#S/tar Wars

[bloodraven55]

my relationship with star wars is very funny bc i’ve enjoyed pretty much everything else i’ve watched from this franchise more than the main movies which by this point i honestly couldn’t care less about

#like i don’t hate or even dislike all the films by any means in fact i do like some of them quite a lot #but they’re just by far the least interesting part of the franchise to me #s/tar wars

[wickedsniffles]

Trouble that I Always Find

Masterlist

Anonymous requested Ahsoka falling ill either on one of her missions or shortly after the Clone Wars, and a concerned Rex taking care of her! I got a ton of ideas for this prompt -- hope you enjoy! 😊 AND I’M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG 

Title is from this song, which has always given me the biggest Ahsoka vibes. 

Summary: They both know that Ahsoka’s been pushing herself too hard. Does that mean that Ahsoka will actually take the time she needs to rest? Nope. Does that mean that Rex is going to let her keep working through whatever illness she’s managed to pick up? Of course not. 

Set not long after the end of the Clone Wars -- Ahsoka is 19. In an AU where Rex and Ahsoka *don’t* immediately split up to go their separate ways across the galaxy. 

Pairing: Maybe a hint of Rexsoka, if you’re looking. Third Person Ahsoka Perspective. 

Rating: Teen

Tags: PTSD mention, post-Clone Wars, light whump, sickfic, Togruta biology, hunting for food, headache/migraine, working through illness, sneezing, buildups, congestion, caretaking, self-neglect, light angst, fluff, hint of feelings

Word Count: 5.3K

If Ahsoka never sees this miserable, soggy forest planet again, it'll be too soon.

Her growing sources across the Outer Rim have informed her of soldiers in white armor gathering at the edge of the mountains, far beyond the local villages. According to the hearsay, they’re stamped with the insignia of the new Empire, and Ahsoka’s intuition tells her that that can’t be anything but bad news.

She can’t do much on her own, but she has to see if there’s a way to help these clones. She’s still haunted by the day the 501st turned on her, on their own brother. If there’s any chance they can reverse it for more of them, they have to try.

The nightmares she wakes to are filled with Rex pointing his blaster to her head, repeating the same hollowed-out phrase. Good soldiers follow orders. He knows by now when she's had one. Ahsoka is sure he can hear her gasp awake, her arms thrown out to deflect a blast that never comes.

It's almost impossible to fall back asleep after that happens, even after he insists that she's safe. Sometimes the two of them sit through the night til morning together, simply taking comfort in the fact that they're still around to remember. Other nights see them begin to talk about the past, in broken bits and pieces -- any longer and the pain of it would be too much.

Rex has insisted on coming for this recon, too, but there’s no way he can go anywhere near this. They both know it’s risky for him to be seen, no matter how good of a disguise they can manage to scrounge up. That had sparked an argument -- him insisting he wouldn’t be seen at all, so it wouldn’t matter, and Ahsoka pushing back that they couldn’t take the risk. Period.

Ahsoka’s status as a former Padawan might mark her as valuable if she’s caught using the Force. But as far as a good portion of the galaxy knows, she’s just any other disgruntled young Togruta woman. Though if Rex is seen at all, it's game over. She won't let that happen. She knows it frustrates him -- staying with the ship or the camp, and only coming out under the cover of night.

She would rather do things the hard way than not have him around to worry about at all.

Wonder what Skyguy would say right now, she thinks, squinting down at her datapad. It’s an instinctual thought, though that doesn’t stop her stomachs from sinking with sadness. Anakin loved the rain. Scruffy little desert dork. He never seemed to mind getting wet. He’d shake his head like a shaggy bantha and laugh when the water landed all over them -- her and Master Obi-Wan.

Kriff, Master Obi-Wan always looked so mad! It would take everything she had to keep from dissolving into laughter at the look on his face, no matter what kind of situation they were stuck in. And then he'd try and insist that he wasn't angry, only irritated or disappointed. Right.

But it’s just her now. And that’s something she can’t think about, no matter how the feeling of it always lingers there, in the back of her mind.

He’d tell me to quit moping and get on with my mission, she relents, rubbing at a sore montral.

The edges of her cloak are soaked through with rain, as hard as she's tried to keep out of the downpour. The plainclothes she wears in exchange for her long-retired Jedi garb do little to dull the chill of the air, though they cover her from neck to ankle in an effort to disguise her as much as possible.

From her perch in this ancient tree, Ahsoka fights not to shiver, to call on the Force to keep her warm and centered. She has to concentrate on the task at hand. She’s here for a reason, she can’t afford to let her thoughts go fuzzy the way they want to. If only her head didn't ache. It’s cutting into her usual clear concentration, annoying more than anything.

She’s not even sure that the Empire is out here. Gangs have sprung up since the death of the Republic, doubling and even tripling in number with no reasonable law to keep the peace. Maybe that’s all it is, stirred to the point of hysteria with rumors and gossip. At the very least, Ahsoka knows that she’s been sitting stock-still in this tree for hours, watching the supposed meeting place for this group. Not even a stray animal has passed by in that direction.

Kriff it.

It’s getting late, and the suns will set if she stays up here another hour. If they’re operating at night, Ahsoka’s going to come back and watch for it tomorrow, when she has some energy. Right now her stomachs feel like they’re beginning to eat themselves. Her body is sore from sitting so long in one place, and she’s eager to inch down, to stretch and move and hunt.

Casting one last listen around the perimeter, Ahsoka makes sure that she’s alone before opening her comm. It’s a good thing that the tech is waterproof.

“Hey,” she says softly. No name greeting, no code word. This channel connects to Rex and only Rex. If anyone but him were to answer, they’d have to destroy the encryption, starting all over to create a new form of secret comm link.

He picks up almost immediately, the crackling feedback of the comm making her flinch. “Hey. Any luck?”

Ahsoka sighs, watching a little flit-wren sail past her. “Not at all. If they’re here, they’re either working by night, or not in the location the villagers said they would be.”

Rex hmms his own disappointment, hesitating before speaking again. “You coming back, then?”

“Give me a minute. I’m starving.”

And not for crumbly kriffing ration bars. Even the ones that are supposed to be meat-flavored aren’t. The artificial taste coats the roof of her mouth for hours after she eats one, waxy and unappealing. Every time she peels the wrapper, she’s taken back to the mess hall of Anakin’s Star Destroyer, faced with an apologetic serving droid. Rations are low, it would beep out. Rations were often low. She doesn’t give a damn if the things are packed with a day’s worth of essential nutrients. Right now, she’s in a forest, and she’s going to get food.

It’d felt so peculiar that first time, to give into the hunting instincts always bubbling so close to the surface. Slinking low into a prowl, cornering an ash-rabbit on Andelm IV, she’d felt like an idiot. Though every breath it took echoed loud in the hollows of her lekku, its every slamming heartbeat multiplied by the thousands with her ultra-sensitive hearing. The longer she concentrated, the calmer she felt -- like she was meant to do this.

She’d locked her eyes onto the quivering black creature, her bare feet moving in the grass, soundless. This was the way of the Togruta -- to be close to the land. To feel the very pulse of it in the soles of your foot. The ash-rabbit was unaware of her until she was practically on top of it, her body tense before the pounce. Its one startled squeak before going limp between the sharp curve of her canines was its only tell.

And she had felt sorry for them in the beginning, despite it all. Despite all the war and death already sitting on her young shoulders, the first fade of life from their eyes -- from the Force -- still punched her in the gut. As she’d carefully skinned the animal, the words of old Master Eeth Koth came back to her. We cannot control the way we are born, he’d told her once. Only how we choose to carry ourselves. Be proud of who you are, Padawan, both Togruta and Jedi.

She feels much better about what she’s doing after that. For every successful hunt Ahsoka makes afterward, for herself and for Rex, she takes a small moment to thank the animal for giving them the nourishment they need to push forward in their journey through the galaxy. Her confidence soon grows, as well.

Now, though, she’s not sure she’ll be able to make the flawless kill she’s used to.

Ahsoka works her way down from her perch in the tree, wincing as every motion jostles her full-feeling head and montrals. She wants to go faster, to avoid the potential of being seen in a vulnerable position, but there’s no way she can move at normal speed without stumbling over with dizziness. Even if she can’t sense anyone around her, her survival instincts tell her not to waste any time. So the compromise is a nauseating but manageable pace, until there’s ground beneath her feet at last.

Even when she’s level, it takes a second for Ahsoka to stop seeing doubles of the trees and bushes. It’s been hours now since she’s moved more than to ease the ache of sitting in one spot, and the adjustment isn’t kind. She has to close her eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring bacta to at least numb the headache. Nothing to do about it now. At least when she’s done with this, she tells herself, she can get back to the camp with Rex and settle down for the day.

Concentrate. Listen.

If she wants to get to camp, then she’d better hurry and find something to sink her fangs into. Straightening her back, Ahsoka slowly tilts her head, letting the sounds of the forest reach her lekku. There are tiny mice scurrying under the leaves, hurrying to reach their burrows to get out of the damp. Overhead, the rustle of wings as birds cut through the rain, going back to nests or doing their own hunting. Not much of a meal, even between just the two of them.

But wait -- there. The tentative step of hooves over damp soil is a giveaway. As Ahsoka zeroes in on the sound, she can see the outline of a squat, dull green body making its way through the trees. As she holds her breath, three more emerge, moving in a pack. They’re several yards away, with their short snouts pressed to the ground as they graze.

Bingo.

Ahsoka drops her supplies at the base of the tree, moving in a low crouch toward the family of creatures. In this instance, she’s glad for the ongoing drizzle; it’ll mute her scent, and the lack of breeze is a bonus, too. She moves from tree to tree, her feet never making a sound. Ahsoka keeps her eyes on the creatures the whole time, excited at the prospect of bringing one back. They’re about as tall as her knee, stocky with short knobbly legs. Her mouth is watering at the idea of living off of real meat for a whole week, maybe even two --

A twig snaps beneath her foot, and the entire group looks up in alarm. Ahsoka freezes, becoming a statue. She can feel her pulse pounding in her head, a dull blow every time, as she tries to keep still. Blend in. Blend in. In her plain garments, she shouldn’t stand out to them. No doubt they have less-than-ideal eyesight, only alerted to motion and scent. Sound. So if she’s stock-still and quiet –

Her nose itches. Ahsoka ignores it, keeping her gaze focused on the herd. One by one, they lower their heads, turning their attention back to the ground. Good. She’ll take the smaller one then, the adolescent still sticking close to its parents. It’ll have a false sense of confidence once she closes in for the kill, something that will quickly fade one her fangs sink into its throat. Ahsoka will be sure to make it painless.

Sinking into a crouch, she eases forward, squinting a little. The hunger tearing at her stomach is impossible to ignore now, she needs to make this kill. But the itch in her nose is growing, too, frustrating beyond belief, making her eyes water. To Ahsoka’s immense annoyance, she’s going to sneeze, forced to stifle the harsh sound into the back of her palm. The gasping buildup is followed by an abrupt squeak, no louder than a mouse. Her cheeks flame with embarrassment, though only the grazing creatures are around to hear.

Her attempt at silence still isn’t quiet enough. They’ve heard her, spooked again, still anxious from her first slip-up and not content to stay in one place any longer.

Beyond angry at herself, Ahsoka decides to lunge in at the herd. Kriff this. She’s desperate, she feels like shit, she wants something to show for all the effort she’s gone through today. They scatter in all directions, lowing out their aggravated calls. Quicker than lightning, even off-balance and miserable, Ahsoka snares the smallest by its back leg. It shrieks in protest, writhing, knocking her to the ground.

The unexpected blow sends pain up her shoulder and side like a flash of light. With a strangled curse, Ahsoka grapples for its thick throat, tearing through flesh until she can feel – and sense – its life Force ebbing away. Breathing heavily, she gets to her feet, aware that she’s made a complete mess of herself. Sloppy, Anakin might’ve chastised. C’mon, Snips. You know better.

“Be quiet,” she mutters to no one, lifting the creature to carry back to camp. Now isn’t the time to be talking to ghosts.

—------

Rex blinks at her when she returns, doing a double take to hide his surprise at the state she’s in. Ahsoka knows she’s dirty, and must look as exhausted as she feels. Half of her outfit is covered in mud. Her lekku are still swollen and aching, hanging full and thick at the sides of her head, aggravating her migraine. It’s all she can do to trudge into their little camp and deposit her conquest at the fire, thankful that at least it’s stopped raining.

“Well,” he says finally. “That was more than a minute.” Then Rex is on his feet, still looking so strange in his ordinary clothes, inspecting what she’s brought back. “Impressive kill. Feed us for quite a while, I expect. How about I start on this while you get changed?”

This is what she values about Rex. He’s about as practical as they come, and not about to tease her when she’s already down. Since her day has already been long and disappointing, there’s nothing she wants more than to struggle out of her wet clothes and into something dry and clean. The fire looks welcoming, stoked with care at Rex’s hand. She knows that by the time she’s done changing it won’t be long before he’ll have enough of the creature ready for them to share.

“Sounds great,” she says through a thick sniffle, trying to pass it off with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

His response is casual enough, but Ahsoka can feel his eyes on her as she ducks into their little passenger ship. Suspicious. After knowing one another for so long, it’s hard to keep secrets. Surely he knows that she feels awful.

Closing the ship’s hatch behind her, Ahsoka sighs in the privacy of the ship, shedding her soaked garments. She redresses into some of Rex’s old blacks, comforted by the familiar material on her skin. There’s enough water left in the reservoir to splash her face clean and to rinse her arms, and she looks at her face in the small fresher mirror with a grimace. There are circles like bruises under her eyes. She looks like she’s taken a punch – and lost about three days of sleep. No wonder Rex is worried.

“Ugh…” she groans, leaning down to the med cabinet.

With any luck, some bacta smeared on her forehead and montrals will help to numb this god-awful headache. But to her disappointment, there’s only one tube left. A small, paranoid part of her doesn’t want to waste bacta on something like a headache when she doesn’t know when they’re picking up supplies again. Images of Rex injured flash in her mind, his blood slipping beneath her fingers – all because she’d wasted the bacta.

Biting her lip, she slides the drawer shut again. She can manage.

