?”

“...”

“You don’t have to answer that. Either meditate or sleep, whichever comes first. But I’m going to meditate.”

“...Alright. But if you cut my heart out and sacrifice it to the math gods or whatever, I’m haunting you.”

(...)

“Stanley.”

“Huh? Where are we?”

“The dreamscape. Specifically, we are in your dreamscape. You could also call it the mindscape. It’s a metaphysical representation of your mind.”

“You can beam yourself into people's minds?”

“Within limitations, yes. If I were to do so when the person is awake, I could only access their surface thoughts and memories. If the person were asleep, I could go a bit deeper and see their dreams, but I wouldn’t be able to easily traverse, and some deeper, more unconscious memories can’t be accessed.”

“So… Ya brought me here? What for?”

“We can access your mind deeper. But I need your permission to do so.”

“You can un-bury all of my lost memories?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to force it. I want to help you… but I know this is painful; both not knowing, and knowing. Do you want to know your real past? Even if it meant you’d have to remember why you forgot it all in the first place?”

“...Yeah. I think- hey what’s that thing coming out of your chest? Is that a rope?”

“...Yes, how did you-”

“I think I have that same thing, hold on, lemme just-”

“You’ve never been here, how would you-.”

“See, same thing. Is it supposed to do something?”

*Ford in shock suddenly grabs at the severed ends of both ropes and tries desperately to push them back together, but the ends keep repelling each other like magnets with the same charge*

“Hey doc, I don’t think you’re gonna attach ‘em like that.”

“Why isn’t it working? It’s supposed to work. It needs to-.”

“Woah! Calm down, PhD. Aren’t we here to dig up the past?”

“Right, right. We’ll get back to that. Do I want to know why your mindscape resembles a gambling lounge?”

“I spent a lot of time in a place called Lottocron Nine before I was banned from it.”

(...)

“Have you been in my mind before?”

“...Yes, during one of your sessions with Fiddleford.”

“...What kind of session?”

“An interview.”

“Oh, thank god. So ya just… broke into my mind?”

“Stanley, I understand if you are feeling-.”

“That’s really cool.”

“...What? You’re not upset?”

“Pft, I’ve broken into houses, cars, shops, warehouses; and even the Infinetentiary, twice . A persons mind though? That’s hardcore.”

“You’re being awfully candid about your multidimensional adventures with Sanchez.”

“There’s no point in hiding it now. You learned the first time you went into my mind, didn’t ya? That's how you knew who I was talking about when I mentioned Rick.”

“You’re handling this rather well.”

“Doc, we’ve both seen some crazy shit. This dreamwalking stuff isn’t even in the top ten.”

(...)

“FORRESTER!”

“Catch you on the flipside, sucker!”

“God, I hated that guy.”

“That IRS agent… What’s his name?”

“Agent Powers, why?”

“Just putting a name to a face.”

(...)

“I don’t like remembering this.”

“Tell us where your boss is hiding, and maybe we’ll spare that ugly mug of yours.”

“You think anything you do is gonna be worse than what Jimmy will do to me if I rat her out? I’ll take my chances with your sleazy ass.”

“This ‘Jimmy’ is female?”

“Yeah. Jimmy Snakes is just a street name. Other bikers wouldn’t take her seriously if they knew from the bat she was a chick. Her real last name is Jiménez.”

“But the J is pronounced as a-”

“Yeah, but guess how everyone who doesn’t speak Spanish tries to pronounce it when they read it?”

“Tough talk, Alcatraz. But everyone's got a limit.”

*the gangster takes the lit cigarette out of his mouth and brings it closer to Stan*

“Yeah, we don’t needa see this.”

*the memory suddenly blacks out but a sizzling noise is still heard*

(...)

“Stanley, this is a pit memory. These are memories your unconscious mind has been hiding from you.”

“Do we just, ya know, jump in?”

“Yes. In a way, it is like the bottomless pit, we would fall back right where we started, or your mental defenses could forcefully-.”

“Screw that, I’m imagining stairs.”

“You can’t just imagine -”

“Violá. Stairs.”

“...”

“What? This is my mind, anything I can imagine should be possible, right?”

“It should not be this easy for you. It takes months of rigorous meditation to-.”

“Maybe it woulda been easier for you to control what's in your head if it wasn’t so far up your ass all the time.”

(...)

“I don’t remember this.”

“It’s the science fair incident I told you about.”

“This is all your fault, ya dumb machine!”

“And now you’re about to-...”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, what did I do?”

“Man, did I fuck up or what?”

“There. Alright. Good as new. Probably.”

“...Stanley. You- you didn’t ruin my machine on purpose?”

“I don’t see you anywhere, but it looks like it.”

“You only hit the table …”

“Does it matter? The results are the same.”

"Stanley, I haven't been honest with you about this incident. After this, yes we fell out, but our father overheard and-."

"And he kicked me out? Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah... I think I always did. Just didn't wanna."

"But... I lied to you about it. I told you that you chose to leave."

"Dude. All I fuckin do is lie. I'm not feeling like being a hypocrite today."

"You're not mad at me? I turned my back on you!"

"Get in line, PhD. Rico outed me to the Aryan Brotherhood. Rick cheated on me with an Alien Hivemind. Jimmy chased me for fifty miles on the interstate on a flaming motorcycle trying to drag out my soul with bottles and chains. You got tired of my shit and told me to buzz off? Big deal!"

"I ruined your life..."

"I ruined my own life. It's kinda my thing, ya know."

(...)

“No- no. Oh, no. We can’t stay here, we need to leave.”

“This looks like the homeless shelter from Glass Shard Beach.”

“Hey- sir? Can ya help me with something?"

"Watcha need, kid?"

"I haven't been to one of these places before and its kinda-"

'Scary - no, I can't say that out loud. He'll think I'm being a baby.'

"It's kinda new to me. I heard there were phones here that don't charge ya?"

'I wanna call ma...'

"There sure is, just follow me."

"We need to leave."

"Stanley, what-?"

"We need to leave we can't stay here we need to-"

"This isn't- wait, what're ya d-? Hey!”

“Brats like you are too damn easy.”

“Back off you piece a-!”

WACK

“Why isn’t this memory blacking out, I’m trying to end it-.”

“Get offa me! Stop!”

“I don’t wanna remember this.”

“Stanley, I’m so sorry. I had no idea-.”

“Cry all you want, it won't help you.”

*the memory blacks out*

(...)

“...Do you want to talk about it?”

“ No. ”

“Okay. I won’t make you.”

“I think this pit over here is the one that… ya know, made me forget everything.”

“You are sure it’s this one?”

“There’s a giant neon sign over there that says ‘Do Not Enter: Everything is Worse’.”

“How considerate of your subconscious.”

“…I don’t think I can go any further. Go on without me.”

“Stanley-.”

“Stanford. I’m giving you permission to see that memory, whatever it is. I’m not going to kick you out of it. Just tell me what you saw after you get out, and we’ll go from there.”

“You are okay with that? Are you sure?”

“You asked me outside if I trusted ya. Here’s your answer.”

(...)

‘Moses, the fog’s getting pretty bad… can’t see shit’

‘Ain’t safe with all the curves ahead’

‘I should take a stop soon and wait for it to clear’

‘Huh? What’s up with my breaks?’

‘WHY ISN’T IT WORKING? WHY?’

