#obviously i keep purposefully going into places im not supposed to

[aviul]

i think there’s something wrong with the simulation

[king-crawler]

HEY HI HELLO

Sorry for the random message here In the asks, it's ok if you don't see this or answer it since you probably got a lot already and I understand if you don't see this!/gen

But first of all, I just wanna say

I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT WATCHED YOUR ANALYSIS VIDEO SOONER IM SO FUCKING LATE MAN

It's so well done and so fucking funny, I was literally smiling and cackling through the whole thing, it's shocking how similar our humor is

NOT TO MENTION THE END SCENE AREE YOU KIDDING HOW DID YOU MATCH THE LYRICS SO PERFECTLY TO THE FUCKING LORE ITS INCREDIBLE 😭💜/GEN, POS

It's insane how much dedication is put into it, let alone singlehandedly feeding turbo fans as myself

Genuinely thought it's so nice seeing more content for a hyperfixation I've had since 2012, and the fandom coming back along with this video Genuinely brings me so much joy as someone who's loved this movie since I was a kid

Sorry for the ramble but genuinely thank you for making that video, I can't wait to see what other stuff you do, wreck it ralph or not I WILL be tuning in/gen, pos

Okay second of all

The main reason why I'm sending this is because of sometning I noticed while rewatching a scene in the movie

Now, this might be me over analyzing as I usually do but it feels TOO. OBVIOUS.

SO

IN the kart bakery scene where vanellope and ralph go to bake a kart, they obviously make their way into the building and into the main room

You see all the Karts of course, and It pans to the one vanellope chooses

Which, at first glance you wouldn't really pay too much attention, especially when watching it for the first time, she's just picking the model she likes

..but looking back at the scene

Vanellope's kart model, how it was supposed to look, looks very

Familiar

Because the kart she chose..

...is a red and white kart

With stripes down the middle, with a very similar shape to a..certain persons kart. Now this might just be nothing, it's probably just like I said, and over analysis on my part

But the kart the chose looks WAY too similar to turbo's, not to mention the stripe is down the middle, just like turbo's car on the cabinet art of him

And vanellope could've chosen ANY kart

But it was that specific kart she chose, out of any of the karts

Not to mention in some of vanellope's concept art...

(Art made by Lorelay Bove)

..Vanellope's concept design and turbos designs strike SCARILY uncanny resemblances to each others designs

From the helmet and colors

All the way down to her GOGGLES having the SAME. YELLOW. TINT. that candy's have in the movie, which have the same effect here. There's no way that this didn't have the intent to mirror turbo purposefully

So with that in mind, the kart vanellope chose in the kart bakery scene being turbo foreshadowing, wouldn't be too out of place, nor would it be too far off

Turbo's foreshadowing was always prominent, even in the smallest details you wouldn't focus on, just like he's infecting this world as a virus, little by little, everywhere. You. Turn.

Aaaand that's basically all I have to really say

Sorry for the long ramble, I've been thinking of submitting this for awhile now, especially after I told a friend about this and they mentioned that this should be submitted to you

So I decided to go ahead and just do it, no matter how wild my comparisons might sound-

Anyways, I hope you have a good day, night, or what time it may be, and keep being awesome! I can't wait to hear back if you see this! Bye-bye! ❤️🏎🏆

P.s

I've been quoting these since I watched the video and haven't stopped

Thanks for destroying my humor even more-/pos

Okay bye bye now-

-skitters away-

NO YOU'RE SO FUCKING RIGHT OH MY GOD VANELLOPE WAS ALWAYS A TURBO PARALLEL??? CHAT IS THIS TRUE. IVE NEVER SEEN THAT CONCEPT ART OF HER TEEHEE THANKS FOR SHARING

also God. This is 99% just a coincidence with zero merit because its such a common gesture- but Ralph and Vanellope doing their thumbs up.. maybe Turbo parallels ?? and like the EXACT same poses too:

Vanellope having one hand on the steering wheel and the other doing a thumbs up while facing the camera.

Ralph hunched over doing the double thumbs up with the visor tinting his face yellow. EXCUSE ME HMMM?? WHAT THE FUCK??

NOW COULD I BE CHERRY PICKING? PERHAPS. but when Turbo has barely a minute of screentime, there's not a lot i can pick from, and things SURE ARE LINING UP... (I'm cherry picking)

SO SHHHHHH... ❤️❤️❤️❤️ LET ME HAVE MY LITTLE CONSPIRASCY

[asthmark]

❝ chemistry ❞ o.st

synopsis → osaki shotaro moving to town means trips to the dance studio, boba dates, and the perpetual teasing of lee donghyuck. 

pairing → shotaro, reader

requested? → yes! based off @onlyjihoons​​’s shipping game answer ♡

word count → 5.5k (this was supposed to be 1k.... goodbye.)

a/n → i enjoy writing texting scenes WAY too much ;; tbh this is like 50% texts im cryign but i had to convey how much i love 00 line .... and also how firmly i believe in lee donghyuck devil supremacy. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated and enjoy! 

+

if someone were to ask you how you felt about your friends, you would without any hesitation, answer that you loved them to death. of course, if you were being completely honest, you would also have to add that you experienced the urge to strangle them from time to time. that might earn you a couple odd stares but you’re sure people would be more understanding if they knew who was in your inner circle to begin with.

for starters, there was lee jeno — tall, handsome, and the textbook definition of a gentleman. then, na jaemin, who you would consider to be the yin to jeno’s yang. an extremely energetic guy and, in your book, a total freak of nature ever since you found out that he inhales four shots of espresso on the daily. liu yangyang was a more recent addition to your group but, being as quick-witted as he was, he quickly fit right in. he also had a habit of going on somewhat aggressive rants in german which renjun found to be extremely amusing. speaking of, huang renjun was another one of your close friends — the shortest of the group, actually. (and, much to renjun’s dismay, that’s exactly how donghyuck liked to introduce him to people.) he was the type of guy you could trust to keep everyone in check which consequently made you mildly terrified of him.

however, it could never compare to the perpetual fear you have of lee donghyuck. 

of course, you love him to pieces but sometimes you really wish he didn’t find so much joy in, well, making everyone miserable. you couldn’t deny it was funny to watch him tease and taunt your other friends. you still remember him purposefully messing up renjun’s game at the local arcade just when he was about to reach his high score — and also the way renjun had tackled him to the floor right then and there, resulting in the six of you being banned from the place. or, that time he offered to pay for everyone’s starbucks orders only to tell the barista that jaemin’s name was ben dover. (to no one’s surprise, yangyang had found that joke particularly hilarious.) you can also clearly recall how hard you had laughed in both of those situations.

but, donghyuck never let anyone laugh for too long.

according to him it was ’only fair’ to make sure each of his friends was at the receiving end of his gags. so, despite laughing at his latest victim’s expense, each of you knew that donghyuck would make sure you were in the same position sooner or later.

you definitely weren’t expecting it to be your turn one dull friday evening.

things are going slow for you as you sit at your desk, typing away on your laptop. school has been out for hours and your professors have decided to be saints and leave you little homework for the weekend. beside you, your phone dings, alerting you of the new text message in your group chat.

[4:23 pm] hyuck: i’m bored 🥺

[4:23 pm] you: plz never use that emoji again

[4:24 pm] nana: it’s misleading dude

[4:25 pm] yangx2: yeah like when have u ever made a face that isn’t this 😈

[4:25 pm] renjun: donghyuck is the devil = confirmed

[4:25 pm] nana: CALLED IT

[4:26 pm] hyuck: u guys are literally so evil

jeno laughed at “u guys are literally so evil”

[4:27 pm] jeno: look who’s talking lol

[4:27 pm] you: dangg u know it’s bad when lee jeno disses u

[4:28 pm] jeno: ...ngl it kinda feels like ur shading me rn

[4:28 pm] you: u would be correct :)

[4:29 pm] hyuck: um HELLO can u guys go back to paying attention to me???

[4:29 pm] renjun: what do u want, diva?

[4:29 pm] hyuck: i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(

renjun disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

yangx2 disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

you disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

nana disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

jeno disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

[4:30 pm] hyuck: OH COME ON

[4:30 pm] yangx2: i think what u meant to say is that u wanna make one of us very miserable today, right?

[4:30 pm] hyuck: .....no comment

nana renamed the group chat “hyuck hate club”

[4:31 pm] hyuck: ok i’m honestly feeling so attacked right now

[4:31 pm] jeno: well now u know what it’s like to be friends with u

[4:31 pm] you: so true king omg ur on a roll

[4:32 pm] hyuck: hmm okay so either jeno or y/n is gonna be today’s target, got it

[4:32 pm] hyuck: anyway can u guys come down to the dance studio now??

[4:32 pm] you: what makes u think i would go anywhere near u when i know ur plotting ur revenge on me as we speak

[4:32 pm] hyuck: because maybe i’ll have mercy on u and just terrorize jeno instead

[4:33 pm] you: good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!

[4:33 pm] jeno: HEY

nana laughed at “good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!”

[4:34 pm] yangx2: u literally cannot trust anyone in this friend group

[4:34 pm] renjun: ikr isn’t it great???

you might have been slightly out of your mind to willingly go see donghyuck knowing you had teased him in your group chat earlier. although, if there was a slight chance he would show you mercy if you did hang out with him, you were going to take it.

the studio was where you had first met donghyuck, along with the rest of your friends due to the dance classes you attended. after bumping into each in between classes and during practice, you began to get well acquainted. turns out, the six of you actually got along incredibly well and after a while, you began to share routines and tips, even choreographing together from time to time. obviously, this led to the infamous group chat being formed and lots of time spent outside the studio as well.

but, none of you had lost that love for dancing. in fact, forming your little clique had only made it grow. as you opened the front doors of the building you had made so many memories in, you wondered if donghyuck wanted your insight on a certain routine or needed some help choreographing. of course, there was also the possibility that he really was just bored and wanted you to suffer with him.

what you did not expect, however, was to see him caught up in conversation with another person. you couldn’t clearly see them with donghyuck in the way; all you knew for certain was that your best friend’s mouth was moving a mile a minute. you tentatively tiptoe into the room, hoping to not intrude on their discussion. but, at hearing the doors creak open, donghyuck puts his rant on pause to enthusiastically wave you over.

you sigh, putting your belongings down and approaching the pair. as you near, you notice that hyuck has a huge smile — no, smirk — on his face. you internally curse yourself for believing that he would ever pass up an opportunity to torment you, especially in front of a stranger.

“this is a very dear friend of mine,” you hear him introduce to his acquaintance. “her name is y/n. she dances, too.”

“oh, that’s really cool!”

the stranger’s unusually cheery tone prompts you to finally peek behind donghyuck and put a face to the voice.

and what a face he has.

“this is shotaro,” donghyuck informs you. “he’s new to town and quite the dancer. caught him in the middle of a routine.”

your knees almost wobble as you take in the stranger — shotaro’s — kind eyes that almost sparkle. (you aren’t sure if it’s because of the fluorescent lights of the studio or just part of his charm.) his lips are curved up into a friendly smile that makes you feel slightly giddy. his hair falls into his face almost perfectly, not a strand out of place and you’re uncertain as to how that’s even possible since, as donghyuck had said, he was dancing. not to mention, there’s not a bead of sweat on his face. did this guy come straight out of a disney movie or something?

“excuse her,” donghyuck chuckles. “good looking people tend to make her freeze up. don’t worry, this happened when she met me, too.”

you offer your friend a glare and an elbow to the side and you swear you hear shotaro chuckle. you turn to him instead, putting on a welcoming smile.

“my bad, i just—”

“got lost in his eyes?”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “donghyuck, please don’t make me have to attack you in front of our guest.”

more giggles escape shotaro. (you swear it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard.) you curiously tilt your head at him.

“sorry, it’s just that, you guys are too funny,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

you mirror his grin, slightly relieved he was amused instead of weirded out. “yeah, well, just wait ’til you meet the rest of us. it’s like a circus show, you’ll love it.”

“hello, clowns!”

“speak of the devil,” donghyuck murmurs, watching as yangyang and renjun enter, followed by jeno and jaemin.

“woah, who’s the cutie?” yangyang asks renjun, in what you presume he thinks is a whisper. however, yangyang has never spoken quietly a day in his life. renjun simply shrugs at his question.

having clearly heard the compliment, a faint blush creeps onto shotaro’s cheeks.

“guys, this is shotaro,” donghyuck answers, tugging the sandy blonde forward.

he gives a somewhat shy wave. “hi, y/n’s friends.”

jaemin erupts into laughter. “uh oh, looks like he likes y/n more than hyuck.”

“don’t blame him,” jeno mutters.

shotaro’s forehead creases, face suddenly twisted in worry. “oh, i’m sorry, was i not supposed to say that?”

“oh no, don’t worry,” donghyuck denies, quickly. “i’m sure y/n doesn’t mind at all, right?”

if you could crawl into a hole to avoid the embarrassment, you would. of course, donghyuck was 100% right; you really didn’t mind shotaro calling the group that if it meant you could hear him say your name over and over again. in fact, his sweet voice could probably make the dictionary sound like the most addictive song. but, donghyuck had no right putting you on the spot like that.

jeno suddenly speaks, catching on to your flustered state and donghyuck’s evil grin. “so, it’s y/n’s turn today? sweet, i’m off the hook!”

shotaro furrows his brows slightly. “huh?”

“oh, it’s just an inside joke,” jeno says, smile reaching all the way up to his eyes.

you wish you could strangle him right then and there for finding amusement at your expense but the last thing you want is for shotaro to think you’re some sort of psychopath. (although, with a friend group like this, you’re definitely beginning to think that’s where you’re headed.)

“got it,” shotaro responds, breaking out into a grin himself. “you guys seem like a really close bunch!”

“the closest,” donghyuck corrects, overly sweet, as he wraps an arm around you. (you resist the urge to shove him off.) “you’ll fit right in!”

+

you believed that the torture was over the day donghyuck introduced shotaro to your group. you would probably just see him from time to time and the studio (hopefully without hyuck around) and it would all be downhill from there, right? the latest notification on your phone alerts you that you are absolutely wrong.

hyuck has added one (1) user to the group chat

[1:05 pm] hyuck: welcome shotaro!!

[1:06 pm] unknown: oh hey guys! :]

the emoticon almost makes your heart beat right out of your chest. you roll your eyes in frustration at how easily affected you were by this guy. seriously, why did everything he do have to be so cute? regardless, you quickly add his number to your contacts.

[1:06 pm] hyuck: why don’t we do a little roll call so shotaro can save ur numbers to his phone

[1:07 pm] yangx2: YANGYANG

[1:07 pm] yangx2: HA I WAS FIRST

[1:07 pm] jeno: ...

[1:08 pm] jeno: anyway this is jeno :)

[1:08 pm] nana: jaemin present!

[1:08 pm] renjun: hi shotaro, this is renjun

[1:10 pm] shotaro: haha cool thanks a lot, i just saved all ur numbers!

[1:10 pm] shotaro: but quick question, is y/n in this group chat? :0

you almost drop your phone at reading shotaro’s message although you’re unsure why. he just typed your name, get it together, you urge yourself.

[1:11 pm] you: heyy shotaro! i’m right here :)

[1:11 pm] shotaro: oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^

hyuck disliked “oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^”

[1:12 pm] hyuck: shotaro plz return my love what does she have that i don’t T-T

[1:12 pm] nana: a heart

[1:12 pm] yangx2: a brain

[1:12 pm] jeno: a conscience

[1:12 pm] renjun: a functioning moral compass

[1:13 pm] hyuck: wtf

[1:13 pm] shotaro: ahahaha it’s like i’m watching a comedy

[1:14 pm] you: told u it’s a circus

[1:14 pm] you: i say get out while u still can

[1:14 pm] shotaro: whaatt and leave u behind? no way!

nana renamed the group chat “shotaro x y/n supremacists”

[1:15 pm] jeno: my thoughts exactly

[1:15 pm] renjun: took the words right out of my mouth

you cringe at your friends�� blunt behavior, praying shotaro didn’t find their antics to be too strange.

[1:16 pm] shotaro: 😳

[1:16 pm] nana: aww someone’s shy

[1:17 pm] renjun: he wouldn’t last a day in itzy

[1:17 pm] yangx2: HELPP

you shake your head, laughing silently to yourself as you mute the group chat and place your phone back down. although, moments later, you receive a direct message. you presume it’s one of the boys trying to rope you back into the chat but the moment you see the contact name, you’re forced to do a double take.

[1:21 pm] shotaro: i hope i’m not bothering u but i just wanted to make sure ur okay .. you kinda went quiet in the gc :>

[1:21 pm] shotaro: it’s shotaro from the dance studio btw!

you can’t help but find the fact that he seriously thought you wouldn’t remember him adorable. how could you ever forget a face like his?

[1:22 pm] you: that’s so kind! i’m okay, i promise. i’ve just had to put up with those dorks for way too long, sometimes i just ignore them haha

[1:22 pm] shotaro: lol yeah they do seem like a handful! but i look forward to getting to know them better!!

[1:23 pm] shotaro: and u too ofc~~

it takes all your willpower not to spam dozens of heart emojis in an attempt to show shotaro just how he has reduced you to a lovesick fool. instead, your response is short and sweet.

[1:23 pm] you: right back at u, taro! ♡

+

“okay, take five,” donghyuck pants, pausing the music blaring from the speakers.

you gladly obey, wiping away the light sweat you had worked up from the latest routine you and hyuck were constructing.

you both belonged to the same dance class and frequently paired together for partnered projects. the rest of your friends attended different classes, which you constantly joked was for the best since there was no way one dance instructor could possibly handle the six of you together.

“how do you feel?” donghyuck asks you, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“the choreo’s great, i’m proud of what we got so far,” you reply. “of course, i would be happier if i didn’t have to get so up close and personal with you.”

donghyuck scoffs at your joke. “i can’t do anything about that. the teacher said the whole concept of the routine is supposed to be is intimate.”

you fake a gag, failing to contain a laugh when hyuck playfully shoves you in offense.

“i’m sorry i can’t be shotaro,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips.

you roll your eyes. “oh, very funny.”

“c’mon, you’re acting like you wouldn’t kill to have him as your partner, especially with choreo as spicy as this.”

“well, it would beat being paired with you,” you remark, picking up your water bottle and taking a swig.

“hm, then looks like today might be your lucky day,” donghyuck replies, eyes trained somewhere behind you.

you follow his gaze, nearly choking on your water as soon as you catch sight of shotaro entering the studio. he meets your eyes, plucking out his earbuds and offering you a small wave.

“oh, hey guys!” he exclaims, cheerfully.

“hey ’taro,” you greet, rather quickly, earning you a knowing glance from your partner.

“’taro?” hyuck repeats, amused, as he folds his arms over his chest. “you guys are already on cute nickname basis?”

shotaro giggles, eyes squinting adorably as he does so. “it is a pretty adorable nickname, right? she’s the only one who calls me that!”

your heart beats faster when you see how oddly excited that seems to make him. did he somehow find it endearing?

“seems like the two of you are becoming quite close, hm?” continues hyuck.

shotaro nods enthusiastically before glancing at you tentatively, as if to check for confirmation.

“yeah, you could say that.”

your agreement causes yet another smile to grace shotaro’s lips — this time he seems relieved. you briefly wonder if the kid ever stops flashing those pearly whites of his. you certainly hope so, or else your heart may never catch a break.  

“well, since you’re comfortable enough with each other,” donghyuck begins, flashing you a grin.

you’re not even sure what he’s gonna say but you already feel the need to put an end to it. after all, nothing good has ever come of donghyuck’s mischievous grins. you subtly purse your lips and narrow your eyes in an attempt to get him to stop whatever chaos he’s planning to ensue.

nevertheless, he proceeds. “maybe you could help me out with this choreography?”

you want to facepalm at donghyuck’s lame excuse of a lie. however, on the other hand, shotaro’s face lights up in delight.

“you’re working on choreo? what for?” he inquires, curiously.

“for our dance class,” hyuck explains, motioning towards you. “i have a couple ideas so i was thinking you two could maybe try out some steps i’m planning to include. you know, to help me... visualize.”

“that sounds awesome,” shotaro responds, oblivious to your friend’s untruths. “i would love to help you guys out.”

“great!” donghyuck claps his hands together. “just a heads up, the theme of the routine is intimacy, so i wanna see all that charm of yours, shotaro. it’ll, uh, help me choreograph.”

you cringe at the obvious fib. meanwhile, it’s as if a switch has gone off in shotaro’s mind. his smile fades and his eyebrows knit together. “hold on, i-intimacy? does that mean—”

“that you’ll have to get a bit touchy-feely with her? yeah,” donghyuck interjects, innocently.

“y’know... i’ve really been wanting to dance with her.” he faces you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “just never thought it would be like this.”

you offer him an apologetic smile. “i know, it might be a bit... uncomfortable. you can back out if you’d like. i promise hyuck and i won’t mind.”

shotaro’s head shakes, vigorously. “no, of course not!” he must realize how quick he was to deny your offer, making him suspiciously eager to be close to you as he immediately adds, “i mean, it’s good practice.”

you suppress a giggle. “sure thing. hyuck, should we get started now?”

the boy in question dramatically picks at his nails, acting as if he had been waiting on you both for hours. “if you guys are done flirting, then, yeah.”

you roll your eyes, shooting shotaro a mildly annoyed stare. he grins, finding it to be equally amusing as it is endearing. (what can he say, the faint pout that appeared on your face was cute.)

“shotaro, how about you get in position right behind her.”

shotaro obeys, making sure to leave a significant amount of space between the two of you. however, donghyuck doesn’t seem to approve.

“closer!” he commands. “the concept is intimacy, not social distancing!”

shotaro shuffles forward, pressing his front into your back. you can’t help but notice how firmly toned his chest is. curse his dancers body, you think.

“okay, now, lemme see your hands on her waist!”

you feel the breath of shotaro’s shaky exhale on the back of your neck as he obeys, sliding apprehensive hands around your midsection. there’s silence on donghyuck’s end and through the mirror you watch him observe the two of you, no doubt acting way more pensive than he truly is. you know he’s just prolonging your flustered state by keeping you in this intimate position with the younger boy.

although, shotaro himself might know it too, considering the fact that he begins to rub comforting circles into your sides that he’s currently gripping, as per donghyuck’s request, in an attempt to calm you down. you nearly melt right then and there. at the same time, you hope he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

donghyuck calls out your name, successfully startling you and putting an end to the peaceful atmosphere. “why don’t you go ahead and lean on his shoulder. just lay your head back nice and easy— good, very good! look at that chemistry!”

if you’re being sincere, reclining on shotaro feels way more natural and enjoyable than it should. he steadily holds you in place, almost as if he secretly wishes to never let go. you wouldn’t be completely opposed to the idea either.

“alright, last thing, guys! y/n, how about you hook your arm around shotaro’s neck?”

you do so, fingers brushing softly against his jaw. he shivers beneath your touch, erupting into giggles when you shoot him an odd stare.

“i’m ticklish,” he confesses, in a whisper.

you can’t help but smile widely. “is that so? hm, i might have to exploit that information sooner or later.”

“as long as donghyuck doesn’t find out,” he replies.

his comment certainly gets a chuckle out of you. “did you finally realize how evil he is?”

“if the torture he’s putting you through right now is anything to go by, then absolutely.”

“only a matter of time before it’s your turn,” you reply. you lean into his ear to add, “by the way, this is anything but torture for me.”

“hey! no whispering!” donghyuck reprimands.

for the first time, shotaro goes against the older boy’s orders to whisper back, “it’s mutual. if anything, i think this is the best thing i’ve done since i moved here.”

your heart melts at the sincere admission. you stare at shotaro in what you’re sure is a very obvious case of heart eyes. you’re taken aback to find that he, too, returns the lovesick look. perhaps he was immersing himself a bit too much in the intimacy concept...

“stop! pause! cut!”

you and shotaro (reluctantly) untangle yourselves from each other to face a seemingly unhappy donghyuck.

“can you guys please just focus on my instructions without falling in love with each other?” he pleads. “i mean, you haven’t even gotten out of the starting position yet.” he groans, exasperated. “actually, you know what, just take five.”

+

[2:03 pm] hyuck: good morning

[2:03 pm] nana: it’s 2 o clock in the afternoon but ok

[2:03 pm] hyuck: i just woke up, therefore it’s morning

[2:03 pm] shotaro: good morning :3 did u sleep well?

[2:04 pm] hyuck: i slept a wonderful 27 hours, thnx for asking!

[2:04 pm] yangx2: ?????? THERES NOT EVEN 27 HOURS IN A DAY IM SCREAMING

[2:04 pm] you: LOLLL WHY WAS HE HIBERNATING

[2:05 pm] renjun: i was just gonna ignore him but i am genuinely concerned now

[2:05 pm] shotaro: woww,, well at least you’re well rested now! :]

[2:04 pm] nana: shotaro, i am begging u not to encourage him

[2:04 pm] you: all it takes is one (1) supportive person and he becomes an unstoppable force of evil

[2:04 pm] shotaro: o_0

[2:05 pm] jeno: besides ur like the only other person here with common sense besides myself and maybe renjun. i can’t lose u to donghyuck :(

[2:05 pm] renjun: ykw i’m not even gonna argue with that

[2:05 pm] yangx2: yeah shotaro is a good guy™

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i hate u guys and ur goldfish attention spans

[2:06 pm] you: sigh what do you need hyuck?