As she'd predicted, Rex is spearing portions of the animal over the fire to roast by the time she returns, and the smell is mouth-watering. He hands her the first one finished, and she sinks her teeth into it gratefully, groaning as another sharp hunger pain lances her through. Ahsoka doesn’t even care that she’s burning her mouth; it’s so good she was so hungry oh my goooooood.

Rex is watching her with an expression stuck somewhere between amusement and concern as she finishes in messy bites and gulps, tearing strips of meat from the skewer and licking her fingers clean.

“Was that…good?” he asks, suppressing a smile.

“Mmfyeah,” says Ahsoka, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. A little voice in the back of her mind that sounds suspiciously like Obi-Wan admonishes her for eating in such an uncivilized way, but she tries to ignore it. "Starving."

"Pushing yourself too hard," Rex comments. He keeps his tone light.

Ahsoka does her best not to pout. Because according to everyone she's ever spent an extended amount of time with, she does pout. It's not as if she has a choice, does she? Neither of them do. All there's left to do is push, and push, struggling through day after day. Even when she was a Padawan, during the war. At least then, she knew there was a whole legion of Jedi out there that would protect her. The clones, too, taking her under their arms. Her ori’vode.

Now all they have is each other. They can't afford to relax.

"You look awful," he continues, digging in with flat honesty. "Don't tell me you don't feel awful, Commander."

At least he'd delivered the truth with her old title, now only a nickname. Ahsoka frowns, still refusing to answer. Stubborn. Caught somewhere between confessing just how right he is – she wants to lie down and cry – and holding her ground, to prove him wrong. Because some part of her always has to be the brave one. The Padawan who endures everything. Anakin's protege, soaring past all the others. To excel you need to have ambition along with talent and luck. And some part of her doesn't know when to give up.

"Fine," she says at last, the word hardly distinguishable through her stuffy nose. It seems to echo through her lekku, her whole head feeling stuffed. She drops her face to her hands, deflating. "I feel awful, okay? Is that what you wanted?"

Rex's face changes at once, his brows furrowing in soft concern.

"What –? No, of course I – 'course I don't want that."

He gets up from his seat on the fire, careful not to overturn the empty storage crate he'd been perched upon. Rex crouches beside her, narrowing his eyes, placing his outstretched hand to her montrals. Ahsoka winces at the touch, shutting her eyes even though he's being very, very gentle. His fingers feel nice on her skin after a moment, cool.

"Hey," Rex prompts quietly. "You feel so bad, why didn't you use some of the bacta?"

She heaves a sigh, chewing at her lip now. "S'the last tube and I didn't want – you know."

He nods. "I get it."

Relief blooms in her chest. That irrational fear refuses to leave, the sight of him hurt with no way for her to help. Ahsoka curses herself for never learning how to Force heal much more than a scraped knee, knowing she'd be no help if his life was in danger anyway. Too panicked. Too afraid. She really would've been a lousy Jedi.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna let you be miserable, though."

"What?" She sniffs.

"Sit tight," Rex says, getting to his feet. "Don't eat all our rations while I'm gone," he adds with a teasing grin. "Gonna find you something to help."

"You can't!"

Ahsoka shoots to her feet in protest, immediately seeing double and then triple of their camp around her. Rex lurches forward to steady her, his hands supporting her shoulder and side, always there when she needs. She curses this weakness, this temporary need for his extra support. Why can't she just go back to being healthy? Why did her body decide to slow her down? She's so frustrated.

"You can't," she repeats, gingerly settling back on her own crate. "If someone recognizes you, Rex, you know we're done."

"Then no one will," he says simply.

As if it’s that easy. Knowing she can’t change his mind, all Ahsoka can do is sit there and watch him go. She couldn’t stop him if she tried, couldn’t win if it turned into a fight. Not in the shape she’s in. Long after Rex disappears from sight, she reaches for him in the Force, clinging to that familiar mind, until that too is out of reach.

For a long while, she sits and watches the fire burning itself out. She, too, feels as if she’s purposefully exhausting herself by sitting upright, waiting for Rex to return. It would be better for her to lock herself inside the ship, safer. Still she can’t seem to peel herself away until the fire is nothing but embers, her headache pounding dully in every part of her skull.

Trembling and exhausted, Ahsoka trudges to her feet. It takes her no time at all to fall asleep once she hits her cot, surrendering to a dreamless and heavy slumber.

—---------

When she comes to, Ahsoka instantly knows that something is wrong. The tiny window above her area in the ship is filled with sunlight, instead of shaded with the colors of early dawn.

Oh my god. Rex never came back.

Ahsoka stumbles to her feet, still weighed down by her sinuses. If Rex had come back, she would’ve heard him open the hatch of the ship, felt his footsteps echoing across the durasteel. Instead she’s spent hours here undisturbed, and that can’t be a good sign. She’s truly alone without him now. Cold dread starts in her chest, filling her heart like drowning waves, until –

Until she senses Rex outside, very much alive and well. Lowering the ship’s hatch with a curse, Ahsoka hurries to join him – and finds an odd sight. From the rucksack he carries with them on occasions where they have to travel afoot, Rex is pulling out handful after handful of long, dark green leaves, setting them in a pot of water over the rekindled fire.

“What the kriff are you doing?” Ahsoka says, testy.

Of course, she doesn’t manage to sound intimidating at all. Her voice doesn’t even sound like her own at this point. Rex straightens, setting his bag on the ground, and gives her what she knows is a pitying smile. Ahsoka loathes pity. Even standing here sicker than she even wants to acknowledge, she detests it.

“No bacta in the village,” Rex says by way of answer, poking the leaves further down into the water with a fork. “Least not that we could afford. Found these instead.”

Defeated, Ahsoka sinks onto a crate to watch him poke at…whatever it is he’s brought back. Her relief that Rex is even here to argue with outweighs her need to give him the third degree. Besides, she doesn’t think she has the energy to. All that matters is that he’d come back, like he’d promised, safe.

“And what are they?” she croaks.

Rex settles to sit across from her. “Natives called it pommwomm,” he says with a shrug. “Apparently the Togruta and Twi’lek travelers that pass through use it for a lot of ailments, and taught them how to use it, too.”

“Oh.”

She feels so tired and achy. It’s hard to concentrate on watching him stir the leaves in their little boiling pot; Ahsoka’s eyes keep slipping closed. She lets them, resting her chin in her palm, instead using the Force to pay attention to their surroundings. Stars, when was the last time she was this sick? She can’t remember. There wasn’t time for this in the midst of a war. Maybe, she thinks, this is her body’s way of catching up. Repaying her for all those years of never resting.

“‘Soka?”

Rex’s inquiry makes her blink back into awareness. It had been strange, at first, for him to call her anything but Commander. Now, though, she enjoys hearing her name in his voice.

“Got ‘em ready for you.”

There’s a faint menthol scent coming from the water between them. Later when Ahsoka tells Rex she can barely smell the stuff, he barks out a laugh – she must really be sick, he muses, because even he knows the smell is strong.

Fishing out a clump of boiled leaves, Rex offers it to her with an apologetic expression. “Here.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What do you want me to do?”

The faintest smile crosses his face. Amusement flickers in his life Force, as if he’s expecting her to have a negative – and entertaining – reaction. “Well, you’ve gotta – you chew ‘em. Then you spread the stuff on your lekku. Helps with colds?”

Oh. My. Stars. That’s disgusting.

“Reeeeex,” she whines. “That’s kriffing nastyyyyy.”

He clamps a hand to his mouth, but she can see his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I know,” he answers after a few moments trying to get a grip on himself. “Yeah s’not – ideal. But the people I talked to said it works great, and you – well. Ahsoka, you don’t look good. You really don’t.”

Ahsoka scowls, staring at the bowl of clumpy leaves as it cools down beside her. She knows she’s being a youngling about all this, but chewing weird plants and smearing the paste all over her head-tails is the last thing she wants to do. But if it’s the only choice she has, then so be it. Fishing one leaf out between two trembling fingers, she opens her mouth and begins to chew.

The consistency is terrible. Soft and soggy, making her hurry to shove down her gag reflex. But…the taste isn’t so bad. Sweet and minty on her tongue, spreading quickly up to her sinuses and into the hollows of her lekku. With only slight reluctance, Ahsoka fishes another leaf out, not looking forward to spitting it into a paste in front of Rex.

Conveniently, though, he seems to find himself distracted by a loose panel on the exterior of their ship. She smiles, watching him crouch down to get to work on it.

The leaf-paste is thick and sticky as she spreads it over her swollen lekku, though the sensation isn’t as unpleasant as she’d imagined. Mostly there’s relief as the cooling effects of the plant get to work on her fragile skin, and Ahsoka finds herself sighing at the welcome change. She can feel her airways clearing, the headache beginning to ebb. She’s so grateful to not be completely alone in the galaxy. To have Rex watching her back in times like this. (Or not watching her at all, in this case, giving her a little privacy for this less-than-normal course of treatment.)

Of course, that means that all the congestion is only going to drain out of her, making her sniffly again. Even by the time she’s chewed and pasted her way through the leaves, feeling ridiculous, her sinuses are unstuffing themselves.

Ahsoka squints down to catch a glimpse of her reflection in her wrist comm – yep. She looks as awful as Rex had implied. The leaf paste has stained the white stripes of her lekku a dark purple, and the shadows under her eyes refuse to budge. With her headdress left inside the ship in her hurry to see where Rex had gone, she feels strangely naked, atop it all. Usually no one sees her without it, and yet she hasn’t even thought about Rex seeing her this way until this moment.

He’s still tinkering away at the panel, leaning it against the side of the ship and inspecting a small bend in the durasteel. The last thing they need is another one flying off during a hyperspace jump. Normally Ahsoka would do it herself, but even with the pommwomm paste soothing her head, she doesn’t trust herself to work without seeing double.

But she has to get up. There’s still surveillance to be done on the suspicious area of this planet. Ahsoka knows neither of them will be content until there’s not a shadow of a doubt that there’s no Empire activity going on. A few more days of watching ought to rule out the possibility. There’s no way she can sit around moping here. Whatever’s wrong with her will pass.

“How’s it goin’ over – heyyy where d’you think you’re going?” Rex stops mid-question, almost dropping his magnaspanner in surprise. Ahsoka only gives him an innocent look, righting the wobble in her step. “Don’t even think about going back to the surveillance point today. Nope. Sorry, you’re staying put.”

Damn. He knows her too well, doesn’t he?

“Rex, you know we can’t just sit here.”

She swipes at her nose, irritated even further with the growing itch. In answer to her stubbornness, Rex stops what he’s doing and crosses his arms, prepared to be a barrier if he has to. Ahsoka narrows her eyes, rooting herself in place. She doesn’t want this to become a physical spat, but –

Her scattered thoughts of ways to disarm him vanish as she sneezes quickly into one elbow. Another embarrassingly squeaky sound, a tight breath of air, leaving her flushed dark with a blush.

“Jate jahaal,” Rex mutters, one eyebrow raised. As if he’s proving a point.

“I’m fine.”

“You won’t be if you keep pushing.” Rex sighs, his life Force filled with concern. “Think of it this way, then. Would you let me do it, if it were me? Would you want me out there?”

Ahsoka bites her lip. “Well…no.”

In fact, she’d be livid at the thought of him risking his health like that, on top of all the other risks they already have to take. She’d be worried and restless waiting for him here alone, and – oh.

Guilt lances at her heart. Has she really strayed so far from the Code? Has she forgotten that in order to care for others, she has to first care for herself? Ashamed, Ahsoka stares at her boots, wishing she’d realized what a mess she was making of things sooner.

“Come and sit back down,” Rex says softly, voice light with persuasion. “Rest. Let me fix you something.”

She hesitates for a long moment. Would it be so bad to spend the day here with him, doing nothing but napping in the planet’s sun? Something in her melts; that sounds divine. That simple joy would be a pleasure she hasn’t allowed herself in so, so long, maybe ever. Just…rest. Here with a friend, enjoying each other’s company. Maybe they could spend time talking about the good old days, when there was time between the fighting. The jokes and the laughter spread between the sorrow and pain.

“Okay,” whispers Ahsoka, and it makes him smile.

Something tugs on her heart to see it, and in that instance, she has another realization. But for now, it’s something that she’ll keep to herself, a little thing to ponder in the quiet of her mind for weeks and even months to come. For now, it’s enough to be together, to have the soft morning light. For Ahsoka to complain about looking so silly with the stupid pommwomm paste, and Rex agreeing with a light chuckle. For him to get the softest blanket out from the confines of their ship, and for her to fall asleep propped up against his shoulder.

They have one another. Through this. Through everything.

#s/tar wars #a/hsoka #idfk how to tag this #c/lone wars #wickedsniffles #snzblr #snzfic #sniction #snz

[warsavant]

idk y'all, i just feel so..... ignored? sometimes on my other blogs beyond my close friends because oh, i'm not this, i'm not that, i don't go off the wall, i mix canons or i lean heavily into legends influence. maybe i just do a bad job or somehow seem unfriendly, idk, but it felt like dave himself vindicated my approach to canon tonight and you know what.....

that's a pretty great feeling to have.

#ㅤ『 ɪ'ᴍ ʙʟᴜᴇ... ᴅᴀʙᴀ ᴅᴇᴇ ᴅᴀʙᴀ ᴅɪ 』 \ ooc. #one of my career goals is to work on a s/tar wars project and this just shows i'm in the right mindset and i could just cry #i am TOTALLY cool with not being popular #not complaining at all about that #most popular s/wr/pc blogs have been bullies tbh who abuse their popularity #but you know #feels good for canon to tell you you were spot on

[kyaruun]

if i read one more post/tweet/whatever along the lines of "it was time that an idol series (oshi no ko) dealt with the dark sides of the idol/entertainment industry" i will physically combust because tell me you have never watched an idol series without telling me you have never watched an idol series <333

#kuu.txt #i could say so much more about this but i'm done with the argument #i know i7 also deals with these topics but i haven't watched it myself #i will. i definitely will #but come on en/s/tars didn't have a WAR for you to disrespect them like that #as usual female oriented media deals with things in a much deeper level #but don't expect anime bros to watch something “for girls” ew

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

for @twilighthomunculus​

#halo shitpost #I love and hate halo. it's so much like S/tar Wars

[cillyscribbles]

"just practice!" no. the quickest way to get better at art is to simply get really obsessed with something

#gestures vaguely at my entire blog. take a guess #art #is only to me a way to express love to the things that live rent free in my brain #(muted grumbling about s tar wars and ran gers appre ntice) #i mean technically this applies to many things

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/29/22

reminder that this project is taking 12/13 off and will return 12/20. or, two weeks from today, we will have a one-week break.

listening

this booster shot knocked me flat for a day longer than anticipated, so i watched the first two seasons of adventure time in something of a haze. very funny to watch these first two seasons of largely unconnected episodes find their footing and tone, and think about the huge eight-episode arcs in the back half of this show's run.

the credits song, Island Song (Come Along With Me), is one of like. three songs that instantly make me feel safe. a well-loved picnic blanket of a song.