‘He didn’t! That son of a-’

SCREECH

CRASH

Fwooosh!

‘Fuck! I gotta stay calm- I’ve gotten out of worse’

‘Ugh the smokes getting really thick-.’

‘Why isn’t the seat belt unbuckling? I don’t have a lotta time here.’

‘Where’s my strap cutter? Why isn’t it-!’

‘I’m really lightheaded…’

‘Can’t-’.

‘It’s too hot-.’

‘I’m trapped.’

‘I-I can’t breathe.’

*Stanley reaches up and pulls the picture of himself and Ford, which is on fire, off of the sun visor. It burns up into ash within his hands, which then start shaking*

"That was all I had... Now I have nothing. And I have nobody... I'm… alone."

‘I'm alone…’

‘I'm alone.’

*the memory suddenly blacks up, and then the scene changes and he’s looking at Rick Sanchez as he lies on the floor of his space cruiser. Ricks words are muffled at first*

'Where am I?'

'Who's this guy?'

'He tased me? Is this a cop?'

'Why was I in the woods?'

'Catatonic...?'

“This isn’t going anywhere. Can you tell me your name?”

'I'm alone'

“It’s…? I... 'm alone . Wait. It’s- Stan.”

“Stan Malone huh? My name’s Rick Sanchez.”

(...)

“I do not understand… I suspected the car accident was the catalyst, but how did he escape? Did Sanchez rescue him and lie about it? What would he gain from that?”

“Nope!”

“Bill?”

“You know you can’t go anywhere without me, Fordsy.”

“Why did you wait until now to show yourself?”

“Dramatic entrance, of course!”

“...Right. Why doesn’t Stanley remember escaping his burning car?

“Because he didn’t. He died of smoke inhalation right there.”

“... What ?”

“Yeah. He died. Ironically, of suffocation. Isn’t that hilarious, Sixer? He used to suffocate you, and that ended up being the thing that killed him.”

“CIPHER! Whatever cruel joke you are trying to-.”

“Joke? I’m hurt Fordsy, I know when to be serious.”

“He didn’t die! We are in his mindscape! He’s asleep right behind me in the waking world!”

“Oh, Sixer… Your mommy was right when she said denial like this isn’t healthy.”

“STOP PLAYING THESE GAMES WITH ME BILL CIPHER.”

“Alright, alright. Here, let me give you a sneak peak of what happened between the scenes; he doesn’t remember, because it happened in his mindscape. So here’s my memory of what happened.”

“Your-?”

SNAP

(...)

“Hey there slick! Things getting too hot to handle?”

“What are you supposed to be?”

“Call me a guardian angel.”

“Are all angels as geometric as you?”

“I took a form that would be comforting to you. I’m the symbol on the back of the money, you like money right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well there we go! I’m here to help you.”

“... Why?”

“I’m a friend of a friend. And that friend would very much hate it if you burnt to death here. Shake my hand and I can get you out.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Like I said, friend of a friend. Just shake my hand. I’ll have temporary use of your body, and you’ll get to live.”

“I’d sooner chew up and spit out a gold chain before I fall for some Faustian bargain. No ones ever been nice to me in my entire life; there’s no reason my death would be any different. Leave me alone.”

“What about your family?”

“They won’t be surprised, there’s no way they didn’t see something like this coming. I’m surprised I lasted this long.”

“What about your brother? Your twin? You’re two halves of a whole - are you really going to leave him to live the rest of his life incomplete?”

“I’m the incomplete one, I failed by myself. But he can stand on his own.”

“Don’t you realize this will devastate him?”

“... I know it will.”

“Then why aren’t you taking this deal? Fordsy isn’t going to get over this. I know everything about him, and I’m telling you he never will. This will haunt him the rest of his natural life. The same way it would haunt you if he died.”

“If you’re such a Stanford expert, would he ever think I’d take a deathbed deal with a floating triangle in a top hat and fake eyelashes?”

“The eyelashes were a low blow. But, I’ll give it to you, slick; he does know you would never fall for flattery and trickery. But he’d also agonize why you’d give up like this.”

“There’s giving up, and there’s acceptance. Every decision I’ve ever made has led up to this. And most of them were the wrong ones. The consequences have caught up to me, and there’s nowhere to run anymore.”

“You’re choosing now of all times to accept the consequences of your actions?”

“Might as well, it’s the last chance I can.”

“You are going to die here. Stanley Romanoff Pines, if you don’t take a deal with me in the next minute you will die.”

“Guess I get one whole minute to reflect on everything huh?”

“And what would you reflect on?”

“If you’re really friends with my brother… if he ever asks about me for some reason, could you tell him that I love him?”

*a rope suddenly appears, with one end fading into Stanley’s chest. The other end appears to fade off into the distance*

“What’s this supposed to be?”

“Your twin bond with Sixer.”

“That’s a real thing, no shit?”

“Yes. It’s how I found you, actually. IQ was getting this sinking feeling of dread and didn’t know why, so I just followed it without telling him.”

“Does that mean he’ll feel it when-.”

“Yes.”

*Stanley looks at the rope before grabbing it with both hands, and pulling it in opposite directions until it’s broken into two. The end not connected to him disappears.*

“He doesn’t need to know what dying feels like.”

“...He doesn’t want you dead. He never hated you.”

“I know. But he doesn’t need to worry about supporting all of this dead weight. Ha! Get it? Dead weight! …Dead weight? It’s funny because I’m about to be dea-”

(...)

“-and he died exactly how he lived; making stupid jokes that no one but him finds funny- except for you, I can see even though you’re crying, you’re also trying really hard not to laugh .”

*Ford covers his face with his hands in grief*

“...That was a good one…”

“I waited for his heart to stop before I could take over - I can possess corpses you see, and for those fleeting minutes, he counted as one. I flexed just enough of my power to drag him out of his car - had to wait for that stuck seat belt to burn enough to rip - but all of that activity re-started his heart and brought him back, kicking me out of his body.

I had enough time to change some things - kept enough oxygen in his blood supply to prevent brain damage, deleted his fear of heights so he could climb out of the ravine, and rewired his optic nerves so he didn’t need glasses anymore - he wasn’t going to get any for himself anytime soon, he won’t need them until he gets cataracts at fifty-seven.

Anyways, that’s the real reason he was immune to that green cryptid; his worst nightmare was dying alone, and he already went through that.”

“...Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“You didn’t ask. Not me. Not anyone. Not even yourself.”

“...”

“You always pushed your thoughts of him into the corner of your mind, Sixer. In your journals, any mention of him you’d cross out or write in a code. I saved him because I know you care about him. I didn’t tell you what happened because you wanted him out of sight, and out of mind.”

“Bill!”

“It’s true, isn’t it? And look at that, he still made his way back to you. Either that twin bond was magnetically pulling him towards its broken half, or I left just enough of an impression on his mind that the weirdness of Gravity Falls drew him here.”

“You left an impression on my brothers mind?”

“It’s like when you crinkle paper, Sixer. You can try to smooth it out all you want, but there’s still going to be traces that something happened. There’s not pieces of me left in his mind, if that’s what you’re worried about. He didn’t make a deal with me, unlike you. He just picked up some of my tendencies. Definitely explains why he uses nicknames so much, doesn’t it?”

“This is my nightmare.”

“This is the dreamscape.”

“...Why did you repress his memories?”