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i want boba :(

[2:07 pm] you: that actually sounds really good but idk if it’s worth being around u

[2:07 pm] hyuck: i’ll pretend like u didn’t just say that <3 what if i paid?

[2:07 pm] you: ....

[2:08 pm] yangx2: LMAO HYUCK BEING NICE IS SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR

[2:08 pm] renjun: ikr it’s making me super uncomfortable rn

[2:08 pm] hyuck: can’t i do something nice for my friends? :/

[2:08 pm] jeno: no

[2:09 pm] nana: nope

[2:09 pm] yangx2: nah

[2:09 pm] renjun: absolutely not

[2:09 pm] you: never seen it happen before so no

[2:10 pm] hyuck: u guys are so fake :( shotaro do u wanna hang out with me? if u say no i’ll scream :)

[2:11 pm] shotaro: yeah i guess i could :]

[2:11 pm] renjun: oh this just got interesting.. i guess i could tag along

[2:11 pm] yangx2: me too, i gotta be there to record whatever happens

[2:12 pm] nana: i’m in

[2:12 pm] jeno: same

[2:12 pm] you: hhhhh okay fine.. only to ensure taro’s safety

[2:13 pm] shotaro: (^з^)-︎♡

+

due to the fact that you believed donghyuck was going to try and officially initiate shotaro into your friend group with one of his infamous pranks, you decided to head to the boba shop. you hoped that if you showed up, you would be able to prevent whatever mayhem he had planned or at the very least, provide some damage control.

you pushed open the door to the quaint building, the bell dinging to announce your arrival. your eyes immediately lock onto the table in the far back since it was where you and your friends always sat — you had practically claimed it. you expect to see all the chairs filled but, to your surprise, only one person occupies the space.

osaki shotaro.

he beams, probably relieved to finally have some company in the otherwise empty shop. (after all, you weren’t sure how long he had been sitting there all alone.) nevertheless, you allow yourself to wonder — just for a second —  if maybe he was just that ecstatic to see you. the way he enthusiastically waves you over seems to be in favor of that theory. it’s almost confirmed when you reach he table and he pats the chair beside him.

you let out a soft laugh. “the whole table’s empty, ‘taro.”

“i know,” he admits. “i just really want you to sit next to me.”

you swear you could break down in tears simply from the way he’s looking at you; like you’re all he needs. it’s pure adoration.  you wonder if that’s how you look at him too. you can’t help but ask yourself if he, too, notices your longing stares.

you decide that you would be a monster if you denied shotaro his wish, so, you internally prepare yourself to sit next to possibly the sweetest boy you’ve ever known. yet, that proves to be difficult as said boy stands up to pull out your chair like the gentleman he is. you shoot him a grateful smile, mentally dethroning jeno as the most well-mannered person you know and passing the crown on to shotaro.

“so, how long have you been waiting for?” you ask, resting your elbow on the table and leaning into your palm to stare attentively at the boy to your right.

“actually, i only got here a couple minutes before you. we did agree to meet up here a quarter before three, right?” he asks, slightly confused.

you nod in confirmation. “honestly, i think we got set up.”

shotaro tilts his head. “really? why would they do that?”

“might have something to do with our ‘chemistry’,” you explain, quoting donghyuck.

the japanese boy’s mouth falls agape, as he comes to the realization. “oh, so they literally set us up.”

“mhm,” you agree, smiling ever so slightly.

shotaro must be paying closer attention than you thought because he picks up on your grin. “what’s with the smile?”

you shrug, feigning uncertainty. “i guess i just don’t feel so bad about being set up if it’s with a certain cutie i know.”

“oh?” he raises a brow, cheeks growing as he too mirrors your lovestruck look. “should i be worried about this guy?”

“certainly not,” you reassure him. “i’ve only got eyes for one.”

you see a faded tint of pink rush to his cheeks and you find it adorable how your confession flusters him. you can’t help but caress the supple skin as gently as possible. shotaro leans into your touch, his own hand coming up to cup your own, almost as if he were holding you in place. after a couple moments of basking in the intimate moment, you retract your hand.

“maybe we should try and get hyuck to include that in the choreo, huh?” you suggest, a teasing smile on your lips.

shotaro chuckles, “sounds good to me. i might even ask if i can fill his position, too. if not, i just might get jealous.”

you playfully shove him and he raises his hands in surrender. you chuckle, grabbing one of the menus that litter the table, planning to offer shotaro some help choosing an item from the list that is surely unfamiliar to him but it seems something outside the window behind you has caught his focus instead.

“looks like we have an audience.”

you take a deep breath at his words, preparing yourself for whatever it is you’re going to see upon turning around. when you finally do, all you manage to catch is five heads ducking beneath the windowsill, in a weak attempt to not get caught.

“of course,” you nearly laugh. “they’re so predictable.”

shotaro seems to find the situation humorous as well, if his amused tone is anything to go by. “to be honest, we should be thanking them. they got us together.”

“oh, so we’re together now?” you inquire, raising a brow.

“w-well, i mean, if you want to. i-i definitely want to.”

“no need for stuttering,” you reassure him, reaching over to stroke that one ticklish spot on his neck. “to quote a very wise — and handsome — young man, ‘it’s mutual.’”

he smiles at his own words being recited to him. “i don’t know about you, but i think we should seal the deal.”

“interesting. how do you suppose we do that?” you ask with faux curiosity. you certainly had some ideas of your own.

“maybe... a kiss?” shotaro leans forward, eyes closed expectantly as he taps his cheek. you resist the urge to pinch his lovely, round baby cheeks. he peeks one eye open to add, “for the audience, of course.”

you giggle, completely and utterly love-struck by the boy before you. in fact, you are so enamored by him that you decide to go the extra mile and press a sweet, chaste peck to his lips.

it seems as if he himself didn’t expect it as his eyes snap open, hand coming up to cup his lips in shock. when he finally uncovers his mouth, you see there’s a dazed, giddy grin on his face that let’s you know the smooch was very welcome pleasant surprise.

your phones simultaneously go off, alerting you of incoming messages. it’s a given that it’s none other than the group chat.

[3:15 pm] nana: that smooch was romcom worthy i’m so impressed right now

[3:15 pm] jeno: shotaro is living proof that being a gentleman has its perks! everyone in this gc should take notes!

[3:15 pm] yangx2: HERE IHAVE THE VDIEO OF THE WHOELE THIGN IF ANYOEN WANTS IT

[3:16 pm] yangx2: attachment: 1 video

[3:16 pm] yangx2: SORURY FOR THE TYPSO MY TEARS ARE BLURRIGN THE KYEBIOARD

[3:16 pm] renjun: can we get boba now?

[3:16 pm] renjun: oh wait my bad, congrats to the new couple :-)

[3:16 pm] renjun: to celebrate they should pay for everyone’s drinks.. just a thought

[3:17 pm] hyuck: ur welcome, y/n and shotaro ;)

[no-droids]

Dove

Part 2 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.7K i apologize for NOTHING

Warnings: DUBCON ELEMENTS, SMUUUUUUT, religion kink, virgin kink, authority kink, degradation kink, praise kink, age gap, ohhhhh the list goes on y’all been here long enough

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time im sorry

***

Obi-Wan feels like he’s going to be sick.

Dinner in the grand hall was difficult enough, forking down mouthfuls of expensive food he’s sure was absolutely marvelous, if he could’ve tasted it.  The s’Ziscari clearly splurged on the celebrations—expensive food, expensive decor, expensive everything, down to the silk napkin he studied and fiddled with under the table as he awkwardly waited for you to finish your plate.

He felt uncomfortable, absolutely.  He’s felt uncomfortable ever since he shuffled into this blasted, Maker forsaken robe not long after he left your quarters earlier.

Not black, no.  Not like yours.  Not like what appears to be an overwhelmingly vast majority of the people he’s encountered so far this dreadful evening.

No, his robes are blue.

A strong, eye-catching royal blue, covering his body in waves of fabric—softer than anything he’s ever worn before and leaving him feeling incredibly exposed.  The far more practical robes he traded for these atrocious garments are made of a thick, scratchy wool, a testament to the Jedi’s philosophical rejection of fine or expensive materials.  And, against all logic—to somehow make matters even worse, the sash tying this uncomfortable piece of attire closed has no place to clip his saber, unlike the leather belt he usually wears.  As a consequence, he’s left simply carrying it around by his side.

Granted, for some unknown reason, his robes are still far thicker and longer and more protective than the… stars, the ultra-thin black silk wrapped around your body, but Obi-Wan is so self-conscious about his appearance that he’s not even allowing himself to look at you.  Obviously that doesn’t stop him from refusing to leave your side the entire night, and he finds himself rather grateful that only a very few number of s’Ziscari are fluent in Basic, if only to provide him with a valid excuse to socially detach.

Of the very few people he’s noticed wearing robes resembling his, they’re all far younger than him—much closer to your age than Obi-Wan’s, and stars, everything about this celebration is unbelievably unnerving to him—including, if not most of all, your response to it.  One of the reasons he knows the food was grand, apart from the immaculate plating and lavish dinnerware of course, is because you momentarily excused yourself from the seat next to him to dish yourself out a second helping.

Even now, even in the skybox seats of this distressingly packed arena, Obi-Wan struggles to keep down what little food he could eat while you stand tall next to him and seem completely unbothered by the situation—and by the Maker, it bothers him.  He isn’t used to this.  He’s used to you being the emotionally turbulent one, the one whom he has to pacify, and it twists his stomach with the way the roles have suddenly found themselves reversed.

“I think the blue looks nice, by the way,” you lean sideways to mention casually to him, and he knows.  He knows you’re just jesting, just trying to lighten the mood, but he feels the bile rising up his throat at the fact that you even commented on it aloud.  “Fitting.  Matches your saber.  Your face, though.”  The smallest hint of a smile tugs at your cheeks.  “It’s beginning to match the color of mine.”

“Thank you for that, young one; your sense of humor is positively delightful,” Obi-Wan gripes, clutching the metal hilt tightly in front of him with both hands while he gazes out at the stadium before him, bustling with black hooded figures and a rare flash of blue.  It does not escape his notice that in complete contrast, your arms are loosely meeting behind your back, your saber dangling in one hand while the other lazily holds your wrist.  Your body is… open.  Draped in garments somehow equally as opaque as they are revealing, presented to the wide panoramic view of the audience and stage with no qualms whatsoever.

“Wonder who I got it from,” you ponder with a tilt of your head, and… fair point.  “How long is this thing supposed to last anyways?”

“Stars—‘this thing’ can’t get over with soon enough,” Obi-Wan grumbles, his eyes anxiously flicking down at the empty stage in the center of the audience.  He’s struggling with butterflies and nausea like he himself is meant to have a starring role in this debauchery.  “They’ll have… acts.  Plural.”

“Heavens,” you sigh under your breath, and oh yes.  He agrees.

He’s also painfully aware that he should be using this free time to continue contemplating his decision about… matters concerning later this evening with you, but he’s already feeling massively overwhelmed as it is.  Right now, it’s all he can do to just breathe and attempt to face one trial at a time.

But then, as if the Maker is feeling just particularly malicious this evening, Obi-Wan’s stomach drops when something quiet flashes in the Force and the roar of the enormous crowd instantly falls to dead silence.  The ominous sign rockets through him and while a Jedi should not know fear, this might be the closest he’s ever felt to truly terrified.

“Ooh, dramatic,” you whisper, but regardless of your laissez-faire attitude, his heart is positively pounding as he watches the figures of robed Force sensitives slowly file out onto the stage, and everything inside him lurches at the realization that—

They’re all wearing blue.  Every single one of them is clothed in fabric that matches his current attire, the one that made him feel like a blot on the landscape the entire dinner and subsequent mass pilgrimage to the arena.  A bright splash of color in the midst of an almost inescapably giant ring of black.

You’ve stopped talking.  Truly, he has no idea if that’s a good or bad thing, not right now.  The Force sensitives join hands and create a ring in the center of the stage while every single person in the arena sits in perfect silence, and Obi-Wan feels dizzy.  He’s not getting enough air right now, but he doesn’t even want to breathe too loudly and somehow draw even more attention to himself.

Two of the blue robes break off from their fellow acolytes and meet in the middle of the circle, and to simply avoid having a heart attack, Obi-Wan very purposefully chooses to ignore—like he’s done multiple times this evening—the subtle flicker of curiosity he experiences at the significance of the color blue and what it symbolizes to the s’Ziscari.  He can’t even bear to watch the way the two of them slowly lean in and allow their lips to touch from under their hoods.

Maker, if he turned his saber on and stabbed himself with it, could he convince you it was an accident?  Probably not—no, definitely not, what a stupid thought to have—

“How does she wipe?”  He hears your voice whisper, and Obi-Wan’s facial expression immediately screws up in confusion.

He turns to you, his tone equally hushed but the bewilderment sharpening his consonants.  “How does who what—?”

Only—you’re not even looking at the scene unfolding in front of you.  Your expression is just as confused as his is, but instead of looking down, your chin is lifted and you’re staring directly across the arena at the viewing booth opposite to yours.  He still has no idea what you’re talking about though, not until he follows your line of sight and sees the way s’Zerthia has her jaw propped up in her hands on her throne, looking bored as usual, and how the length of her newly manicured fingernails curves halfway up her scalp from this angle.

“That’s dangerous,” you remark quietly.  “They’re like talons.  Gaudy little weapons she always has attached to her that she decorates, makes them seem less vicious than they actually are.  I see them.  I certainly don’t envy whoever she picks tonight to—”

You cut yourself off with a bit lip smile and turn your face away from him, and Obi-Wan is almost mystified by how casual you’re able to be about this. 

“Whomever she picks to…?”  He trails off with a sigh.  “Do I… Do I want to know?”

“Never mind,” you tell him quickly, lifting your chin once more while still clearly trying not to laugh.  You’re trying not to laugh, while… while that is happening in the center of the audience.  “It was, uh… tasteless.”

He blinks, wondering what that could possibly mean.  Everything about this is tasteless, the entire thing is just an absolute nightmare coming to life.

Though, after a moment of silence, Obi-Wan soon realizes he much prefers it when you fill the void.

“Members of the Royal Court take turns doing it for her,” he eventually replies, decidedly looking anywhere but where the man is slipping the blue robe from the woman’s body.  It takes you a second to register to what exactly he’s referring, but when you finally do, you snort.  It’s too loud.  A few heads closest to your isolated seats turn as Obi-Wan very quickly thrusts his elbow into your ribs.  “Quit being disrespectful,” he hisses under his breath.

“You just—!”  You quickly clamp your mouth shut and face forward again, trying not to smile in an appalled sort of way.  But then—“Oh,” you blurt, not loud enough for anyone else to hear in this open setting but still loud enough for him to glance around and be slightly anxious about it.  “Oh.  Wow.  I wasn’t… expecting…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes automatically flick down to the couple, only just long enough to catch a quick glimpse of stark nudity in the center of the arena before his gaze immediately bounces back up again and focuses on the incredibly interesting steel beam currently propping up the Queen’s viewing box, clearing his throat.  “I… did warn you.”

“Well, yeah, I expected them to…”  Your hushed voice trails off and you stay quiet for too long, too long to imply you’re still formulating an end to your thought.  You’re distracted by something, but then you appear to snap back to your senses and immediately clear your throat.  “I just wasn’t expecting… the, uh.  The… positioning.”

He says nothing in response.  It… it doesn’t give him great comfort, wondering how you could possibly know enough about this type of profanity to have expected a different sort of positioning.  The stark contrast between the color of his ceremonial robes and yours still remains completely unspoken, but it quietly pulls at the back of his mind nonetheless.

“What about it?”  Obi-Wan immediately hears himself prompt and oh, no, this is completely inappropriate.  Not only should he not be encouraging this kind of talk with you, but he also shouldn’t feel so… so negative, not about something so personal to you and something that’s certainly none of his business.  Regardless, he… still has this buried, unexplainable desire to know the truth about it.  Regardless of the indirect way he’s attempting to go about it, he wants to know the truth about whether or not you broke your oath, and while he recognizes it’s completely improper of him, the urge is still strong enough to manifest itself using his vocal cords.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just…  It’s…”  He doesn’t even have a visual reference for what you’re attempting to find the words to describe.  He doesn’t want to.  He just wants to know what you think about it.  “…Bold,” you finally settle on.

Bold.  It’s bold.  Perhaps Obi-Wan wouldn’t be analyzing your verbal responses so closely if he had something more interesting to look at besides the general coliseum-like structure of the large outdoor stadium, but there’s a certain horizon he just won’t let his eyes dip below right now and unfortunately for him, being so high up above the crowd, the upper hemisphere of his visual field remains relatively dull.

“Who would've thought,” he eventually sighs, blinking up at the star-splattered sky now and attempting to see if he can use the Force to break off a piece of a satellite and have it impale him in a tragic accident.  “Considering the s’Ziscari are such a conservative bunch.”

His eyes soon wander back to s’Zerthia, and—Obi-Wan startles to find her staring directly at him with a thin eyebrow dangerously quirked.  She motions two long fingers in a V shape at her eyes and then points down towards the stage, her expression expectant and waiting.

Obi-Wan’s teeth hurt at how hard he clenches them together, his jaw flexing but the thick blanket of his beard doing well to conceal it.  She’s playing with him, he realizes; he can see the hidden smile on her lips all the way from here.

Maker, maybe she’s right.  Maybe he’s—maybe he’s being ridiculous about this.  This is fine.  This is fine.  His stomach feels like it’s all his food might come up at any second, but he’ll do it, he’ll look.  He can at least just look, right?

His gaze slowly begins lowering, trying to take in just a few things at a time so as not to overstimulate himself.  Thousands of s’Ziscari lining the seats of the arena, almost every single one of them dressed in black.  Lower still—the platform leading up to the stage.  A perimeter of blue figures now sitting down in a circle and then, at its center, a… a naked man and woman.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounds as he struggles to comprehend the sight, never having laid eyes on a nude woman before.  She’s on her elbows and knees, forehead lowered and resting against the floor, and the man kneels behind her, one hand holding her hips and the other wrapping around his—

Stars, Obi-Wan wants to end it all.  Right here.  His aim will be true.

But then… oh, no, he’s an idiot.  He’s a complete dullard, because he forgot.  Consumed by his own sheer anxiety and unease, Obi-Wan stupidly forgot an extremely crucial detail of the incredibly little he’s been told about the Sh’inzith.

—the projecting.

All at once, he’s nearly knocked over by the strength of the two Force sensitives at the center of the arena as they deliberately cast their minds out across the entire audience, presenting every sensation and fleeting thought they’re experiencing in all its intensity.  Obi-Wan immediately works to reinforce his mental shields as soon as he feels the shockwave about to hit, but there’s thousands of Force sensitives present—all of them congregated into one relatively small area, all of them tuning into the same two signatures and then suddenly… amplifying them back until it’s impossible for him to shut out.

“Oh, uh—” he just manages to hear you mutter through the whirlwind, just the slightest hint of panic in your voice peaking through the symphony of whispered thoughts and pulsing sensations coming from the stage, “—that isn’t good—”

Obi-Wan abruptly stumbles backwards and gasps at the awful, wretched feeling of something brunt pressing up hard against somewhere elusive, somewhere he’s never felt before towards the lower part of his body, and his mind fights viciously against it as he feels you spin around and reach out for his rapidly retreating figure.

“Wait, no—it’s okay, M-Master, it’s okay, it’s—” your voice cuts off and your hands suddenly fist into the robes at his chest, your forehead dropping to his shoulder against the sharp sting just continuing to push and push and push, “—i-it’s okay, it’s oka—”

He trips over his feet in the chaos and falls back on complete instinct and you’re so tightly attached to him that you’re yanked forwards with the momentum, the two of you plunging to the ground in a clumsy heap of grunts and tangled limbs.  Obi-Wan immediately starts crawling backwards across the floor underneath you, still trying to escape the horrible, inescapable sensation digging into a part of his body that doesn’t seem to exist, but it’s like you’re of the same mind—you’re scrambling forwards in the same direction trying to get away from the same thing, frantically attempting to calm him and simultaneously deal with the agony yourself, and then suddenly—

Oh—oh, Maker—

Suddenly something gives and surges in, and then Obi-Wan gasps—his elbows buckling under him and as the both of you drop down onto the floor because stars, it’s nearly blinding with impression.  Not only the aching, hard fullness stretching sharp and deep somewhere in his lower abdomen—but now a new sensation.  A tight, wet silk he feels swallowing him between his legs, concentrated on a part of his body that… does exist, a body part that’s currently pressed up right between your spread thighs.

“Fuck,” you moan hot against his throat, trying to find somewhere to brace yourself next to his shoulders and push yourself up off him, and he tries—Maker, he tries so hard not to, but his hands shoot out to grab your hips before he even knows what he’s doing and then he’s dragging his lower body up into yours on instinct alone, clamping his eyes shut and groaning out a desperate sound he’s never heard himself make before as his head drops against the floor.

It’s staggering.  It hurts.  He can't even hear your muffled noises anymore, not over the roaring encompassing his mind and body.  All he knows is that your hips quickly jerk back and grind down into his in response, sending Obi-Wan reeling while you bury your twisted cry of pleasure and pain into his neck.

The sound of it breaks through everything else.

Obi-Wan’s hands shake violently as they suddenly release you and then frantically shove at your shoulders, trying to push you off without hurting you.  He can’t think, he can’t see, he needs to leave—

“Get away,” he rasps desperately up at the sky, blinking his eyes wide but somehow not seeing anything in front of him but blackness.  “St-stars, get away from me—”

Suddenly you’re flipping off his body and onto your back next to him, too quick for it to be a mechanical movement alone, and he doesn’t even have the space in his mind nor the processing capacity to figure out if he Force pushed you off him or if it was you who did it to yourself.  He just clambers to his feet and stumbles away in a terrified, graceless retreat, bent in half, limping and gasping and fighting for every step he takes.

***

Your Master was right to leave as soon as possible, you think.  You were wrong to linger here for just a second to try and gain your bearings, because the more you work to grasp and attempt to organize them, the more mindless and disorienting they become.

You eventually have to heave over and drag yourself after him.

The further away you get from the arena, the easier it becomes to block the projection, but Maker, it’s exhausting.  You’re resigned to start out with a crawl—one of those Jedi Core crawls you haven’t had to do since the Academy but this one exponentially slower, forehead dropped down and eyes closed, just focusing on alternating shifting your elbows and your knees forwards and dedicating the rest of your mental energy to just isolating your mind from the debilitating assault.

Consulars don’t usually see much of war—you tend to do absolutely everything in your power to avoid it.  It’s the Guardians who experience the horrors of combat most often, who deal with ambushes and onslaughts from enemies of the Republic.  But Maker above, every merciless thrust into that poor little virgin at the center of the arena is like a blaster shooting directly at you, but then couple it with the thousands of reflections and ricochets in robes lining the bleachers?  You’re in the trenches of a deadly battle you had no idea was even about to break out and you have no weapon of defense besides retreat.

When you finally get far enough away to be able to push yourself upright as much as possible and continue staggering back to the palace on two feet, you have no concept for how long it’s been.  You can still feel the projection vibrating and clawing sharply at the edges of your consciousness, but at least the majority of your thoughts are your own now, and it gradually becomes easier and easier to focus and speed up to a clumsy run.

Though, no matter how successful you eventually are at muffling the vibrant sensations and thoughts of the two Force sensitives behind you—when they cum, you stumble down to your knees again and have to bite the back of your fist to keep from screaming.

Maker, it takes you a minute to recover.  You don’t even cum, you just feel it—the burst of energy from the Force in every direction, the violent explosion from the stadium that feels like it should fracture the ground beneath you.

You’re able to get up after a moment, if only because they decide to take mercy and finally cut off the projection.  You know that it’s a temporary relief, that they’ll likely be at this all night, but you hope the palace will be far enough away from the arena to block out the sensations completely.  You wonder if Master Kenobi felt that through the Force or whether he was too determined to block it out that he was able to simply ignore the nuclear missile that just detonated less than a few miles away from him.

You force yourself forwards and you want to hurry, you do—but strangely, in your wild state of exhaustion, stark reality is almost as debilitating as swimming through that endless madness was.  It’s quiet around you but the noise of still air pulses deafeningly in your eardrums after breaking free from such a thick mental filter separating you from your surroundings.  You still have your lightsaber clutched in your hand, Maker rejoice, and your thin robes are skewed awkwardly across your body, but you eventually find your way to the doors of the palace.

Though, trying to navigate the empty halls back to your Master’s chambers takes you longer than it should.  His signature is cloaked spectacularly, concealed to a mere speck you wouldn’t even know was there if you weren’t so closely acquainted with it for more than a decade.  You follow the flickering pixel of blue light through the obstacle ridden darkness, adjusting the front of your robes with one trembling hand while you wipe your brow with the other, closing your eyes and doing your best to take deep breaths.  He’ll be spiraling right now.  He’ll need a boulder to cling to in this tsunami, solid ground to stand on while the stars are falling out of the sky.

You… find him in your quarters instead.

The door is open and his handsome profile is to you, the thick fabric stretching over his broad shoulders now an agreeable light cream, familiar and telling of his intentions.  His hands are moving.  Setting something down on your bed—your robes, you soon realize.  He’s laying out your Jedi robes neatly for you across the fur blanketing the large mattress.

Master Kenobi begins speaking as soon as you step foot into the room, the tone of his voice very clearly impatient after having waited for you for so long.