-

reading

not a fallow week but i haven't gotten far enough into the 1920s cowboy novel i picked up to have coherent thoughts about it. except for: why do cowboy movies and books always want you to know that a man isn't like Hot hot. but he's still the hottest guy around. get a load of this handsome piece of 100% american beef. who is a little rugged from his time on the range but he has nice eyes and knows what soap is we PROMISE. have we talked about his stubborn yet classic jaw yet

as a consolation prize for no new cowboy thoughts, chief henchwoman/blogging assistant mackintosh is interviewing her own assistant today. third round! we'll see if he makes the cut next week when she plans on extending job offers

-

watching

nonspoilery A/ndor thoughts. i can't really do the "what worked for me, what didn't, why, and what do i think this work is trying to do" bc the finale dropped too recently for anyone to want to read a wall of rot13, and i am unable to be objective about S/tar Wars.

i really really really liked this show. head and fucking shoulders above any other recent S/tar W/ars (henceforth SW) show in writing and production. GOD i love watching some leftist infighting when it doesn't affect me personally. the gunfights are never just gunfights, there's always something environmental going on that everyone has to work around. DAMN this shit fucking hit for me!!!

rot13 below for an arc much earlier in the season

yvxr bs PBHEFR gurl uvg gur vzcrevny dhnegreyl cnlebyy!!! guvf vf fb zhpu zber onat sbe gurve ohpx guna fgrnyvat jrncbaf be grpu, op nf jr unir frra jvgu gjvggre, jura lbh'er abg noyr gb cnl crbcyr ba gvzr be nf hfhny lbh ybfr n GERZRAQBHF nzbhag bs tbbqjvyy. rira n qnl yngr jvyy frevbhfyl shpx jvgu crbcyr'f yvirf, naq neenatvat nygreangr cnlzrag va culfvpny pheerapl vf tbvat gb gnxr SBERIRE. ubyl shpx guvf jnf fhpu n tbbq pubvpr gunax lbh sbe guvf SBBQ gbal tvyebl

this is an analogy that will work for three people, but the difference between mainline SW and A/ndor is like the difference between modern east coast and west coast Fallouts. the writing team behind A/ndor is the kind of team that would look at the brief for New Vegas, go “okay, so this city is obviously a special economic zone with a NCR embassy within the city” and fucking run with that, the Jackals and the Vipers are distinct groups that fight everyone and each other with distinct beliefs and methods meanwhile there’s uhhhh some??? trade??? i guess??? in the greater Boston area and the biggest coherent roaming XP group in Fallout 4 is called the Gunners. what their deal is, who pays them, where they came from?? who fucking knows!!! certainly not me or the writers!!!

in the process of researching this post, i had in my head for SO long that the Gunners originated from Vault 75, the one under Malden Middle School, but that is simply incorrect. that's so fucking easy that's right fucking there it's already a Gunner base why isn't that canon

back to SW. i wanna know what JE S/awyer thinks of this show so bad, esp bc there are so many nods to the West End EU TTRPGs, but i don’t think he’s a huge SW guy.

-

playing

the multiplayer aspect of this newest pokemon game is more of a photo op with friends simulator than anything else. you can't in any meaningful way (or at least we didn't figure out how to) battle together or even make sure we were synced up to do star team or gym fights at the same time (except for the terra raids which take thirty seconds max). however i do have this very cute, if slightly choppy photo of me and my best friend

GOD this gym leader is FUCKING HOT

-

making

swatching a baby blanket in palest mint for my in-production goddaughter

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #syb there's some s/tar wars in here fyi

[dcxdpdabbles]

the photo au just has me thinking that lady gotham is shipping dead tired and i love it

(it's a change of pace from her shipping dead on main so that's cool too)

"King Phantom," Danny jumps, not expecting the raspy voice to call from the dark alley he was passing. He turns his gaze to the shadows, squinting as a woman made entirely of smoke and tar takes form, towering over him like the skyscrapers of her city.

His head barely reaches the knees of her dark grey dress. Her outline flickers in the air as if she is nothing but the smoke of a flickering candle about to be blown away.

Despite her aristocracy beauty- her high cheekbones, her smooth skin, and lovely dark curls that fall along her shoulders- her presence inspires a terrible amount of dread.

Around him, people continue to walk by, unable to see her but sensing her all the same. Danny quickly moves off the street, entering the alley of darkness- at once, the city's noise is silenced while the two power ghosts are muted in a safe little bubble.

"Lady Gotham," He greets, bowing his head slightly. It's not quite a nod, for that would be too dismissive of a noble lady, but it's not a complete bow, for that would mean she is higher ranked than he.

"How are you enjoying my domain, your majesty?" Lady Gotham breathes her voice, sending chills down his spine.

"It's lovely. My sister and I are truly enjoying exploring it. I particularly enjoy photographing the scenary." He says, keeping the unease out of his voice. Her black-painted lips pull upwards into a smirk as if amused by his attempt at diplomacy.

If there is one thing Danny has learned, it is that while he is the King Of Ghosts, that doesn't mean he has absolute power- politically wise. Many entities have domains for centuries that have, through those years, earned nobility status among the ghosts.

He couldn't just scorn the noble ghosts. Even Pariah Dark- the most potent ghost of all time- was defeated the first time when the nobles- later renamed Ancients- banned together to take him down.

Lady Gotham was not among those Ancients, but Danny knew she could quickly call upon her allies and dethrone him just as easily. If Danny is a King, she would be the Queen of a neighboring kingdom just gearing up for war if he fumbles his manners.

"Is it truly the scenery that catches your fancy? Surely, there are far prettier things to look at in my domain?" Lady Gotham's voice is soft, like the humming of a gentle river.

Danny blinks, thrown by the question. "I can't say I understand, my Lady. What pretty things do you speak of?"

She flips open a fan, hiding half of her face as her black coal eyes stare at him with an appraising glint.

Above them, a hiss of a grappling hook springs out, and Red Robin flips over their heads in pursuit of a fleeing car. Danny's finger twitched with the huge to pull out his camera and finally get a meme-worthy shot of the teenager.

Alas, he can not do so, for he is speaking to a ghost noble who could use his careless behavior against him at the next afterlife high society meeting.

Lady Gotham's eyes crinkle in amusement. "I speak of what I find amusing but what others find shocking. What can be entertaining but others call fascinating. After all, trying to capture one's faults is where true beauty is found."

Danny fights to keep his face pleasant even if he has no idea what she means. She speaks in riddles, at least. That's what it sounds like to him.

He should introduce her to Clockework. They would have a good time talking in circles around each other.

"That's an interesting outlook, my lady." He settles on. She hums, then snaps her fingers. In front of Danny, a paper appears, floating in swirls of smoke.

"My King, I have existed long before humans found this plot of land and bestowed the name Gotham onto me. Yet I find myself lacking in any solid evidence of my precious people. I can interact with their world, but I can never truly step into it. Especially the Waynes. They have done so much for me through generations, and I can't even greet them properly." Lady Gotham's words may sound sad, but her tone only implies amusement. Danny is instantly weary. "I was wondering if I could ask that you- the bridge between both worlds- would do me a favor to remedy this."

The paper floats closer, and on it, Danny can see it is an invention for the Wayne Charity Gala. His name is printed on the guest list, asking that he join them for his donations to the art programs around the city.

Danny never made such donations because the Fenton's are far from wealthy enough to do so. Lady Gotham was behind this, as she could interact with the world but not the humans. Getting money for the programs under his name would be child's play.

He couldn't say no, per the norms of high society, and he knows she is well aware of this. Lady Gotham has cornered him.

"What is the favor, My Lady?" He asks, pocketing the invitation even though his insides are twisting.

"I only ask for a photo of each current Wyanes." She says, her voice now the sound of falling rain on the city. "Each photo should be the of them individually, for it will be what I display in my lair as their portraits."

Oh, she just wants pictures? Danny could do that!

"Of course." He says, smiling easily up at her. "I shall have that done for you."

"Excellent. I shall await the gala with anticipation."

Danny leaves the alley wondering if he will have a suit nice enough for the event. He'll have to contact Kitty- she was raising fashion designer before her untimely death on Johnny's bike- surely she will know what to dress him in.

He wanders around the city for a few hours, trying to get better shots of the buildings and accidentally getting one of Nightwing mid-sneeze. He giggles at the camera, unaware of Lady Gotham sitting in her haunt in the dark clouds above the city, standing over a three-dimensional model of Gotham City and covered in figures of real-life citizens currently residing in her town.

"Hmmm, Jason hasn't had an embarrassing photo today," She mutters, pushing the figure of Red Hood in front of King Phantom's glowing figurine's path. Her gaze falls on Red Robin- her little Tim- as it moves across the city following the live model's movement.

His figure is also glowing, not nearly as brightly as the King's, but the fact it shares the King's glow means the King has unknowingly claimed him.

She hopes that pushing them together in his civilian forms will allow the two to realize their hearts have been given to one another.

"How romantic." She sighs, floating onto her stomach and kicking her feet. "A King in love with a Knight. Society pushes them apart, but their love will conquer all."

"Sister, must you behave in such a childish manner?" A voice cuts in, and Lady Gotham's face twitches. She turns her head to watch her brother's shift between adult and child.

"Brother. What brings you here?" She asks, unbothered by his comment.

"Can I not visit my dearest little sister?" Clockwork asks, reaching over for a one-sided hug. She returns it with a smirk. "Especially when she messes with the life of the King."

"I do not know what you speak of." She huffs, turning her head back to the humans on her board. Around her, thousands and thousands of miniature models appear as she watches everything that is meant to be for the humans.

"Karma, you know better than to interfere with King Phantom's life, especially if it's something as silly as his love life-"

"Ah ah, brother dearest. You are in charge of time, and I control fate. " She grins. "I can guarantee that they are fated to be. I know it."

Clockwork rolls his eyes, shifting into an old man. "You let humans call you Lady Gotham. I highly doubt you know anything."

She hums, grinning as King Phantom's figure drops into a crouch, pointing a mini camera at Red Robin. Quickly, she leans forward to adjust the vigilante in an alluring position, knowing it will cause the King's heart to flutter when he develops the photos.

Clockwork clicks his tongue. "Honestly, don't you have anything better to do?"

"You should leave your tower more often, Brother. Maybe you could find a date and not nag your younger sister constantly." She taps her lips. "That young John Constinune was rather interested in you-"

"I am leaving!"

She laughs. "You can't run away from fate, brother!"

"Watch me!"

Oh, she plans to; after all, what is more amusing to fate than to see people try to defy her? Either they succeed, which is fascinating to watch them conquer all her trials, or they fail, which is entertaining enough to watch them fumble.

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #Danny and the fan blog #Part 3 #Lady Gotham is Karma's online persona #Ghosts have high society. #Danny is very new to it so he doesn't have much power even with his throne #Karma is the ghost in charge of Fate #She ships Dead Tired

[sleepingsun501]

Make It Last

Pairing(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader

Summary: Obi-Wan returns from the war and surprises you late one night.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Contains SMUT 18+, oral sex, cunnilingus, PiV sex (wrap it!), orgasm delay, mind reading, foreplay, aftercare (ohhhh the aftercare), established relationship, secret relationship, fluff, love, inappropriate use of the Force. Plot? Don't know her.

Word Count: 4.2k (I know, I went nuts)

Ao3 link

A/N: MINORS GO AWAY!! And thank you once again discord people for being my inspiration!

When you fell asleep earlier in the night, you had not expected to be awakened by familiar, gentle fingers tracing your cheek. You shifted and squinted in the near-darkness, save for the lights of Coruscant’s skyline dimly streaming through your window, before you sleepily cracked an eye open. There was only one other person who had the codes to your apartment, and you could see a little hint of long reddish-gold hair and pale Jedi robes in the darkness. 

“Hello there, my darling,” a gentle voice whispered.

Your eyes flew open immediately and you let out a happy, breathy squeal. You could barely see him, but you would know his voice anywhere. A rush of excitement rippled through you as you sat up and threw yourself into Obi-Wan’s waiting arms, pulling yourself up against his strong, solid frame. 

Months had passed since you had last seen him. Every time he had put in a shore leave request for his legion, another crisis had arisen to rudely keep you apart. You had followed every scrap of news you could find about the 212th and its dashing Jedi General, praying they were all right, but now Obi-Wan was here—safe and home with you. You were so happy that you could barely think of anything to say to him as you hugged his broad shoulders.

Obi-Wan stood, lifting you straight out of bed with him. He shifted one of his arms from your shoulders and grasped you around your waist, pulling you more firmly against himself as he set you on your feet and kissed your cheek.

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” he whispered, inhaling deeply, burying his face in your shoulder and sweet-smelling hair. It’s been too long since I’ve held you like this. he thought, his beautiful voice echoing in your mind.

You shivered at the familiar sensation of him weaving through your consciousness, and you relaxed into it so he could sense your emotions fully. Tangling your fingers in his long hair, you tucked your nose further under his jaw, taking advantage of being shorter than him, and pressed your soft lips against his neck where his pulse beat steadily. He smelled so good—like the sweet tar of freshly polished leather and the warmth of amber and sunshine.

Obi-Wan dropped his other hand lower around your back and then glided it around your side to squeeze your hip tenderly underneath your nightshirt. Your skin tingled under his gentle fingertips, and his touch made a seductive warmth pool in your core.

The rough hair of his beard prickled pleasantly against your cheek as you eased back from him a little to find his lips in a delicate kiss. A spark of arousal shot through you as his tongue darted out to trace the curve of your bottom lip before invading your mouth. He inhaled sharply as he deepened the kiss, licking into you, and it wrung a quiet moan from your throat as the growing ache within you coiled and writhed.