“You think I did that? Sixer, he died . You don’t come back from that the same way you were before.”

“Then why would he still remember most of the last ten years of his life, but not being kicked out or his entire life before that?”

“Fordsy, you heard his last conscious thoughts, and those became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Before he passed out and then away, all he could focus on was how alone he felt. His brain did that thing all human brains tend to do; hid all the stuff that would hurt him more.”

“...No, he wouldn’t-.”

“Sixer. I know you can see the truth, you can’t hide your thoughts from me; why bother remembering himself, why bother remembering loving people when they didn’t bother to remember him, not even when he needed them the most?”

“...”

“Oh, goody, now you’re crying! Don’t worry, I know exactly what to do in situations like this. I don’t care if you don’t understand the reference, you’re not the one who’s supposed to.”

*Bill conjures up and then starts playing the Nightmare Realms smallest violin*

To be continued…

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stacysloft · 2 days ago

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Self-Conscious Light Codes

Meditation Journal: February 28, 2025

Meditation Type: Meditation on Twin Heart’s (Pranic Healing)

In today's meditation I downloaded a different kind of light.

During the Meditation of Twin Heart's we are asked to imagine liquid white light flowing down to the crown of our heads. However, this time as I looked up from above, I visualized light in the form of many kind of codes that I cannot decipher. But, there were all very very fast and as they reach my brain, they seem to be light, fast and conscious.

They seem to move, bounce, reflect so fast that they I could only see their prismic rainbow colored rays forming various geometric shapes and breaking free the walls of my mind causing it to expand without needed for any of my conscious effort.

Before, I needed to imagine denser liquid white light towards an area and require focus to unblock a certain area and hear clicks. But, with this new form of self-conscious little speedy like codes, they seem to have its own intelligence expanding to blocked or unbalanced areas and I would be surprised to hear several clicks and feel that my mind is lighter and more balanced.

#meditation journal #meditation of twin hearts #light codes #meditation #twin hearts #expansion #self conscious lights #rainbow rays

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tsunaaism · 3 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | Miya Twins.

"Such prowess; such beauty... are not for humans to witness."

Pairings: Immortal!Reader x Miya Atsumu x Miya Osamu

Genre: Fantasy, Mystery.

Words: 970

Warnings: A little, teeny-tiny bit suggestive.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (you're here.)

The night is empty. Silence engulfs the forest; the atmosphere is devoid of anything but the waterfall’s stream. Gravel crunches beneath your feet, jagged edges threatening to tear. Freezing water pours over your form, the flow cooling your mind.

The truth has always been there; not in hiding nor beneath a spotlight. Simply idling in your peripherals.

“It wasn’t ignorance.”

The waterfall continues to wash over your form as your voice lulls within the empty air.

“It’s indifference.”

Over the fact that you needed the imperial family—Shinsuke Kita and his father—his grandpas and his ancestors. You needed humans. Their thoughts. Their memories. Their desires—their prayers.

The waterfall’s crashes no longer resounds. Your eyes flutters open. The river had dried up, leaving the moonlight’s fragmented glow. A large basin of water circulates above your form. Your worries must’ve gotten to you. Slowly, they swirl around—flowing—returning to where they belong. As everything falls back into place, the river streams again.

Benjirō was someone you couldn’t have lived without. You took a deep breath, listening to the caws of the crows. A God created from words and desperation. From the half-assed drawing you had stuck on the civillians door thousands of years ago, and the thousands of battles you fought.

Simply a myth, and yet, he lives. He thrives.

But so do you.

If the famed war hero is forgotten, so would your existence. After all, immortality is a bliss; one every elusive beings of the world dreams of. When the actuality of a mythical being is forgotten—then the world erases them.

Ironic, right? Possessing unmatched knowledge and power, yet having to rely on the mere desires of humans—their selfish needs.

The caws of the crows morphs into the swallows chirps. The forest glows a yellow hue. You sigh, ending your meditation this night. The water sloshes in your leave, no traces of you within the forest.

Ah, yes. Back home.

Except it’s all over the place.

Papers littered over the engawa. Ink spills over the fallen table and wooden floor. Only darkness was palpable inside—as if an endless tunnel. A smudged drag of blood stops near the opening of the door. The small sparrow twitches, trying to salvage whatever bit of life it has.

It has only been a day since you left.

Slow footsteps ring in your ears. But far—faraway. Almost as if they’re hidden deep inside the house. The scent of burnt incense mingles with an animalic odor. You feel blood rushing through your heart, beating slower… and slower.

Yōkais. You were right.

“You are scared.” You walk closer to the sparrow, scooping the carcass into your hand, “Both of you.”

You placed it on an untainted paper.

“I don’t like when someone turns my home into a nest, you know?”

You step inside. Still, nothing but pitch black darkness. It reeks of musk and blood.

“Especially when it smells like foxes.”

A screech echoes. A deep growl follows. You suppose all Kitsunes hated to be called foxes. The word does sound domesticating.

From far, faraway—a lantern-lit figure walks to you. Slowly. Almost drifting. You smile. The structure of the house is gone, replaced by an endless dark void. No traces of the door you stepped into.

“Lady.” A mature, masculine figure drifts closer. Yellowed hair flows like burning ember. He smiles beneath his ironically fox-shaped mask. You stifle a laugh.

“—Or should I say,” A whisper’s warm breath looms behind your ear. Its sudden appearance doesn’t bother you. The fox with the lantern inches closer, now standing idly in front of you.

“Child of Vaiśravaṇa.”

“Fragment of Bishamonten.”

Both whispers in unison, dangerously close.

“You’re the one.” A thin, sharp claw draws circle behind your neck, “Who should come home.”

“I am home.” You muse, “I am everywhere.”

“Is that so?” The blonde kitsune raises his lantern. Light glints upon his hazel eyes, “Yet, you co-exist. Helped humans. Are you.. dying? Has the… Ōmikami rejected you?”

“Or have you… rejected the Gods?”

“Such power,” The sharp claw continues to glide over your back, almost tearing the fabric of your yukata, “Such prowess. Such… beauty. Are not for humans to witness.”

Deftly, your hand cracked the wrists of the fox behind you. Within a blink of an eye, you flew over both of the Kitsune’s figure. They didn’t move, still adorning the smile they’ve always had on—even as a child.

“We know of your capability.” A chime echoes within the void, “We do not wish to fight, Lady.”

Yellow hair, grey hair. Which one is which, you wondered?

The grey kitsune healed his cracked wrist with a lick. His eyes pierces through you as he continues to fix his wounds.

“Insolent cats.” Your vision sharpened, “Take your masks off.”

Surprisingly, they do. With a snap, their masks fall, coming undone. Sharp eyes stare at your form. The rounded features of the faux children are long gone; replaced by strong, almost angelic features.

You scoff.

“Shapeshifting foxes.”

A familiar cold stings your hand, glowing red. Sparks of darkened electricity swirls around your fingers. You relished in the burn as the spear merges into your grip.

“What do you intend?” Your words echoes like a gale, “What dared you to deceive me?”

“Us?” A strong wind fills the void. Their claws sharpened. Light strikes your vision, the void flashing into an endless blooming forest. Pink petals sway in the air. The pungent scent of honeyed florals invades your lungs, as if a perfume masking the scent of blood.