“Change out of those ridiculous garments,” he tells you hastily, neatly laying out your leather belt across your dark tunic without even turning his head to look at you properly.  “We must leave.  Quickly.  Also—tell me you didn’t forget your saber at the arena, because if so, I’m afraid it’s lost to us forever now.  Ilum is only three days from here, perhaps we can stop there on the way back to Coruscant to find you another kyber cryst—”

You drop the hilt of your lightsaber on the floor and step forward, cautiously reaching out for his figure as he continues to ramble.  “Master, I—”

Your hand is thrown to the side with a subtle flick of his wrist and you instantly jerk to an abrupt halt, holding your palms out in front of you and keeping completely still while he spins around, his jaw slack and staring at you wide-eyed.  He takes a few steps away from you in shock.

“I’m sorry—” he immediately gasps, reaching out towards you even though the rest of his body is still desperately evading yours.  “Stars, I’m so sorry—that was just… That was excruciating, young one.  Why would anyone ever willingly—?”

“It—it doesn’t always—” you cut yourself off just in time, clamping your jaw shut before you can finish your sentence.

“We must leave,” he says once more as he turns back to your mattress, not appearing to hear you at all and shaking his head, far too frantic to sound like he’s just reminding you alone.  “We can’t do that.  I can’t do that—”

“It doesn’t always have to be—”  Maker, what is wrong with you?  Your heart kicks up in your chest and somehow stutters to a halt at the same time.  It’s the lingering effects of the assault your mind just experienced coupled with your desperate urge to console him that’s making you so utterly careless, you realize, it’s making your tongue loose.

“Stars, what do you mean?”  Master Kenobi finally snaps, and your blood runs ice cold.  “How do you know that?”

It takes the sum of all your years of training to keep the raging hurricane of emotion from showing in any capacity.  You feel like he’s holding his saber to your neck with how dangerously little you’re even allowing yourself to breathe right now, how utterly and completely still you’re holding yourself in front of him.

Lie, a little voice in your mind supplies quietly, the little voice you keep locked inside an impenetrable box of everything you are but have never been allowed to confront, haven’t been allowed to openly think just in case someone is listening too closely.  Lie.  Lie, right now.  Your silence is giving you away.

Only—you can’t.  You shouldn’t.  It’s not fair to keep this from him, not when you’re asking him to do something so structurally compromising to his belief system.  If… if you tell him the truth, perhaps he won’t judge you too harshly.  Perhaps he’ll feel… reassured, knowing he’s certainly not the first Jedi to break a sacred vow when he felt times were desperate enough.

Besides.  This might be the only secret that could potentially get you kicked out of the Order, but… it still isn’t your worst one.

“Because.”  The word is out of your mouth before you can rethink it, barely above a whisper.  “I… know.”

He doesn’t respond, and no.

No, you were wrong.  You were wrong to tell him the truth, and the look on his face immediately shoots panic through your whole body.

He doesn’t look reassured.

He looks… alienated.

“‘It doesn’t always?’”  Your Master eventually repeats back to you, and fuck—the implication is instantly clear.  The implication is made so clear from the sharpness in his tone, the hard edge to it as he rounds out the vowels in the last word that makes your heart twist and throb in your ribcage.  He might as well have just asked you how many times you must’ve violated your code of honor to know the difference.

“It’s not.”  You clear your throat and flick your gaze up to the ceiling, feeling like he’s using the Force to squeeze your chest in on itself.  “That was the absolute worst possible sensation that can be felt during… It’s—it’s not like that.  It won’t… be like that.  Not.”  Are there tears coming to your eyes?  “Not… with me.”

Utter quiet.  So quiet that if you really concentrate, you can hear the distant sounds of the arena continuing on with the Ritual without you.  You bite hard at your lip and wait for him to say something, anything.  Yell at you, tell you how disgusted he is, banish you from the Order.

Instead, Master Kenobi quite suddenly… deflates.  He sighs—not a heavy, exhausted one, but a soft one.  A quiet, accepting sort of sound.

He slowly lowers himself to the edge of the mattress and closes his eyes, running both hands through his hair, and it’s just enough to give you pause.  You glance over at him, trying not to let tears fall beyond the plateau of your lower lids with the frantic downward movement of your eyes, and you’re only just barely successful at it.

“It’s alright,” he says gently.  “It’s… it’s alright, young one.  I… suppose I am in no place to judge.  Quite… quite literally,” he murmurs, gesturing to the space around him with a lazy wave of his hand.  Maker, his figure is too watery and unfocused to make out his facial expressions, but you don’t want to blink to clear your vision just in case a sudden downpour escapes.  “It’s none of my business and I shouldn’t have asked.  You’re… not my Padawan anymore.  I should have no reason to… even care at all, really.”

There’s something that feels… major in that, something monumental yet incredibly well hidden, but you’re still too full of blind panic to interpret it further.  Your breathing is shaky and you wonder, quite stupidly and not for the first time in your life, if it’s somehow possible to use the Force to evaporate the water in your eyes before it turns into tears.

“I am certain it took place in your younger years, a long time ago,” he continues calmly when you don’t immediately say anything.  “You did always have a… a rather unconventional relationship with the rules.” 

Your only response is a quick jerk of a nod.  Yes.

“Yes,” you immediately agree, hoping your tone sounds convincing enough through the lingering tremors.  “It was… a long time ago.  I’ve changed, since then.  Grown up in many ways.”

It’s his turn to nod, and you manage to calm down just slightly.  You’re still breathing too hard and you’re a bit too braced, too much of a stance to truly feel like relief, but your heart rate is beginning to settle back into a somewhat acceptable rhythm.

Master Kenobi looks over at you, and he says absolutely nothing about the traces of water still glistening along your eyelashes.  He just smiles softly and pats the space next to him.

You cautiously make your way over to him after a moment, feeling more unsure now than you’ve felt this entire mission.  You leave at least a half a foot of space separating the two of you once you carefully sit yourself down on the mattress, and you can’t even look in his general direction.  You just focus on the long, draping sleeves of your black robe as you look down at your hands and wait for him to speak first.

“Sometimes,” he eventually sighs.  “Sometimes I… feel like you’re the person I know best in the entire galaxy, you know.  I’ve… I’ve known you far longer than I ever knew my own Master, young one.  I picked you out of thousands, and I’d do it thousands of times again.  Sometimes—especially since the day of your accolade and subsequent absence, I feel like I can know exactly what you’re thinking, even from across an entire star system.  And yet somehow, you… always surprise me.  Even after all these years, I am just.  Consistently surprised by you.”

You don’t know how to take that.  You just sit there in a guilty silence, still unable to turn your head or offer any sort of response.

“I chose you as a Padawan because you surprised me, you know,” he reminds you quietly.  “I had certain expectations for you, and you did not meet those expectations.  Instead, you presented an alternative I’d never before considered, an alternative that forced me to reevaluate you—and by extension, myself—far beyond what I had previously.  That is not a bad thing.  It has never been a bad thing.  As is made blatantly obvious by the fact that I’m the one currently standing in the way of saving lives, and you’re…not.”

Maker, this is thin ice.  You don’t know what to say that’ll express hesitant agreement with his sentiment without making it sound like you’re not apologetic for breaking your oath.  You’re… well, you’re not, not really.  His response itself is causing you to feel far more turmoil than any legitimate regret for your actions.

“It was—” On instinct, you almost say it was a mistake regardless of the conflicts you’re just so happening to encounter on this mission, but something stops you.  You suddenly remember your place here, your goal.  To save the galaxy from the Separatists’ reign.  And, by extension… sleep with your Master.  You can’t call it a mistake if you’re going to ultimately try to convince him to do the same thing.  So instead, you scramble to finish your sentence with a different thought, knowing his full attention is pinned to you right now.  “…A long time ago,” is all your exhausted mind is able to come up with.

“Yes,” he gives you a small, companionable smile.  “It’s alright.  Your prior lapse—or, well… lapses in judgement… will forever be safe with me.”

And still, you don’t feel relief.  Not when Master Kenobi very quickly appears to look uncertain.

“I… apologize,” he offers after a moment, “if.  If I ever made you feel like… like you could not confide in me about any struggles or… or urges you may have been experienc—”

“Maker,” you suddenly interrupt with a frantic wave of your hands, everything cringing inside you, “Maker, we don’t have to do this.  None of it, it’s okay.  Know what?  Let’s just go home—screw the galaxy, I don’t care, just stop talking.”

He snaps his eyes over to you, a sudden bark of laughter escaping him before the rest of his face even seems to register something was funny.

It evolves.  Eventually he’s covering his face and stifling ridiculous little snorts behind his hands, trying to apologize in between the chuckles but laughing even harder.  It’s almost like… just a form of pure stress relief for him.  So far beyond traumatized that it’s revealing itself in a slightly hysterical way, even if what you said wasn’t hysterical at all.

“Now you have a mere glimpse into what my experience has been like today,” he finally tells you with a sparkling grin once he composes himself, lifting his chin as he looks at you and scratching his beard with a quiet flicking sound.  “Shall I keep going?  If this mission has taught me anything, it’s that no matter what, things can always get worse.”

“They don’t have to.”  You say it without thinking, the gentle reprieve caused by his laughter flowing through you in waves and making you throw caution to the wind.  The four words serve to shut him up quite quickly however, even though it was the opposite of your intent, and your smile drops.  Maker, just freely conversing with him about these things is navigating a minefield for his mental state.

“You… you say that, and yet even—” Master Kenobi eventually responds, cutting himself off with a cough.  “Even the things I’ve heard are meant to feel… pleasant, were just.”  He shakes his head and blinks his crystal blue eyes over at you.  “By all accounts.  Agony.”

“I know,” you nod.  “I know.  Projecting that specific situation was… sadistic of them.  A distortion of the truth.  Probably rooted in deep tradition, but also a great scare tactic if I ever saw one, playing with us by presenting the absolute worst of it before anything else.  It won’t hurt.  At all.  I promise.  In fact—I-I can make it feel—”

Maker, you don’t even finish your sentence, but you must think the general idea loud enough for him to understand.  You don’t actually have a specific word in mind—good, great, amazing, euphoric?—and yet, something quiet settles over you two at the silent implication, the mere whisper of the possibility of you pleasuring him.

And him… allowing it.

“Master, I—”

“Don’t,” he quickly tells you.  “Don’t call—You don’t have to… call me that.  Just for right now, it’s.  I don’t—” he takes a breath that sounds shakier than it looks, and then he paints an easy, fake smile on his face following the exhale.  You recognize that smile anywhere, though.  While you’ve never seen him wear it before, it’s the smile that politicians make when they’re about to present a lesser truth to you, a smile shown to you in negotiations all the time that signifies something… hidden.  He’s hiding something, something important, and you have no idea what it could possibly be.  “I don’t feel like I even deserve to be called that right now, young one.  Perhaps you should be the Master, and I the learner.”

“Ah yes, the circle is now complete,” you can’t help but jest in return, wanting to keep the tone light even though the subject matter is heavy.  “Is now when we trade lightsabers?”

“Indeed,” he smiles, this time more sincere, and… you can’t pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it appears you’re physically closer to each other now than you were when you first sat down.

“Do they, uh… actually expect us to…”  You clear your throat and wave a hand around, “…Project the entire time like that?”

Master Kenobi quickly shakes his head.  “No.  s’Zer—Queen s’Zerthia informed me that.  Ah.  For us, projection will only be necessary during the… well, she called it the ‘closing ceremonies.’”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you nod.  “I… see.”

It’s like you can physically feel his body start to break out into a cold sweat next to you at the sudden… realness of it all, the realization that it has to be getting late.  Close to midnight, if you’re not already pushing it.  It’s come time to make a final decision, you both know it.  You want to console him, offer him some kind of solace or reprieve, but stars, you just don’t know how, not when you’re this much of a mess about this, too, but for entirely different reasons.  You don’t have a single clue how to make him feel better about any of this.

“I just,” you rush before you lose the nerve, “I want you to know that—e-even if you feel like you’re somehow alone in this, you’re not.  Okay?  I’m… I’m really nervous, too.  I don’t… I don’t actually know what to do at all right now.  I don’t know whether to respect your apprehension or tell you it’s unfounded.  I don’t know if I should remind you what’s at stake here or whether I should avoid mentioning it at all costs.  I have no idea what position I should take, but I’ll—I’ll take whichever one you want me to.”

And it’s odd, because when you first launched into your confession, Master Kenobi gradually began to look more and more relieved, but at a certain point, something just goes horribly wrong.  You don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, it seems to rocket through your Master and suddenly his breathing stutters.

For a moment, you think he’s going to reach back, yank your neatly folded Jedi robes up from the mattress and push the dark fabric into your hands.  Tell you he’ll meet you at the docking bay posthaste, tell you not to linger, tell you that the mission was a failure.  But then—

“Before,” he suddenly says, the word almost startling you with how abrupt it comes out sounding.  Almost like he wasn’t quite expecting himself to say it either.  “Earlier today, you asked… you asked if there was anything you could do to… make this easier.”

“Yes,” you prompt immediately.  He won’t look at you, and for some reason your heart begins beating faster and the inside of your thighs are getting warm.

“I… I’m not sure I’ll be able to go through with this,” he admits with a whisper, his voice sounding so quietly reluctant, like he doesn’t want to say the words aloud but is forcing himself to.  “But… the Council put you in charge of negotiations.”

Your eyebrows furrow, trying to understand his implication.  What does that have to do with anything?  Is he saying that you’re supposed to be in charge, and therefore he’s defaulting to you?  “I’m not sure I—”

“The Galactic Republic…”  Master Kenobi enunciates very, very pointedly, still unable to look at you, “…put you in charge of negotiations.”

Specifying—or in this case, generalizing—doesn’t help much.  “I’m still not—”

“Maker, for—for the good of the Republic, young one,” he presses under his breath and finally flicks his gaze up to meet yours, sounding urgent and torn in equal parts.  “Negotiate.”

Stars, negotiate with who?  With—with him?  For the good of the…?  Is he asking you to somehow reason with him beyond what you’ve attempted to do already, or persuade him to do what’s right for—?

Maker—Master Kenobi is asking you to seduce him.

Shock paints your expression blank and his eyes instantly evade yours once more.  You have to sit there for just a second and double-check that you’re not dreaming.  None of this seems real.  All of it seems like an incredibly elaborate illusion of the Force, ever since you first laid eyes on him at the start of this mission.  You know you missed him but stars, did you truly miss him this terribly?  Your longing must rival something fierce to unconsciously conjure this wild of a scenario.  Is he actually here right now?  Have you been speaking to a ghost?  Are you actually here right now?  Are you going to wake up any second and remember he’s thousands of lightyears away and has been for years, risking his life on the front lines of galactic war while you’re left to play politics and negotiate treaties behind the scenes?

These thoughts aren’t safe to have in normal interactions with him, but nothing about this situation is normal, and while you know Master Kenobi has years of experience reading your signature, he most likely won’t be able to gauge the specific details of your thoughts when you can sense how intensely he’s focused on guarding his own chaotic mind from you.

So you let yourself think.  If only for a second, you sit next to him and allow yourself to just… think about him.  About how much you care for him, how desperately you ache for him—you let all these improper longings finally have their moment with you.  You let yourself confront it, crack the lid of the hidden box tucked away behind your consciousness and brave it, because if there was ever a moment to do so, it’s right now.

Your heart starts slamming up against your ribcage and your hands feel like they’re tingling.  He wants you to convince him to have sex with you.  He’s asking you to corrupt him.  He wants you to negotiate the galaxy’s survival with the last man standing in the way of its prosperity—a good man with strong, immovable morals, a man who understands the consequences that follow integrity around and won’t be easy to tempt.

“This was a bad idea,” suddenly comes Master Kenobi’s voice, quickly backpedaling after too long of a silence.  “I shouldn’t have said that.  Forget I said that, we should just g—”

“Would you like to meditate?”  You immediately ask him on a complete whim, shuffling back towards the middle of the mattress for the second time today.  You’re careful to make sure he doesn’t see you carelessly flick your neat robes to the floor with the Force, clearing the top of the large mattress.  “Let’s meditate.”

“Stars,” he breathes, shyly his head turning to follow you, “I’d love nothing more, but there truly just isn’t any time—”

You find it easier than you thought it’d be to pull a playful face at him, crossing your legs and straightening your spine.  “Please, you’re a Guardian.  You blue sabers practically invented battle meditation, did you not?”

He looks skeptical for a moment, as he has a valid right to be.  “Is this a battle?”  He eventually asks over his shoulder.

You say nothing in response to that, instead using the Force with a flex of your finger to tug at the loose cream fabric of his robe at his elbow.  “Come on, it’ll do us good.”

He looks conflicted for a second, but then ultimately decides to humor you.  “Alright,” Master Kenobi finally agrees, turning around and crawling towards you on the mattress, and you’re just quick enough to stamp down a flicker of arousal at the mere sight of it.  “It won’t hurt.”

“Of course it won’t,” you agree with just a bit too much air in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice it.  He just seats himself directly in front of you, facing you, crossing his legs close enough to yours that your knees barely touch, and—

—Maker, he’s lovely.

You purposefully let yourself think it as his eyes slowly fall closed and he takes a deep breath, beginning to tame the wild tempest of his mind.  You let the word flitter around your thoughts without instantly repressing it like you always do, and just the mere act of allowing yourself to acknowledge the truth is freeing.  He’s lovely.  He’s lovely.  You could scream it.

Your eyes trail down the lines of his ever softening, tranquil expression, not even bothering to pretend to meditate for his benefit this time.  Your gaze roams shamelessly across his face, the way his hair is combed back away from it.  The sandy, masculine beard leading down to the thick column of his throat, the broad lines of his shoulders draped in pale fabric, the way his chest slowly moves as he breathes.  Lovely.  Lovely.

And then you go… lower.

His abdomen is stretched long with how upright he’s sitting, his flawless meditation posture.  His thighs are spread wide in this position, pants stretched tight into an elusive drum over his crotch and preventing you from truly seeing anything—but stars is it a thrill even just letting yourself look. 

Especially knowing that the more his mind works to compose itself, the easier it’ll be for him to hear you.

You keep thinking, growing bolder the more you’re left alone with this box wide open.  You think about how lithe and strong his body is, how it would feel under your hands.  You think about all the different things you want to show him, all the… the mind shattering pleasure you can give him if he’ll allow y—

Master Kenobi says your name without opening his eyes.

It doesn’t sound the way you expect, though you don’t really know what you expected it to sound like.  A sharp, frustrated bark?  An exasperated, pleading attempt to get you to stop?

No—none of those.  It’s a quiet, low growl of a sound, and the clear warning in it absolutely burns a hole through you like he picked up his lightsaber and used it instead.

You take practiced breaths, trying to calm yourself down.  Stars, he just said your name, he’s said it so many times before, and yet hearing it in his mouth with that tone in this context feels like he just strapped rockets to your ankles and told you to stay put.  You’re impatient.  You’re turning yourself on, working yourself up, trying to get to where you can actually make a move on him after dedicating so many years to desperately repressing the longing to do so.  Once he told you to negotiate this deal with him, however, it’s as if every ounce of the impeccable self control you’ve practiced so spectacularly throughout most of your life slowly started to unravel.

Reaching out tentatively so as not to startle him, you wrap both of your palms around the bend of his knees and squeeze gently.  Master Kenobi displays no physical signs of—well, anything really, keeping his body completely rigid under your hands with no noticeable alterations in his breathing pattern.  Biting your lip, you begin to slowly rotate your thumbs, making sure to keep your movements slow and perfectly symmetrical.  Complete relaxation is your ultimate goal here—coaxing your Master into a serene state where physical contact is desired, not obligatory.  He's so uncomfortable with the concept of intimacy in and of itself though, from the way his eyebrows start to furrow and his spine begins gradually tilting back and away from you, it's almost as if your ministrations are dampening rather than fueling.

“Relax,” you murmur, and stars, even though you make it sound quiet and gentle, it’s like the melodic lull of your voice appears to startle him more than if you’d just spoken normally.  Maker—it’s counterintuitive; how are you supposed to turn someone on when the mere state of being turned on turns them off?  “Relax with me, it’s okay—”

“But I just can't, young one,” he suddenly implores, his voice pressed up tight in his throat, his cerulean eyes popping open in frustration and something else—an honest, heartfelt emotion that's strikingly less familiar to you, even after years spent by his side: deep, hot, stomach-wrenching guilt.  You watch your Master’s palms run the length of his thighs; back and forth, back and forth—almost like a nervous tick, you think—and it’s oddly endearing, if not increasingly concerning.  “I just can't, this is all so wrong.  Don't you understand?  E-Even if the Council did provide a—well, a rather admittedly ineluctable blessing for this downright ludicrous endeavor, i-it’s… I don't…”  He takes a deep breath, and visually, it looks like he's attempting to collect his thoughts and composure, but you know your Master all too well.  You know what he's really doing, and at this point, it's almost… frustrating.

“What are you so afraid of?”  You clutch his knees and whisper quietly, interrupting him before he can verbalize whatever perfectly logical reason he's trying to formulate as to why you both should leave the planet immediately, what he's going to say to the Council if they ever inquire as to why negotiations ultimately failed.  He jerks his head up sharply to look at you.

“The Jedi fear nothing,” is his automatic response, though his previously intense gaze strays slightly from yours after a second of too much eye contact.  “Fear is the path to the Dark Side, you know this.”

“And yet you are afraid,” you remark calmly, studying the way he’s turned his face away from you completely now, how you can still see his jaw clench under the thick beard with his profile shown to you like this.  “I—I’m trying to understand, Master, but I—I don’t.  Even if this mission were half as important as it is, your loyalty to the Order would follow you right into an early grave.  But this?”  You remove a palm from his knee to gesture between the two of you, the mattress beneath the both of you, “fulfilling this mission and these terms to save the entire galaxy is too ‘downright ludicrous’ for the Great Negotiator?  I don’t believe it.  Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

Only, he’s suddenly moving—away from you.  Turning and planting his palms to fur, beginning to climb to the edge of the bed and sweep his legs around under him, and your voice has an unintentional edge to it when you address his back.

“Do you know how many lives over I owe you?”  You ask, and he jerks to an abrupt halt, feet just shy of stepping on the floor.  “Do you have any idea the stockpile of mortal gratitude you’ve amassed from me?  How many times you’ve risked your death to save me from mine over the years—can you count them?  I have.  I know my debt to you, I know the weight of my life piled on top of itself over and over again.  I remember each and every one of them like they happened yesterday, and not once did you hesitate even slightly, let alone the way you’ve hesitated today.”

”And?”  Master Kenobi quite suddenly snaps over his shoulder as he grips the edge of the mattress, sounding sharp but not necessarily directed towards you.  “What is your point?”

“My point is that if you’d so readily trade your death time and time again to prevent that of even one other person, let alone a difficult Padawan who caused the Order nothing but grief for years, then what is it that makes the deaths of trillions—” you nearly say preferable to bedding me before you realize how incredibly harsh that would sound, but something about the way he seems to tense his shoulders and curl inwards implies he was following the general cadence of your agitated signature more than the specific content of your words.

He says absolutely nothing, but he doesn’t move to drop his feet to the floor, either.  If only you could punch a proverbial hole through his practically indestructible mental barriers, you'd see the real reason he's so flustered, why he's purposely attempting to deceive you.  Unfortunately for you though, they feel like they're made of triple-reinforced beskar, a countermeasure gradually increasing in strength the more you try to probe.

But then—all at once, something clicks.  Something… fundamental.  An understanding. 

Your Master is a gifted negotiator, yes.  But more than that.

He wields a blue saber.  Not a green one.

He’s a Guardian.  A warrior.  He fights.  It’s something that has never truly been part of your nature, no matter how much you struggled with it over the years—but it is a part of his, no matter how exceptionally he’s been able to mask it for even longer.

So, all at once, you stop pushing.  Your signature abruptly pulls away from him, gives him room to breathe and simply hovers within your own personal space, unassuming and careful not to disturb him.  You see your Master lift his chin and straighten his spine slightly, immediately noticing your absence and the constant pressure you’d been applying, and you honestly can’t tell if he relaxes or tenses up even more because of it.

Finally, when you feel like it’s been long enough, you slowly reach out and gently place your hand on his arm.  This time, there’s no underlying motivation attached, no inherent desire for him to fulfill any sort of obligation.  Just a warm, companionable gesture to reinforce the simple knowledge that you’re both in this together, for better or worse.

Please tell me, Obi-Wan, you quietly whisper to him through the Force, allowing your tone and energy to transfer through your open palm and into his troubled spirit as softly and gently as you possibly can—a caress more than anything even close to a sentence or inquiry.  Your usage of his first name is entirely unprecedented however, and your Master sucks in a sharp breath in response.

I don't… But then the subconscious, half-formed thought fades away almost as quickly as it’s offered to you from behind the solid, unyielding fortress of his mind.  “W-what are you doing?”

You bite your lip, wondering how honest you should be with him right now.  Though, you suppose, if you truly want him to confide in you, you should at least meet him halfway.

“You’re the locked door,” you finally settle on.  “This is me knocking.”

Obi-Wan turns around and blinks at you, looking for all the stars in this galaxy like that was quite possibly the last thing he expected you to say.  You can see the frantic thoughts pass through his eyes almost as if the clear blue was completely transparent, likely remembering all the times you’ve leaned on him for guidance, listened intently and learned from his wisdom and experience.  And now you’re a fully grown woman patiently offering him your ear, wondering if you’ve earned enough of his trust for him to do the same.