I want you. your mind whispered to him, knowing he would hear. You had no idea how long you would have together before he was called back to the battlefield; maybe a few days or even just a few hours, but you burned for him all the same. That fierce heat settled and spread low in your belly as one of his hands locked around the back of your neck, and the rock-hard evidence of how much he had missed you was suddenly trapped tightly between you. You whined into his mouth as you ground your hips against him. Please, Obi-Wan, make this last.

Obi-Wan released you and shed his long outer robe. Even in the dimness of your room, the desire shining in his grey-blue eyes was unmistakable. That look bore a hole to the depths of your soul, and you gladly let him in.

You hooked your fingers into his belt, yanking him close again, and unfastened it with practiced ease, careful to place his lightsaber on your bedside table before returning to undressing him. Smirking lustfully at you, he allowed you to pull his robes and tunic off and lifted you into his arms again easily.

A playful giggle left you as he lowered you gently to the edge of your bed, helping you wiggle out of your pants. He sighed as knelt on the floor before you, gripping your smooth calves and pressing kisses along the insides of your thighs—his smokey gaze never leaving you.

“Oh, Maker… Obi-Wan…” you breathed shakily, shifting up and grabbing fistfuls of the soft blankets beneath you. His eyes were always so powerful, so expressive, and a tingle ran up your spine. You tensed your inner muscles in anticipation as you tried to assuage the aching, dampening discomfort between your legs, but he continued to press open-mouthed kisses to your silky skin, offering you no such relief.

“We’ve got time,” he whispered, taking a firmer grip on your thighs and coming up to capture your lips, sucking your bottom lip into his teeth and nipping hungrily. He ran a hand up your chest to undo the buttons on your nightshirt, freeing your supple breasts. His warm hands left what felt like trails of fire in their wake as they grazed over you, and you wondered if it was just your body reacting or some little Force trick he was using to tease you.

You shrugged out of your top as he made his way back down your body, latching briefly onto one of your hardened nipples, sucking gently and caressing it with his tongue. As he did, a twinge of pleasure shot from your nipple to your cunt, and you twisted your hips down into your bed with a moan. You loved how thorough he was, but the growing ache inside you was becoming unbearable.

Obi-Wan inhaled the sweet, almost citrusy warmth of your skin as he attentively kneaded your opposite breast and brushed his thumb over your nipple, pleased with the way it pebbled under his touch. You let out a longing sigh, gripping your blankets in one of your fists as you snaked your other hand between you.

His hips give an involuntary lurch forward as you pushed his pants down just enough to free his already leaking cock. He was hot and heavy and thick in your hand, and you could already imagine the delightful stretch of him inside you as you stroked him. He moaned as he licked at your skin, relishing the feeling of your hand as you started to twist your fist down his length as you pumped him. You pushed him away as you ran your thumb over his swollen tip and gathered the bit of precum that had gathered there. His lust-blown eyes locked with yours as you sucked him off your thumb, sighing in satisfaction at the slightly salty tang of him.

A devilish smirk crossed his handsome face as he watched you taste him, and it reached his darkening eyes. That was what you had hoped to see; not the prim and proper Jedi Knight, but the powerful, daring, cunning warrior that was always held at bay beneath the surface.

“Lay back for me, my darling,” he whispered. His voice had taken on a sultry, huskier, almost commanding tone, sending a thrill through your chest. “My turn to taste you.”

You laid back to prop yourself up on your elbows as he shifted further down, pulling your soaked underwear with him. As he eased your last article of clothing off, you caught a glimpse of the deep love he harbored in his heart for you sparkling behind his eyes.

He stared at you for a moment, just admiring your naked beauty in the low light, but with a deep breath, he dove between your parted thighs. His tongue dipped through your folds to take a long taste of you, drowning himself in your delicious heat.

“Ohhh—oh… f-fuck!” you moaned. A string of unintelligible curses left your lips as you trembled with pleasure from his hot mouth on you. He devoured you like you were the most delectable thing he had ever tasted, and you lost your balance as he pulled you closer. Your back hit the soft bed as he lifted your hips to his mouth, licking deep into your dripping cunt and bumping your clit with his nose at the new angle.

He could feel your pulse in your soaking walls as he replaced his tongue with his long, thick middle finger. The change had you crying out softly and writhing beneath him as he encircled your sensitive bundle of nerves with his lips. You dug your heels into his back to encourage him to give you more as the mounting pressure in your core threatened to overwhelm you, but he hummed gently and continued his torturously slow, methodical pace.

Still taking his damn time, he started pressing against that spongey spot just past your entrance that he knew would make you see stars. He busied his other arm with wrapping around your thigh and across your abdomen, holding you to his mouth and keeping you from squirming. You cried out as he pressed down on your lower belly, increasing the pressure inside you, and he began curling his finger to stroke that sensitive spot again and again. 

Fucking stars—oh yes… Yesyesyesyesyes! your mind screamed and cursed as your legs began to quake against him. He could sense your pleasure, and it made his cock throb and ache with need as he worked a second finger into you and continued his onslaught. 

He could tell you were getting impatient from the way you took a handful of his hair and tugged, and your thighs tensed on his shoulders as you bucked against his mouth. Obi-Wan growled lowly, actually sounding like he was admonishing you, and pressed down harder on your belly to increase the pressure inside you even more.

You felt like you were ready to explode—like you should have cum already, but he just held you there on the edge of that cliff. Your soft moans from before had turned desperate as you whimpered needily, and he shuddered as your nails grazed his scalp with one hand and dug into his hard forearm with the other.

Focusing the Force like a laser, he made his thoughts known to you. So beautiful… so sweet… fuck, you taste like home. You were already so wet… you’ve been so neglected, haven’t you? My poor darling, let me give you what you need.

Lights were exploding behind your eyes as Obi-Wan began flicking his tongue and curling his fingers faster, making you clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle the little screams escaping you.

None of that. I want to hear you. Suddenly, you felt your hand snap away from your mouth and into his grasp. Had he just—? He did. The cheeky bastard used the Force to pull your hand to his and press it back to your lower belly, trapping it there. Come on, let me hear you. Tell me what you need.

“You! Obi-Wan… I-I want you!” you wailed. You were suddenly grateful your bedroom was at the far corner of your apartment, away from any neighboring walls. “I’m so close… p-please…”

I can hold you here all night, my darling. Tell me what you want from me.

It was then you realized what he was doing. You could hear it in his tone in your head; he was purposefully holding back your orgasm with some power unknown to you, his mouth never once leaving your folds, making it last just like you had asked him to.

“Please—fucking hell—Obi-Wan!” you were almost embarrassed at how needy you sounded, but you could not help it, not with him. “Let me cum… I—huhhh—I can’t… t-take it. I need to c-cum… let me…” you begged incoherently through desperate gasps and moans. Tears of pleasure began to slide down your flushed cheeks, and you felt like you were ready to pass out if he kept this up any longer, but he hummed in satisfaction against your clit and plunged his fingers inside you to the knuckle.

Something—you were not sure what—but something in the air hovering just above your skin snapped and dissipated. As it did, you felt your throbbing walls finally tighten and flutter around his fingers, drenching his hand and mouth in your wetness. The blissful, dizzying, borderline painful relief of your orgasm crashed over you in pulsing waves of hot and cold, deafening you to your resounding scream of ecstasy. Your entire body spasmed and shook as Obi-Wan held you in place, lapping you up and helping you ride out the waves.

Your head lolled to the side after some time as you began to come down from that intense high, and you just caught a glimpse of your alarm clock glowing faintly on your night table next to his lightsaber. Despite not being able to think clearly, you could have sworn nearly half an hour had passed, and you praised his endless patience. Make it last, indeed. Show-off. you thought amusedly. You could not help the giddy little laugh that escaped you as you looked back at him.

His lips and beard were shining with your moisture as he locked eyes with you again, sucking his fingers clean. The thunderous passion in his eyes was so intoxicating that you had not noticed he had removed the rest of his clothing. You yelped in surprise when he yanked you off the bed and into his strong arms, spinning around to sit on the edge of the bed himself. 

“Feel good?” he asked, smiling and whispering against your ear.

You nodded and shuddered pleasantly as his breath washed over the overheated skin of your neck, and he positioned you to straddle his lap. His normally gentle hands were kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he did, and you wanted nothing more than for him to spear you on his cock and split you in half with it. 

Nipping at your ear and groaning, he whispered, “I need to hear you say it, my dear.”

You were still trembling, but you smiled and nodded. His voice was an entire octave lower than normal, and you let that low, sinful timbre vibrate through you. “Fuck me, Obi-Wan,” you whined, beginning to grind your soaking slit along his throbbing cock. “Fuck me and don’t stop.”

Even as prepared as you were, you both knew this had to be done slowly. Despite all the times you had ever been together, he was always conscious of your needs and knew you needed time to adjust to his size, so he let you set the pace. You captured his lips, tasting yourself on him and moaning as he lifted you onto your knees, positioning himself at your entrance. Very carefully, he rocked your hips down onto him, easing himself in and stretching you open.

Your slick walls were suffocatingly tight as he sheathed himself within you as far as he could. He rested his forehead against yours and you braced your arms on his shoulders as you took him. With your lip caught between your teeth, you took the lead and undulated your hips a few times, feeling every ridge and vein of him, carefully easing the last inch of him in. 

He groaned into your neck and savored the feeling of being buried within your exquisite warmth, wishing he would never have to be parted from you. You were his sanctuary, his love, his little secret away from his life as a Jedi.

“Easy, love,” he cooed. “Easy. Take your time.” He lifted you again, helping your shaking legs support you as you started riding him. The length of his thick cock let him touch an even sweeter spot deeper inside you, and it sent pure bliss from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. 

Time seemed to stand still and speed up as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer. You clung to his strong back, raking your nails lightly over the hard muscles beneath his pale skin—urging him to thrust his hips with your rhythm while he caressed your body with rough, practiced hands.

Sooner than expected, you felt yourself begin to teeter on that blissful edge again. That familiar coil low in your pelvis wound itself tighter, but you needed more. Throwing that to the forefront of your mind, you knew Obi-Wan would sense it.

“I’ve—nghh—I’ve got you… I’ve got you, darling. Let me hear you,” he breathed raggedly, feeling your walls squeeze him and making you moan desperately.

He never released your hips, but you felt a soft swirl of pressure on your now overly-sensitive clit. His invisible ministrations through the Force sent a new spark of need through you, and he could feel you becoming impossibly wetter around him.

You managed to push him on his back and grind your hips down harder, letting him rub gentle circles over your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb instead. It was not long before your whimpers became steady, pleasured cries when you thrust yourself down. You were close, so very close, and the feverish heat deep within your core threatened to explode a second time.

“There you go… my good girl. That’s it… that’s it,” Obi-Wan suddenly said, his voice deep and sultry with the crisp Coruscanti accent on his tongue. He rolled his hips up to encourage you as you met his gaze, and he braced his hand beneath one of your breasts to support you, running his thumb over your sensitive nipple again and again. “Come on… just like that, sweetheart. Let it go for me.”

His words unraveled the aching coil that had been building within you. You tossed your head back and cried out his name as the euphoria overwhelmed your senses for a second time. Your body convulsed as your hips locked down on him, and your walls spasmed and clenched around his cock. You cried out again as he thrust up and continued to fuck you through it, shredding against raw heaven deep within you. 

The sound of your voice calling out his name in ecstasy drew a dark shred of pure desire out of Obi-Wan—something he normally would have had well in check. While your cunt still pulsed around him, he sat up quickly and maneuvered you onto your back, settling into an agonizingly perfect, steady rhythm. His teeth nipped at your neck and breasts, sucking little marks into your dewy skin, intermingling with featherlight kisses.

“That’s my girl,” he praised. “My precious girl. You’re doing so well… so proud of you.”

His words were like the most beautiful music to you, making your cunt suck him in deeper. Even as your peak raged through you, you could feel and hear just how much he was holding back, wanting to draw it out for you as long as he could. He wanted to give you the memory of his body against yours to sustain you through his absences, and to remember how you felt around him during the long lonely nights on the battlefield. 

You parted your lips invitingly and pulled him down to you, dragging your nails lightly over his broad shoulders again. As your tongues battled in the kiss, you felt him tremble and groan from his core, making his hips stutter before finding his torturous rhythm again.

He grabbed your hips more firmly with one hand to encourage your movements and braced himself above you on his other arm. You wrapped her legs around him to urge him on, and you arched yourself against him as the white-hot pulsing in your limbs eventually subsided.

You were feeling drained and relieved, as though you could simply drift away beneath him, but he seemed determined to drag yet another orgasm out of you. “One more, sweetheart… One more… one… more…” He started to let go of his control as he hammered his hips into yours, and all you could do was hang on.

“I-I want t— ah— feel y-you,” you gasped into his mouth, “d-deeper—Obi-Wan, please…” You were not sure where your words came from, but he complied without hesitation and without breaking his pace. He reached above you and grabbed one of your plush pillows, shoving it under your gorgeous ass to give you the angle you desired.

Tears of ecstasy rolled down your cheeks, and your nails were digging into his back now, scraping his skin with each thrust. He could not hide the fact that he craved that sensation as he began to throb within you.

“Give me everything, I want every drop of you inside me,” you begged. You reached for one of his hands, lacing your fingers in his.

“It’s all yours… all yours,” he panted, gripping your hand tightly and letting his body weight press into you. “My beautiful darling. You take me so well.”

You licked at his sweaty skin where his strained neck met his shoulder and nibbled on him just enough to leave a mark, and he growled low through gritted teeth. The deep rumbling in his chest and his length hitting every tender spot within you sent you over the edge again unexpectedly. It ripped through you like a tidal wave, blocking out everything except for the feeling of your bodies meshed together. You were so dazed that you could not even cry out—you could only let your mouth fall open and let the tremors of bliss seize you.

Obi-Wan felt the last of his control slip away as your soaking walls sucked him in again, and he erupted hard within you with a shout of your name. He clutched your hand and stayed buried within you, his body jolting as he filled you with rope after rope of his cum until it dripped between you.