Sun falls from crevices of the trees. Soft, mossy grass covered achres of rich soil. Flowers bloom at every wake of the Kitsunes movement. The green landscape moves—alive, singing. Rabbits and deers gathered, surrounding the foxes. They gaze to you.

“Come,”

“With us.”

@chaseyui @malinq-ashida @allykat7599 @underratedmage @dazaisfavgf @denkisclown @ku-ragee @officiallyjaehyuns @sabrina-senpai @zukiakiraa

Sorry for just continuing this after like.. three years. Hihi. Just got a break! Coming back to writing and continuing some stuffs very-very soon. Putting this out before laying out all da big guns 🫡.

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ladypiscesmoon · 1 month ago

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year ahead Armie Hammer (personal year card: The Hermit

Ask me anything that needs to be clarified)

What has Armie to release from 2024:

Bluebell fairy: (mistakes happen when you're not clear-minded. Forgive. Step forward in a lesson learned and know that you can achieve more wisdom as a result. Forgive yourself and move on with the lessons learned.) Doorway to fairyland (lift your spirits after you were held back in life. dream and view the world from a different perspective. That way you expand your mind and develop your imagination) Armie's is aware of the need to move on, but he cannot always see the way to go. It's time to release the past.

Overall 2025 (Feeling)

Camel (trust that you have the resources to get through the challenges before you) Sometimes it looks like the journey he's on is like crossing a desert with no end in sight. But he has to think about how far he's come already. He has to identify where he wants to go and proceed slowly but steadily, toward his goal. He's got to cast away his fears, doubts and hesitations. Ease his mind and heart. He will get through this, like he got through other challenges.

Walrus (remain vigilant about the current situation; pay attention to signs and omens and let them dictate your choices)

He's got to ask for specific signs to show him the way in life purpose, relationships and career, or even everyday concerns. He's got to allow his thoughts to flow (like meditation) and he'll pick up the signs and clues, maybe in lucid dreams. Trust these signs.

222 Alignment (how do you move forward toward your life's true calling? Do what makes you happy. Your enthusiasm is what's keep you going. Follow your interest if it's piqued by something. Following these routes will help you discover your life's purpose)

222 means good fortune in finances, relationships and career as well as a reminder to work towards your soul's purpose. For singles it's considered as a sign a true love is coming or that your soulmate is near

0606 Commitment (applying honesty and light daily is a fast track to creating a peaceful and meaningful life. It's how you find solutions and comfort. Release worries by speaking your truth and expressing emotions regularly. Open up for the best is yet to come)

The double zero's in 0606 emphasize a sense of commitment. For twin flames there's an underlying equilibrium and cosmic plan. The combination f the 0 and 6 suggests a focus on spiritual awakening and enlightenment. Twin flames encountering 0606 may interpret it as an invitation to delve deeper into their spiritual journey during the time of separation. Despite physical or/and emotional distance there's a stable equilibrium in the cosmic orchestration. The twin flames have to channel unconditional love. They have to express love that transcends physical boundaries understanding that their connection is timeless and eternal. With everything Armie has gone through in the last years, he's a lot further on his spiritual journey than his twin flame. The twin now has to catch up and they can reunite. I think Armie could be teaching his twin flame a lot.

Overall 2025 (Lenormand)

The heart( love, romance, infatuation, art, beauty, joy of life), the man(the significant card for a man, the partner for a woman), the coffin(death, endings, mourning, transformation, manipulation) The book(secrets, hidden knowledge, keeping a secret), the snake (lies, deceit, misguidance, illusions, chaos, temptation, seduction, cunning), the ring(relationship, marriage, cooperation, togetherness, cycles) The stork (change, movement, beginnings, flexibility, changeability, moving house), the whip (strife, fighting, argumenfsdebate, perseverance, competition, energy), the ship (travel, a journey, finances, navigation)

Combinations and thoughts: (they read like a sentence) -A loving man, a desirable man, a flirty man, transformation (new beginning) in a relationship -Backstabber is discovered (people not liking this relationship) -Secret commitments (trying to have a private relationship) -Hiding a ring (maybe having a symbol of this love, but hiding it) -Repeated change -Thinking about moving (could be overseas or out of country)

Overall 2025 (LOVE)

Abundance (keep a positive mindset, manifest exactly what you want, gratitude, bliss) The snake (competition, energy, clever, malicious, look over your shoulder, the other woman) Boat (receiving what you need, closure, progression, arriving, moving on from issues)

This seems to be a better year for Armie in love. Some people will not like him having found love though. But as long as he doesn't let him influence him, he will be fine. There's always someone jealous, or hateful or disappointed. As long as he's happy he should go after what he wants

Overall (CAREER/MONEY)

2 of swords (at a crossroad, avoiding the truth, tough choices) The star reversed (hopelessness, boredom, uninspired)

Career: stalemate, conflict at workplace, lack of motivation, pessimism about work Money: difficult or unpleasant decisions as well as an inability or refusal to face reality. Not quite what he hoped for his financial situation. Trying to save up money. He has fought a lot to get back a resemblance of his earlier career. He would very much like to provide for his children. Some of his thoughts are very traditional, but he should know that he's come a long way. Even if this year may have a bit more of a stagnation in his career, its doesn't mean it will always be like that. It may also be that he's feeling inspired in the roles he gets, or filming is not as satisfactory as it was for him. He might still think about another direction, or a combination of things. I still see him writing or producing

Overall( HEALTH)

8 of cups: (abandonment, walking away, disappointment) 4 of cups reversed (gratitude, focus, seeing opportunity) overload/excessment/obligation/overwhelm

Your environment and your way of thinking has negative effects on your health. Don't worry about things that are out of your hand. You will re-energize and upbeat in a healthy context if you go with the flow

Month for Month

January

The tower reversed (fear of change, avoiding the inevitable, liberation) Death reversed (resisting change, inevitable endings, stagnation) Citrine: abundance in creativity and healing as well. Armie has to let go of his fears. They bring him stagnation and delay in being truly happy.

February

Queen of coins (mature, successful, practical) 3 of wands reversed (returning home, holding on to the past, unhappy with choices) Snowflake obsidian: inspiration, ideas and talents In the last years Armie has kept hidden, nurturing and protecting his own creative ideas and projects. He feared change and was avoiding it. It stagnated his own process. He is going to change that. He already started it with his podcast, but we will see more examples of his brilliant mind (and he's funny too. Love that man)

March

4 of swords (mental overload, sanctuary, solitude) 10 of coins (inheritance, financial security, family) Calcite: more vitality and enthusiasm for life This month there will be an increase in finances, but also he will find someone to express more of his ideas and feelings. He will need a bit of solitude, to think some things over.

April

9 of swords (depression, intense anxiety, feeling hopeless) Strength (courage, overcoming, control) Kyanite: Pay attention to your intuition, rather ingenious idea will surface that will radically change your views on life, especially your career. Strangely enough it feels like Armie will be helping someone to make some decisions, especially on the subject of career. This will drastically change this persons life. So it doesn't have to do directly with Armie's career in this month, at least it feels like it to me.

May

The chariot reversed (lack of direction, aggression, powerlessness) Knight of cups (Chivalry, hopeless romantic, idealistic) Petrified wood: a magical transformation is about to occur through an unexpected turn of events. It's the result of the strength and commitment you have long shown to something. Many who have, until now either ridiculed or attempted to discredit you, will all of a sudden want to jump to your side. Long time there was stagnation and hopelessness in Armie's life, but the times are changing. Also, a very romantic month for him.