“I’m afraid I’ll form an attachment to you.”  The words tumble from his mouth even though his body all but whips away from you in the process.  “It’s unreasonable for the Council to expect this from me.  From us.  I’m afraid our relationship will forever be tarnished from this, that neither of us will ever be able to go back to the way things were before.  I’m afraid that regardless of whatever decision I make, I won’t be able to carry the guilt on my conscience and continue to call myself a Jedi and Guardian of the Republic.  But mostly, I just—I-I—”

Your heart is pounding as Obi-Wan buries his face into his hands and his muffled voice groans raggedly, “—I’m afraid I’ll like it.  I’m afraid I’ll want it again, and again.  I’m afraid it’ll follow me back to Coruscant, that I’ll save the galaxy but spend the rest of my days aching for something I’ll never be able to keep, and that’s petrifying.  Desire, passion, selfishness, possession; all of them lead to Darkness, and I can—I can feel it right now.  Your soul is so gentle, so peaceful, and yet you… you inspire such Darkness in me, dove.”

Maker, you’re trying so hard.  So hard to keep your legs from clenching together at the utter desperation in his tone, how his breathing has picked up now that the words have ripped themselves out of his throat, like the whole thing was physical agony even just to say.  You have to take a second.  You’ve been so patient this entire time, but stars—this one makes you need a moment.  You’re so glad his eyes are clamped shut behind his fingers right now because yours lose focus trying to mask the absolutely debilitating wave of arousal that sinks down hot through your stomach.

Even when you regain the ability to speak, the ability to form a safe and proper response to the bombshell he just dropped on you completely evades you.

You purposefully don't say that you're already helplessly attached to him, that the colors of the galaxy somehow lost their brilliance the day you graduated to Knight, the day you left his side.  You don't say that you want this so badly you can feel it in your neck, that it would probably break you in half if he said no to this now.  Though it's the honest-to-Maker truth, you know discovering this information will only cause your Master to further distance himself from you, and somehow that thought alone is a million times worse than being denied the opportunity to be this close to him.  Even… even if what you end up sharing is more emotional than physical.

So you take a deep breath to center yourself, and choose your words very carefully.

“A compromise, then.”

Obi-Wan suddenly raises his head, turning around to look at you and blinking twice.  “A what?”

“You told me to negotiate.  What do we do as negotiators, hm?”  You raise an eyebrow, giving him a gentle smile and trying not to curl your fingers into the fur underneath you with how hard it is to conceal your burning arousal.  Do it for him.  Do it for your Master, you’re in l—you… care about him, and you care about the things he cares about, even if doing so feels like it’ll rip you apart.  “We compromise.  Yes?  So, let’s find one.”

He shakes his head.  “I don’t see h—”

“If you were to…”  You cut him off and look down, trying to find the most delicate way to phrase this.  “If you were to… find other means to bring yourself to completion, would you be able to convince anyone listening that I was the one doing it?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even blink this time.  He just stares at you, holding himself like a statue in front of you.  Finally, he seems to find himself.  “I… I don’t—I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re stronger in the Force than anyone on this planet, Master,” you encourage softly, placing a hand back on his arm and squeezing this time.  “I’ve felt it.”

“N-No,” he practically hiccups.  “No, I mean I-I… I don’t know if… if I can.”

Your eyebrows narrow, a mixture of confusion and concern coloring your expression.  “If you can…?”

He looks back at you almost desperately, his eyes practically begging you to figure it out so he doesn’t have to say it.  Finally, Obi-Wan sighs, seeming to collapse in on himself with its intensity.  “I—I’ve never… purposefully reached completion before,” he admits.  “I’m—I’m not sure how to.”

Your eyes widen, wanting to kick yourself for making assumptions.  Of course.  Of course he’d follow his oath to its strictest interpretation, why would you ever think otherwise?  “Oh, y-yes, of course not,” you stutter, sounding incredibly stupid and perfectly mirroring the embarrassed flush also painting your Master’s cheeks, “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s alright,” he holds up a hand.  “We simply… view such things differently.  So long as you do not pass judgment, then neither shall I.”

You nod and look down at your hands, wondering how else you can attempt to tackle this predicament.  “What if I…”  You blink slowly, almost wanting to keep your eyes closed in case he’s offended by the idea but figuring you should have them open to read his responses.  “What if I… don’t touch you?”

Now he just looks confused.  “I’m sorry?”

You blush and clear your throat, obviously phrasing this wrong.  “If you can modify the context of your projection, then I can… get you there.  Without touching you.”

“How could you accomplish such a thing without tou—” Obi-Wan immediately cuts himself off when you lift your hand and close your eyes.

His thigh.  The right one—you focus on it.  There.  Right above the bend of his knee folding over the edge of the mattress, you concentrate all the energy from your fingertips and reach out, connecting the two together.  And then you take a deep breath and begin to draw your attention slowly upwards.

Your Master’s breath catches in his throat as you use the Force to delicately trail further up his leg, not laying a single hand on him as his muscles start to visibly tighten and quiver.

“Young one, I—”  His breathing stutters when you keep your hand raised but let your head tilt and drop down towards your shoulder with your energy, slinking down the inside of his thigh like water and getting dangerously close to his— “Stars, hang on—”

You blink your eyes open at him and continue concentrating right there, letting your focus melt warm and thick along the muscle and squeeze it—

“Maker—”  Obi-Wan gasps and drops his head back, his legs nearly spasming apart.  “Maker, hang on, I…”

“Do you…” You breathe tightly, flicking your eyes down to the way he’s fisting the fur under his hands and subconsciously flexing his hips up just the slightest bit.  Even though the Force, his body feels good.  Strong, sturdy, and braced tight under your attention.  “Do you want me to keep doing this?  I can… go higher.”

“You can…?  The—the Force isn’t—” Obi-Wan groans, his eyes clamping shut, “—isn’t meant to be used in such… in such… If I’m to break my oath, young one, it needn’t be so… so blasphemous—”

Trying to conceal the hot sparks of arousal deep in your stomach, you simply allow your metaphysical hand to continue resting right at the juncture of his hip and thigh, waiting for a real answer.  You bite your lip and wait for him to tell you to either cut it out or to keep going.  He doesn’t even have to say it out loud if he doesn’t want to—he can just slide it under the impassable door still separating him from you, the door you’re eventually going to get him to unlock himself.

His back is to you, so you can only see a bit of his face from this angle, but you can hear him loud and clear when he opens his mouth and whispers to you, barely louder than a breath.  “Go higher.”

Adrenaline rockets through your veins and slowly, your fingers curl in thin air while your gentle energy wraps itself around his cock.

Both of Obi-Wan’s hands instantly fly up to his face and he releases a tight, longing whimper into his palms, and you feel almost as desperate as he sounds.  You can sense the ghost of his thickness in your hand, and the way he’s already throbbing for it is like pure spice to you.

You can’t stop your crossed legs from shuffling and rotating your body to face his hunched spine more directly, just taking a second and allowing him to adjust to the sensation of you just holding him between his legs like this.  Your fingers rest gently along his pulsing skin while he hides from you, and if only to get a little bit more of a reaction for your own sake, your thumb just barely angles to delicately brush up under his frenulum.  

Obi-Wan shudders and makes a choking noise behind his palms, and oh good Maker, you really want to see his face.  You know it’ll probably never happen unless you take your own initiative, but you also don’t want to overstep and snap him out of this blissful reverie.  Still, something compels you to be so gentle about it that he hopefully won’t even notice. 

You start to slowly work the length of him and squeeze his cock a bit more firmly, but a tendril of your energy slowly slithers upwards, so quiet and full of caution that it hardly even counts.  Very carefully, you start to flatten the lifeforce from your other palm over his stomach and trail it up, gradually urging him to stretch his slouched figure upright and then eventually start to tip backwards, never once letting your focus on his throbbing erection falter.

Your courageous efforts bestow prosperous rewards.  Obi-Wan’s hands drag down the length of his face and he makes it almost too easy to keep pressing him back—back back back until his muscles give up what little fight they were putting up against it and his shoulders are dropping down to the mattress, his head falling into your lap.

“There we go,” you whisper under your breath, just loud enough to softly encourage him if he’s listening but avoiding a break in his focus if he’s not.  “That’s not so bad.”

“It isn’t,” Obi-Wan gasps up at you, his eyes tightly closed but his jaw slack and his handsome features screwed up in rapture.  “Oh, no, it’s… it’s really… rea—good.”

You bite your lip and your cunt flexes hard between your legs without your permission, feeling so empty.  If you’re being honest, only touching him through the Force causes your hand to become increasingly bold, also feeling too empty.  Obi-Wan’s head rolls to the side and he pants hot air against the thin black fabric covering your thighs as you tighten your hold around him just slightly and start to move up and down his cock in earnest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the dirty word and rasp in his voice contrasting brilliantly with the proper Coruscanti accent and the crisp enunciation behind it.  “Fuck, this feels so good, I—”

His fingers grab at the fur covering the mattress top and pull at it, his adam’s apple bobbing sharp along the arching column of his throat as he groans and twists his head around in your lap.  He confesses it like it’s so wrong, but it can’t be wrong when he fits so perfectly in your hand?  How can this be wrong when it’s the only pleasure you can possibly give him that’s anywhere near close enough to match the way you feel when he’s around?  Even then, it’s but a fraction.

Your gaze flickers briefly from his face to check your progress with his body, and—stars, there’s a startling wet spot staining the front of his pale trousers, his cock tenting up shameless and needy for you to ache and throb just as desperately for in return.  Fuck, he deserves this, he deserves more—

“I can—I can make it better—” you can’t help but gasp, your eyebrows slanting upwards with need.  “Oh fuck, I can make it so much better than this for you, Obi-Wan—”

“You…?”  He blinks his stormy eyes open and sounds like he’s about to explode.  “This can be—” he chokes out, “—better?”

You can’t stop yourself.  Your pussy is clamped up so tight between your legs and Maker, you want to reward him for being so good to you, give him true adoration instead of phantom touches.  You don’t think before you’re moving out from under him and slinking down onto the floor, slipping in between his spread thighs.  You use the Force with a bend of your finger to tug his pants down just enough, just enough to let the swollen tip of his cock peak through the waistband, and then your head is dropping into his lap as you let it slide into your hot mouth.

Obi-Wan lifts his head and snarls at you—and something across the room shatters as you widen your throat for him and slowly sink down his length, curling your finger to stretch his hemline further as you go.  His fingers aren’t gentle when they fist into your hair and neither is the way he immediately twists it sideways, feeling like he’s trying to pull you off and shove you down on him at the same time.

You’re stuck between going as slow as you physically can to drag this out and giving him the best oral you’ve ever given to make him dream about this for the rest of his life.  You want him to want this as badly as you have for so many years.  You want him to fall into this Darkness with you, to crave you and what you can give to him so much that he’ll never want to leave you again.

So you make it wet.  You make it soft and slow and wet, switching between sucking gently at the tip and swirling your tongue around it, and then inching his length down your throat and swallowing around the thick girth of it once you can’t fit anymore in your mouth.  Obi-Wan is just an absolute mess about it—he can’t sit still, he’s tugging uselessly on your hair, whimpering out his bliss into the quiet room while you close your eyes and ignore his squirming, just taking your sweet time enjoying him and the way he feels.

He tastes exquisite.  Maybe it’s just because all your broken, stupid brain can think right now is slightly varying forms of my Master’s cock is in my mouth and it’s fucking leaking while you slowly nurse from it with your tongue, but stars—he tastes exquisite.

He’s swollen.  Throbbing.  Aching for you.  Releasing precum from the tip like his body is producing way too much of it after decades of neglect and just needs to get it all out at once.  Shifting and writhing underneath you but managing to never move his hips or cock a single inch away from the soft attention you’re giving him.  You can feel his smooth skin pulse against your tongue as you continue your lazy pleasuring, finally giving him what you’ve both been denied for so long and steadily swallowing down the spoils of your endeavors.

“—Wait, wait, Maker—stop,” you faintly hear gasped from above you not long after you even begin, and it takes the sum of all your efforts to unlodge his throbbing cock from your throat and pull away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale automatically, trying not to slur your words as a bit of drool slides down your chin.  “I’m s’sorry, Obi, I should’ve asked before I—”

“Something’s… n-not right,” Obi-Wan interrupts you and lifts himself up to his elbows, his abdominal muscles heaving and a wild, frenzied look in his startlingly bright eyes.  “My stomach was—I-I felt—”

Heat blooms through you along with a realization, and your eyelids begin to droop slightly at just how sexy it is—the fact that this man, this fully grown, red-blooded, warrior of a man is currently teetering on the precipice of his very first ever orgasm, and you’re the only one with the power to give it to him.

You shuffle backwards slightly, grabbing hold of his thighs and squeezing to get his attention.  “Hey.  It’s okay, relax.”

Obi-Wan nods his head vigorously down at you, the exact opposite of relaxed.

“Listen to me,” you urge quietly, trying to ignore the sight of his thick, swollen cock twitching restlessly against his abdomen, precum still steadily dribbling at the tip.  Is your mouth watering?  “This is it.  You’ll need to start projecting when you’re ready.  It’ll be tricky, but not impossible.  You’ll just have to imagine you’re inside me when it happens.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head vigorously from side to side, vehemently opposed.

“No, I don’t—” He croaks, “—I don’t know what it’s like, I won’t be able to—”

“Doesn’t my mouth feel similar at least?”  You ask, looking down at his cock once more.

“I-I—” Obi-Wan sputters, “I don’t know, young one—you tell me!”

Okay, well.  He… makes a valid point.

You settle back on your knees even further, gazing at your Master thoughtfully.  His chest continues to rise and fall with heavy breaths, a thin sheen of sweat coating his temples and a mild flush high in his cheeks, but his eyes have regained a bit of their focus.  “You can just try to imagine the, uh,” you try, your cunt nearly convulsing with burning need at the mere sight of him, “the same positioning and sensation from… earlier?”

“Alright, I can…”  Obi-Wan nods, though his hands are shaking.  “I’ll do the best I…”

You can’t help but lean forward to press a soft, encouraging kiss to his thigh, and he jerks under your touch.  You try it again, receiving the same result, and it makes you pause for just a minute longer.

“I’m nervous,” he blurts unceremoniously after a moment of stillness, as if you hadn’t noticed.  “Oh stars, I’m nervous, I—”

“Obi-Wan,” you let your voice lull, your hands squeezing gently around the bend of his knees once more.  “Calm down.  Clear your mind.”

He hiccups and you wait.  You wait with your mouth a few inches away from his cock, waiting for his breathing to slow and for him to follow your lead.

Can you hear me?  You murmur through the Force, and he quickly whimpers and nods.  Focus your thoughts.

You gently kiss at his tensing thighs once again, and he doesn’t flinch away from you this time.  His breathing slows into a calmer, steadier rhythm, letting you trail your lips gently along the curve of his leg.

Will you let me try something?  You ask after a moment, opening your mouth just the slightest bit to brush your tongue out and taste his skin.

“Y-Yes,” Obi-Wan says quietly, his breath stuttering through the word.

And—perhaps you shouldn’t have, but you give him something; a suggestion, more than anything else.  You give him a… visual.  A reference to guide his mind through the Force.

You, still in your black robe, slowly standing up from between his legs.  Widening your stance to straddle his lap, pull you robes up just enough, and then adjust your hips just slightly over the head of his cock.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at the vision, his eyes clamping tightly shut against it in vain.  He can close his eyes, turn away, hide his face all he wants—he can’t escape the way your body looks as it slowly begins to sink down on his.

At the exact same time, you lower your mouth around his cock once more, and you try to make it as close to the sensation as possible.  You don’t even move your tongue, you simply lift your soft palate and close your lips around his girth, beginning to carefully bob up and down along his length in time to the image you’re conjuring of you riding him.

Only, you already feel his balls tightening up and his body starting to go rigid with tension once again, and you can sense him still wanting to resist his approaching orgasm.  It’s okay, Master, you encourage quietly through the vision, it’s okay, just let it come easy.

“I—I’m not—” he shakes his head back and forth against the bed frantically, his breathing getting shallower and almost immediately picking back up to where it was before you stopped.  “I d-don’t want—”

Stop fighting, you tell him, continuing to mimic the sensation of him thrusting into your aching, neglected cunt with slow and steady movements of your throat.  Don’t run from it, let it take you.

He grits your name tightly in response and subconsciously begins to rock his hips up to match your unhurried pace, his ragged breathing gasping out into the quiet room and gradually increasing in volume and desperation the longer he stubbornly tries to hold out against it.

You know not strong enough to use the Force to coax it out of him.  You can’t alter your technique and break the illusion, either.  So you have to resort to desperate measures.

There’s enough remaining wherewithal to your mind that prevents you from permanently damaging his clothing when you tear his robes open with the Force and allow the metaphysical image of yourself to rip them apart with your hands.  Obi-Wan gasps when both versions of you reach up his bare torso at the same time and dig your nails into his chest.

Master—you demand, taking his cock down your throat as far as you can go and then clawing hard down his stomach—cum.

And thank everything good and right in the universe that he remembers at the very last second to start projecting, because being this close to someone as strong in the Force as Obi-Wan when he finally succumbs to his first taste of the Dark Side is just a fucking atomic missile straight to your nervous system.

It’s all you can do to just remember to keep swallowing.

The projection he casts out through the shockwave is utterly flawless—brilliantly composed, looking and feeling so authentic and overwhelming even from this distance that there should be no issue at all convincing any s’Ziscari in the wide vicinity who are tuning in right now.

Except—then you hear it.  Through the roaring pleasure of his thoughts, a flicker of his subconscious he’s unable to mask through the mind blowing bliss.

Is she…? Maker above, she’s drinking it—

A ragged groan tears through the silence of the room, his cock pulsing spectacularly on your tongue.  He just keeps cumming, and cumming, and so you just have to keep swallowing, and swallowing.  You suppose you should’ve expected this from a fully grown man who lived a life of celibacy, but what would typically be a rather short moment with anyone else subsequently goes on long enough to where Obi-Wan is actually able to lazily raise his head up from the mattress and simply watch you continue to swallow his load, dazed and reverent in his stare, glassy blue eyes trained on the hypnotic movements your jaw and throat make around him.  The remaining traces of whatever visual he attempted to maintain immediately flicker out of existence, replaced instead by the sight of your mouth around his cock, diligently taking down each rope of cum he gives you.

When he finally stops throbbing, you reluctantly let his cock fall from your mouth and slowly stand up as the botched projection fizzles out completely.  His gaze eventually follows the movement like he’s on a five second delay.

“So, uh…”  Your voice is hoarse.  “We… need to have sex.”

“Alright,” he agrees dreamily, his eyes lazily dragging down your body.  “Alright, we can have… I… Wait, what?”

“You, uh.  I know it wasn’t intentional, but you might’ve, uh…”  You  shuffle awkwardly from side to side, wondering why you’ve chosen now of all moments to become shy with him.  You’re literally still savoring the taste of his release in your mouth.  “You might’ve accidentally projected a very specific thought towards the end there and let everyone know that we weren’t actually doing what we’re technically supposed to be doing.”

“What did… what did I think?”  The question would likely be nonsense in literally any other situation, but you understand.  And truthfully, for the life of you, you can’t find it within yourself to feel even a little bit mad about it, not when it means you can continue doing this together.  You can’t even conjure up a single shred of disappointment in his failure, it’d just be a lie.

“Doesn’t matter,” you assure him, your heart continuing to pound.  You know you should make your next move now while he’s still so loopy, the post-orgasm bliss causing his signature to vibrate with pulsing endorphins as he blinks up at you slowly from the bed.  “Though we won’t be able to do it for a little bit, just uh.  Just for general… anatomical reasons.  But that should’ve at least counted for… initiating the Ritual, so I don’t think we have to worry about time anymore.”

Obi-Wan just stares at you, his Force signature feeling more serene and spaced out than you’ve ever sensed before.  Oh Maker, how you wish you felt the same.  You swallow thickly, still tasting his hard orgasm on your tongue, and then try not to clamp your thighs together with how embarrassingly turned on you are.  Anyone with any experience whatsoever would know exactly what you’re going through with just a mere glance—you’re biting your lip with your entire body is subtly crumpled in towards your swollen, neglected pussy—and your Master has been watching you struggle through it this entire time.

“Are you alright?”  He asks dumbly, finally managing to at least push himself upright, still completely unaware or unconcerned at his softening cock on full display for you and your starving libido.  “You’re… shaking.”

“I—won’t die,” is the only serious assurance you can make to both him and yourself right now that’ll ease your suffering the smallest bit.  The last thing you want right now is to come on too strong and snap him back to his senses, bringing everything back to square one.  “Just, uh… r-really worked—worked up.  Trying to just.  C-Cool it?”

Your fingers flex at your sides because no matter what you try, you just can’t stop thinking about his.  They’re right there.  They’re so close, so strong and thick and—

“Aren’t you…”  He trails off, letting his head tilt and then drop to his shoulder with a combination of confusion and exhaustion.  “Aren’t you going to…?”

“To what?”  You prompt shortly, your hands suddenly clenching into fists to deal with another violent wave of arousal at how unbelievably drunk he still looks.  Maker, you did that.  That’s all you.

“s’Zerthia said all—” Obi-Wan murmurs, blinking long lashes lazily up at you, “—all Jedi must… participate.”

Fuck. Just hearing him provide you an excuse to give into the boiling arousal causes you to suddenly break out into a sweat.  You don’t know if he wants you to get yourself off or if he’s indirectly implying he wants to help, but you’re so far beyond desperate that you jump at the chance as soon as he so much as hints at the opportunity.

Very slowly, you move forward and lift one trembling knee to brace next to his thigh on the mattress, and then carefully swing your other leg over his lap, lowering yourself into a straddle in the same exact position he attempted to project earlier.  You’re so unbelievably cautious about his cock, making sure you don’t accidentally touch it and jolt him awake.  Instead of your newfound proximity scaring him away like you feared though, he stays so… docile.  Still so relaxed from his very first orgasm that he even rests his large palms over the thin fabric covering your thighs, letting the loose silk drape and fold over his hands as he drags them up and down.

His eyes follow your trembling fingers as you work at the knot tying the material around your body, your cunt throbbing between your legs at how he’s just… staring.  His eyelids are dipped slightly, breathing so calm and slouched under you, pliant and waiting.

The thin fabric slowly parts only enough to reveal the valley between your bare chest to him, and you watch his eyes fall down the thin strip of skin and catch on the dark line of your panties riding low on your hips.  Maker, you can’t help but remember his terror at even glimpsing the two acolytes taking off their robes earlier—the way his eyes bounced around and how his cheeks lost whatever color they had left to them as soon as he finally made himself look.  Now, though.  Now he can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the soft flesh of your tummy, the way your nipples are still covered by the thin fabric of your slightly parted robe but are impossible to miss while your breasts subtly move with your breathing.

You gently call one of his wrists to your hand with the Force and Obi-Wan is either mentally or physically too weak to resist your will.  He allows you to catch his hand and slowly lead it downwards with both of your smaller ones to the part of your body that’s longed for his attention for years, though now it’s absolutely weeping for it.

You don’t want to scare him.  You don’t want to scare him.  Oh Maker, you need him to be brave for you right now, or at least just continue to be stupefied.  You can work with stupefied, but you cannot work with panic, especially when you feel your own wanting to rise up the more you drag this out.

When the tips of his fingers brush against the waistband of your panties, Obi-Wan’s hand pushes under it without your guidance.

You’re throbbing.  It’s been years in the making.  Unable to stop the way your thighs contract and you lift your hips against his palm as it steadily curves down the slope of your soft curls, the sight of the finish line so within reach makes you reckless and too quick.  You can’t help it.  When he gets hesitant and eventually slows down to a halt right above your slit, you don’t even think before you’re suddenly giving his wrist an abrupt shove with the Force, pulling his hand down before he’s ready and forcing his middle finger deep through the soaking cleft of your pussy.

Your shameless moan of his name comes out sounding so grateful—you pour everything you have into it and sag into Obi-Wan’s chest at the feeling, but he startles and all but rips his hand out of your underwear before you can stop him.  He was a hair’s breadth from touching your clit and the denial of it—the sudden turnaround from your goal is just so massively overwhelming that tears suddenly spring to your eyes.

You can just barely make out the sight of him staring down at his trembling hand between the two of you, your slick shining wet and hot along the length of his finger. 

“Stars,” he rasps, blinking his wide, sapphire gaze up to yours—and then he quite suddenly looks alarmed.  “Did I—Did I hurt you?”  Obi-Wan gasps, his energy beginning to outright seize with distress while you blink rapidly and try not to crumble on his lap.

“No—I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m just… oh, fuck, I n-need it,” you stammer.  “Oh fuck, I need it Master, I’m so sorry—I’m trying to be calm but—”

“What is it, little dove?”  He urges, reaching his hand up to your face and flicking his eyes back and forth between yours, sounding almost as panicked as you do from your desperation.  “What do you need?”

“Oh stars, Obi-Wan, I need you to just—” You can’t fit anything into words, a tear finally making its way down your cheek when you clamp your eyes shut in frustration.  You just need him to understand, to give you what you’ve been craving for so long—but when you blink your eyes back open, his troubled expression has suddenly resolved itself.

Your Master’s hands immediately grab tight to your hips and twist you around, easily tossing you back up onto the mattress.  The jostle of bouncing back into the soft fur startles you, but not nearly as much as when he climbs over your body and braces an elbow next to your head, gently placing the tips of his fingers to your temple.