You lay there together for some time in the darkness, sweaty and exhausted, panting from your exertions and wrapped up in each other. With a sigh, he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face and nuzzled against you lovingly. As he slipped out of you and stood, you heard him mumble something about you staying put. Not like you had many other options; you were not sure you trusted your legs in your current state—happily and thoroughly fucked out with his cum starting to leak down your thigh.

You heard the water in your bathtub running for a few minutes before he came back to collect you, scooping you up and carrying you to the waiting water. There must have been a dozen tealights all flickering around your bathroom as he carried you in, and your heart clenched as you realized he must have planned this. You knew he loved taking care of you, but now you were feeling a little spoiled.

“You deserve it, sweetheart,” he said, resting his head against yours for a moment.

You let out a long sigh as you felt yourself being levitated into your tub and a delicate, flowery scent enveloped you with the steaming water. “Candles, bath salts, and possibly the best way to be woken up ever,” you giggled approvingly, reaching out for him. As he knelt beside the tub, you blinked at him hopefully, “There’s room for you in here, too.”

With a gentle grin, he eased himself into the water behind you, cuddling you to his chest and petting your dampened hair. He chuckled as you gently drew little patterns along the hard lines of his strong chest and collar, examining a few of the marks you had left on his skin.

“That tickles,” he said, taking your hand in his and kissing it. 

You smiled and settled yourself under his bearded chin, breathing deeply. His warm scent and the rhythm of his heart were even more soothing than the bath. “I’ve missed this,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, my love,” he replied, pressing a tender kiss to your hairline and wrapping his arm more tightly around you. “Thought about you every day.”

You were barely aware of the bath growing cooler over time as exhaustion was winning out against your consciousness, and you somehow managed to sleep through Obi-Wan bringing you back to bed, clean and dry.

When you woke in the misty, early morning light, you were cuddled up against his sprawling, naked form. You shifted your legs and moaned happily when you felt the wonderful soreness between your legs, but then you noticed a different set of sheets and blankets now made up your bed.

Now you really felt spoiled—mind-blowing sex, a glorious bath, and he had even changed your bedding for you before falling asleep beside you. You had no idea what you had done to deserve this utterly perfect man, and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you gazed at him, your heart overflowing with love. It was as though a god had been laid out next to you, and you memorized him all over again. Your eyes traced every hard muscle, every plane of his body, and every strand of his hair down to his eyelashes.

A pleasant shiver went through you as he shifted in his sleep, unconsciously wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer. You were still unsure of how much time you had with him—you supposed that was the tradeoff—but you settled back down and let sleep overtake you again, determined to make whatever time you had last.

#holy fuck i can't believe this came out of my brain #obi wan kenobi x f!reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan smut #obi wan x f!reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #star wars fanfic #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #star wars thirst #star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #sw obi wan kenobi #mullet obi wan #mullet obi wan supremacy #daddy wan kenobi #space daddy

[moved-accounts-btw]

Official Redesigns

SCP-590-1 and SCP-590-2 [The Gemini of Life and Death]

SCP-590-1 (Represent Ladybug)

Cassidy is to be allowed access to a secure interview room equipped with basic divination tools upon request. However, all interactions must be supervised, and any anomalous activities are to be reported immediately. Under any circumstances, bring a item of high valuable (not only money, but meaning towards you or her)

Distinguished by her expertise in clairvoyance, Cassidy possesses a unique ability to perceive alternate future timelines. Unlike conventional clairvoyants who view a singular future, Cassidy can access divergent timelines, discerning potential outcomes and selecting the most favorable or unfavorable paths. It is crucial to note that Cassidy cannot alter established canon points in any timeline, ensuring the preservation of the primary reality.

To facilitate her clairvoyant practices, Cassidy is provided with an assortment of materials associated with fortune telling. This includes traditional divination tools such as tarot cards, and other culturally relevant instruments. These aids are essential for Cassidy to focus and channel her abilities, enhancing the precision and clarity of her visions. (Do not give her a crystal ball, she will smash it again your head)

The Foundation recognizes the significance of Cassidy's insights, as they offer valuable glimpses into alternate futures. Careful documentation and analysis of her predictions contribute to the understanding of anomalous occurrences and potential threats. As with any SCP, strict containment protocols are in place to manage and harness Cassidy 's abilities while mitigating any potential risks associated with her clairvoyant nature.

SCP-590-2 (Represent Beetle)

Theo exhibits advanced medical knowledge, particularly in the treatment of infectious diseases. Despite claiming to be a war doctor from the Civil War era, Theo shows no signs of physical aging. The medical techniques employed by Theo include both historically accurate methods and anomalous healing properties, seemingly defying the limitations of conventional medicine.

Theodore, colloquially known as "The War Doctor," possesses a unique set of anomalous abilities rooted in historical medical practices. While proficient in contemporary medicine and anomalous techniques, Theodore exhibits a distinct preference for utilizing archaic tools reminiscent of the Civil War era. This preference is evident in his medical interventions, where he employs traditional methods despite the availability of more modern alternatives.

Caution is advised when dealing with Theodore, as his anomalous capabilities can have severe consequences. When invoked, his body undergoes a transformation, melting into a viscous tar-like substance. This transformative process not only poses a direct threat to those in proximity but also introduces a variety of diseases into the affected individual's system. Additionally, Theodore has demonstrated the ability to manipulate this tar-like substance to trap or incapacitate subjects, often resorting to extreme measures such as severing his own limbs and trapping them within the tar puddle.

One particularly alarming facet of Theodore's abilities is his capacity to reanimate the deceased. Despite the inherent risks and ethical concerns associated with such actions, Theodore has shown the ability to bring individuals back to life. It is important to note that Theodore, himself, does not die; however, he requires an increased amount of tar to restore his physical form after each reanimation.

In a further display of his anomalous nature, Theodore can adopt a semi-liquid state, transforming into a mobile puddle of tar. This form allows him to navigate through narrow spaces and cracks, facilitating his movement between patients or locations with increased efficiency.

Given the potential hazards posed by Theodore's abilities, personnel are advised to exercise extreme caution and follow established containment protocols when engaging with him. Any attempts to exploit or manipulate his anomalous nature should be strictly prohibited, and his containment measures must be continually reassessed.

#scp foundation #scp fandom #scp au #Theo Wolcott #Cassidy Wolcott #Wolcott Twins

[bionicboxes]

<< | All Entries | >>

The updated 106 Fakemon! Corpslaw remains unchanged, but Tarencor is a update of design and name. More about these designs:

Corpslaw: Corpse + Corporal + Lawrence Tarencor: Tar + Trench + Rancor + Corpse

This design is taking inspiration from the "The Young Man" backstory for 106. 'Sludge Pokemon' already exists (Grimer and Muk), so I needed another layer to add to it. Neither of the other 106 backstories I know felt like they could add to the design, and I believe "The Young Man" is the most popular version of 106's backstory anyway, so I went with it.

Corpslaw's Pokedex entry is supposed to reference 106 as Corporal Lawrence- a sinister man participating in war for the sake of war- and Tarencor is 106 as 106. Its Pokedex entry is referencing SCP-106's enjoyment of suffering and reported tendency to target younger people. They're classified as the 'Unsettling Pokemon' to match the description of Corporal Lawrence as such- unsettling.

Both designs have helmets because of the soldier angle, and patterning meant to reference the vest 106 is usually depicted as having. The spikey strings of sludge in Tarencor's design is supposed to imply barbed wire.

The shiny colors are to make them look more akin to tar.

#pokemon #fakemon #scp #scp 106 #scp-106 #SCPokemon v2 #box art #i almost forgot to post this whoopsie #happy halloween have this thing

[wickedsniffles]

Stardust (And Other Varieties)

Another commission from my friend with common interests! 🤩 Summary: You take time out of your day to help Obi-Wan sort through a rather dusty back corner of the Temple Archives. Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Cis AFAB Reader, she/her pronouns (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Mature

Tags: established relationship, fluff, banter, implied age gap, sneezing, dust, buildups, fits, handkerchiefs, pet names, Force bond, making out in a library, semi-public shenanigans, sorry this is so horny (no I'm not), dry humping, implied sex

Word Count: 4.2K

"So let me get this straight." You place your hands on your hips with a sigh, taking a good long look around the back corner of the Archives. "Anakin makes Madame Jocasta mad and you have to clean the Archives?"

"Mm, yes. I long resigned myself to the fact that he squirms his way out of trouble."

Today you’re accompanying Obi-Wan as the two of you are deep, deep in the heart of the Temple’s ancient library, up to your knees in stacks of real flimsi books. When he’d told you that he’d be busy for most of the afternoon with a rather tedious task, you were more than happy to tag along, finding yourself with nothing much else to occupy your own time. Better to divide and conquer, you’d told him, and he’d seemed appreciative that you were willing to lend a hand. Even after he’d warned you multiple times that what he’d been assigned to do wouldn’t be entertaining in the least.

Anakin, Obi-Wan had told you, had simply been careless with Madame Jocasta’s rules one too many times. The young Knight often feels as if these regulations don’t apply to him, Obi-Wan confides, and it’s enough to set the Archive’s keepers teeth on edge when she so much as sees Anakin enter her sacred space. He’s been telling Anakin since he was a Padawan not to be too loud in the Archives, to handle the holonovels with care (some of them are hundreds of years old).

It’s not that Anakin does it on purpose, his Master assures you. He is – has always been – the type of boy to act without thinking. His most recent crime is dropping a particularly fragile holo on the unforgiving marble floor, cracking it at the edge and creating hours of work for one of the Archivists to retrieve the data.

“I do believe he’s embarrassed,” Obi-Wan adds, crouching down to inspect the spine of one of the books at his feet. “In a few days he’ll come ‘round with an apology, and no doubt Madame Jocasta will allow him within the Archives once more.”

You hold your tongue, for the sake of your relationship with Obi-Wan. He’s incredibly soft with Anakin, but yet again – isn’t he the same with you? There are many rules bent when it comes to the people he loves. If Obi-Wan really is talking to Anakin about what he’d done, and the consequences of his actions, then perhaps Obi-Wan being here to serve out the punishment meant for him isn’t the worst thing.

“And besides, he isn’t even on the planet at the moment.” Obi-Wan straightens. “I don’t think Jocasta knew that when she requested he do this, to be honest. He’s off with Ahsoka, dealing with some scuffle in the Outer Rim.” He shakes his head a little. “I do hope they can manage to handle it without escalating the situation.”

You laugh a little, knowing how the two of them can be. “Well, if they’ve minded any of your teachings, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

He pauses to look at you, flattered. Admiration curls in the Force between you, light and familiar, like the brush of his hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

Madame Jocasta has requested that Anakin start in the oldest corner of the Archives and check every shelf, every nook and cranny, to make sure that the old books are organized correctly. Over time, as the library has expanded, this portion has become more and more neglected. The evidence is stacked neatly up against every wooden shelf, where the old flimsi books have sat stacked for perhaps longer than you’ve been alive.

Though the floor is kept clean, you can’t say the same for the books themselves. Doubtless they’ve been untouched for ages, save for ones that have been called upon for research on some rare occasion. It’s a shame, really. This is a beautiful little corner of the Archives, and you can imagine how frequently it must have been visited, so many years ago. Yet today, only the faintest whispers of life Force cling to the books, ghosts of a memory long gone.

“I’m not certain the cleaning droids even know this part of the Archives still exists,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself, crossing his arms. “Look at the state of this place.”

“Our home away from home.”

“Ugh, don’t say that. I plan on being done before sunset.”

Though there’s mild irritation in his tone, you can tell Obi-Wan isn’t that upset to be here. He actually does like to keep things organized (his tea collection is evidence of that), and he’s pleased that you decided to come along and keep him company. With the two of you working together, sorting through the Archives can’t be all bad.

And besides…you’re alone together. With the tall shelves blocking you in on all sides and any other Jedi about as far away as they could possibly be, you feel almost as if you and Obi-Wan are in one of your rooms. Though the two of you know better than to try something where someone technically could walk up on you, the sense of coziness still remains, and you lean over to kiss him on the cheek quickly before placing a hand atop the nearest stack.

“Goodness,” he teases. “I don’t think that’ll make our work go any faster.”

“Then use it as an incentive to finish,” you shoot right back, grinning.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I see.”

That’s all the more either of you say on the matter as you get to work, and the unspoken promise hangs in the air. You’re excited about the idea of finishing this task with hours to spare before the day is through; pleasing Madame Jocasta with tidy, organized shelves and then retiring to Obi-Wan’s rooms for a long evening of rewarding yourselves.

A self-indulgent fantasy, perhaps. The volume of work you’ll have to get through is clear – but if you don’t start, you can’t finish. With that philosophy in mind, you pull the rickety old ladder closer to you with a little persuasion from the Force, stepping onto it with care. You’ll start looking through to see if what’s on the shelves is actually alphabetized, while Obi-Wan works on what’s yet to be placed there.

For a while, you work like that in quiet harmony. The titles your eyes skim over are worn, faded so that it’s almost difficult to read. A few of them are in languages you can’t translate, and every once in a while you have to fish your comm off of your belt to see what the kriff they are. The first half hour doesn’t see too much disarray. You work slowly, carefully across the top row of the first shelf, shuffling one or two of the heavy old tomes around.

It surprises you just how much they weigh in comparison to the slim, sleek body of a holonov. When you touch a real, authentic flimsi book, you can appreciate that every word took effort to print. Every page holds just a portion of data, compared to having all of it compressed down into one place via a holonov. This is something that took so much time to create, meticulous, precious.

And…it smells amazing. In wonder, you raise the old book to your face, cracking it open in the middle to inhale the scent. You must look rather silly, because from below you, Obi-Wan’s rich laughter rings out into the quiet space. Twisting around to peer down at him, you see him smiling, holding a tome so thick and heavy you think you’d double over from the weight if you held it between your own hands.

“Have you never held a real book before?”

“Perhaps I haven’t,” you answer, with a trace of defensiveness.

You know it shows your age, to only know the technological convenience of holonovels. Even if real books weren’t exactly relevant when Obi-Wan was young, either, they were still more prevalent than they are today. You can imagine him, baby-faced at twelve years old, pulled up to one of the tall tables in the main sitting areas in the Archives. Master Qui-Gon would, no doubt, handle one of the heavy tomes with grace.

“Well, that’s quite alright.” Obi-Wan lifts his own book to his nose, the dark cover a faint blue worn out with age. “They do have a nice smell about them, don’t they?”