June

King of swords (intelligent, head over heart, logical) 3 of cups (Parties, indulgence, happiness) Rhodochrosite: We all have negative and positive aspects in our characters either currently or in the past. Taking the person he loves as they are, loving them with their vices and their virtues, seeing them for the human that they are. Forgiveness.

July

6 of cups reversed (growing up, childhood issues, letting go of the past) The devil (vices, temptation, manipulation) Molybdenite: There is nothing you have to fix or change in your life. Start to accept all of who you are. All is in perfect divine order. Accepting who he is, will all his vices and virtues. Letting go of the past.

August

9 of cups (dreams come true, satisfaction, abundance) The emperor (dependability, authority, structure) Gold with Quartz: a newfound sense of joy Feeling on top of the world, basically

September

4 of wands reversed (feeling unwelcome, family issues, animosity) 8 of sword reversed (self-acceptance, seeing Cleary, release) Pyrite: feeling emotionally imbalanced, because you have yourself allowed to believe another's critical judgements of you Feeling insecure, but someone having your back means you remind your strength. Let people judge, they will always do it, no matter what you do.

October

knight of wands (fearless, risk-taker, free spirit) 2 of cups (mutual respect, love, equality) Aquamarine: in this period greater empathy and insight is necessary. Someone loving him and having his back. It gives him strength and makes him feel free

November

Ace of coins (financial opportunity, prosperity, manifesting money) Page of coins (young but grounded, solid beginning, strong foundation) Amber: something that's causing friction and tension comes to a head I feel like there will be a financial setback or something, but the person in his life that loves him is helping him through it

December

2 of wands reversed (doubt, fearing the unknown, being restless) The high Priestess (sacred knowledge, divine feminine, unconscious mind) Sodalite: keep your calm. Meditate, keep the dream alive. positive confirmation If he wavers and feels restless, he has to find ways to unwind, and nurture himself. He has come a very long way.

*This reading is alleged and for entertainment purposes only*

#celebrity tarot #year ahead #year 2025 #armie hammer

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oshinohoshi · 3 months ago

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Oshi no Ko - yet another rant about the ending & Aqua's self-sacrifice

Today I woke up sad and mad about Aqua's death so I'm going to rant about it. We're probably all sick of talking about how bad this ending was but I gotta get it out.

I mean... Damn. Akasaka really made Aqua die for Ruby's career. What the hell.

Aqua, did you forget chapter 134??

Akasaka wants us to forget that chapter 134 exists but I remember it. It was not a fever dream! Or at least, it was a fever dream the fandom collectively had.

There's a lot of focus in ch 134 on the kiss but I like that Aqua and Ruby finally had a heart to heart.

Ruby idolized Aqua in this chapter and treated him as Gorou, which was surely a problem for their relationship, but she also told him that she accepted him for who he was and saw his suffering, his vulnerability, his kindness, and his persistence. She expressed in no uncertain terms that she loved him and was happy just because he existed.

And Aqua STILL killed himself for the sake of Ruby's career.

Akasaka said in this interview that what he wanted to express through Oshi no Ko was miscommunication - something I'll probably do a separate post on - and admittedly Aqua's death portrays that extremely well. But it does it too well.

It's in character for Aqua, but as a reader what does it say for a character who finally started to look towards the future to decide that the one thing his sister needed above all else was to be an idol? What was the point of any of this? Why is being an idol so glorified in the end?

There's another important thing Aqua said in ch 134 and that's that he felt guilty for being alive.

My first thought was that the ending would have been less rage inducing if this thread had been followed through with. If Aqua had died because he was still focused on revenge and mired in guilt about Ai's death rather than swapping his revenge for self-sacrifice at the last second.

It would remove the somewhat icky feeling of his suicide to some extent accomplishing his goal (albeit with critical damage to Ruby), it would resolve the frustration of knowing there were a myriad of other ways he could have taken out Hikaru, and it would tie in with how the road to revenge leads to destruction. It would also have kept Ai as a focal point in the story.

But then I remembered that I really love ch 154 when the twins get their revenge with Ai's DVD. It was a moving chapter and an elegant revenge that was worse than death for Hikaru.

So I need to get Aqua to die for a reason other than making his sister's career more important than his life while keeping 154 in tact.

I think that could have been accomplished if Aqua confronted Hikaru and died in a scuffle. Or Ruby could have shown up and he flung himself in front of her to protect her. That would have been self-sacrificial but it would not have been pre-meditated.

I would still have hated that the story wasn't about moving on with your life while carrying the weight of your past, but it might have felt just a little better.

I don't know... I really don't. But Aqua dying so Ruby can play at Dome is so not it.

#oshi no ko #in which I complain bitterly #oshi no ko spoilers #aqua hoshino

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innercreationyouth · 1 month ago

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Where the Force leads

In honour of the person who created Tatooine Slave culture, it's not mine, clearly, as many know. It's a very interesting culture for sure, but I know too little about it and I really like mandalorian culture more.

Also I adore time-travelling Ben. He's tired, weary and would like a drink. And I also adore blakkats (gosh, did I write it right? I'll have to check) portrayal of Jon Antilles.

Chapter 1. A Master without a purpose.

Chapter 2 here

In the deserts of Tatooine, Ben Kenobi lives in exile, haunted by the fall of Anakin Skywalker. When the Force whispers cryptic visions of a distant planet, Korda Six, Ben is drawn into a mysterious journey that challenges his solitude and guilt. As he uncovers the truth about his past failures, Ben must confront his role in the galaxy’s fate. This is a tale of loss, hope, and the enduring power of the Force.

The twin suns of Tatooine hung low in the vast, unforgiving sky, their relentless heat bathing the planet in an oppressive golden light. The sands stretched to infinity, shifting dunes whispering secrets to the dry, desert winds. It was a harsh world, where life clung desperately to whatever shade or moisture it could find, and every breath felt like a struggle against the elements.

Outside a modest, weatherworn shack perched on a ridge overlooking the desolation, an old man sat cross-legged on a simple wooden porch. He was draped in rough robes, his face lined with age, sunburn, and sorrow. Ben Kenobi—known once as Obi-Wan—closed his eyes, the faint hum of the Force stirring within him like a dying ember. He meditated, letting the stillness of the desert mirror the stillness he sought inside.

But there was no peace. Not today.

His thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the boy he had raised like a son. Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One. The memory of his wide-eyed, eager smile burned brighter in Ben's mind than the twin suns before him. Then the smile twisted, darkened, became the visage of Darth Vader—his greatest failure. The air around Ben seemed to grow heavier as he relived it all once more.

What could I have done differently? The question plagued him daily. He had loved Anakin, trained him, guided him. And yet, the boy had fallen so far, taking the galaxy with him.

Ben sighed, the sound heavy with guilt. He whispered into the silence, “Was it my fault?”

At first, there was no answer. Just the faint hiss of the wind scraping over sand. But then, soft and clear, a voice echoed in his mind. Young, curious, and yet carrying an unmistakable weight of insight.

"Do you truly think it was your fault?"

Ben's eyes snapped open, his heart skipping. The voice wasn't his own, nor was it a memory. It felt... present. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once. He looked around the empty desert, scanning the horizon for something—anything—that might explain it.