He pushes carefully but firmly against your natural mental barriers, flexing the energy shields inwards gently enough to not hurt you but with enough force to let you know he’s entirely capable of breaking through should you refuse to let him in.

So you do.  You let him in without a single thought, never mind a second one.  Obi-Wan gasps as your shields all but collapse for him that easily, and then he’s finally breaching the surface of your thoughts.

“Oh—Maker above, little one,” he grits almost immediately, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and his other hand wrapping tight around your arm as he struggles to acclimate to the blinding distress you’re experiencing.  “Collect—” he groans as your cunt clamps down at the rasp of his broken voice, “—collect yourself.  I can’t—can’t think—”

Oh, no, it’s too much.  It’s way too much, even just having him inside your head without being able to read him in return—it’s too much for you.  You start hyperventilating and instead of wanting him out, you just want to drown out the sensation of everything else.  The endlessly pulsing, aching throb between your legs that you’ve been dealing with for so long, the way you can feel his cock dragging against your tummy from this angle and how much you already want it in your mouth again, the way your nipples are so hard right now that even this soft fabric feels so rough and sharp against—

Your robe suddenly rips itself off your chest, and you whimper up at the ceiling as you dig your fingers into thick fur and writhe under him, almost completely naked and just desperate for him to do something, to at least just use his hands or his mouth to make you feel bet—

Obi-Wan’s head drops and his blazing mouth opens hot around your nipple, his tongue rolling soft and slick up under the hard bud.

You choke out the first part of his name and you barely even have a flicker of a thought—a brief flash of a rabid, baser desire you’re not even able to consciously recognize before you feel his jaw opening and his teeth closing gently around it, biting down just hard enough to make you spasm bright and urgent between your legs.  “Oh, fuck—”

As soon as you feel the pleasure and twisting ache spark deep in your core, Obi-Wan flutters his eyes shut and wedges his hand back into your panties, humming low in his throat when your legs jerk apart for him.

This time, your clit is the very first thing he touches.

He zeroes in on it.  The tip of his finger starts to rub it exactly how you’d do it to yourself, exactly the right angle and speed and pressure that your body suddenly feels massively overheated and dizzy from it.  It blindsides you.  It makes sense he’d be able to do this, after all, but for some reason, the whole thing just absolutely blindsides you.

“Maker,” you whimper at the ceiling, soft and pitched high in your throat, eyes rolling back when Obi-Wan gently bites down on your nipple again and continues to work to relieve you even as every muscle in your body feels like it’s tightening up.

“Stars—” he whispers when he pulls away, “This—this feels incredible, Padawan.”

You moan and roll your hips against his hand, on cloud nine at just how he’s slowly allowing himself to become filthier with you, to lower himself in all his righteous beliefs and descend into delicious sin with you, and—

—wait, did he just…?

Your cunt clamps down hard with realization as he continues massaging your clit better than you’ve ever even done it yourself.  Maker, it shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does, hearing that word in this context.  Padawan.  Padawan, holding her legs open while her Master explores her pussy.  Padawan, moaning desperately as her orgasm buzzes deep down inside with a rising, threatening resonance.  Padawan, Padawan, Padawan—

“Oh, you liked that,” Obi-Wan remarks tightly, taking a second to tug on your clit.  You nearly start to cry again, your insides pulling up and going rigid at the sensation.  “I heard it, little one.  You like it when I call you that?”

“Oh I like it when you do f-fucking anything,” you choke out helplessly, your words starting to slur together.  “Oh fuck, you’re so amazing, you’re so good at everything, you’re the best Jedi in the whole entire galaxy Master, you’re so much better th—”

“My, you’re agreeable like this, aren’t you?”  Obi-Wan grits, his touches growing stronger and quicker and rocketing you straight to the edge of madness.  “Shall I take that to heart, my darling little Padawan?  Or did you say such flattering things to the oth—”

“Wait!”  You suddenly exclaim, desperately trying to push his hands away.  “Oh, nonononono—wait, wait, wait, I—I-I’m about to cum—I need to—”

His hand yanks itself out of your underwear once more and you take giant, gasping breaths and try to compose yourself at least somewhat, but then your Master is quickly scrambling down your body and using the Force to rip your panties down your hips—

“Obi-Wan, wait—” you choke out, “that isn’t—you don’t… h-have to…”

He looks up at you, dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll be able to—y-you don’t—”  You have to take a few gasping breaths and remember how to speak Basic.  “I used my mouth on you before because I… I wanted to.  If—If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.  It’s not… oh fucking stars above, it’s not n-necessary.”

“Are you telling me this because you don’t want me to?”  He immediately asks, though you both already clearly know the answer to that considering how exposed your wild thoughts are to him right now.

“Ah, no I, uh… I just.”  You try to clear the thickness from your throat and you feel your body tremble while you focus as much effort as possible into trying to explain.  “I just want to be sure I’m not taking advantage of you, that’s all, I—I want you to know the truth about these things.  It’s not… necessary, b-but.”

“But.”  He repeats the word meaningfully as he glances back down at your weeping cunt, nodding slowly to himself.

And then your Master leans in, flutters his eyes shut, and slides his warm tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever.

“Obi—Wan—!?”  You gasp, somewhere between a squeak and a squeal, your entire upper body launching upwards around his head as your clit is immediately enveloped into a slick, dexterous furnace.

Hold still, you hear his voice warn through the Force, sounding so much closer than you’ve ever heard him before.  Whether that can be attributed to the fact that the command came directly from wherever he is inside your head or whether it’s simply because his tongue is now tracing gentle circles around your clit as you whimper pitifully into the quiet of the dimly lit room, you’re not sure.  All you know is that his mouth feels like velvet between your legs and his beard is scraping across your thighs and your fingers have buried themselves in his hair without your conscious permission.

Hold still, young one, he urges once more, but you just close your eyes and moan shamelessly at it this time, opening your legs wider for him.  His voice, it’s… it’s maddening like this, coming directly from your own thoughts.  Deep, precise, somehow sounding so true, so much clearer and full-bodied without your pesky ears in the way.  Your hips are subconsciously rolling slowly against the lower half of his face when Obi-Wan apparently decides he’s had enough.

An invisible energy wraps around each of your individual limbs and snaps them against the mattress without any warning.  You whimper high in your throat, arms and legs held so firmly against the bed with the Force that your internal struggles aren’t able to be translated outwardly; he doesn’t allow your body a single centimeter to move under him, no matter how hard you fight it.  Which means you have to lay there and just take the way Obi-Wan’s hot mouth continues to lick and kiss at your clit slowly, taking all the time in the universe to properly explore you between the legs he’s forced apart.

“Obi—” you croak breathlessly at the ceiling, feeling a familiar heat start to burn hot and tight through your core, “Obi, I—I have to p-project—before I—ah!—before you—before you ma-make me cu—ugh, f-fuck—I have t-to—”

Then project, he encourages simply, gently fluttering his tongue over your clit.  You gasp and he hums, murmuring through the Force once more to you.  We’re not hiding anymore.  They’ll all know I’m using my mouth on you like this.  It’s alright.  Let them know.

You realize you’re going to cum the second you hear your Master’s voice say the words using my mouth on you like this while he slowly sucks on your clit, and you barely have enough wherewithal to gulp in a giant breath and begin projecting your signature as far across the palace and surrounding city as physically possible before your body shatters hot into searing euphoria under him.

Obi-Wan groans deep in his throat and holds you perfectly still under him as you cum with a ragged, hoarse wail of his name, giant waves of white hot bliss beginning to radiate through the Force from you with spectacular power.  The contractions are so much more pronounced when it’s one of the only sets of muscles in your body he’s granted permission to move.  It’s like everything is concentrated and multiplied there because of it.  You can feel each individual spasm your floor muscles make as they convulse against his tongue, how each blazing shot of ecstasy that shatters through your body wrings more and more wetness from your cunt into your Master’s mouth.

Never.  Ever ever ever.  Has anyone done something so mind blowingly sexy to you.  Nobody.  Ever.  He’s a virgin, you frantically remember as Obi-Wan purrs softly into the folds of your pussy while it cums all over him.

Your thoughts, young one, you can just barely make out his voice remind you gently, just as gently as he sucks on your clit through the aftershocks, somehow sounding even more aroused than he did before.

After allowing your projection to flicker out of existence with a putter, you’re completely dazed.  Incapable of moving regardless of the way he keeps you pinned with the Force long after he pulls away, slowly moves back up your body and waits while you work to regain your bearings.  You don’t even want to open your eyes right now, knowing he’s looking down at your peaceful expression while you work to catch your breath.  You’re too stupid with pleasure you almost don’t even process the soft touch of something against your lips.

You’re lovely.

The thought is so quiet you don’t even recognize it isn’t your own.  Not until he keeps pressing his lips to yours so sweetly, not knowing to do anything else when your mind is too fractured with ecstasy to unconsciously act as his compass like before.  Everything is innocent and gentle and not reminiscent of the fact that the robes you’re both wearing are wide open and your mouths tasted of each other even before he kissed you.

Instead of melting into the soft touches, though, they just start to burn you alive, the thick fog of your orgasm clearing more and more with each gentle press of his lips and your need for him steadily growing.  He’s kissing you.  Master Kenobi is kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds at a time before pulling away, pausing to look at your face each time to make sure your eyes are still closed, before leaning down and carefully pressing his lips to yours again.

The only part you can’t stand is that he won’t even let you move your jaw to kiss him back.

Kiss me, Obi-Wan, you urge desperately through the Force, not wanting to interrupt to speak.

“I am, little one,” he replies between kisses, and the sincerity in his tone tells you he’s not purposefully teasing you.  No, this is him kissing you, genuinely, the only way he knows how to.

Let me— you start to struggle in earnest against his hold on you, —please, let me—

The warm breath from his nose puffs softly against your cheek with a quiet little sound from far back in his throat, and then you suddenly gain the ability to move from the neck up.

You immediately part his lips with yours and Obi-Wan pulls back just the slightest bit in response, but your neck lifts up to compensate as you lick deep into his warm mouth.  He gasps at the foreign sensation and loses his concentration for a split second, enough for you to break free of it completely.  Your hands quickly fly up to cradle his face as soon as they can move and your fingers hook around the thick beard blanketing his sharp jawline, urging him back down into you.

Your legs come up to wrap around his lower back and he sags against your strong will with a needy groan, dropping down closer and obediently keeping his mouth open for you to taste.  As soon as he presses his body into yours, his cock strains and drags against your lower stomach, already throbbing hot and leaking precum along the soft hills of your skin.

Maker, you want it but somehow you… you don’t.  You just want to savor tonight as long as you physically can, keep holding him and kissing him like this for another few hours at least before you try to take his cock, but he’s unintentionally grinding it against you while his tongue shyly dances with yours, needy and already raring to go in his own timid way.

Do you want it, Master?  You finally murmur to him, running your fingers through his hair and gently biting his bottom lip, scooting your hips up to let him rub himself against something better than your tummy.  You feel… ready.

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head.  Your feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, and Obi-Wan finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck.

“Yes, I—” he moans into you skin, “Oh stars, I want it.”

With a gentle wave of your hand, you use the Force to drop his hips down to the proper angle and tilt the head of his cock to line him up perfectly.

And now this is the part you don’t want to rush.  This is when you take Obi-Wan Kenobi’s virginity.  You’ll savor just being able to remember this for the rest of your fucking life.  You’ll see him in Council meetings years from now and be reminded that you’re the only person in the galaxy to know the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room.  You’re the only one who will know that sound, that sound is yours, that sound belongs to—

“Padawan,” he grits, hips stuttering into you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “your thoughts—”

You groan up at the ceiling and your pussy tightens at the reminder that he can still hear you, but your body is just too bold and desperate for it.  Your thoughts begin to flare bright, growing more possessive by the second, and you can’t even wait for him this time.  Every single muscle in Obi-Wan’s body goes rigid when you tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow.

It stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you as Obi-Wan instinctively tries to lift off you and away from it, but you’re clinging too tightly to him.  Your whole body hovers off the mattress to stay with him. 

“You said—” he gasps, “—it wouldn’t h-hurt—oh—”

“It doesn’t,” you groan, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you.  “Oh, Maker, it feels so fucking good, Obi—feel it—”

His elbows shake where they’re locked and braced against the mattress but he drops his head and holds strong like this while you work your muscles to take him as far as you can from this shameful angle.  Your body feels like it’s on fire while you desperately cling to him and the length of your robe brushes against the mattress while you just keep trying to get him deeper inside you—

Suddenly something grabs hard at your hips and tries shoves you downwards and off his cock, but you want it too badly.  You summon the hidden strength of your energy and then channel it into your legs where they’re hooked around the curve of his lower back.

Obi-Wan chokes at the unexpected resistance and his elbows buckle, dropping you both down to his forearms with a jolt, but you’re too busy mentally clashing with each other for it.  The result is… well, it’s maddening.

Every time your pussy is able to swallow him more than halfway, you pull back and let his energy shove you down his length—but then dig back in right before you drop completely and use the Force to bend your legs and fight the uphill battle to his cock once more.  Your Master gasps, beads of sweat gathering at his temples while you fight him with every ragged breath in your body to keep fucking him.

Except—he’s the fighter.  And you should’ve known.

You’re no match for the sudden blast of energy from him, easily hinging your legs apart from around his back and then ripping you down off his cock with a wet sound, bouncing back down into the mattress once more.

In order to stop the desperate tears of defeat from coming to your eyes, you immediately clamp them shut and twist your face away from Obi-Wan’s, but he makes a low growl and uses the same ferocious royal blue energy to keep your knees pinned open and wide against the bed. 

And then drops his hips and rocks back into you, giving you those last few precious inches of his thickness you weren’t able to get at before.  It hits sharp nirvana up inside you with his thighs pressed tight to your hips like this.  His name rips itself from your throat while Obi-Wan clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed with the Force while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. 

He’s so gifted, so strong in the Force, he’s able to use your mind as his anchor and give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced.  And in return, you want to do the same to him.  You want to read his thoughts, instantly be able to give him everything he never knew he needed—

“You do,” your Master chokes out, “darling, you already—”

Everything inside you surges up at the admission, aching that much harder to hear him, to hear everything the way he can hear you.  The tips of your fingers find his temple, slick with sweat, and you press just hard enough to tell him your intent.

“Let me in,” you whisper, wicked arousal swirling tight in your lower muscles as they start to bear down on his cock.

“I—I can’t—” Obi-Wan gasps breathlessly, “I can’t—”

“Open—open the door, Master,” you beg, “please, open th—”

“Fuck,” he cuts you off, his voice rising in pitch while his his hips snap just a little harder against yours and his rhythm falters, “—It’s too good, Padaw—I’m going t-to—stars, are you—are you r-ready?”

Some terrifying, swirling darkness manifests itself deep in your thoughts.  It rises up, part of the desperate, hidden subconscious that you’re typically capable of stifling.  No, it says, don’t let this be over.  Not yet.  You don’t want to go to sleep alone, wake up and remember you’ll never have this again.  You need there to be a next time, and a time after it.

You try your hardest to push the longing downwards when you recognize it, but your Master is too quick, too talented to deceive when he’s this close to you.  He easily plucks it from your mind and expands it, enlarges the chaotic string of thoughts until you feel them pulsing at the edges of your consciousness.

And then Obi-Wan sees it all, immediately playing out in your memories as you helplessly watch on.  Every desire you buried for him unearthed, every whimper you stifled with the back of your hand when you touched yourself at night and thought of him amplified.  The years of repression, the blind hope that simply ignoring it would make it go away.  How hard you worked to deaden the burst of affection that radiated through the Force when you finally saw him after two years apart.  The circumstances behind the night you lost your virginity—not a long time ago, as he suggested before, but only just last year.  So desperate in your loneliness and longing for his presence that you began routinely sneaking around and fucking other Knights—Guardians with blue sabers whose souls were just marginally close enough to Obi-Wan’s, and you thought of him the whole time.  Every time.

But, perhaps, worst of all.  The… fantasies.

He sees himself dropping to his knees and congratulating you for passing your trials by burying his tongue inside your warmth and telling you how proud of you he is.  He sees you opening his trousers and slowly licking his cock while he meditates, trying to get him to break his concentration.  He watches the two of you fucking in every conceivable position, how incredibly ready you always are to take him when he needs it.  Most importantly, he recognizes your inherent, blazing desire to drag this out as long as physically possible, to permanently brand every moment in your memory to get you through his impending absence.

And then… then Obi-Wan does something unexpected.  Something incredibly uncharacteristic.

You watch as he morphs the fantasies right before your eyes.  He's still on his knees with his head between your legs, but now he’s telling you how proud he is of you for negotiating the mysterious, confidential deal that ended the Clone Wars.  You’re licking his cock as the ship autopilots itself through the week-long journey back to Coruscant from s’Ziscari, letting him slowly cum in your mouth as he sprawls lazily in the captain’s chair.  He’s taking you against the wall of your quarters after a mindless and dull Council meeting; you’re riding him quietly in his bed after lights-out at the temple; he’s rubbing your clit while he sits behind you and advises you on matters concerning your own Padawan you’ll be choosing sometime soon, two fingers deep and squeezing a bared nipple when he whispers in your ear how much he absolutely adores you.

Thoughts that aren’t your own begin to fill the empty spaces of your mind, a lovely pale blue tenor to harmonize gorgeously with the soft green alto of your own consciousness.  The resulting color of your combined energies fills your soul with Light, a stunning turquoise of a color you’ve never loved more, one you wish you could live in for the rest of your life.

For every debased thought of yours he sees, he shows you one even more revealing.  The way he used to dream of you at night, especially after a close battle where many Jedi and Clones fell, and then he’d wake up in a cold sweat with an erection pulsing feverish and so terribly shameful between his legs.  How he tried to shove a pillow down there once to somehow relieve himself of the aching hardness, and then had to rip it away and launch it across the room with the Force when he realized he’d been dragging himself against it and thinking of you.

“I’m gonna—cum—” your voice scrapes across your throat, and you can already sense him throwing his beautiful consciousness out like a net.  You match him with what little mental strength you have remaining, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your ankles around his lower back and pulling him down into you.

Obi-Wan’s energy keeps swirling a brilliant aquamarine with yours, presenting his every subconscious thought to you, one right after another, so quick you can barely keep up.  How he’ll always be with you, no matter what.  How the Maker himself won’t be able to drag him away from you now.  How quiet jealousy still tugs at his heart just thinking about the fact that you broke your oath—before you both could do it together.

Everything swells up inside you and you scream when it finally crashes over, your blended signatures sealing themselves together permanently and then detonating in a debilitating shockwave that ripples the air around you.  You’re blinded and deafened by its vivid energy, powerful and dazzling every shade between blue and green and Light and Dark, all balanced perfectly together.

You lay there in the gentle afterglow afterwards and feel your pussy still clamping tight to him, pulsing in random intervals while Obi-Wan slouches into you and every muscle in his body trembles with the comedown.  Everything is right.  Everything in you sparkles.

“Stars, Obi,” you start chuckling up at the ceiling, the sheer joy overwhelming you and bringing tears to your eyes.  “Stars, did we just—”

“We just won the Clone Wars, my dear,” he slurs into the crook of your neck while his cock still throbs inside you, and you can feel the exhaustion creeping up his spine, every single thought in his mind completely dead at the moment.

“How long do you… do you think it’ll take before it’s over?”  You ask quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair.  Obi-Wan groans and buries his face deeper into your neck.

“Few months, maybe.  Time for s’Ziscari…”

He stays like that for just a second, and you press your nose to him and breathe him in, marveling at how utterly gorgeous his signature is right now.  Clear blue with the lightest touch of teal, rippling like quiet water in a crystal calm riverbed.

Lovely.

You keep softly playing with the hair at his nape, and then quickly wrap your arms around him when he goes to try to brace his forearms next to your shoulders and lift up just the slightest bit.

“Wait, don’t—it’s—”  You bite your lip and feel him sink back down into your body without another word, clearly having only attempted it for appearances.  “This is good, let’s just… stay for a second.” 

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even move, and—a few months, you think.  A few months of his absence, of wondering where he is but never being able to ask.  It burdens your heart, but you understand it’s necessary.

The Council may… grant me a position with a more permanent location after this mission, he responds quietly to your dip in the Force after a moment, too tired to even talk anymore and exhaustion weaving his every thought.  On Coruscant.

Your heart pangs with sudden hope, and you know he can feel it.  “They would do that?”

I could ask to oversee the s’Ziscari’s assimilation into our ranks, he offers alongside a stifled yawn into your collarbone.

He’d… request that?  To be closer to you?  But why?

He doesn’t hesitate before offering the words to you simply, not even considering them before they’re the only thought in his mind.  Because I care for you more than there are stars in the sky.  I always have.

Lovely.

No, no, not even, that’s just.  Love.  By itself.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly into your neck, and your soul feels like it grows wings.

You both lay there in silence for a long time after that, and it takes you even longer to realize he hasn’t succumbed to sleep yet, even as the aching fatigue weighs heavy on his back.  He’s resisting it, keeping his eyes purposefully open against your neck while yours are blissfully shut.

“Master,” you eventually whisper up at the ceiling, and his cock twitches inside you.  Oh stars, you’ll have to remember that.  “Go to sleep.”

I have one more confession.  The thoughts are slurred and distorted, barely conscious as he desperately tries to outlast the sleep trying to pull him under.  I didn’t even want to mention it before because I didn’t know how this was all going to go, but…  He blinks slowly against your neck even as his eyes droop, only just a few seconds from passing out with exertion.  The Sh’inzith lasts six days, dove.

Your eyes pop open in shock just as his finally fall shut, and Obi-Wan stops fighting.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

also here are more thoschei mcr thoughts:

-the master’s playlist is titled ‘you only hear the music when your heart begins to break’ from kids from yesterday which is on the doctors list but not on his. and im using it to reference like missy being so musical and the doctor telling her “you never learnt to hear the music”

and the doctor’s title is ‘mama we all go to hell’ from mama which is on the master’s list but not hers. and thats about her war general sort of sensibilities and how shes acting in a way she knows shes not supposed to but seems to, not be all that torn up about it? like mama shes going to hell mama shes going to die mama shes so full of lies. and mama obviously bc tecteun

bc then like, the title for each of them encapsulates a feeling that they know is there but are pointedly Not Looking At and the words to capture that feeling then come from a song on the other one’s playlist bc they will force each other to face what they cant by themselves. holding up mirrors.

-the only song they share is foundations of decay bc i think thats where they intersect. their feelings and struggles and narratives overlap in some places and completely dont in others but gallifreys ruins is where they meet.

but in the master’s playlist it’s the fifth song, basically the igniting incident if we’re using story structure terms. the first four are setting up the master’s general mindset after simm and after missy, and then foundations is coming to gallifrey and Finding Out.

for the doctor it’s the penultimate song bc for the doctor this song is about having accepted everything and then new change. standing in the ruins and deciding to keep going. get up coward. let it flood let it flood let it wash away. start over. i am not afraid to keep on living. i am not afraid to walk this (destroyed) world alone.

for the master this song is about the end. it’s apocalyptic. the rest of the playlist is him reacting to this complete destruction of everything he knows. it ends with dead because thats where this ends for him. thats where it always ends for him. dead and the doctor regenerated.

-for 13 the list doesnt basically start with the destruction. for 13 it starts with all she did in s11 bc thats where she started.

in bulletproof heart we’ve got what she offers up:

Gravity don't mean too much to me I'm who I've got to be These pigs are after me, after you

Run away like it was yesterday And we could run away, And we could run away, run away from here 

and what will come to the surface later:

Hold your heart into this darkness Will it ever be the light to shine you out Or fail and leave you stranded Or are you gonna be the one left standing? You're gonna be the one left standing You're gonna be the one left standing

then save yourself i’ll hold them back, the title basically says “get behind me now” and then theres more of the darker underlying stuff bubbling under the surface in s11:

I'll tell you all how the story ends Where the good guys die and the bad guys win (Who cares?) This ain't about all the friends you made But the graffiti they write on your grave

For all of us who've seen the light Salute the dead and lead the fight (Hail, hail!) Who gives a damn if we lose the war? Let the walls come down, let the engines roar

We can leave this world, leave it all behind We can steal this car if your folks don't mind We can live forever If you've got the time

I'm the only friend that makes you cry You're a heart attack in black hair dye So just save yourself and I'll hold them back tonight

drowning lessons is about realising yaz’s feelings and deciding not to,,, Do That. helena is:

I have had a lot of self hate.  The most recent example was the song ‘Helena’. It’s a really angry open letter to myself.

so thats 13 being aware of purposefully keeping yaz and the others at arm’s length and not being happy with herself about it but also not really able to change anything. and it’s also, bc it’s about g and mikeys grandmother who died, it’s a reference to family, granny five, tecteun

then kids from yesterday is both about how 13 is letting these times she has with the fam slip through her fingers bc she cant connect with them. it’s nostalgia for something thats still happening, it’s mourning something you havent lost yet. but also it’s about tying it back to childhood. bc with helena we go to family and so here we get 13 there too, being young. you know?

helena and kids from yesterday together also signify the like slow unfolding of the timeless child stuff. slowly getting more information. and then getting All Of It but taking a little while to let it sink in.

all of this list from helena on is just this gradual rampening up of the RealisationsTM and the AngerTM. cemetery drive is about finding the master. thank you for the venom, destroya, and nanana are basically responses to tecteun - “morality is a strength”. venom is like ‘fuck you’, destroya is like “you, me, and the end of the universe? it's personal now”, and nanana is the side of that that the fam or yaz gets to see (we’re not really going entirely chronologically it’s more about vibes. the story makes sense though right this way? the emotional journey)

heaven help us is about the despair Hitting. about the “why did you do this” and “doesnt even matter now!” and “mostly...angry”. it’s that conversation with ryan in revolution. it’s i dont even know who i am. it’s:

And would you pray for me? (You don't know a thing about my sins) (How the misery begins) Or make a saint of me? (You don't know) (So I'm burning, I'm burning) And will you lay for me? (You don't know a thing about my sins) (How the misery begins) Or make a saint? (You don't know) ('Cause I'm burning, I'm burning)

burn bright is the reaction to that despair. it’s the ‘i can make an identity out of this’, the ‘this is what the doctor would do’. it’s “have you ever been limited by who you were before?”

it’s also about thoschei. the city, the fire. their origin, which was real. “so give me all youve got” both directed at the master like come on then punk and directed at everyone else bc she knows who she is bc who she is is the other side of him and thats still as true as ever. hes still foundational to her even if he doesnt believe that anymore.

foundations of decay then is about finding the same thing he did and choosing not to do what he would/wants. get up coward, dont give up dont give in dont lean into the destruction dont find comfort there like he does. change direction. and then famous last words is about that. changing direction and keeping on living

[siren-virus]

welp, I've finally came up with a schedule for asking you questions. Every 2-4 days after you answer something I've sent I shall make an ask, changing the themes between your OCs and their world, and Luckyboy!Ben AU. That way I won't burn you out accidently with asking about the same thing all the time XD And since my last ask was about your OCs, it's time to return to Luckyboy!Ben AU :D

Ok, first question, Would Gwen here have the necrofriggian babies? Big Chill babies (but named differently obviously)? I suspect that she would have them considering that that was something that came up from a... defect, bug, glitch, purposefully put design? in the Omnitrix, as such she should have birthed them regardless of the differences with cannon. Would anyone else know about the babies, considering it was treated as a secret in cannon but maybe not in this AU?