“Not something you’re bound to get with what we use these days.”

He runs one wide, calloused hand over the front of the book. Your eyes tend to zero in on those practiced hands, the long fingers and the scarred palms. If asked to pick his hands out of dozens without seeing the face of the owner, you know you could find him in a heartbeat. You’ve spent far too long admiring him, trying to memorize every little bit and piece, to miss something so important. You feel as if you know every freckle, every little thatch of light hair across his knuckles. Their warmth. Their strength.

Dust motes scatter into the air as his hand moves, spinning in the ray of sunlight coming from the single high window far above your heads.

“Ugh.” Obi-Wan wrinkles his nose. “The condition these poor things are in. We really ought to clean them off while we’re back here.”

He sounds sorry for them, and that in turn garners sympathy in your own heart. Though the books are far from living things, it’s easy to get caught up in imagining they’re full of nostalgia, sorrow even, for the days of the past. If they’re capable of hanging onto glimpses of the Force, then it’s almost as if they lived once.

Your shelving forgotten for the moment, you begin the descent back down the ladder to where he stands. Obi-Wan still seems fascinated by what he holds, staring down at the cover as though he’s still contemplating its meaning. From here, you can read it well enough: Non-Sentient Species: Theories on Their Reactions to Changes in the Surrounding Force, by Tarla Madak. Sounds like a real page-turner.

“Have you read that one before?”

But you almost forget your question as soon as it leaves your mouth. You’d meant to add with Master Jinn, to maybe start a conversation about his time as a Padawan. Obi-Wan doesn’t speak frequently about it, after all. Here in this quiet, cozy corner of the old Archives might be a good place to open up the discussion, if he’s willing.

You forget to ask the rest of your question because Obi-Wan’s blinking rapidly, his face caught in an expression somewhere between confusion and irritation. With his mouth open slightly, his brows tilting together, he raises his elbow to cover his face and sneezes. It’s a sudden, breathless sound, like the sensation had been surprised out of him every bit as much as it had surprised you.

You blink. “Oh, Force guide –”

He sneezes again, harsher, clamping the book tight at his side with his free arm so it doesn’t fall to the floor.

“Force guide you,” you repeat, with a small laugh.

“Kriff,” he mutters when he emerges, sniffing. “I’m sorry, I’m not certain where that came from. Wait. Yes I am.” His light blue eyes trail across the dust-filled air, and Obi-Wan lets out a soft groan. “All the Force-forsaken dust.”

In the far reaches of your brain, something keeps you maintaining a straight face. At least you hope so. You know this isn’t the time or place to be fawning about how cute he looks, annoyed with the situation. He may or may not recall your reaction to seeing him like this – and even if it’s not the first thing on his mind, it’s definitely the first thing on yours. So you call on your training, on your kriffing composure, and straighten your spine.

For a moment Obi-Wan looks around the place, eyes watering, face flushed. As if wondering now if taking on Anakin’s punishment is really worth it. In the handful of seconds where he hesitates, you wonder if you should suggest just leaving – these books will still be waiting for Anakin when he returns from the Outer Rim. On top of that, it’s not even Obi-Wan’s task to be doing this in the first place.

Before you can decide anything, Obi-Wan’s breath hitches once, twice, his fingers coming up to scrub desperately at his flushed nose. It’s not enough. Again he has to turn away from you, stifling a sneeze into his tunic-covered elbow. You wonder if it won’t soon be soaked if he keeps doing it like that. Right on cue, he reaches into the pocket of his undertunic, still cursing under his breath.

“This is going to take longer than I thought,” he says, retrieving the clean handkerchief with obvious relief. “And Anakin’s certainly going to owe me for it.”

“You’re sure you want to stay?” you ask, wringing your hands a little. Obi-Wan takes his time blowing his nose, shuffling from nostril to nostril to make sure the action’s doing its job. As he lowers the handkerchief from his face, he pauses to rub his nose with one hand once more, something you’ll never catch him doing in public. This little action of surrender is private, something he’d only ever let you see.

“Well, we’ve already made a start.”

You should've guessed that he'd be stubborn. When it comes to anyone else in distress or danger, Obi-Wan is the first one to offer help. If he's the one facing an obstacle, however, getting him to seek the same sort of care is often one degree away from impossible. You can say one thing for certain; Anakin Skywalker is going to get an earful from you when he's back home in the Temple.

Reluctant, you nod. Obi-Wan is already turning his attention back to the matter at hand, though his life Force is colored with a shade more wariness than it had been before the two of you had started. The more books you move, the more dust will be disturbed. Yet the more time you take, the more he'll have to breathe in anyway. A complicated dilemma. Is it better to get it all over with at once? Take some time to acclimate?

He seems to go with the former option, picking up the next book with a heavy sigh. Thankfully, this one looks like it's been touched some time in the last decade, and transferring it to the shelf causes little disturbance to his irritated sinuses. You hear some light sniffling here and there as you try to turn your attention back to the higher shelves, making sure that everything already there is in order.

For a few minutes, it's almost as if there was no interruption in the first place. Comfortable silence reigns once more between you as you resume your duties and he resumes his, each of you minding the other in the small space. Occasionally, you'll reach down to see if he has something you need to fill an empty gap.

These glances down are torturous, and you're fighting not to let him know. It's difficult to keep your mind on your work when you're so interested in how he's faring with the dust in the environment. You find yourself leaning too far over the edge of the ladder when a particularly heavy book catches you off balance, and before you know it, the thing's slipping through your fingers.

"Oh, kriff –"

The curse is out of your mouth as the book seems to drop to the floor below in slow motion, stopping halfway down. Obi-Wan holds out a graceful hand, keeping it steady with the Force. You breathe out a relieved sigh, knowing that you'd be the one in trouble if Madame Jocasta found out you caused damage to one of these ancient tomes.

"Thank you," you say. "That would've been my head."

He lowers the book to the wobbly table nearby, guiding it to safety. But there's an odd look on his face, his right hand trembling. As you crane down to catch a better look at his face, your heart leaps; his gorgeous face is overwhelmed with a familiar about-to-sneeze expression, and you know exactly why.

Dropping the book had caused an explosion of dust. You can see it flare out like an upside-down blossom, wild and fast, half caught in the sunbeam and half out. And Obi-Wan’s standing right in it.

The effect is almost immediate. His face screws up in an almost helpless expression of urgency, sucking in a breath for dear life. There’s no time for him to stifle the first sneeze or even raise his elbow – it just bursts out of him, harsh and breathless, nearly bending him over at the waist. He tries to get his wrist up to cover the spray, but even that is a wasted effort, and you see the expelled air move the dancing dust particles as you stand there motionless, captivated.

Your mouth opens and a small sound comes out – perhaps the beginning of a Force guide you – but no words emerge. In seconds Obi-Wan is sneezing again, this time sure to bring the handkerchief to his face, and then again, the double followed by an exasperated swear. From the edges of the shimmering blue handkerchief you can see his nose is already growing pink and irritated, his eyes watering.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage, though in truth you’re anything but. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Seeing him like this does something to your body and your mind that borders on obscene as he’s held hostage by the dust still falling to the floor around you. Excitement pulses quick in your core, running like lightning through the Force as he struggles to get a grip on himself. From the look on his face, though, that won’t be happening anytime soon. Obi-Wan’s eyes alight on you, the blue even more prominent now, his nostrils wet.

“No, sweetheart it wasn’t your –” his breath hitches, eyes threatening to close, and your hands tighten at your sides. Among other things. “W-wasn’t your –”

It can’t be helped. Obi-Wan succumbs to another sneeze, sounding outright desperate as he does. He doesn’t even have time to lift his face from the handkerchief (no doubt getting damp by now) before giving in to another, and then amazingly another. You’ve never heard him sneeze three times in a row before, and never mind in such rapid succession. The lightest tinge of worry worms its way into your mind as he pauses there, breathing lightly, seeming to try to decide whether or not it’s safe to emerge from his handkerchief again.

“Wasn’t your fault,” he says at last, blowing his nose. It sounds thick and congested, like it’s barely doing any good. “Oh, kriff. I’m dizzy.”

“We should leave,” you murmur, biting your lip hard. “Let Anakin deal with this mess.”

Something in your tone must catch his attention, because Obi-Wan turns his focus away from his own irritated nose to look up at you. In that moment, you know you’re caught. By now, you ought to know that the two of you are too attuned to one another to try and keep anything a secret for long, especially when you’re so…sensitive to seeing him this way. He raises an eyebrow, saying nothing, yet you can feel him trying to get a grip on your life Force with his own.

That in itself manages to send heat flushing over your face, down your neck. Knowing that someone knows you so well and that you’ve been caught looking? More than looking – staring, admiring, drooling – it makes you feel like you wish the shelves behind you would open up, the old books bending their spines, the pages swallowing you into their folds. With both of you well aware of the situation by now, of how you feel about it, Obi-Wan chuckles a little under his breath.

“Why would I do that, when you’re so obviously entertained?” he remarks dryly.

Sometimes you can’t believe his nerve. Because even though he can be the sweetest man in the galaxy, brushing your hair aside and cupping your face in his hands to kiss you, there are other times when he is an absolute bastard. The little quip sends double the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you groan, covering your face in immediate embarrassment.

“Obi-Wan, karabast,” you groan.

There’s no doubt he can feel how aroused you are. Before you can recover from your own little fit of humiliation, you feel his warm hand on your wrist, urging you to lower your hands. And God he’s incredibly close, only inches away, giving you a crooked grin and looking gorgeous and rumpled from the sneezing fit. All you can do is let him do as he pleases with you. You let your hands fall back to your sides, his body pressing to yours with ease. You’re aware that his handkerchief is still balled in his free hand as he walks you backward into the nearest shelf, each of you moving in perfect sync, well practiced at this.

“Darling,” he purrs, moving in until your lips are only a single breath away. “How many times do I have to tell you? You don’t have to be embarrassed.” He kisses you once, lightly. “You don’t have to be ashamed.” Again, the barest brush of lips, and you pout when he pulls away. “Kitten, don’t make that face. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to kiss me, p-please.”

You can hear your own voice, know it’s coming from you, but it’s hard to recognize so weighed down with want. The feeling bleeds into the air, a single note of wavering desperation carried on the Force itself, and Obi-Wan can’t resist you. He’s never been good at telling you no, and this time is no exception. With a single trembling breath in and a wet-sounding sniffle, he breaches the gap, and you collide with the shelf.

Obi-Wan kisses you like it’s been years, and not hours. His impatience surprises you, arouses you, and it doesn’t take you long to respond with equal enthusiasm. When you go back to think about the moment later, you muse that it must have something to do with being seen as desirable, even in a moment of vulnerability and what would normally be perceived as being undesirable. Most people aren’t attracted to what you are, after all. You’re so glad that he accepts you the way you are, that he just goes with it.

But most of all, you’re glad that he’s slowly grinding his hips into yours in the very back of the Temple’s Archives, making delicious little noises in his throat. It drives you insane when he does that, moaning softly like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Pressed so closely, it takes you a moment to realize that he’s still holding the handkerchief tight in one hand at his side, one of its soft edges brushing over your forearm. The exposed skin breaks out in goosebumps.

You could live here, in this hidden dusty nook, letting his tongue lap against yours. The gentle tickle of his beard and mustache against your skin is familiar and tantalizing, the perfect stimulation, a mirror to what’s happening below the belt as he ruts against you in an unhurried rhythm. You return the motion, feeling him twitch against you, his breath growing more and more quick until –

Obi-Wan pulls away from you rapidly, rushing to shove his face into the crumpled handkerchief for a violent sneeze.

“Bless you,” you say delicately.

“Thank you.” He takes the time to wipe his nose thoroughly before pulling you back in, tucking the handkerchief into his trouser pocket. “Shall we continue?”

You lean up on your toes to kiss him in lieu of giving a verbal answer, and you feel him smiling against your mouth. God, it feels so wrong to be doing this where you know, where you can feel other Jedi milling around. In the back of your mind, you know it would be impossible for anyone to sneak up on you. The two of you are facing the only entrance, and you’d hear or sense them coming far before you ever saw them. Still, being out in the open is thrilling. Seeing Obi-Wan like this doubles – perhaps even triples – the sensation. You want nothing more than to abandon this little book sorting project and take him up to your room, now.

“I think that can be arranged,” Obi-Wan muses, reading your thoughts. To be fair, you’re all but throwing them at him. Keeping his body flush with yours, he takes a look around the ancient corner of the Archive, somewhat sheepish. “You know what? I suppose you’re right. This is Anakin’s mess, and he can clean up after it himself. Literally, this time.”

You grin. “I’m proud of you, Master Kenobi.”

Later, when you’re sweaty and exhausted in the sheets, both of you laugh imagining the look on Anakin’s face when he tries to enter the Archives, only to find a stern Madame Jocasta waiting for him, disappointed to find that he’d left the place a disorganized mess. You’re laughing hard enough imagining it, in fact, that the motion does interesting things to your naked body pressed against Obi-Wan’s own. He grabs you up, hungry, for more of what you’ve just finished with.

It’s a long, satisfying night.

#s/tar wars #s/tar w/ars #sniction #snzfic #o/bi wan #o/bi wan k/enobi #o/bi w/an #snz kink

[floatingcatacombs]

It’s the Tar Taking Over That Came Unexpected

12 Days of Aniblogging 2023, Day 2

Back when it was a frustratingly rare Wii exclusive, I braved a storm to hunt down a used copy of Xenoblade Chronicles, and it still surpassed my every expectation. So finally sinking my teeth into Xenoblade Chronicles X earlier this year felt right.

This was a Wii U game and it’s still nuts that this was a Wii U game. The only change I made when emulating it was bumping up the internal rendering resolution, and it’s crazy how good it still looks. The highest-fidelity games I play are FromSoft so my frame of reference is busted, but even still, it’s frequently breathtaking. Monolith Soft has always had a reputation for building impressive open worlds on underpowered hardware, and their first foray into HD might be their greatest feat. Or maybe I’m just easily impressed by pretty skies. Emulated at 1080p 60FPS, the experience really clicks, with snappy menus, fast loading times, and the ability to alt-tab to the map on the gamepad. For once I didn't feel like I was missing out at all by not playing on original hardware.  