He closed his eyes again, reaching deeper into the Force, letting it flow through him. The voice lingered, steady and calm, as if it came not from outside but from the very heart of the Force itself.

"You did what you thought was right. But was it? Or are you just trying to carry a weight too heavy for one man?"

Ben clenched his fists, the wind tugging at his robes as if to pull him back to reality. He swallowed hard, a bitter lump forming in his throat.

“I was his master,” Ben whispered. “I failed him. If I’d been better... if I’d seen the darkness sooner...”

"Would it have changed him? Or would he have fallen all the same?"

The words stung, cutting through Ben’s practiced defenses. They forced him to question the narrative he’d clung to for years. The old Jedi sat in silence, the desert wind his only companion as the voice faded, leaving him alone once more.

The twin suns dipped lower, casting long shadows over the sand. Ben opened his eyes, staring into the horizon. He didn’t have an answer—not yet. But the question lingered, echoing in the corners of his mind.

And for the first time in years, he wondered if he could let go.

___

The twin suns were dipping below the horizon, painting the Tatooine sky with streaks of orange and purple as Ben Kenobi trudged back to his modest shack. His arms carried a small bundle of supplies he’d picked up in Mos Eisley—a few dried rations, some water, and a handful of vegetables he’d bartered for with what little he had left. The desert winds swirled around him, tugging at his robes, carrying the faint scent of sand and dry stone.

His thoughts were simple as he walked: survival, reflection, and the quiet monotony of the days stretching before him. But as he approached the ridge leading to his home, a familiar sensation brushed against his consciousness—like a whisper carried on the wind.

"Would you change anything if you could?"

Ben froze in his tracks, his grip tightening on the bundle of food. The voice was back. The same young, curious tone that had spoken to him weeks earlier. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, shaking it off as some trick of his weary mind. But something about it was undeniable—its presence felt rooted in the Force itself, as real as the ground beneath his feet.

He exhaled sharply, setting the bundle down on a nearby rock. “I’ve thought about it,” he said aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Of course I’ve thought about it. But I did everything I could with what I knew at the time. What’s left for me now is to reflect.”

The voice responded with a soft chuckle, its tone light but tinged with something deeper—understanding, perhaps.

"That’s what your Master would say."

Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. The mention of his old Master stirred a deep ache in his chest. “Well, I suppose he was right about many things. Though I doubt he’d approve of me standing here, talking to myself like a madman.”

For a moment, silence reigned. Then a thought flickered through his mind, unbidden but persistent: All is possible through the Force.

The voice seemed to sense it.

"What if everything began to spiral far earlier than you think it did?"

Ben’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Why does that matter now?” he asked, his tone edged with frustration. “The galaxy’s already fallen to darkness. What good does it do to dwell on the past?”

The voice didn’t answer immediately. Instead, it whispered one word, so soft it seemed to blend with the wind itself:

"Patience."

And then it was gone. In its place, an image bloomed in Ben’s mind—vivid, clear, and unmistakable. It was a planet, foreign and unfamiliar. He could see jagged cliffs, dense forests, and a sky that seemed to shimmer with strange hues. And with the image came a name, etched into his thoughts as if burned there by the Force itself: Korda Six.

Ben staggered slightly, gripping the rock beside him for balance. He whispered the name aloud, testing its weight on his tongue. “Korda Six... What does that mean?”

There was no answer. Only the whistle of the wind and the endless expanse of desert stretching before him. He stood there for a long moment, the food bundle forgotten at his feet, staring into the horizon as the suns dipped below the sands.

Korda Six.

He didn’t understand it. Not yet. But the Force was stirring, and Ben Kenobi knew better than to ignore its call.

That night, sleep did not come easily to Ben Kenobi. He lay on the small cot in his shack, staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with questions. Korda Six. What does it mean? Why now? The voice’s whispers had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t quite name, yet there was an undeniable pull.

The desert winds moaned outside, their steady rhythm lulling him into uneasy slumber. But even in sleep, his mind felt restless, skimming the edges of dreams that shimmered with light too brilliant to hold.

When morning came, Ben awoke slowly, the golden light of Tatooine’s twin suns creeping through the slats of his window. At first, it seemed like any other day, but then he sat up and froze. Something in the air had changed.

The oppressive weight of the desert heat, the dull heaviness that had hung over the planet for years—it was gone. In its place, there was a stillness, a balance, a lightness so profound that it took Ben’s breath away. He closed his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if he were a child again, before the war, before he’d even been taken as a Padawan. Back when the Force had been pure and unclouded.

He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes as the sensation washed over him. He didn’t know why, but the sheer scale of the light present in the Force was overwhelming. It was everywhere, suffusing every particle of air, touching the farthest corners of his consciousness. It was as though the galaxy itself had momentarily remembered what it was to be whole.

He stood, his movements slow, almost reverent, as he took in his surroundings. His shack—weathered and rusted by years of Tatooine’s harsh climate—looked... different. The walls seemed sturdier, the metal less corroded, as though time had rolled back. Yet, stepping outside, he saw that the planet itself remained unchanged. The sands still stretched endlessly under the twin suns, and the heat still beat down with relentless intensity.

Ben frowned, his mind racing. What is happening?

Shaking himself from his reverie, he decided to stick to his routine. Whatever this shift was, he couldn’t afford to lose focus. His life here depended on careful habits, and the trek to Mos Eisley was one of them.

Gathering his belongings, he wrapped himself in his robes and began the familiar journey through the desert. The sands crunched beneath his boots as the heat rose in shimmering waves around him. But as he walked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Force itself was walking beside him, whispering a single word in his mind:

"Patience."

It was as though the voice, the presence, wasn’t just lingering—it was guiding. Ben glanced back over his shoulder at his home, then ahead toward the distant outline of Mos Eisley. His steps felt lighter, though his heart remained heavy with questions.

And so he walked, through the sands, under the burning suns, with the whispers of the Force as his only companion.

Mos Eisley was alive with the ceaseless hum of activity. The sprawling, chaotic spaceport buzzed with the energy of its denizens—humans, Rodians, Twi’leks, Jawas, and countless others, all hurrying through the dusty streets. The harsh desert sun reflected off metallic droids and ships parked haphazardly near cantinas and markets. It was a brutal existence, but here, survival was business as usual.

Ben Kenobi stepped cautiously into the fray, his hood pulled low to shield his face from both the sun and prying eyes. He wove through the crowds, his senses tuned to the ebb and flow of the Force, as he always did when venturing into town. But as he passed a merchant stall laden with strange fruits and a group of traders haggling over salvage, something struck him as odd.

The usual murmurs of Mos Eisley life—grumbles about harsh conditions, bartering disputes, and whispers of fear regarding the Empire—were strangely absent. Instead, the air was thick with chatter about a name Ben hadn’t heard in years: Gardulla the Hutt.

He paused near a cluster of merchants, feigning interest in their wares while tuning into their conversation.

“…she’s been tightening her hold on the spaceports again. Trying to bring in more spice routes through here…”

“…Gardulla’s not one to cross. You remember what happened to those Trandoshan smugglers…”

“…Jabba might be watching, but Gardulla’s the one with real power right now. Always was.”

Ben’s brow furrowed beneath his hood. Gardulla the Hutt? That didn’t make sense. Gardulla had been a prominent figure on Tatooine once, true—but that was long ago, before Jabba had taken control. Anakin had spoken of it once, back when he was still a boy on the cusp of his Jedi training. He’d said Gardulla lost a high-stakes game of sabacc to Jabba shortly after he was born. That game had been pivotal, marking the transfer of power between the two Hutt crime lords.