Also, what about Zs'Skayr? He (Is Zs'Skayr gendered? I'll treat them as male for the rest of this ask to avoid complications) is also someone that's independent of the events of the prime universe, and as such I'd imagine that he would still be a threat in this universe.

And the Loboan transformation that Ben went through in the OS, would Gwen also go through it in here as well? We know that that transformation was triggered by Werewolf when the team was attacked, forcing Ben to go through a gradual transformation.

Now back to Nekomata :D Would Ben ever reveal his identity to someone? Maybe Gwen and grandpa Max? Perhaps Rook if he manages to gain the complete trust of Ben first? What kind of situation would allow for Ben to reveal his identity as Nekomata that wasn't a life-or-death one? Because let's be real, in a life-or-death situation anyone would reveal their identities XD

We know that Ben is the favourite barista of the coffee, and with good reason, considering he's a charismatic info brooker that will kick the ass (or alien equivalent) of anyone making trouble, while also being respectful of the clients (because that's mandatory in a job like that one, but isn't it hard to find employees like that in this universe) and keeping their dietaries needs in mind. But does He has any favourite client, someone he's waiting to come because he geniunly sees them as friends even though they only see each other in the coffee? Nekomata interactions don't count for this XD I'd imagine it would be one of the plumbers kids, Kevin or Argit, But who knows? this might as well be a time to make any background character shine :P Not that I remember any of them anyways XD

NGL Im already burnt out on luckyboy (it dont take much rlly, just bored of the idea haha ;;) I'll entertain ur questions tho. maybe it'll spark me back to life. Currently hyperfixated on artfight!

I'm conflicted about this. Idk if that episode was supposed to be a metaphor for teen pregnancy (i still find it hilarious that it's a cannon mpreg episode rip!), but with Gwen it wouldn't rlly work(?) She's quite responsible, and considering her personality she'd get way too attached.

So- I would say that she has a lot better communication with Azmuth then what Ben did, and Azmuth took into consideration a lot of Gwens suggested tweeks. So, no babys- srry. They'd nerf Gwen completely. (poor thing crys over the littlest things...)

You know what? what's the harm in a little childhood trauma, we'll have Zs'Skayr. Gwen never took back control of Ghost Freak after the events of Zs'Skayr. She also never defeated him the first round, it irritates her to know end how much of a coward she was as a child. But she was a child! She's too hard on herself a lot of the times.

Oh geez this brings back memories~ I remember sitting in my loungeroom watching this episode and loving it every time.

The only reason Ben turned into the Laboan was because he chased after the OG wolf man.

I would say Gwen's a lot more cautious in those cases and stuck close to Max. So she didn't end up collecting the Laboan DNA until a lot further down the track.

Maybe similar events happen with a different alien however, something Gwen can't avoid.

Before I dive down into Nekomata I just wanna make note of some Gwen stuff.

Gwen is still quite headstrong, intelligent and cautious when it comes to fighting. Quite similar to how she functions in the OG her fighting is more Defensive. Her fighting style is built off Taekwondo (I think thats what she practised in alien force...) So she's more built for self defence. She's very analytical of her opponents. Her best alien would be XLR8 (my one of my faves ngl). Using her quick thinking she can do small attacks that can weaken her opponent.

Now then:

I usually don't like to reveal big REVEALS to anyone even myself. Which can straight up nerf me when it comes to developing my own characters cause I won't spoil myself.

So it takes a lot of willpower to do this. It's my AU and I say what's canon!

WHEEEEZE BUT TO BE HONEST I LIKE TO SWITCH THINGS UP SO DON'T TAKE THIS AS OFFICIAL OFFICIAL CAUSE I MIGHT END UP CHANGING MY MIND. I'M SO INDESCISIVE!!!

The big reveal:

You know what, I thought about this a while ago. Rook is realsing that perhaps the plumbers are in the wrong. So he only whishes to hear Nekomata out. He ends up finding Nekomata after a big fight. He's quite injured and bleeding out, he can't retain his anodite form (add a bit of a concussion in the mix). Rook panics and has to throw the mask off, because the majorite of blood is under the mask. (mans know first aid). He's hesitant, all this chasing, all this fighting. Surely he couldn't! but He does. He pulls of the mask AND, oh shit, the barista!

I think around this time the plumbers had caught on to Rooks faulty allegiance and had followed him, so He finds himself surrounded. Rook places the mask back on and trys to talk with the plumbers.

They're not hearing it. And Ben, in his weary state, pulls out one of his little teleporter rocks (i forgot to mention he carries around of a lot of them, preinfused with mana as a just in case scenario) grabs Rook by the ankle and teleports them away.

Through a series of events his identity is revealed, to the public and he's on the run. Not sure how that'll go, but it extends the overall storyline!

....

...

You're right, the BG characters really don't get that limelight. So..... Blukig and Driba. He genuinely enjoys their little back and forths. Also in this universe they're gay. I can't imagine those two loving anyone else but each other.

[morphogenetic]

the requested, very long adaptation of a Twitter thread I made about flowcharts in media. contains multiple spoilers for several things but I will section off each part. Under a readmore because Fucking Long

(starts with 999/general ze spoilers but will also talk about ai, raging loop, and 13 sent.inels a bit)

1. The MAJOR 999 and Zero Escape spoilers part

while it is obviously super convenient for replays, the 999 port including a flowchart kind of defeats the point because zero WAS just blindly trying things. they'd always have to watch junpei fuck up from the beginning over and over because they DON'T have the ability to just jump back to certain points in the timeline!! at all!!

like yes obviously its a thing to start from the beginning over and over (and then speed through text youve already seen) bc its a DS limitation in some ways, but it is FULLY accurate to zero's own gameplay experience (and, hell, even junpei's) to NOT let them be able to just jump around wherever in the timeline

in contrast, letting the vlr/ztd protags jump in random places into the flowchart IS fully justified! it makes PERFECT sense that they can do that! in fact, if they COULDNT do that, it would be Bad, bc the plot relies so heavily on them Being Able To Do That that it wouldn't make sense otherwise. ztd in particular actually is brilliant with how it does things completely asynchronously to the point that piecing together the order of events is almost impossible. yes its confusing, but its SUPPOSED to be! it's not always good otherwise but the way it PURPOSEFULLY disorients the player like that is. So good.

2. The less-major-but-still-spoilers AI: The Somnium Files Part (and general-Uchikoshi-media part)

ai is kind of a weird case, because unlike A Lot Of Other Uchi Stuff, the existence of a multiverse is only implied, rather than canon. the branching system is so drastic that i don't think it WOULD work nearly as well if it didn't have an in-game flowchart. on the other hand, its not super well built into the actual narrative structure of the game, which feels INCREDIBLY unlike uchi.

its probably just something he brought over bc he was so used to it from his previous games and it DOES have a narrative purpose in ai, its just less of a storytelling choice from his usual time bullshit way of doing things lol. i do like it but it's probably part of the reason that ai isn't quite as high up for me as 999 and even punchline in some ways. its still GOOD but it doesn't take full advantage of being a game (or a show) in the same way that a lot of his other stuff does

3. The Raging Loop flowchart part (minor spoilers, primarily for the early routes, and implied 999 spoilers)

raging loop is a really interesting blend of flowchart and looping to me, because, just like 999, every time you die you are actually starting at the beginning. however, because of the way the game sets up haruaki (the protagonist), and because of the way the actual looping mechanic works, letting you skip forward past sections you've already seen makes PERFECT sense. there are cases where haruaki just straight up goes "yeah I did the same shit here a few times to get this to work" and it makes PERFECT sense bc hes not even like "WOAH a time loop," he just immediately accepts the mechanics of his situation and spares recounting it over and over.

this works even better when you throw revelation mode into the mix, for a ton of huge spoiler reasons that i won't actually talk about here, but rloop really is the perfect blend of 999 vs vlr style time bullshit, and it works PERFECTLY for the type of story its trying to tell. it takes into account that the type of person playing this game probably already HAS played a ton of vns with a time loop mechanic, and so it gave itself a flowchart and a protag that is set up fantastically for this kind of setup.

4. The 13 Sentinels part which you REALLY SHOULD NOT READ IF YOU HAVENT PLAYED IT

this is a spoiler buffer this is a spoiler buffer lalalalallalalalaala

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okay if youre reading this I sure hope you have played 13 sentinels because otherwise im going to spoil you. please play it or watch an LP if you dont have a ps4, if you need content warnings I can give them to you, I'm begging you for the love of god play this game if you like vns at all

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comparing 13s to any of these other things feels weird, because it uses its flowchart system in a completely different way. unlike the others w the looping mechanics, a ton of the branches on each character ARE different days entirely. not always, of course, but its more used as a way to help the player keep track of information they've already learned, rather than as a way to introduce a sense of non-continuity into things. this works perfectly fine for 13s because Flashbacks Real And Happen Often

this probably comes from the fact that 13s was at one point going to have a FUCKTON of endings, like 12 for each character, so it did originally use the flowchart for a branching-narrative purpose, but then had to repurpose it entirely. it did actually arrive from the usual idea of a choice system that is typical for many visual novels/adventure games, but it ends up using it in an entirely different way for budgetary limitations

(this next part is in rot13, because while those were fairly minor things, this stuff is MAJOR major. just. please I must reiterate PLAY THIS GAAAAAME. if you have plug this next part into a rot13 translator and you'll be good)

vg vf rkgerzryl shaal ubj, hayvxr gur bgure gjb tnzrf ba guvf yvfg, gurer vf nofbyhgryl ab gvzr ohyyfuvg ng NYY. abg rira ybbcf ner ernyyl gvzr erfrggvat.

gur erny sybjpuneg bs guvf tnzr vf whfg gur tenqhny puebabybtvpny cvrpvat gbtrgure bs rirelguvat, ohg vg VF hygvzngryl n yvarne fgbel rira vs rkcrevrapvat vg va n yvarne jnl jbhyq pbzcyrgryl ehva vg. fb, va gur raq, vgf sybjpuneg orvat onfvpnyyl puebabybtvpny sbe rirel punenpgre, rkprcgvat synfuonpxf, NYFB cresrpgyl freirf vgf fgbel. gur cynlre whfg unf ab jnl bs xabjvat gung hagvy arneyl gur raq.

[dahniwitchoflight]

Homesquared Chapter 4

I cheated and some of my chapter 4 thoughts leaked into the chapter 3 post lol

Mostly about the pretty obvious Garden of Eden metaphor Dirk is for some reason setting up for himself and Rose as Adam and Eve

and I was about to say which begs the question of what the heck role Terezi is supposed to play as but then it’s very obviously as the Snake in the Garden

Terezi is very much just barely holding back some irritation towards how Dirk is treating Rose, but she’s also very intelligent and is aware of How much Dirk sees/knows and controls about their situation, so she’s probably leveraging her powers over Mind as much as possible in order to stay hidden in plain sight from Dirk’s narrative

and she does so in a way that is one of Dirk’s only blindspots - How Mind and other people have an effect in the determination of the Soul/Heart

By acting in a manner and doing things in a way that aligns with his expectations of her, he assumes and pigeonholes her into a type of character and bases his predictions of her behaviors off of that archtype, never expecting her to act outside it, and when he sees her actions and thoughts and desires all align within it, never questions that it might one day change or was different all along. Dirk’s never really been good at reading other people, can’t see without the lens of “how would I do it” blinding him to things he would never think to do, a trap that he keeps falling into with his friends and one he’s probably trying to overcome by becoming Ultimate God Person/combining all perspectives into his own and uncovering blindspots like that

But right now Mind is the darkest thing in is corner still and I think he sort of knows that as well

Terezi walks the crazy wiggled line boundary between their two Souls that defines who each of them is, as expertly as a person on a tightrope, never wavering until she reaches her destination, at which point she’ll leap off of that line and leave Dirk scrambling to try and calculate her next move/who exactly is she/what her goals are, since’s it won’t be following the clearly defined Heart boundary he’s used to drawing his plans by, so she’ll have to choose the perfect moment in order to entice Eve of the Apple of Revelation once more, heck, she might even do that so sneakily that she gets Adam to take a bite as well, since as soon as Rose bites it she’ll have an ally with her against Dirk.

For God created the Serpent originally as well, so thus why did he not imagine it’s betrayal and prevent it before it could have happened? Or else why did he create something he knew was going to betray? Eden was a paradise, so why intentionally create Evil in that paradise?

If Eve corrupted Adam and the Snake corrupted Eve, Who exactly corrupted the first Serpent? That’s something that the bible never goes into really, at least in Genesis, except to say that the Snake was punished for it’s action to forever crawl the earth eating the dust of man’s heel, punishing all snakes, as Adam and Eve’s punishment punished all humans

(Later I think the bible would try to say that the Snake was the Devil all along, but then why punish the Snake and all it’s progeny for it? If it was the Devil’s doing that undid Adam and Eve then why punish them for the Devil’s actions they would have no way of guarding against or now way of knowing it was a lie? Was it not God’s failure? The Walls of the Garden of Eden were supposed to protect his perfect creation afterall)

Gotta say though I really Rose’s design

I would call her Evil Rose, but she things she does she does in ignorance, not really out of evil, it would be like calling Eve evil for listening to the Snake when she was purposefully blinded to it’s intentions by her creation by God.

Once again we get this idea of Knowledge and Choice affecting eachother, Well I say again but really I’ve been watching RWBY a lot lately and the idea that you can’t make a real choice without real knowledge comes up a lot in it’s mythos and it is really applicable here

Terezi’s design as well is incorporating a lot more Red, she really dug those red shoes aesthetic but gave it her own twist, she’s got a red tie, her ever present red cane and glasses and even in that shot of her her horns look more red and solid as well, even though i know it’s just the lighting

So really digging the whole Terezi is the Apple/Snake in the Garden metaphor, she has also been having that tendency to just snack on random plants, intentionally for her own or Dirk’s unaware benefit or not, it’ll make it that much easier to her actions of later betrayal to be seen as “in character and therefore expected and not dangerous” instead of pre-meditated and actually dangerous, to him

And then they start waxing about their various philosophical babble, Dirk seems really determined to also use this to try and figure out that whole problem of how other’s affect the self, he’s trying at least, I think, in his own way. But not for a good reason, not so that he can have a real understanding of that, but because he wants to use it to guard his own self even further

He’s maybe not using Rose here as an equal player, but more like a wall to bounce his own ideas off of and test them, like using a neural learning AI to test ideas or an actual literal wall in a game of table tennis.

Heh, I got a chuckle out of the fact that Dirk’s answer to the Ship of Theseus problem is “why does we even have to remove and replace parts of it, why not keep the original pristine and eternal?”

because it’s funny how avoidant of the problem that answer is, man he really really is uncomfortable with the idea of changing the self in any way

“He's avoiding the question again. It's amazing how one can technically have the maximum amount of metaphysical personal awareness possible, and still not notice these sorts of things. “

SAYS LITERALLY YOU but honestly this is just more fuel to the idea that maybe he can make a genuine connection and understanding with a person if he can recognize how he and her are the same

“It's stuff like this that makes me wonder sometimes whether there's anything about myself that I'm missing. Then I throw that wonder in the garbage can and turn the incinerate setting on.”

but nah he’s still firmly denying that possibility, he’s almost actually equating his trauma of self erosion with the idea that making friends and understanding others changes the self in subtle ways as well

He can’t even stand the thought of his own close friends influencing him to be different in small subtle ways or adjusting his behavior for others because that STILL counts as a change of self that he didn’t authorize or choose. 

Also can’t help but by be reminded of my wacky little fan made Gamma session I made forever ago by them using the name Delta-Detritus and basically be like alright, what if we do SBURB again but BETTER/worse this time?? Which is essentially the thread that most Homestuck fix it fanfiction tends to go towards

Though I am curious now

We got A/Alpha for Alternia which is based of off “Alternate” introducing the trolls as an alternate race to Human Earth

B/Beta for Beforus which is based of off “Before” introducing the planet of trolls that came before the first group

And then Earth C, now, there isn’t a letter C, the third in the greek alphabet is actually Γγ Gamma, (and the fourth is  ΔδDelta)

So I wonder what “name” Earth C really has?

It feels like it should either start with C OR with GA, as Alternia starts with the AL of Alpha, Beforus starts with the BE of Beta and same with Deltritus and Delta

As as “Another for Earth” Gaia isn’t a terrible option all things considered, now you just have to make it sound like a word which describes it’s use to the narrative

It’s is a very split place, having the two timelimes Meat and Candy associated with it, as well it does feel extremely mercurial in nature, being a sort of crosswords between Homestuck and Homesquared proper, and really exists in a place between stories, an ephemeral epilogue of sorts

really a merger of Gaia and Gemini feels the most appropriate here, like Gamini, also the word mini stands out in there as well, knowing that this Planet is sort of on a lesser status compared to the other three since it’s not going to be the birthplace of a session, also has the word Game in it

But then people will wonder why it doesn’t begin with a C since it still is called Earth C so *shrug*  

Honestly C K and G sounds are all very similar in the tongue, so maybe it’s both Camini and Gamini at the same time OH FUCK CA AND GA, ONE HAS CALLIOPE ONE HAS GAMZEE? SHIT IM ONTO SOMETHING (no im not)

I like Camini now better, it comes from a place of Gamma/Gamzee/Game/Gemini but ends up being more about the twinned Ca’s that were used to, Caliborn and Calliope and fits with the establish Earth C theme

So there you go, Earth C’s actual planet name should be Camini 

which also works because: 

Camini

home stove/furnace

smelting/foundry furnace, forge

vent (underground fires)

according to the latin language this word also has multiple meanings and many Irons in the Fire, I think the fandom will appreciate the name haha

Yeah both races are definitely going to both be playing one game of SBURB, despite what Dirk is intending, the pic does make it really clear

There’s something to say how Dirk seems to be represented by Purple and Rose by Orange in this here and then how all of the cave is a backdrop of that same purple.

Look at even the controllers on the machine having purple and orange knobs, even being solely on Dirk’s side of the image

I guess Dirk intends himself to be the force behind Derse, since that’s the force that always “wins” and Rose fitting in her place as the ultimate loser (since of course Dirk will want to win his own game) but also to be like Skaia the force of Prospit

So Dirk intends to be a whisperer like a horrorterror, choosing to manifest his influence that way, while Rose will give visions to her race like Skaia?

makes sense honestly

but again even with the themes of duality, the theme of the trio is bright and center in that piece of ultimately technology, the third influence hidden unseen in the furthest corner behind the curtain of snakelike tubes and wires that Dirk will not expect to interfere, or even have the capability to interfere, Terezi

heck it’s even in the buttons next to the controls being colored red blue and green

there’s so much duality in homestick with destructive red and creative green but then there’s also always been that mercurial breathy blue as the third

God, tell me that doesn’t look like a baby proto horrorterror

I can hear it raging it’s revenge against it’s cruel human creators even as I type

No wonder they become associated with destruction, they know theyre the pawns of two heartless cruel god children playing at life like it was a game

Rose you MUST KNOW how bad this is, it’s not a theoretical discussion anymore, that things exists and is alive and has feelings and you did it to that

and that thing is technically a Dirk too

Is this how Dirk get’s his revelation? Or downfall? As his Heart is unwittingly invaded by the horrified cacophanous screams of his grotesque tortured progeny crying out for his blood?

His end unintentionally ending up as the thing he feared most? Inner self destruction caused by his own sharp and bloody splinters turned and pointed inward, tearing himself apart with the pieces of his own Soul? Caused by his own Hubris?

I will say typing that all out is pretty good

I’m just sad the same will probably happen to Rose too though ): Maybe she’ll make careful more humane species? Something that has the potential to exist and be happy as it’s own creature while Dirk just creates monstrosities forever in conflict with Rose’s race?

They’ll each be the master of their own eventually destinies I suppose but Homestuck seems to have a good track record so far of the Ultimate Female Creator being out to protect the happiness of the children that exist in her creation while the Ultimate Male God just ends up destroying everything in his

[kpurereactions]

Hey, sweetie! If you have time can I ask for Seventeen reaction when they would during an argument accidentally curse at their s/o for the first time and making them cry? If not it's still okay! Thank you so much for your time and hard work! I really cant stop reading your posts❤

He had been distant lately. It was obviously stress causing the distance but you couldn't help that he was taking it out on you. It wasn't fair. This was the fourth time he was supposed to meet you for dinner, and the fourth time you were left looking like an idiot at a cooling grill. You had enough. You never would ask him to choose between you and his career, but he could at least throw you a bone. If he knew he wasn't going to show up why would he tell you he would and then go home to eat with his members? If he was so tired why couldn't he sleep at your place? His manager knew about you and supported the relationship so its not like he would be going out of his way. 

You were slightly drunk on your walk home. The first hand embarrassment of the owner telling you that maybe next time he’ll show was enough reason to drink just enough. It was cold out, and as you buried your face deeper into your scarf your drunkin mind told you to call him. And keep calling until he picked up. 

When he finally answered on the... 3rd, you were counting on your fingers, he sounded annoyed. As if missing dinner again was your fault.  “Where were you?” You asked strongly.  “Are you drunk?” “Where were you.” You asked again.  “Look I got hung up I’m sorry i didn't call.” H said, breathing heavily through his nostrils.  “Ah, well thank god your sorry for standing me up once again. Are you serious?” You rose your voice.  “Look, y/n, I’m sorry but the world doesn't revolve around you. I cant just stop what I’m doing to run to your beck and call.” He said, his voice matching yours.  “And what exactly was it you were doing? Going to dinner with your members?” You said, noting the background commotion. “And so what if I am.” You stopped in your tracks. Across the street you saw him. Sitting between two of the members, beer and empty plates scattering the table. He didn't even have the audacity to excuse himself. Your silence caused him to check his screen to see if you were still there before sighing deeply and brining it back to his ear. He was about to say something else, but just as his mouth opened he saw you standing across the street. 

You watched as he placed the phone on the table and brought his elbows up to pinch the bridge of his nose. You were shocked. All the empty plates meant they were there for a long time. Probably much longer than you were down the street. And he was so close. You watched as he hung the phone up and grabbed his coat, telling those around him he would be right back before hurrying towards the door, all eyes now spotting you. 

You began to walk, suddenly not wanting to speak to him but you knew he would catch up. You heard him call your name over and over 

If he doesn't stop he still loves me. If he gives up, he’s stopped. You thought to yourself. 

A hand caught your elbow and you staggered back, your cheeks bright red from the cold and your eyes already threatening to spill. 

“Where are you going, why did you walk away.” He said. His eyes seemed sorry. 

“You were busy. I didn't want to bother you.” You snapped, trying to walk away again only to be caught by his arm. 

“Look, Y/n, I’m sorry, I really am.” He tried, still holding onto you so you couldn't walk away. 

“So sorry you ate an entire meal while I waited for you, thanks for the consideration.” You tried to walk away again already knowing his hand would stop you

“You know how the guys are.”

“No! I don’t! Do you want to know why? Because you never have me around. You keep me hidden. You make us meet in secret places. Hell, they probably don’t even know I exist! Im not asking to be the center of your world I never asked that. But leading me on. Standing me up. How dare you. Its obvious you don’t care at all about me. And your proving you never did.”

“Fuck you.” He spit. Your eyes widened, but he continued. “Fuck you if you don’t think I care. Fuck you for not understanding what it is I do. Fuck you for making such a big deal about something you should expect from dating someone like me.”

“Someone like you? I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE.” You said, the tears that had been threatening since before finally rolling over your waterline. You thought for a second about saying something else, but everything you needed to say was said and he wasn't listening. So you jerked your arm out of his grasp, stumbling a bit, and turned your back. 