After starting a new game you're immediately dumped into a character creation screen, which means I already have to navigate an old stupid censorship debate. See, there was a whole internet shitstorm back in 2015 when this game released stateside because the English version removed the bust slider from the character creator. This was the era of GamerGate and “localization versus translation” and Fire Emblem Fates taking out a waifu-touching minigame and everything surrounding Tokyo Mirage Sessions – things got really heated for a second! In hindsight, it was weird mixture of niche game publishers misreading their target audiences and hypervigilant right-wing provocateurs gearing up for larger culture wars, using titty games as a nexus for radicalizing nerds.

Things have cooled down a lot since then, as Japanese games generally release unaltered these days, rendering it a non-issue. When controversies do happen, it’s not in Nintendo's court anymore, it’s usually Valve removing Japanese visual novels from their store page in an act of laughable double standards. Anyways, thanks to the wonders of PC emulation and memory editors, I was able to restore the boob slider to Xenoblade Chronicles X, and valiantly used it to make my character flat.

XCX’s design sensibilities are a pretty sharp contrast from the direction the series went afterwards, instead dealing in guns, gritty sci-fi, and a more realistic color palette. The storms and forlorn mecha on the box art tell you all you need to know. It’s all very western, with the designers definitely taking cues from Halo and Mass Effect in a lot of places. The hub city is also based on Los Angeles, further cementing the American influence in everything but the mechas.

Ultimately, I think this all worked out well. The original Wii release of Xenoblade Chronicles isn’t particularly “anime”, after all. Its aesthetic sensibilities are closer to Final Fantasy X than, say, any given Tales. Xenoblade Chronicles 2 and 3, as well as the Switch remake of the first game, hew much closer to games like Genshin in terms of colors and character proportions, but Xenoblade X takes the original’s artstyle and places it in a more serious context. I’m glad the series didn’t commit to this direction (it would have gotten bland fast), but it’s cool that we got it exactly once. Despite the more western stylings though, this is still fundamentally a niche anime game, much more so than the first Xenoblade. There’s titty armor and fanservice outfits as quest rewards, a young moe girl in the main cast, and the occasional pervy sidequest. A lot of the localization conflict may have been Nintendo attempting to clean up Xenoblade X in order to pitch it as a mainstream release at a time when the Wii U really needed a hit. While it’s a solid game, it was never going to be able to appeal to a very large audience.

Also, the story’s a bit of a mess. The tone is all over the place, with both comic relief and serious moments frequently failing to land. What starts off as a surprisingly grimdark sci-fi about the last remaining humans trying to survive on an alien planet as their crashed generation ship-city runs out of power quickly morphs into Star Wars levels of goofy aliens. Plot twist after plot twist ensues, defusing a lot of the tension because you know that they’re just going to pull something even crazier out next. Though the main story struggles, the emergent narrative of New Los Angeles is actually pretty good. A lot of the player’s side questing is dedicated to resolving interpersonal conflicts and helping make the city feel like a real home for everyone. Gradually, NLA begins taking on alien immigrants and the mutual fish-out-of-water situation between human and alien refugees leads to some funny moments and the occasional surprisingly thoughtful quest about cultural tolerance.

But for the most part, the story takes a backseat to exploring planet Mira. Through the gameplay loop I’ve come to understand Xenoblade X as something of a single-player MMO. The combat system is based around positioning, auto-attacks, skills that go on cooldown, and extremely customizable character classes. There’s a nightmarish amount of skill trees to keep track off, to the point where I’d forget about them alone until I was having trouble with a fight, and then remember an entire system I’d forgotten to take advantage of. There are item collections to fill out and side quests of all flavors and secret areas and difficult raid bosses yada yada yada…

Okay I can’t hold off from discussing the music any longer. The combat theme for Xenoblade X is the stuff of legends. Terrible, terrible legends.

Putting vocals in your RPG’s regular battle music is a bold move. You really have to make sure you knocked it out of the park, because singing is going to grate on the player far more quickly than any instrumental. Because of this, the battle themes of Persona 5, The World Ends With You, and Get In The Car, Loser! are all something of a flex. Black Tar is not that. I’m just going to link the song, because it really has to heard to be understood.

Xenoblade X’s battle theme starts off strong, the grim sci-fi tone clearly communicated through the moody synths. Soon enough the guitars come crashing in, giving way to a distinctly nu metal sound. That stylistic choice alone pissed people off in 2015, to which I say grow up, it’s great. But if you let the battle run on for 50 seconds, someone starts rapping.

Black Tar has some of the most nonsensical lyrics ever put to pen, delivered in the jankiest way possible, with words just kind of crammed in without any regard to flow. It’s not even a case of “non-proficient English speaker comes up with shoddy lyrics” as occasionally happens with Japanese songs. Every single word of this is an act of malicious fluency, and if I singled out all the lines I had questions about, I’d be here all day. Opening the first verse with “We’re stuck on a whole different planet” tricks the listener into thinking that the lyrics will to tie into the game’s events and setting, but this is a fool’s errand. The titular tar has no in-game corollary, so to make any sense of it you have to go metaphorical and claim that maybe it stands for losing your squadmates and giving up hope. That's still pretty flimsy! Maybe it really is just be about heroin.

Eventually though, we reach the chorus, and it’s actually a great hook! Except for the fact that it’s sung by a Japanese singer in English. The lyrics were clearly written with no regard for which syllables he’d have difficulty with, and making this guy utter the phrase “Black tar’lll” was an open act of cruelty.

In a 2015 interview, Black Tar rapper and lyricist David Whittaker brings up that the he wrote the words for his first video game song in about two hours, going for “just foolishness”. I imagine his work here was a similar situation.

It’s so, so easy to harp on Black Tar. Everyone did at release, and everyone who hasn’t played the game still does. The thing is, it’s impossible to keep that antagonism up when you’ve got an 80-hour game ahead of you where this is the standard battle theme the whole way through. For the sake of your own sanity, you have to learn to love Black Tar, and pretty much everyone who finishes the game comes around to it. Much to the chagrin of my girlfriend, I quote Black Tar constantly, with less of a sense of irony each time. Eventually, you too will find yourself shouting along with David Whittaker as he raps about being on a sea of dark matter. And of course, the instrumental was always a banger if you weren’t a coward. The theme for New LA also gets a lot of flak for its gibberish vocal samples and St. Anger snares, but I’ve always been a fan and think it holds up great as an endless-looping hub area theme. It’s so…. Sawano zeitgeisty.

The entire soundtrack is actually a Hiroyuki Sawano joint, and he does a pretty good job. It very much all sounds like the kind of music he’s known for, with the exception of the overworld themes, which instead try to mimic the compositions of the first Xenoblade Chronicles. Primordia’s theme is an excellent response to the first game’s Gaur Plain, with a more techy and ominous tone that nevertheless still evokes the sense of grand exploration ahead.

The edgy atmosphere, the washed out palette, the Sawano tunes….Xenoblade Chronicles X is extremely of its time, in a way that comes across as deeply charming 8 years later. It’s kind of terrifying that something can already be an early 2010s period piece! The Sawano music alone will shoot you back to the days of Kill La Kill and Aldnoah Zero, when Gen Urobuchi was absolutely everywhere and the default crap anime genre was magic school instead of isekai. The mere idea of early 2010s nostalgia sets off alarms in my head, but it’s definitely real, and will only become more of a thing in the next few years. Brace yourselves for the flow of time.

Last, but certainly not least, the mechas! They’re one of the main reasons I tried the game out in the first place. Giant robots are often part of Xenoblade worldbuilding, but they don’t really factor into the gameplay. X is the exception. From the first preview trailers to the title screen to their first step into New LA, the player is made to want a Skell. They’re so cute! The Skells were designed by Takayuki Yanase, one of the people who worked on Gundam 00, and I can see the similarities in the combination of curves and blocky elements. There’s quite a few mecha otaku who work at the NLA hangar out of love for the Skells. Most of them are women, a detail that made me really happy!

Adding even more to the player’s desire is the fact that Xenoblade X withholds Skells for a very long time. You have to make it more than halfway through the story and substantially explore the first three continents on foot before receiving your piloting license. And it’s Xenoblade, so these places are massive. Even with an extremely generous jump, you’ll run into countless clifftops out of reach. They really make you work for it, but at least the core gameplay loop of exploring to setting up waypoints and mining devices is a lot of fun on its own (I was curious if the plot would ever get around to problematizing the resource-extraction gameplay loop, but no dice).

party members next to the Skell for scale purposes

When you finally get a Skell about forty hours into the game, everything changes. One of the major challenges facing mecha games is getting the scale right –it’s pretty easy for the giant robot to feel human-sized if all the player is ever doing is piloting. Xenoblade X avoids this by making your human pace painfully clear before giving you a ten-meter robot to traverse those same landscapes. It’s night and day how much more quickly you can navigate. Skells are also wildly stronger than characters on the ground, and being able to take on behemoth creatures as well as pulverize the human-scale enemies you’ve been fighting all this time keeps the scale relevant. It provides a real power fantasy and makes them feel believable in-setting. Being able to get in and out of your Skell at will goes a long way towards making it truly feel like yours, and this mechanic also acts as something of an on-the-fly difficulty modifier for the remainder of the game. A few chapters later you get a flight pack for your Skell, and the world opens up all over again.

not pictured: the j-pop earworm that plays every time you start flying

After spending so much time hanging out with the mecha pervert mechanic girlies in the NLA hangar, the back half of Xenoblade Chronicles X finally lets you be one of the mecha pervert girlies. Customization is on the lighter side, as you can’t mix and match body parts like in Armored Core, but there’s still plenty of color customization and weapons fine-tuning to do. I totally fell in love with my robots, and that alone makes it a victory of a mecha game.

A new song plays during Skell combat, and it’s…. more verses of Black Tar!! There truly is no escape. The backing has more of an EDM sound to it, and the lyrics are even more laughable than before. “Shoot them with your guns” still gets me every time. And yet, I would be lying if I said I’ve never headbanged to the part about being stuck on a different planet. You learn to love these things.

So that’s Xenoblade X. It’s a weird-ass game, a real triumph but also absolutely the wrong thing for Nintendo to have to put out in 2015. It’s easily the most impressive Wii U exclusive and I’m glad Monolith Soft took this detour. You’d be disappointed in it if you went in with purely the expectation of a mecha game, but as a Xenoblade fan who’s been gradually falling deeper into mecha, it was a great genre blend. Xenoblade X’s servers will shut down next year, and while I didn’t partake in any of that (the multiplayer elements seem fairly minor anyways), it will be the end of an era for sure. Just in time to start fondly reminiscing.

#12 days of anime #xenoblade x #xenoblade chronicles x

[car1y-quinn]

Yelena rifling through Kate’s childhood things: Kate where are the pictures of you from when you were little?

Kate mindlessly scrolling on her phone: In my special box

Yelena looking at Kate confused:

Kate: The one in the closet

Yelena: You keep pictures of yourself in with your S-

Kate looking up from her phone panicking: Not that one!

Yelena: -tar wars collection…?

Kates face turning red:

Yelena smirking: Well your sex toys wouldn’t have been my first guess Kate

Kate jumping out of her seat: How do you know about that!?

#kate bishop #yelena belova #hawkeye #kate x yelena #kate bishop x yelena belova #bishlova #incorrect hawkeye quotes #bishova #yelena x kate

[rawmeknockout]

heyy could I request mtmte krok using toys (dildo/vibrator/whatever im not picky) on his cybertronian s/o?

A sigh startles out of your intake, back strut arching up with the hitch in your invents, body trying desperately to chase the meager vibrations Krok is allowing you to enjoy right now. No one could possibly get off on a vibrator’s lowest setting, he’s just teasing you. It’s easy enough to tell by the amused chuff that rumbles in his chest right beneath your audial. If you weren’t leaning back against him, straining to control your wriggling hips, you might have smacked him.

“You’re beautiful, sweetspark,” Your optics close at his words, letting them tumble around in your processor. You’re beautiful. You are beautiful. The most handsome mech you’ve ever seen thinks you’re beautiful. Should it still feel so special after spending years together? It makes your spark flutter and warm with wave after wave of affection. The whole room is nearly radiating the energy your intertwined fields make, filled to the brim with warm, roiling attraction. Fulcrum has mentioned offhandedly that it feels like living next to a nausea factory. You can’t be bothered to care about the disgusted noises the other Savengers make when you two are in the room. They’re just jealous of the stability that you two share.

The servo around your waist draws soothing circles in your side armor, pulling you firm and secure back into Krok’s chassis. There’s no where safer, no mech safer, nowhere else you would feel so comfortable letting someone hold a vibrator to your spike and node. After the war it had felt impossible to trust in anyone, especially your fellow ex-Cons. There’s was no one left who you could trust or who would, Primus forbid, trust you. Life had seemed so bleak. A pit of tar drowning you and any evidence you had ever existed. Krok had been the first mech willing to listen, willing to look past your barriers to see you. Nothing since has ever been so terrifying as knowing Krok could see right through you, see your pain, and still want to give you the care you had been desperate for.

He’s laser focused on your pleasure, the way your vents catch and body writhes to chase after that elusive charge. Just like Krok to be so intent on your pleasure that he forgoes his own, just so he can watch you and control the moment. If you had to guess, it may be his favorite way to relax, knowing he can set the pace and the method. You don’t mind handing over the reins if it’s him. There’s no one more trustworthy.

Your legs tremble open ever wider, valve clenching down on nothing as you try desperately to focus on the slow roll and rumble of the wand held against the base of your spike. If only it were just a touch faster. But you can just taste charge building in your system, crackling hard under your plating. Krok’s lovingly shushes you through a slow, processor-melting overload. The tension in your frame bleeds out with the charge whipping along your lines, the clutter of worries and gears plaguing you day in and day out have all been bleached away under the intense steady pleasure still curled tight around your interface.

#asks #txt #reader insert #transformers #reader imagine #transformers idw #tf idw #transformers mtmte #tf mtmte #smut #valveplug #krok #mtmte krok #idw krok #tf krok

[butterflydm]

wot reread: new spring (chapters 1-4)

spoilers for new spring and as far into the main series as knife of dreams

NS is actually going to end up having at least one more post than expected, because despite being shorter than CoT & KoD, NS feels a lot more substantive.