Yet here, people spoke of Gardulla as if she were the reigning Daimyo, her influence as strong as ever. Ben’s stomach churned uneasily. Something was wrong.

He drifted further into the crowd, listening carefully to other snippets of conversation. Everywhere he turned, the same name arose. Gardulla the Hutt. Her control over Tatooine. Her dealings with off-world syndicates. Her dominance in Mos Eisley. There was no mention of Jabba’s reign, and even stranger, there was no mention of the Empire—no stormtroopers, no Imperial edicts, no fear of the Emperor’s shadow.

Ben’s pulse quickened as realization dawned. The world around him felt familiar, yet the details were out of place. It was as though he were walking through a memory—a Tatooine from decades past. He clenched his jaw and drew his robes tighter around him. He needed confirmation.

He headed toward a cantina he frequented sparingly—a dark, loud place where smugglers and pilots often gathered to exchange information. The air was thick with smoke and the low hum of conversation when he entered. He scanned the room quickly, noting the usual mix of species crowded around tables and at the bar. The cantina band played a jaunty tune in the corner, but Ben ignored it.

He approached the bar, catching the attention of the barkeep, a grizzled human with an impatient scowl.

“Water,” Ben said quietly, sliding a few credits across the counter.

The barkeep nodded and handed him a small glass. Ben leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low. “I’ve been hearing talk of Gardulla the Hutt. Is she really... in charge again?”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Again? What’re you talking about, old-timer? Gardulla’s always been the Daimyo ’round here. Ever since I was a kid. You feeling alright?”

Ben’s heart sank. The man’s words confirmed what the Force had already been whispering to him: something had shifted, pulling him into a time that wasn’t his own. Or perhaps it wasn’t time at all—perhaps it was something far stranger.

He drained the glass of water, the cool liquid doing little to calm his nerves, and placed it back on the counter. As he turned to leave, the barkeep called after him.

“Hey, if you’re worried about Jabba or something, don’t be. Gardulla’s got this place locked down. Always has.”

Ben didn’t respond. He pulled his hood tighter over his head and stepped back into the glaring suns of Tatooine, his mind racing.

What is happening? Why here, why now?

The Force was pulling him toward something—he was sure of it. And whatever it was, it had begun with Korda Six.

Gardulla’s rule over Tatooine was brutal, a reign of cruelty that eclipsed even Jabba’s infamous tenure. The streets of Mos Eisley bore silent witness to her greed and ruthlessness: more slaves shuffled through the dusty markets in chains, their eyes hollowed by exhaustion and despair. Public executions were a grim spectacle in the town square, their frequency a warning to any who dared resist. Food and water were scarcer than ever, hoarded by the Hutt for her own indulgence while the rest of the population scraped by on meager scraps.

Ben Kenobi walked through the chaos, his hood pulled low to conceal his face. His once-vivid ginger hair, now streaked with gray, remained hidden beneath the heavy fabric. It was dangerous to be seen here, especially as a Stewjonian. His sharp features and fair complexion would stand out far too much in this region, and his heritage alone could invite trouble. Worse still, being Force-sensitive—an Aethe’rith, as the Amatakka called it—would mark him for far greater dangers.

Keeping to the shadows, he approached a modest fruit stand at the edge of the market. The vendor, an older woman with weathered skin and a sharp gaze, was arranging a basket of pali fruit. Ben lingered just long enough to catch her attention.

“Looking for something, traveler?” she asked, her voice low but wary.

Ben leaned in slightly, keeping his tone measured. “Just information,” he said, his Amatakka hesitant but serviceable. It had been years since he’d spoken the language, a skill he’d picked up long ago in the mines of Bandomeer.

The woman’s eyes widened slightly, her hands pausing mid-motion. Her expression shifted from suspicion to something warmer, almost reverent. “Aethe’rith,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “You are Dai'Je, aren’t you? A freed one.”

Ben stiffened, glancing around to ensure no one had overheard. The market was noisy, but the wrong pair of ears could turn her words into a death sentence for them both. He gestured quickly for her to lower her voice.

“Please,” he said, his Amatakka faltering as he searched for the right words. “Speak... quieter. We might be overheard by depur.”

The woman immediately dipped her head in apology, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Forgive me, Dai'Je. I meant no harm. It’s just... I never thought I’d see one of you here, in this place.”

Ben’s gaze softened, but he remained cautious. “What do you mean?”

She glanced around nervously, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her shawl. “I’ve had dreams,” she said, her words coming slowly as though she were choosing them carefully. “Dreams of a man in a hood, a Dai'Je, walking these sands. I didn’t know if it was real, but now...” She looked at him with a mix of awe and desperation. “Now I see it was true. You’ve come.”

Ben shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I don’t know what you’ve seen,” he said carefully, “but I’m no savior. I’m just... passing through.”

The woman shook her head firmly. “No. You are here for a reason. I feel it. The Force brought you here.” She leaned in closer, her voice barely more than a breath. “I will help you however I can—when my depur isn’t watching.”

Ben hesitated, his instincts urging him to retreat, to disappear back into the anonymity of the desert. But the conviction in her voice, the light in her eyes—it reminded him of something, of someone. He nodded slowly, his heart heavy with uncertainty.

“Thank you,” he said, his Amatakka halting but earnest. “But be careful. Helping me could cost you everything.”

The woman smiled faintly, a trace of defiance flickering across her face. “Gardulla has already taken everything from me. She can’t take my dreams.”

Ben lowered his hood just slightly, enough for her to see his face and the gratitude etched into his features. He turned and melted back into the crowd, his mind racing. The voice in the Force, the whispers of patience, the image of Korda Six—everything was connected. And now, it seemed, the people of this harsh world were beginning to sense it too.

The sun was setting over Tatooine, painting the desert sky with deep reds and purples as Ben Kenobi made his way through the quieting streets of Mos Eisley. The market stalls were closing up, merchants packing away their wares as the day's trade dwindled. He spotted the woman from the fruit stand gathering her meager belongings into a woven sack, her movements slow and weary.

As he approached, she looked up and gave a faint smile. “You came,” she said softly, glancing around to ensure no one was watching.

“You offered your help,” Ben replied, his voice equally quiet. “I wasn’t sure if it still stood.”

“Of course it does,” she said, slinging the sack over her shoulder. She gestured for him to follow. “Come. It’s not safe to talk out here.”

Ben trailed her through the narrow streets, keeping his hood low as they wound their way toward the outskirts of the settlement. Her small house was barely more than a hovel, its walls cracked and weathered by years of sandstorms. It reminded Ben painfully of his own shack when he’d first begun his exile, its decay a reflection of the harsh life endured here.

She unlocked the door and ushered him inside. The space was sparse, with little more than a cot, a rickety table, and a few cooking implements. A single, flickering glow panel illuminated the room. She set her belongings down and turned to him with a weary smile.

“Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to one of the two wooden stools by the table.

Ben hesitated but eventually sat, his movements careful. The woman filled a small cup with water from a clay jug and placed it in front of him.

“You must be thirsty after the walk,” she said.

He looked at the cup, then at her. “You need it more than I do,” he said gently. “But thank you for offering.”