Seungcheol:

His hands would reach for his hair. Tears in his own eyes everything he did wrong seemed to catch up with him at once. He’d turn away from you before turning back to see you had already left. He didn't want to actually loose you.  “Fuck” He’d say under his breath, instantly breaking into a jog to catch you. He wouldn't say anything, Just wrap his arms around your body as his collided with yours. You were crying, and hard by the way he felt your shoulders shake. He buried his face in your hair and just held you for as long as you let him.  “You better say something right now Seungcheol.” You threatened. He could feel your body tensing, ready to break out of his grip. With his hands moving to your shoulders he turned you to face him. He watched as your eyes softened and you hand reached up to wipe a way what he realized was his own tear. His heart broke when your hand stopped and retracted. He caught it softly, bringing it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand softly before sniffling.  “Im so sorry.” It was all he could think to say, but he could see in your eyes that you understood this time it was different. 

Jeonghan:

He was so angry and if you wanted to act like, so be it. He watched you walk, your steps stumbling as you tried to exit as quickly as possible. He didn't want to follow you. He didn't want to deal with your nagging anymore. But something told him he should. He stood there and watched your figure grow smaller with distance before breaking into a sprint. He didn't know what he would say when he got there but he needed to get there. Hed run as fast as he could, the sounds of his name being called from behind him from his manager caused you to turn and before he knew it he was wrapping you in a hug. Hed just hold you. He didn't even care that you were holding back back from him, he just needed you to know he was sorry. Hed hold you for what seemed like forever before softly whispering “im sorry.” and finally relaxing when your arms moved around him.

Joshua:

He would just leave, blaming you for ruining his night. It wouldn't be until he returned home and he had a moment to really reflect on what had happened did he realize he was truly the one in the wrong. Hed tried texting you. He tried calling and with the lack of response he began to worry that he let you get hurt by watching you walk away drunk. He didn't care what time it was. He shuffled into his managers room while putting on his coat “I need to go to Y/n”  Seeing what had happened he agreed, getting up stiffly before taking him to the car. Josh ran into your building and up to your apartment, only stopping to stand impatiently in the elevator. Hed enter your apartment without knocking and wouldn't breath until he saw you standing in his shirt, the only light being from your fridge as you poured yourself water. He wasnt going to hold back any longer, and without a word took just a few long strides to pull you into a deep, im so sorry kiss. 

Jun:

You wouldn't get too far. before you could even turn your back he had you back in his grasp, realizing instantly how terrible and untrue his words were. Hed quickly take them back. Explaining to you that he knew he was being unfair. He didn't know why but you were just an easy target for him to let out all his pent up frustration on and he quickly realized how much he hated himself for doing that to you. Hed gently brush your tears away, and after his apology he would pull you into his chest tightly, holding you as the sobs took over your whole body. He wouldn't try to apologize anymore. There was no reason to. He was wrong and he needed to make up for it. 

Hoshi:

He was trying so hard to convince himself that he was right. He had to be. He wasn't a bad person and he didn't purposefully ever hurt people. But the longer he stared at the pavement the quicker he realized he was wrong. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes, ready to face you again, but you were gone. A figure in the distance. You must really want nothing to do with him. He hung his head and sighed. He blew it. Returning back to the table he sat quietly while everyone else finished, happy no one asked him why he suddenly left. as the days to follow came he grew more and more distracted. He couldnt focus on anything else but you and it was effecting his work. He eventually was pulled aside and told to just go see you, so he listened. 

Seeing you as you opened the door brought tears to his eyes. He was full of regret and had no words to express the way he had been treating you. So when you opened the door more and pulled him inside and into a hug hed melt into you, asking for your forgiveness. 

Wonwoo:

He didn't know why, but as the words were coming out of his mouth he felt like you would stand there and take it, which would give him a chance to fix it. His face would fall as he realized your tears weren't ones of anger, but of a broken heart and he’d retreat. He had no idea how to fix it. He’d stand there as you walked away lost in thought. For the first time he really thought about what it was he wanted from you. What he wanted out of your relationship and what made him ask you to be his in the first place.  He realized just how much you actually had done for him, and how much all he did was really only ever complain to you. You gave him advice. You helped him remain calm in situations where he felt like his head would explode. 

He’d be so lost. He wouldn't know what to do to fix the situation, or even if he could, so he’d wait. He’d wait days, constantly checking his phone in false hope that every ding would be you. But it never was. He was too embarrassed to call you. You were right and admitting he was wrong to your face was something he struggled to figure out what to do. You would move on. You would find someone else and being with Wonwoo would just be a distant memory, but to him you would be something he thought about every day.

Woozi:

He wasn't done. The moment you started to walk away he’d force you to stop. But upon grabbing your hand to spin you around he saw something he thought he’d never see. You crying. All anger would flood out of him as he lifted a hand to brush your hair back slightly, pouting when you avoided his hand. His head would hang, and the next time the two of you made eye contact you could see something switched. “Let me walk you home.” He said, taking your hand in his.  HIs mind would be full of what to say but nothing would come out. He would take you home, Making sure you had plenty of water and were in warm comfy clothes before he left. Still, without saying anything. You wouldn't hear from him in a few days. But you didn't feel angry at all, only sadness. Then one day, you'd be listening to a local radio. The mc would announce a song from an artist you didn't recognize at first, a song called im sorry, and your fingers would be calling Woozi before you really even had time to think about what it was you were doing. 

Dokeyom:

His hand would come up to squeeze the bridge of his nose as you began to walk away. He wasn't done talking to you, but seeing as he just exploded he figured the best thing to do was let the both of you cool off. The next day, as soon as he knew you would be away he’d send you a text, asking to come over to talk. You don’t know why you said yes, your roommate told you there was no reason to give him a second chance but you hit send and went back to what you were doing. He’d sit on the edge of your bed once he got there, his hands folded in his lap as you stood over. He’d explain himself, and explain himself well. He’d tell you he didn't mean to snap at you, and that you were right about him neglecting you. He would explain his fears. He was scared of loosing you, so before you could walk away he pushed you towards that. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much then. He avoided all eye contact with you while he talked, afraid that if he looked at you he would burst into tears on the spot. He was shocked, to say the least when you stepped between his legs and wrapped your arms around your head, but he didn't hold back for one second and quickly wrapped his arms around you.

Mingyu:

Hed see one tear roll as you turned away and turned away himself. He wasnt ready- nor did he want to leave you. But knowing that he had pushed you into tears was too much for him to handle. Hed walk back to the restaurant, knowing that everyone saw him scream at you and hung his head. He sat there receiving criticism, the boys telling him that you were right and he was being an asshole for the way he walked away from you. The Woozi said something that clouded his head.  “Were you embarrassed of her? Is that why you walked away?” The answer was no. There was no part of you he was embarrassed of. When Hoshi suggested he went and found you he was out of his seat before Hoshi had even finished speaking. 

He ran through the rout you would have taken to get back to your apartment frantically, poking his head into different bars and convenient stores just in case. Until he saw you leaving a store with a bag, your head still hung low. He wouldnt say anything, just run up and wrap his arms around you, burying his nose against your neck. “Im sorry. Im so sorry, seriously.”

Minghao:

Hed watch you walk away, his eyes moving to look at the dark sky before stomping his foot. “Y/n, wait.” hed call, taking a deep breath when you stopped. Hed wait for you to turn around, making sure that you really did want to still talk to him. When you did hed walk up and pull one of his hands from his pocket to take yours. Hed lead you to the side of the sidewalk where there was a ledge long enough for you to sit on and hed kneel in front of you. Hed watch your eyes as you tried your hardest to hold back the tears that were flowing freely. 

Hed explain himself more calmly this time, chuckling when he finished because he realized just how truly idiotic his reason sounded. Hed apologize again, asking you to let him at least walk you home, telling you once he knew you were safe and warm you could make the decision to call him the next day or not. But he would be waiting for that phone call. 

Seungkwan:

His hand would immediately cover his mouth. He sounded foreign, even to himself. He didn't mean any of the words that came out of his mouth so why he said them he had no idea. Hed catch you before you could get to far and beg for you to let him try again. Hed have no shame, there was no room for it when he just said the worst thing he could possibly think of saying to someone he loved. Hed force you to stop walking by wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. Hed continue his apology, not even caring if you accepted anymore. He just wanted you to know how sorry he was. Hed stand there with you in his arms for as long as you let him, and even when you pulled away he kept a hand on you to make sure you couldn't run away. He’d know you wouldnt be able to forgive him right away, becasue he wouldnt be able to forgive himself, but he would spend the time after working harder than ever to make it up to you. 

Vernon:

Hed stand there watching you walk away until your figure disappeared into the darkness, the image of you crying burnt into the backs of his eyelids. Hed just stand there, and keep standing there until someone came out to get him, telling him it was time to do. Hed take one last glance, maybe hoping you would be walking back but would sigh when he realized you weren't, and probably never will. Hed try his hardest to pretend like nothing was wrong, but your absence in his life was weighing heavy on his shoulders. Hed think he was doing the right thing by staying away, but the sudden incline in his attitude had the other members worried about it. They would eventually be able to convince him to just call you. Hearing your voice when you finally picked up would make him sniffle, and all he could say was he missed you. 

Dino:

He did not get what it was he did wrong, Even after you stormed away hed rack his brain to try to figure out why exactly you were so mad. The moment he got back to his apartment he would sit there and complain, telling two of the members what had happened and why you were so mad. Once the initial shock of finding out about you wore off, Jeonghan would hit him up against the head and lay out exactly what it was he did wrong. Hearing it from him finally would make it sink in, and his head would fall into his hands.  “Do you still want to be with her?” Hed ask, looking at Dino in a way where not answering wasnt an option. When he finally nodded his head Jeonghan and Wonwoo would help Dino try to find the perfect way to get you to forgive him. 

Kitty

[mikeshanlon]

okay since i’m delusional and gay and love to overanalyze shit let’s talk abt reddie in the reunion clip!

okay so i’ll just start off with the most pepe_silva.jpeg point which is. it’s very inch resting that stanley’s empty seat is between richie and eddie. now, first and foremost, the seat is obviously a symbol for stan being absent and i love it (even tho im emo) bc it’s such a simple but effective way to convey it before the big Reveal at the end. Like theres obviously this empty space that you’re drawn to look at, it’s in the center of the frame. but as the scene continues and your pulled back into the easy dynamic of the losers, you sort of forget about it until ben’s asks where stanley is. And then you’re pulled in again until the fortune cookie bit. I think it’s a simple way to reflect the loser’s memory loss and really delivers the Blow of ‘it guesses stanley didn’t make the cut’ as the emotion ebbs and flows throughout the scene. Also im sure it just made it easier film, be able to see everyone, etc.

However, i do think it’s interesting that stanley’s space is between richie and eddie specifically. Bc what if they subconciously (or purposefully) put that space between them as a buffer. Like if stanley does show up there’s something between them that makes it all easier. We see that bev and ben reunite and sort of have this flashback of their first meeting, and become overwhelmed with emotion, so who knows what richie and eddie are remembering? We know they were close as kids. Maybe Eddie is remembering how he felt abt richie, and wow that’s not allowed to happen!!!! He’s ‘Straight’ he’s married!!!! He can’t let himself think about that shit. And maybe all the emotions between them are just too hard to deal with anyways. So, they put that space between themselves so maybe they won’t interact as much.

Of course, they do, they keep talking, and they reach over the table and Intricate rituals it up, and it’s like things are clicking back into place— all these memories, their banter, etc. But there are moments where this defensive (and jealous) edge come through. Going back to the marriage thing like. Oh god oh fuck...... Very Inch resting to include only those two talking abt the prospect of being married and their reactions. Eddie immediately goes on the defensive abt his marriage to Myra bc well, he knows deep down that it’s loveless and toxic and he’s mf gay and it’s all so performative so he feels the need to double down. And richie makes a joke abt eddie being gay and he kinda Snaps. And also says the word bro???? Which as @benflorian pointed out feels so ooc and it’s all very performative Comp Het like ‘let me establish im straight even tho i wore like rainbow booty shorts the whole summer when we were kids’ xnxnxn. We also see that defensive edge from Richie when he yells fuck you back.... it’s supposed to be joking but there’s that edge, that feeling that it’s a bit of an out of place reponse (richie is jealous that eddie is married) (and also like drunk).

And then richie says he’s married and eddie’s like Wh E n Wh aT ?1!1?1??1?? He seems Very Invested all of the sudden. Of course richie’s joking and says he married eddie’s mom, again that sort of familiar banter from the first movie, but i also wonder if it’s sort of a jab at eddie’s marriage— that it’s a joke, and that eddie like. Literally married someone exactly like his own mother.

Still we get those easy going moments, them smiling, richie saying he’s relieved to be here with all of them and looking in eddie’s direction, etc, etc. anyways everyone say thank you andy muschietti for enabling us to be delusional!!!

[decorativedust]

HNK chapter 80 thoughts + analysis

I’ve been marinating on this chapter for a few days, and I have some things in mind for it that I’d like to talk about. 

This is just my take on things, and how I’ve interpreted them: mostly phos, aechmea, cairngorm, a tad bit of dia, and my thoughts on the fate of the series. 

Warning for: talk of suicide, spoilers. 

so I have a few very specific things I want to cover: Phos, Aechmea, Cairngorm, Dia, and the fate of the series. 

We’ll start with Phos. 

Personally, one of the biggest draws and attachments for hnk was phos’s transition from a sweet, naive gem to a depressed, anxious, horrifically warped individual. There’s not a lot of series out there where you can actually see a character become changed so drastically in such an intricate manner. I find character development, as a whole, to be extremely interesting. 

Phos’s transition has been building up for the entire series. They kept growing stronger, learned more- but continued to fail over and over again. They tried to make an encyclopedia, and failed. They tried to find a job for shinsa, and failed. They tried to help bring Ventricosus home and got betrayed and lost their legs. They tried to save antarc, and failed. Ghost was abducted trying to save them. They lost nearly all of their body. They couldn’t bring back the ground up gems. Their night raid was a failure and might’ve killed padpa. 

They’ve had a few triumphs- becoming stronger (although I’m ultimately not sure how much good this led to), giving the gems on the moon potentially happier lives (?), and help uncover more of the truth of their world. The gem abductions have seemed to stop entirely. And cinnabar seems to have finally reintegrated back into gem society through their efforts. 

Ultimately though, phos’s life has become full of constant efforts sustained on hope and bravery that almost always end in failure. At the end of the day, how could you not snap? How could you not become a self-doubting, depressed mess? In a world where everyone has given up on you in your efforts to stop the cycle of suffering, how could you not become the despair-filled person that Phos now is? 

I hope they get a satisfying ending. Phos has been fucked over from the beginning. They’re far from perfect, but I believe the things that ultimately drive them are kindness and a desire to end this cycle of pain for everyone- and I think that’s important to keep in mind. 

Now let’s go to Aechmea. 

This man really is an absolute lying bastard, huh? 

There’s no doubt about it- Aechmea straight up lied to EVERYONE about the fate of the other two societies (admirabilis and gems). Honestly, I’m not even sure the lunarians knew about it. I don’t think they did- he genuinely ran lunarian society on the operation that the gems and admirabilis would be around after they disappeared. 

Aechmea gives no indication that the fact that adamant will pray away all remnants of humanity is new information. It serves in Aechmea’s favor that he doesn’t tell anyone, either. While there’s certainly a few gems who likely don’t mind this fate (yellow), i imagine the bulk of admirabilis and gems wouldn’t desire such a fate. And how would the lunarians feel, if they found out the gems and the admirabilis would go with them, especially now that gems and admirabilis have all been on the moon for at least several hundred years at this point? 

Aechmea didn’t care if they took all the gem dust on the moon and tried to reform the gems. Aechmea didn’t harm any of the gems on the moon. He stopped abducting gems. He listened to their demands. Because ultimately, it didn’t matter! None of it mattered, because they’d all die alongside the lunarians anyways! 

I suppose I can find sympathy in their reasons for wanting to cross over to the nothingness. But at the cost of two entire other species? At the cost of killing so many other living things who likely don’t want to die- who don’t even know the fate they’re getting? Is there really nothing else that can be done? You got any lunarian therapy up there? 

Its a hard thing to discuss. Obviously I’ll never know the feeling of being given the ability to live for eternity. Could they have not chosen to build some sort of positive relationship with the admirabilis and the gems, rather than terrorize and use both of them for their own purposes? 

It feels so selfish. I suppose that’s not surprising, given how selfishness is just part of being human- or the personality and essence of humanity, at least. While selflessness is good, we all need a little selfishness sometimes. We need to take time to ourselves and do things for our own goods, rather than contribute ourselves 100% to others and completely burn ourselves out. It seems lunarians (or at least Aechmea) have selfishness in spades, to the point of being utterly apathetic to the fate of gems and admirabilis. 

Now onto Cairngorm. 

They look terrified and horrified the entire chapter. 

Cairngorm is certainly no stranger to the concept of death. They had suicidal thoughts during phos’s first 200 year coma (right after they’d lost their head), they brushed by death when their outer shell (Ghost) was ripped away from their body. They’ve outwardly expressed before how they want to go with Aechmea into the nothingness, and yet- here they are. Not excited, not happy, not anything near positive. 

There’s a giant difference between saying “i will die with you/i want to die” and actually, genuinely embracing death. Its so easy to say something, but so much harder to actually do it, and I think this is when cairngorm is actually, fully realizing this. 

I don’t know whether or not they’re suicidal anymore, but I imagine not. This is probably the happiest they have been in their entire life. Imagine finally overcoming the desire to die, to find a place that makes you so happy - and then to realize that you’re about to lose it all and become nothing. 

If there was ever a time for cairngorm to go against aechmea, its now. If we ever have a moment where cairngorm realizes aechmea lied to them, where cairngorm is finally going to become their own person without being under the rule and command of anyone else, it is now. 

Personally, I’m hoping they’ll somehow attempt to interfere and try and stop Phos, but I’ll cover this more when I talk about the fate of the series. 

Now onto Dia! This is probably the most lighthearted part of the whole chapter. 

They’ve finally shined under their own light. 

This is going back waaaaaaay far into the manga (like chapter 3), but we’re finally seeing some sort of resolution to Dia’s desire to become good at their own thing, without always being second best to Bort. 

I feel like Dia and Phos, at this point, had very similar feelings. Both felt insignificant and useless as a result of not being as good as a fighter as their societal expectations hold them to- leading to feelings of self doubt, and the desire to become better. 

A lot of people have called Dia selfish, for wanting to go somewhere where there is no Bort. Perhaps, a little bit. However, I don’t think Bort was purposefully trying to ‘show off’ and show how much better than Dia they are. They seemed to just be doing it out of the desire to protect Dia. But ultimately, Dia still felt very second-best to them, despite the fact that Dia should’ve been one of the best themselves. Yet their partnership was suffocating for Dia, constantly under the shadow of Bort. It just simply wasn’t healthy. 

But now Dia has found a thing where they’re able to shine under their own light- an idol!!! They seem really happy doing it. They have a whole crowd of adoring fans, too. (blows a kiss to the moon) this is for u dia u fuckin get em 

Finally, onto the last point: The fate of houseki no kuni. 

This really feels like we’re so close to the end, doesn’t it? But how close to that end are we?  As most of us are aware, chapter 80 is just the first chapter in volume 10. So, I find it very hard to believe that Phos is going to be successful in this particular attempt to get sensei to pray. A maximum of 21 minutes is certainly not enough time to tie up all the loose plotlines. What happened to Yellow? To Padpa? How are the earth gems? What about all the stuff that was happening between Cinnabar and Phos? What about the professor? etc etc im probably missing a few things, but you get my point. 

Personally, I think there’s either going to be a gem that wanders out and sees phos going apeshit, and manages to stop them. Or, we’re going to get interference from Cairngorm. Right now Cairngorm seems the most likely candidate, despite the fact that they aren’t physically there. (Boy, if they do that though, I’m afraid to see how aechmea will react.) But I don’t really find it hard to believe that one of the earth gems will wander out, unable or unwilling to sleep. 

Phos, obviously, won’t stop. They haven’t stopped trying for hundreds of years, why would they stop now, unless somehow they also bypassed whatever was preventing sensei from telling them “hey, you’re gonna kill everyone so maybe chill out”. I find it unlikely Sensei would do anything, however. He’s seemed extremely passive towards the gems lately (the most violent he’s ever been towards them was when he yelled at original goshe and morganite and accidentally shattered phos in like.. chapter 1) and aechmea said it himself- he doesn’t seem to be resisting. 

Ending it here feels so.. messy. I like to have a little bit more faith in Ichikawa as a writer. I’ve decided to trust her because she’s written a lot of other things extremely well. Maybe I’ll be putting on my clown wig in a few chapters, but we’ll see. 

[minichedders]

st.valentines day massacre 0.1

mobster!bucky barnes x reader

February 14th, 1929.

Gang warfare rules the streets of Chicago, anyone who was anyone knew that if you even whispered the name Al Capone, it wouldn't be long before you were shot or deemed crazy. He was rising to the top of the mafia, he was gradually taking down his enemies, along with the probation, helping him to build his empire, he grew to be a ruthless king. The passage of the 18th Amendment in 1920 meant that all the mafia groups increased earnings through bootlegging, speakeasies, gambling and prostitution. Capone’s income raised well over $60 million a year, he was one of the richest and powerful men in America.

Since 1924, Chicago had been a lawless and violent place; it was called the ‘reign of Scarface’; he was ruthless and did anything and everything to get rid of his enemies and rivals, all except one. The Irish gangster George ‘Bugs’ Moran…

10:25 am.

Your heals clicked along the street, impractical for the cold weather you thought, though your long fur coat was keeping some warmth, under it your favourite green dress. Your dad had convinced you to go round to the Michaels for brunch, however, opposed you where, he practically shoved you out the door, Mr and Mrs Michaels where both pushovers who were pushing you and their introvert son to get married, and apparently your opinion doesn't matter.

10:30 am.

You head tilted back as you admired the white sky, hoping that small snowflakes would soon fall. You loved winter, as it gave you an excuse to stay inside by the fire, and not have to socialise with men and their mothers that boasted about them, or the snobbish wives that had foolishly agreed to marry only because of the money benefits. You believed you were the only person in the city, or world, who wanted to marry for love, not benefits. Before your thoughts could carry you away, a speeding car drove past, abruptly stopping outside an old looking warehouse; what confused you where the three men who exited in police uniforms, and another 5 that stepped out of another car in black suits. Your interest was picked and your walking slowed, you had not yet reached the warehouse, but you could already hear muffled shouts, and a few seconds later, gunshots.

You stood still, mouth agape, even though you shouldn't be so shocked, crime was basically unstoppable in this city. But never would you think that you would have to encounter something so closely. As you where regaining your breath, a man from across the road, someone you had not seen get out the vehicle, even though he was leaning against the bonnet, started walking towards you and calling for you. You froze, not knowing what to do; there was no point in running, not in these heels, plus, he has already seen your face, and knows that you had just seen their faces. Oh, you were so screwed.

“Ma'am?” He called again, his deep voice digging into your skin, making goosebumps crawl along your arms, shivering as they formed. Your head turned back towards him, seeing his face close up, almost losing your breath again; he was beautiful, dark hair, chiselled face, and a tall lean body which looked perfect in that pinstripe suit. If you were in any other situation with the man you would've jumped to joy, finding the perfect Valentines to the day.

Your ears began ringing, buzzing at the sheer closeness of the attractive man, and for a split second you felt as if the rest of the world blurred around him; that was until multiple gun firing in the etching warehouse tore your body limb from limb, panic coursing through your veins like a drug.

“Um, yes?” You said, trying to act as innocent and normal as you could muster, you couldn't die, you couldn't leave your father, not like this. You noticed his gaze drop down your figure, which was noticeably shaking, whether it was from the coldness of winter or the terror that currently ran through your body and soul you were not sure; he looked back into your eyes, the blueness of his reminding of when your father took you to the ocean when you were younger, they almost filled you with warmth, until you heard more calling and shouting.

“Buck! C’mon!” One of the men exiting from the warehouse shouted, making the man in front of you turn his head back, giving them a wave of his hand.

“I’m sorry about this miss, but you are going to have to come with me,” He said, taking a hold of your forearm, gently tugging you to the car; you were too cold and shocked to fight back, and the fear of not knowing what he might do scared you more. Stupidly, you let him push you into the passenger seat, and when he ran round to the driver seat, the three men shoved in the back began clapping, you already felt sick but their whistling and dirty comments made your stomach twist; until than man called Buck told them to shut up, which made you feel less queasy, only just.

11:22 am.

After driving in silence and tension, you arrived at a large house in the forest; the abundance of cars and bikes at the door already told you that this was obviously the mafia house, which only heightened your fear, all the worst possible scenarios where running through your head. You knew that they weren't going to kill you, not yet at least, they wouldn't have bothered to bring you to the house if they were, they were probably going to use you, which terrified you more than a bullet between your eyes.

As the men poured out of the car, you stayed still. The idea of moving seemed almost impossible as you just stared at the big blue house, envisioning all the dirty old men that lived in there, and the possibility of young girls being held unwillingly. A tear started to sting your cheeks as you let out a sob, not noticing the door beside you opening and Buck wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up and carrying you in the house, purposefully avoiding all the busy rooms and corridors. You were still in your dress and coat, which was now slightly damp from the frost and the tears that had fallen on the front, and you could feel your heels slightly slipping off the tips of your feet, although you were now too tired to adjust them. Buck turned into a room, large and messy, and placed you on the bed, slipping the shoes from your feet and neatly placing them on the floor. You both stayed in silence, apart from every so often when your sobs would unwillingly break past your dry lips.

The sight of any women crying made Bucky's heart twinge, but growing up in a ruthless world and business, he knew that if you wanted anything, you took it with no hesitation. And Bucky wanted you from the first moment he laid eyes on you.

"Why am I here, please, I won't tell anyone," You said in between broken cries, bringing your knees to your chest, curling yourself as small as possible; trying to remain an unwilling victim, too scared to look into the man's eyes in case you might slip into a lustful teenager.

"Because you are a witness, how am I supposed to trust a woman that walks the streets of Californa by herself. You are obviously reckless," Bucky replied in a rather harsh tone. He was lying. He just wanted you, to hold and protect forever; he knew he was foolish, how was she ever supposed to love her captor? Bucky sighed deeply, sitting beside her figure, watching as she winced at the gentle touch of his cold fingertips against her back, even with the layers of clothes on, you could still feel the jolt his touch sent to your body. you weren't supposed to react like this. But the longer he kept drawing small patterns on your back, the warmer you felt towards him, relaxing only slightly as the tears stopped flowing down your face. You understood why. 

"How long are you going to keep me here?" You asked, hesitantly, scared of his answer as he took minutes to reply, his fingers now still.

"Until I can trust you," He replied.

"Please, Please, I need to be with my father, he's ill, he can’t live without me," You said, lying. Your father wasn't exactly ill, he was just old, but you were true when saying he relied on you for everything.

"I'll have someone look after him don't you worry princess," Shivers. There it was. The wrong reaction to being nicknamed by a member of an infamous Mafia. You watched his dark, muscular figure rise, walking out the room, leaving with a distinct click, clearly locking the door. You ran around the room, checking the windows, all locked. No weapons, unless you smashed his head with a lamp. But anyway, you knew there was really not any kind of escape. You were in a house full of Mafia members, ruthless and dirty ones at that. You hated to admit it but this room was probably the safest place for a couple of miles. As well as that, if you did manage to escape, you know Bucky would probably go through the ends of the earth just to find you again, and possibly kill you.

Happy Valentine's day to me.

[girlbossblackbeard]

oh ho ho i must have won some kinda contest i didn’t know i was a part of because the amount of harrassment i had to deal with tonight was ASTRONOMICAL. let’s go through some of the highlights shall we:

1) right off the bat one of the first customers i dealt with told me they had a large group of about 18 that wanted to go through the attraction all together (for context i work as a ticket taker at a local haunt during the halloween season where i take tickets and use a heavy duty hole puncher on them to mark that they’ve gone through the attraction). i ask him to get everybody to put their tickets in one pile, all facing the same direction so i can hole punch them all at once. as they’re gathering all the tickets together (which is taking a while because yall have 18 fucking people who want to go through an attraction that usually only groups of 8-12 go on), one of the dumbass old men at the back of the group asks why im collecting the tickets or something and says “what is she supposed to be, some kinda lazy ghost?” which i just ignored because he’s not worth my time but in almost the same second the idiot man at the front of the group sees me lining up the tickets into my hole punch and he goes “do you need me to handle that for you?” I guess as if im some delicate flower that can’t hole punch a god damn ticket??? that group was so stupid and later tried to pull that “you guys are lazy” bullshit with the other ticket taker who happened to be a cop

2) a dude and his girlfriend (!) were talking about which trail to walk down and i told them the only trail they can go down is the one to the right, to which this dude tells me “oh gotcha because i saw the two holes (he’s talking about the entrances to the trail) and i was tryna figure out which hole to go into. because i like both holes” and he started laughing for 5 minutes about this joke before i was finally able to give my speech on the rules of the trail and send him away

3) this one is less direct harassment but it was arguably the most personally harmful interaction, like it had me fucked up for a while before i was able to shake it off. basically i let a small group of people go on the trail that didn’t have tickets because i was told to do so by the managers of the haunt. i stopped the group behind them to take their tickets and while i stopped them one of the girls starts complaining about the group that got to go on the trail without tickets (they didn’t get to cut in line or get any other kind of special treatment, mind you). i explained to them that it was a call made by the higher ups and these ignorant fucks, in the year of our good lord and savior jesu christo in 20 motherfuckin 18, literally, actually started saying “Yooo that’s so gay. That’s so gay what the fuck.” and they just kept repeating it but every time they said it i could just feel myself shutting down more and more. this job is technically a customer service job since i interact directly with patrons so i couldn’t tell them to fuck off and leave the compound because their ignorance has no place here without facing repercussions. i had to just walk away and try to ignore them for the rest of the night but i don’t think i’ll ever forget the feeling of hurt that washed over me when i heard them weaponize being gay, like i’ve gone so long without hearing anyone use that word in that way that it just really caught me off guard.

4) later another dude and his girlfriend (?) were trailing a bit behind after i finished my speech and sent his group on their way down the trail and while im looking down at my phone to get the timing correct on sending groups down he goes “hey baby. hey baby. baby, [insert something about going on the trail here that i purposefully ignored while i continued to stare at my phone and pretend not to hear him]” and the ignoring thing worked until he goes “hey baby. look at me.” to which i then look up and go “what.” and he goes “baby imma need you to walk down this trail with me now, im too scared to go alone baby, you gonna have to hold my hand (his friend or partner or whatever was literally right next to him as he’s saying this)” and that’s when my patience wore thin and i looked him straight in the eye as i told him “No. You can leave now.” and his friend or whatever just laughed as they walked away and FINALLY went on the god damn trail they should’ve already been walking on 2 minutes ago.

5) of course things couldn’t get better and the night had to end with the shittiest interaction of all in terms of blatant harassment and fragile male egos: a group of three dusty ass dudes come through my line about 20 minutes before we close. i walk up to them to take their tickets and one of them goes “how you doin tonight?” with a weird smirk that im guessing was supposed to be suave but just made him look like he had gas pains or something. already knowing where this conversation was heading, i tried to nip it in the bud and just say “im fine.” and start to move towards the people behind them. same dude then asks “what’s your name?” and since i obviously don’t want anything to do with this guy i give him a fake name and say it’s marie, to which he then goes “Mary?” and I say “Yep you got it”. as im walking away he then goes “you got insta?” and i tell him “nope, i don’t have insta” and he goes “so you not gonna give me your insta??” and i say “nope i don’t have one” (i do) and finally start taking the tickets from the people behind them, which is a man and a woman couple. the woman tells me quietly “You handled that very well” and as I’m telling her i appreciate it and i’ve been dealing with that kind of stuff all night the douchebag starts saying “i don’t like you anyway. i don’t like you” which i just completely ignore because at this point i was so unbelievably done with everything. as soon as those groups were sent on the trail my coworkers and a few former coworkers who were standing nearby (also dudes) all came up to me and started saying like “im so sorry you had to deal with that” and “are you okay??” and other stuff along those lines which was really sweet but the fact that they all felt the need to come up to me, even the former workers who don’t know me well, to see if i was okay should be a testament to just how gross those three guys were being.

and keep in mind these are only the highlights that were awful enough for me to remember by the time the night was over, there were so many microaggressions that i just started blocking them out on autopilot by the time i was an hour into my shift. i will say that im grateful for the support my male coworkers showed me throughout the night any time i told them of yet another awful thing i had to listen to. they even checked in on me every so often to make sure i was doing okay. i’ve had to deal with shitty comments like those above in small doses throughout the season and i was able to shake those off easily because they were spread out but tonight it just seems like every disgusting, rude asshole decided to come out of the woodwork and descend upon my place of work. thank fucking god there’s only two days left of this job, i need about 47 naps and a memory wipe.

[sunnybimbo]

at this point i should really just post my entire wip but im holding off as long as i can until i fuckin finish it asjdhasjldhasjld

have more of my shunkeith old west(esque) au because i was feelin soft for it 

Then, completing the cycle, Lance wanders in last. At the end of the week, he hands Hunk another bag of horse feed, kicks his legs up on a desk, and says, "Hunk." and nothing further.

When Hunk glances at him past a stack of books and gets nothing in reply, he playfully rolls his eyes and, in the exact same tone, responds, "Lance."

They have that standoff which is really nothing more than Lance glaring at Hunk's back for nearly five minutes, until Lance gets exasperated and throws his hands up in the air. "You never listen!"

"You didn't say anything!" Hunk shoots back.

Lance opens his mouth to retort, probably with a quip about Hunk's (seemingly) nonexistent love life, when he is interrupted with a very familiar, very polite knock on the doorframe.

Hunk turns with his usual spiel of 'Welcome, how may I help you this fine day' ready on his lips, but it's chased away in the wind and gobbled up by his heart as it leaps into his throat.

Keith stands at the doorway, an absolute surprise mostly because it isn't night, but partly because of the delicate bundle of flowers in his gloved hand. There are maybe five or six stems topped with thick layers of silken petals, each a different shade of color than the last all the way around. If there was ever need of proof that rainbows can be caught, those flowers are all he'd need.

He's dressed to the nines, or atleast as close as Keith can get. His hair is brushed high up in a loose ponytail, off of his neck that's revealed by his collared shirt. His trousers are leather- a stark contrast to the comfortable wool he usually wore (despite the weather), and his boots shined bright.

When he steps in, his face is flushed, but he looks Hunk right in the eye as he offers him the bouquet with a soft, "Here."

Hunk startles, dropping a book or two right on his foot as he hurries to slide them on a table. When Lance snickers in the background, Keith grows even redder, but Hunk hurries to shush him. "These are mine?"

"For you." Keith confirms. The tips of his fingers are rough as they rub against Hunk's, but Hunk's aren't any better so it isn't much of an issue in his book.

Ha, book.

He brings the flowers to his nose. They hardly have a scent- probably just for show more than anything- but there's an earthy tinge just in the background, muted like when Hunk can hear a party going through the night down the street while he studies his books.

"Thank you, Keith." Hunk breathes, fingering the soft tops against his palm. "These are awful lovely."

Keith grunts his acknowledgement, eyes darting to the ever-nosy Lance. Didn't Lance know that was Hunk's job?

"Pardon me for a moment?"

On his way to grab a vase, Hunk bodily grips Lance by his skinny little arm and tugs him to the back. He knows his eyes must be wide and he must look embarrassed, because Lance doesn't immediately tease him and instead placatingly lifts both his hands and pretends to be busy studying an ancient map on the wall that Hunk keeps forgetting to switch out.

Hunk takes the interlude to calm his heart, which is near starting a fire against his ribcage.

"You know, I think I hear Pidgeon calling for me." Lance says, after a few minutes. His grin is wolfish, gleeful at the thought of finally having palpable dirt to gossip about Hunk instead of the other way around. "I'll come back tomorrow."

Lance is out of the office before Hunk can think of something to say, a true testament to how flustered he is, and Keith is soon taking his place not one minute after.

"Your friend said you were about to collapse." Keith says, no small amount of worry evident in his voice. "You want I should go get someone?"

He nervously hovers in the doorway, not unlike a hummingbird hovers over honeysuckle, and it fills Hunk with the most adoring feeling, straight in his gut. It warms him all the way down to his toes and it, for some strange reason, makes him feel like the prettiest person in the country.

"I'm fine. Just a little... surprised. I suppose. Wasn't expectin' this from you."

Keith frowns. His expression darkens a tad, and Hunk's known him just long enough to realize it's disappointment that swirls in his irises. "I can leave, if you'd like. Didn't mean no discomfort."

"No discomfort caused." Hunk rubs his sweaty palms on his trousers and stands up straighter. "I appreciate them an immense amount, actually. Thank you."

Keith hovers again, and if he were able to he'd probably be buzzing louder than a wasp in a half-destroyed nest. He steps forward- not exactly in Hunk's space, and holds his hand out to gather Hunk's, pressing a kiss against the back of his palm.

It pulls a soft giggle from Hunk, half because Keith's glove tickles his skin but mostly because of how this feels like a fairytale. Keith flushes in response, pretty and pink, and he soon after leaves with a gentle incline of his head and a soft grunt as he mounts his horse.

---

Sometime when the heat lifts to something more bearable, signifying the beginning of autumn's kiss upon the earth, Shiro comes to visit him. It's a slow day- a Sunday, which was always slow- and Shiro seems to know this because he fits his fingers between Hunk's, pressing their palms together, and asks him to spend the day together.

Hunk doesn't know how he lets these cowboys startle him so much just with their words, but the offer does nonetheless. He sets down the duster he was using to clear the podiums here and there, scratching at the stubble he'd meant to shave off that morning. "Now?"

"If that's alright with you." Shiro affirms. His eyes, grey like the stars, sparkle in the morning light, playfully if Hunk squints. "I've hardly spent a moment with you, even when you help me with my letters."

"I'd've thought you'd be gettin' tired of me by now." Hunk laughs, shyly. "I don't have anything planned today. Wouldn't mind spendin' the day with you a bit."

They don't head anywhere special, really. Shiro admits that he hadn't planned this far ahead in his mind, something so uncharacteristic of him that Hunk is oddly flattered.

So, with no prior commitments needing his attention, Hunk leads Shiro to a small pasture off to the north. It was the lowest point in the entire valley, always dewy as if the sun never reached deep enough to make the water turn to mist, and cows rarely wandered up far enough to leave any cowpies.

Perfect for lazing about, in Hunk's book. 

He'd thought ahead enough to bring a gingham blanket for them to sit on, but he bemoans not having thought to bring lunch. "We coulda had a full-on picnic!"

Shiro sits beside Hunk, the latter flopping to the ground like a boneless babe. He watches him for a soft moment, long eyelashes glittering in the light. Hunk didn't know he'd ever be enamored by eyelashes, but here he is.

"I'll give you more warning next time." Shiro hums, legs crossing. "If you'd like."

Butterflies dance over their heads, brilliant orange as if they'd been painted by fairies with the deepest vat of gold paints. It doesn't distract Hunk, per se, but the colors catch his eye enough that he misses the longing look Shiro offers him in the moment.

He mulls over the words, obviously teasing, and Shiro bashfully brushes a few blades of grass from their shared space.

Shiro takes the brief respite to get comfortable, unstrapping his holster to toss it out of the way. A gust of wind sends a shiver through his bones, and he hurries to pull the scarf from his neck to instead cover his nose- which was reddening from the cool.

"I'd like that, Shirogane." Hunk says, eventually. His fingers crawl across the blanket, purposefully looking off into the distance. A last means of defense, in case of sudden rejection.

Shiro's hand covers his, not quite bigger than Hunk's own but marginally more confident as he slides himself closer until they're hip to hip.

They sit out there for longer than they probably should have- enough that the sun disappears behind the highest mountain and bathes them in shadows even though it's closer to noon than it is midnight- doing nothing more than talk.

After it all, Hunk doesn't even remember what they say, but he remembers intensely the way his heart swelled and his cheeks ached with how much he smiled.

[meanderfall]

I haven't seen many people talk about it, but Temple was right, the Reds & Blues *do* treat Caboose with kid gloves. They see him as stupid and sometimes annoying, but ultimately harmless and sweet and childlike (most of the fans do too, as did the last two writers). Alpha was really the only person who ever treated him like an adult (he still found him annoying, but tbh I think a lot of that was just bluster), who acknowledged that he was capable and *dangerous*. Maybe Tex did too, but [1/3]

[2/3] they didn't have many on screen interactions.And at first Wash did, but after Alpha died no one did. Which I think wasactually on purpose in regards to Epsilon? Because even though Epsilonacknowledges Caboose's strength at the end of Season 10, he still treatsCaboose like the others do. Whereas Alpha was *always* aware of how destructiveCaboose could and would be, to the point where he'd hide behind him in diceysituations because he didn't want to get caught in Caboose's crossfire.

[3/3] I also thinkit's a little interesting that Temple was supposed to analogous to Alpha(although how tf did the Director know that Alpha would be enough like Templeto make the stalemate work again? Also the stalemate only really worked in thefirst place because Temple and Biff were friends so?? But I digress!), and hadalso been the only one since Alpha died to acknowledge that Caboose was anadult, and even though he was cruel about it he still treated Caboose like hedid everyone else.

Hello, Anon! It was so nice to see this in my inbox omg, and I’m sorry this took so long, life has been hectic and stressful! Not to mention, I wanted to take the time to ponder about this, and lol I’m definitely going to be rambling a lot woops.

You’re absolutely right, anon. We, the fans, and the writers and even the BGC tend to baby Caboose a lot. Mostly, at least in my case, because he tends to exude innocence and naivety and you just wanna protect him as much as possible from the real world. But just because he does seem innocent and naive, it doesn’t mean he’s a kid. Alpha was probably the one who treated him the most as an equal, though that’s probably mostly because he’s an asshole to everyone. (Though maybe not?? Remember that RVB 360 video with Church doing the Dad Knee to Junior and talking to him?? Maybe he does know the difference between how to treat a kid and an adult. Won’t stop him from complaining about the kid around said kid though lol.)

I’m not going to lie, anon, these asks gave me some kind of existential crisis as I tried to figure out what exactly is the difference between a kid and an adult, besides ages, and how we’re supposed to treat them, (because it seemed like part the argument that you were implying about how Caboose is an adult and doesn’t need to be treated like a child was that he’s dangerous, and that didn’t sit well with me tbh so here I am over-analyzing a simple ask yet again lmao im sorry if i was wrong or misinterpreted).

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the difference has do with cognitive development. Kids’ thought processes are pretty simple, and this is especially clear from their idea of morality. I’ve heard my younger siblings exclaim so many times that something was unfair, and y’know sometimes they were right, but other times they weren’t taking into consideration other circumstances that made it so the situation was fair. Not to mention, that they’re selfish, through no fault of their own. So far, in their minds, they can’t really manage to consider other people’s point of view, and unless they’re taught differently and actually make the effort, that won’t change. And that’s where the difference between how adults are supposed to treat kids and other adults comes in. Adults, esp their guardians, are supposed to help them grow. They are there to encourage more complex thought processes and and help them walk through the logic if necessary. And they are there to offer advice bc adults have so much more life experience then kids do.

Caboose isn’t really like a kid at all. A lot of people might mistake the things he says as him being simple-minded but really, he just sees things differently from others and processes it differently. And that of course, seems weird and probably child-like to the others because by now they’re so used to how ‘normal’ adult minds work. And like, there are so many examples of posts on this site of adults or teenagers being surprised or caught off-guard by something a kid said or did, so I guess when the BGC encountered Caboose and had that happen to them, they kind of went Caboose = child.

Not to mention, Caboose is easily one of the most caring and empathetic characters on the show??? He loves his friends so much, esp Church, and would do anything for them. (Good examples of Caboose having complex thought processes and empathy: his speech to Tucker in s12 about how he shouldn’t be mad at Church, that episode of s14 ‘Caboose’s Guide to Making Friends’ or whatever it was called, s8 in general when he kept wanting to help Epsilon esp the end of s8. ‘But they’ll die!’ he says. He is completely aware of the possible consequences of what’s happening. He isn’t dumb.)

Anyway, back to the rest of the asks! About them treating Caboose with kid’s gloves.... I waffle between saying you’re absolutely right and going “Weeeellll....”. Because Temple says that right before he reveals that Church really is truly dead and Tucker is trying to stop him from saying it. And you’re right. Caboose shouldn’t have that hidden from him. He’s fully capable of hearing the truth and starting to process the grief. But the thing is, isn’t that what he was already doing in the beginning of s15? Before Temple sent them that corrupted message and gave him hope again? (Not to mention, in the grand scheme of things it probably isn’t that weird to thing Church could’ve honestly come back, he’s died and come back so many times.) And, as a friend, wouldn’t you want to do anything to protect your friend from getting hurt or from grief? Especially when the news is coming from your enemy? Of course Tucker wanted to stop Temple from revealing the truth like that. And it kind of happened in a tense moment. And Tucker hadn’t really been at his best emotionally all season (which believe me, I’m kind of displeased with :/    s15 Tucker is not my Tucker.) (The Blood Gulch Chronicles was probably the best in terms of Tucker treating Caboose like an equal. They definitely had sibling bond there, annoying each other and trying to get Dad’s Church’s attention XD)

I think Wash is pretty good about Caboose though. I still remember that s11 speech when he validated Caboose’s feelings of loss and asked for forgiveness for not being a better leader when he really needed him. I’d probably need to re-watch the seasons for myself in order to really confirm if they treat him like a child constantly that can’t comprehend what’s happening. It’s hard to tell for sure, because the writers kind of fuck that up from time to time, making Caboose seem dumber and the others reacting more harshly to it. Though where do we draw the line of them baby-ing him and caring for him? Like when Sarge let’s Caboose push the button in s3 and calls him a ‘litle rascal’ (i think?), is Sarge treating him like a kid there or just engaging in his enthusiasm? Or in s7 and s8 whenever they leave Caboose behind out of the fights, are they doing it to stop him from accidentally hurting others or because they genuinely think he’d be useless in the fight? Whenever they decide not to explain something to him, are they doing it because they think it’s a waste of time to explain something Caboose won’t understand anyway? (Personally, whenever Caboose misunderstands what someone explained to him, I think it has to do with a lack of concentration than just not being able to comprehend what they’re telling him. He probably has a tendency to drift. And he can concentrate when it’s important, so I think he’s okay) There are probably more examples, but I can’t think of more, I really do need to do a rewatch goddamn.

One last thing! About how Temple is analogous to Church and the stalemate. Correct me if I’m wrong (and I might seriously be, I watched s15 with friends, so I probably missed a good quarter of information), but isn’t the similarities between the two groups completely coincidental? Because Alpha wasn’t implanted and put into Blood Gulch until after Project Freelancer was destroyed, and Temple and the others were in an simulation outpost while Freelancer was still running, evidenced by Carolina and Tex showing up. And I don’t think it would be too hard for them to purposefully create a stalemate? The Counselor probably evaluated them and interviewed them, and learnt that Temple and Bif were friends, and just created the teams in such a way that they would either more or less take charge of their respective teams or be too lazy to fight, creating a stalemate between the two. Also I’m pretty sure Florida created the Blood Gulch teams on his own??? so it really is a coincidence. A freak-ish one for sure, and obviously kind of contrived because it was for plot, but it isn’t that bad.

Also, totally jumping off that one tiny thing you said about how Temple and Alpha were the ones to treat Caboose like an adult. First, I’m about 99% sure the reason why that’s the case if because they’re both huge assholes omg nothing will stop them from treating you like a dumbass. And, this is totally a more personal thought process that I’m just shoving at you, even though me and my friend spent most of our watch saying things like “Alpha would never do that!”, looking back on it, I think Alpha would. Keep in mind, Alpha was an AI created by Leonard Church. A man that when his wife died and he had been powerless to stop it, started torturing his own mind in the hope’s of one day creating an AI of his wife, and performing psychological experiments with the people under his command, who he is supposed to guide and train, and on his own daughter. If there had been a clear cause for what had happened, like in the case of Bif’s death, he probably would’ve gone absolutely insane in his quest for vengeance, like Temple did. And Alpha would’ve done the same, at least, probably before he had been tortured and fragmented. Afterwards, he didn’t really have much emotions or energy to bother with vengeance plots.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my inbox! I hope you enjoyed this read through lmao, though it’s probably filled with stuff you already know and understand! Also looking back on it, I realize I’m all over the place about whether the BGC treat Caboose like a kid woops. I might do a rewatch just for this lol.

[bumblegem]

The first time austin leans in slightly instead of asking for a kiss and it's mel who for a second is confused until he starts to explain he's trying her thing of body language and only gets part way through it before she kisses him. From then on good, but she just got so used to only expecting to be asked verbally from him it surprised her for a second there.

ok im combing the three asks in one 

yes!! im so proud of him dgjrh it actually might take a bit for her to get used to him using body language, still takes the slightest moment to register that hey this is what hes doing and i can respond to that

wavemaker9 said: Also earlier on into kisses being a thing, mel noticing that on bigger-than-a-quick-peck kisses, he very obviously doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Keeps shifting them from awkward position after awkward position on shoulders to hips to face to back. Her finally kind of helping him settle them to a good spot, here just leave them like this, there that’s better.

shes actually pretty good at guiding his hands, just lightly runs her hands down his arms and helps him place them where she’d like them or where its most comfortable before settling hers back on him. also like, between kisses, lets him know that it’ll come more naturally eventually, it doesnt need to be thought about or worried about so much. if she doesnt like where his hands are, she’ll adjust, she knows hes purposefully trying to make her uncomfortable so its doubtful there will be any real negative repercussions. also, again between kisses, sorta explains that like, putting his hands on her hips might send her a different signal than if would for him. her waist is a very good go-to place for his hands

wavemaker9 said to bumblegem: Also austin doing that jacket over her shoulders thing one of the times they’re walking together at night. Which is like. He reacts more negatively to the cold than she does most of the time, that’s become obvious over the years, but he also has sleeves on his dress shirt and like that’s what you’re supposed to do with your girlfriend, right? If it’s cold you give her your jacket. He’s seen enough media to know that’s a standard acceptable Boyfriend Move.

ok but that Working on mel. i wouldnt call any of her exes chivalrous or nearly as polite as austin is, even if he’s pulling from media, so like. no ones done that for her, even if it could be seen as kinda cheesy she like. loves the gesture. offers to link arms with him so he can still kinda leech off of her warmth as well