She shook her head and pushed it closer to him. “It’s all I have to give, Dai'Je. Please, take it.”

Reluctantly, Ben lifted the cup and took a small sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat. He set it down, offering her a grateful nod.

After a moment, he leaned forward, his voice low and intent. “I need to ask you something. Is space travel... possible for one person? Discreetly?”

The woman frowned, her brows knitting together in thought. “It’s... possible, maybe. But dangerous. Especially for you.” She paused, considering. “My brother works at the spaceport. I could ask him in a couple of days, but I can’t promise he’ll help. It’s not safe to aid an Amatakka. The depur would punish him severely if they found out.”

Ben nodded slowly, understanding the risk. “I won’t ask him to put himself in danger. All I need is information—details about ships leaving the planet, their routes. If he can provide that, I can handle the rest.”

She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded. “I’ll speak to him. Quietly. But it will take time. These things can’t be rushed.”

“I understand,” Ben said. “And I’m grateful.”

The woman gave a small, tired smile. “You remind me of the stories my mother used to tell. Of the Dai'Je who walked among us, bringing hope even in the darkest times.” She shook her head. “I never thought I’d live to see one. But here you are.”

Ben looked down at his hands, his heart heavy. “I’m no bringer of hope,” he said quietly. “I’m just a man trying to make sense of all this.”

She didn’t respond, instead turning to tend to the small fire in the corner of the room. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but weighted with unspoken truths.

As the stars began to peek through the small window above them, Ben felt the Force stir around him once more, its whispers faint but insistent. Patience.

He sighed and settled into the stillness, waiting for what was to come.

Three days later, the scorching heat of Tatooine was as relentless as ever, the twin suns glaring down as Ben Kenobi made his final preparations. The woman's information had been invaluable: a Weequay cargo ship was set to leave the planet that evening. It was the opportunity he needed, though he still didn’t fully understand why the Force had led him here—or where it would lead him next.

The night before, she had come to him, her face lined with exhaustion but her voice steady.

“The ship will leave under cover of night,” she had said. “They’re smugglers—no manifests, no questions. If you’re careful, you can slip aboard unnoticed.”

Ben had paused, studying her intently. “Why did you help me?” he asked quietly. “I wasn’t here to free you. Or anyone. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

She had smiled faintly, her eyes soft with understanding. “You don’t need to know yet. When the time is right, you will.”

Her words had struck a chord deep within him, stirring echoes of lessons long past. He had thanked her profoundly, bowing his head as he handed her the remainder of his food and water.

“You need these more than I do,” he had said.

She had tried to refuse, but he insisted, pressing the bundle into her hands. “For everything you’ve done. I owe you more than I can repay.”

Now, as the night descended on Tatooine, Ben moved carefully through the shadows of Mos Eisley’s outskirts. The spaceport was a labyrinth of ships, cargo crates, and scurrying workers, their movements lit by the dim glow of scattered floodlights. He kept his hood low, blending into the darkness as he approached the Weequay vessel.

The ship was a battered freighter, its hull marked with scorch marks and rust. A group of Weequay crew members was loading crates onto the ramp, their voices gruff as they barked orders to one another. Ben waited, watching their patterns, his instincts sharp.

When the moment came, he moved swiftly, slipping between crates and shadows until he reached the ship’s open cargo bay. The hum of machinery and the low murmur of the crew provided cover for his movements as he found a narrow space to hide behind a stack of supplies.

The minutes stretched into hours as the crew continued their work. Ben remained perfectly still, his breathing steady, his senses attuned to every sound. Finally, the ramp groaned as it lifted, sealing the cargo bay with a heavy clang. The ship shuddered as its engines roared to life, and Ben felt the subtle shift of liftoff as they left the planet behind.

He stayed hidden for a long while, his mind racing with thoughts of the woman, her words, and the strange pull of the Force that had brought him here. He didn’t know where this ship would take him, but for the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of purpose stirring within him.

As Tatooine faded into the void of space, Ben Kenobi closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Patience, the Force whispered again, steady and unyielding.

He would wait.

___

Ben Kenobi moved cautiously through the industrial sprawl of Corellia, keeping to the shadows of the bustling starship yards. The Weequay cargo ship had docked hours ago, and he had slipped away unnoticed, his hood still drawn low. Corellia’s vibrant and chaotic spaceports were filled with ships of every size and design, and while that made it easier to blend in, it also meant finding the right vessel could take time.

He searched for something inconspicuous, a ship that wouldn’t attract too much attention—nothing too sleek or militarized, but sturdy enough for interstellar travel. Eventually, he spotted it: a battered freighter with peeling paint and mismatched panels, docked near a quieter part of the yard.

Ben approached cautiously, scanning the area to ensure no one was watching. The spaceport workers were preoccupied with larger, more lucrative ships, leaving this one relatively unguarded. He placed his hand on the hull, the cold metal humming faintly beneath his fingers.

This will do, he thought.

He reached for the control panel near the access hatch, his fingers brushing the buttons as he focused his mind. The memory came unbidden, warm and vivid—a flash of his younger self, sitting cross-legged in a training room, watching Quinlan Vos demonstrate the technique.

“Not everything requires finesse, kid,” Quinlan had said with a grin, his hands working quickly to short-circuit a panel. “Sometimes you just gotta get it done.”

Ben, still an initiate at the time, had furrowed his brow, frustrated by his own attempts. “But Master Yoda says patience and precision—”

Quinlan had cut him off with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, patience is great. But sometimes, you need to improvise. The galaxy isn’t always going to wait for you to do it Yoda’s way.”

He had knelt beside Ben, showing him the sequence again, the Force flowing effortlessly through him as he manipulated the circuits. The air had felt alive then, the Force warm and welcoming, a shared connection that made the galaxy seem just a little smaller.

Ben smiled faintly at the memory, his hands moving instinctively now as he bypassed the freighter’s security. The panel sparked softly, and the hatch slid open with a quiet hiss.

Once inside, he quickly made his way to the cockpit, settling into the pilot’s seat. The ship was old but functional, its controls straightforward enough for him to manage. He powered it up, the hum of the engines filling the cabin as he accessed the navigation computer.

“Korda Six,” he murmured, typing the name into the search interface. The computer processed for a moment before displaying a set of coordinates. Ben entered them into the hyperdrive, locking in the destination.

As the ship prepared for the jump to hyperspace, he turned his attention to the datapad left on the console. It connected to the Holonet, offering a sparse collection of information about Korda Six.

The planet was remote, with a population primarily composed of non-advanced locals. It seemed to have little interaction with the wider galaxy, though there were mentions of Mandalorian activity in the region.

Ben sighed, setting the datapad down. The mention of Mandalorians was no surprise. Somehow, everything in his life seemed to circle back to them. It was a peculiar echo of how the Force had always drawn Anakin back to Tatooine, no matter how far he tried to run from it.

The freighter lurched as the hyperdrive engaged, the stars outside stretching into lines of light before dissolving into the swirling blue of hyperspace.

Ben leaned back in the pilot’s seat, his gaze distant. The Force was still guiding him, though its purpose remained unclear. He would find out soon enough.

For now, all he could do was wait.

#fic writing #star wars #star wars au #korda six #jaster mereel #jon antilles #ben kenobi #obi wan time travel #obi wan kenobi #jedi #tatooine slave culture #where the force leads #mandalorians

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