1. Jordan is pretty good at these evocative setting descriptions and helping the reader feel what the environment is like by what the character is feeling. Lan Mandragoran is currently thinking about the dangers of fighting the Aiel and this chapter is about introducing us to this younger version of Lan but it’s also about fixing us in time -- the Aiel have poured over the Spine of the World, have already destroyed Cairhien. It’s nearly but not quite time for the prophecy that kicks off Moiraine’s search for Rand.

2. Lan thinks about how he avoids Aes Sedai as much as possible, because of how it’s said that they tie strings to people and seldom care who they use up in their schemes. Something that is really sad to me about the book series, and something I hope maybe the show can change, is how Lan probably thinks just this thing about Moiraine again now, after what she did with the bond. Moiraine blames her and Lan growing apart on him getting attached to Rand and Nynaeve, but she is on the same side as Rand and Nynaeve so their goals were aligned. She’s the one who burned the bridges between them by not respecting Lan’s choices and making plans ‘for him’ rather than making plans ‘with him’. The relationship between Aes Sedai and Warder seems more balanced in the show so far, so I’m interested to see where they take Moiraine and Lan’s relationship in the future and how that balances out against his growing relationship(s) with Nynaeve and Rand.

3. We meet one of Lan’s teachers, Bukama, and we learn here that Lan was trained to be a silent warrior from a very young age. Raising a child all their life to fight in a doomed war is... honestly pretty depressing. It certainly makes sense that this was his childhood, given what we know of who he is in the main series, though. Bukama is one of the five warriors who survived the journey out of Malkier, when Lan’s parents sent him away to safety as the Blight swallowed up their country. We learn that even though he was sent away as an infant, Lan still thinks of Malkier as his home and feels the pull to go north. We also learn that Lan’s teacher believes that all the Aiel are sworn to the Dark One. Yikes, bro.

4. We are currently two years into the Aiel War -- Cairhien has been burned and... okay, the geography here is confusing me. Lan thinks about how the Aiel went through Cairhien, then they apparently swung south into Tear and the west into Andor, and now they’re attacking Tar Valon... from the west? The only way this makes sense is if they are following the fleeing King Laman. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. And no one currently fighting knows that they’re just here to kill this one guy -- they are just assuming it’s a full-scale invasion (though we know it was just four out of the twelve clans).

5. “What Aes Sedai knew, they held close, and doled out by dribbles and drops when and if they chose.” Honestly, this is actually the Aes Sedai trait that bites them in the ass the most, once we get to modern times. Moiraine was trained to keep secrets and manipulate people politically first as a Cairhienin but then refined it as an Aes Sedai, and (not always Aes Sedai! There’s a lot of people who keep secrets) secrecy causes a lot of issues throughout the series. A brief list of things that it Would Have Been Nice To Know:

If Siuan had been open and honest with Gawyn and Galad, neither of those boys would have fallen into bad company. They are dedicated heart and soul to Elayne -- USE THAT instead of stonewalling them.

If Moiraine had been honest with Rand instead of playing games with him and encouraging his other advisors to leave, lots of issues in future books could have been avoided. I’ve talked about this one multiple times in my reread.

No one ever tells Rand anything, especially if they are Aes Sedai. In general, people try to ‘manage’ Rand instead of communicating with him like a person (yes, I am VERY MUCH including Min in this; Min is constantly ‘managing’ Rand instead of talking to him like a grown-up).

iirc, Rand is also stonewalled on Elayne’s activities in Tanchico, told that they’re “Aes Sedai” business, despite them being actively and entirely related to him. The entire reason that Elayne and Nynaeve go to Tanchico is to address a danger to RAND and yet he only gets the tiniest morsels of information about what happens there.

Egwene & Moiraine refused to give Rand any details about Salidar (not even the name), which leads to him massively underestimating their numbers and sending Mat in with an offer to help them that they just find offensive and terrifying, and which eventually ends up with Mat getting trapped in a crappy marriage with a slaver instead of being Rand’s general.

Instead of trying to send a message back to Rand, ever at any point, Egwene sends Mat off to Ebou Dar with Elayne and keeps his army as long as she can. Egwene never tries to contact Rand to create an alliance between the rebels and the Dragon Reborn -- it was pre-Egwene Salidar who sent the embassy to him, and it’s Rand who sends first Mat and then Merise & Narishma to try to talk to Egwene (as of KoD).

Elayne, Nynaeve, Egwene, and Min apparently never told anyone on Rand’s side after Falme that the sul’dam are capable of channeling too and that the Seanchan are completely unaware that channeling learners are a thing that even exists. Min doesn’t tell Rand this even after he starts fighting against the new invasion of the Seanchan. This is something that would have actually made her relationship with Rand have a point, if she’d given him that information when it became relevant. (I do understand Egwene not mentioning it - a. because of The Trauma and b. at that point, they didn’t have any reason to believe the Seanchan would be back any time soon). Like when I realized in TPoD that Rand didn’t know about the sul’dam secret, I’m pretty sure I actually blue-screened in my reread. HOW was it even possible, I wondered!

...did they ever even tell Moiraine or Verin? Or was this literally a Wondergirls + Min secret until Rand sent the sul’dam/damane pairs to Elayne and she told the people in her storyline? Like, a lot of secrets, I understand why people keep them even if I wish they’d be more trusting with their allies. But this is a secret about AN ENEMY that would greatly weaken them if it were publicly known - it should be trumpeted far and wide! Elayne should have sent out a public proclamation from Caemlyn after she escaped Ebou Dar! EVERYONE on Rand’s side should know about this! There’s no reason to keep it a secret! The only people keeping this a secret benefits are the Seanchan military & nobility! Honestly, I feel like the only reason that the sul’dam secret stays a secret is Jordan putting his finger on the scale in favor of the Seanchan, because it makes zero tactical sense but it sure does give them an advantage!

Elayne, Aviendha, Nynaeve and their various hangers-on never tell Rand that his best friend was left behind in enemy territory. I guess Rand probably eventually figured out that SOMETHING WEIRD happened with Mat going to Salidar but no one has ever told him the story. That’s his best friend! WTF, guys!

On Rand’s side, he doesn’t tell Elayne and Aviendha that he’s going to cleanse saidin. Literally baffling choice on his part. I understand keeping it a secret in general (before it happens) but not from literally two of your romantic partners.

Now, to a certain extent, secrecy is understandable, especially since there are Black Ajah in the White Tower. But if you can’t trust the Dragon Reborn not to be a Darkfriend, then you (and the whole world) are screwed anyway. So much of this ties back to Jordan’s apparently firm belief that men and women find communication with each other incredibly difficult and hazardous at every turn. But also it feels like Jordan didn’t know when to stop. Same thing with Rand’s downward spiral tbh. It felt like he knew how to make it worse but didn’t know how to make it better (which is why I very much doubt he could have actually finished the books series in fewer pages than Sanderson managed and suspected it would have been a GREAT DEAL longer tbh). He was just addicted to people not talking to each other.

6. Lan notes that it seems like every thousand years, some huge war happens -- a thousand years after the Breaking of the World was the Trolloc Wars. A thousand years after that, it was the War of a Hundred Years after Artur Hawkwing’s Empire fell. And there are rumors that the Dark One was involved in that war as well. And he’s thinking that this Aiel War is the current Next Horrible Thing but little does he know that the Last Battle is scheduled to happen in his lifetime. ~dramatic irony~

7. But Lan’s belief that the Dark One is directing all these great wars is why he came south and pledged to fight against the Aiel, and he no longer believes that the Aiel are servants of the Dark One, so he’s doubting his reasons for being here now (but he’s made an oath, so he’ll stick it out to the end).

8. Lan struggles with an internal culture clash -- the way he was raised in the Borderlands tells him that the recently arrived Tairen Lord who has come with a message about a new battle plan is behaving extremely rudely and making it impossible for Lan to respond to him properly as well. Because the Tarien Lord didn’t offer his name, Lan believes that he can’t ask the man his name without sounding boastful so he just... never finds out the guy’s name. Lan is so upset by how rude this guy is being that he needs to find the ko’di (the oneness; what Rand was taught as ‘the flame and the void’) so that he doesn’t fly off the handle. Nameless messenger rides off. We also learn here that apparently Borderlander culture is nearly as big on dueling on Ebou Dari culture is, as challenging people to duels for being rude is a thing up in the Borderlands. I feel like we were not given this info in the main series.

9. Interesting! Lan thinks about how there are some Malkieri in the consolidated forces against the Aiel but Lan will not lead them. Part of how he feels like he has to face his burden against the Shadow alone, I’m guessing? (a bad habit that he passed on to Rand while training him)

10. ...does Lan have a beard? I could have sworn that a beard has never been mentioned, but he thinks of a kid here as a “beardless youth”. The kid is apparently a “cheerful killer” and an archer of rare skill.

11. Okay, Lan is currently in sight of the White Tower itself during this battle, it seems. That wasn’t entirely clear until now. He’s three leagues away from Tar Valon. He sees Dragonmount and thinks about how it is a mountain of prophecy, a prophecy of hope and despaired that would be fulfilled “one day”, but he definitely doesn’t believe that it will be any time soon.

12. Ah, Lan here is able to ignore the cold, and the ‘trick’ that he uses is just “the oneness”, but used in a slightly different way. I guess that’s what it was meant when we were told that it was simply a matter of concentration.

13. The Aiel who are coming (at least twice what Lan was told they would be) spot Lan among the other soldiers and recognize him. I don’t think we’re ever actually told why the Aiel care enough about Lan to give him a special name. They don’t normally care about the wetlands, so why would they mark the fall of Malkier? A mystery! Anyway, the Aiel don’t attack, probably because they killed Laman and it’s time to go home, but they don’t explain that to anyone. They just leave. It actually kinda sounds like Lan might have been set up to die here and the plan only failed because the Aiel had accomplished their task? Hmm.

14. We shift gears and head into the White Tower to ‘meet’ Moiraine Damodred. She is inside the White Tower, in the Amyrlin’s sitting room along with her “closest friend” Siuan Sanche, and she is also very cold. We learn that she’s an Accepted and that, even from inside the White Tower, she can smell the smoke from the burned villages around Tar Valon.

15. Since the war began, the Accepted have all been confined to the Tower grounds. Moiraine is frustrated and feels like she has a right to know how the war is going, since her uncle is the one who started it all. In addition to Moiraine and Siuan, the other two people in the room are Tamra (Amyrlin Seat) and Gitara (currently Keeper for the Amyrlin and the person who, before she came back to the White Tower, set up the events in Andor that would lead to the creation of the very person she’s about to have a Foretelling about). Moiraine has a lot of admiration for Tamra -- a leader that she sees as fair and just, and often kind.

16. Gitara, on the other hand, Moiraine views as usually fair and always just... but never kind. She’s believed to be over three hundred years old, which is old even for Aes Sedai. Moiraine notes that both Gitara and Tamra seem nervous -- Gitara has spent the last four hours ‘writing’ a letter (mostly staring at blank paper) and Tamra has been reading the same page for hours as well. They had not been nervous when she’d seen them yesterday. This is also the third day of fighting in the area of Tar Valon. Gitara and Tamra are the only two full Aes Sedai currently in the Tower -- the rumor is that the rest of the Aes Sedai are out helping heal their wounded soldiers, who are getting injured in great numbers.

17. We get our first Moiraine/Siuan “aaah” moment in the book when Moiraine sees Siuan smiling at her and notes that it turns her face from “handsome to pretty” and makes her clear blue eyes twinkle. We also learn here in a side note that white is color of mourning in Cairhien, which I’m not sure we ever learned in the main series. The two things that Moiraine found most difficult when she was a novice was wearing white all the time and learning to rein in her temper (so both Moiraine and Lan are established here as having tempers that they must keep reined in).

18. Moiraine/Siuan “aaah” moment number two: “Siuan had that gift, making her smile when she wanted to frown and laugh when she wanted to weep.” She and Siuan have some things in common: they are both orphans (mothers died when they were young; fathers have died in the time since they entered the White Tower) and both were born with the spark. The differences between them are more substantial -- culturally, “wealthy” Moiraine comes from a place that respects Aes Sedai and she was given a “grand dance” in the Sun Palace to celebrate her departure for the White Tower; while “poor” Siuan comes from a land where channeling is outlawed and she had to leave on a ship for the White Tower as soon as her channeling was discovered. Siuan also has full control over her temper, is good at puzzles (Moiraine is not), hates horses (Moiraine is a horse girl), and Siuan is a much quicker learner in all things outside the One Power (which they learned at an equal pace). Moiraine and Siuan both completed their novice training in three years, which only one other woman has ever done (”detestable” Elaida). Elaida also completed her Accepted training in a record three years and Moiraine and Siuan hope to outdo her in that.

19. Moiraine/Siuan “aaah” moment number three: “Moiraine was all too aware of her own shortcomings, but she thought that Siuan would make a perfect Aes Sedai.” Awwww. She has so much admiration and affection for Siuan.

20. The sound of hundreds of trumpets comes from the battlefield and Moiraine is told to go and see if there is news, while Siuan makes tea. Moiraine has just returned to report there is no news, when a terrified Gitara bolts to her feet and has her Foretelling (about Rand): “He is born again! I feel him! The Dragon takes his first breath on the slopes of Dragonmount! He is coming! He is coming! Light help us! Light help the world! He lies in the snow and cries like thunder!” Then she slumps into Moiraine’s arms and dies. Tamra orders the both of them to tell no one about Gitara’s Foretelling -- as far as they are concerned, she died without speaking.

21. lol, the way Moiraine describes how drafty the White Tower is, it sounds like a misery to live in. Aaah moments number four: Siuan suggesting having breakfast not because she herself is hungry but just to keep Moiraine company if SHE’S hungry.

22. Moiraine thinks about how glad she is that the White Tower hasn’t rubbed away all of Siuan’s rough edges -- they’re a part of her (moment #5). She also thinks about how Siuan is a natural leader and she’s glad to follow her (moment #6) and that she believes Siuan will be a Sitter and an Amyrlin in the future.

23. Genuinely SO sad for Siuan’s lost dreams here? She wants to travel! She wants to explore! She wants to see what’s beyond the horizon! (sadly, it’s just slavers beyond that horizon). Moiraine feels a pang of sadness at the idea of Siuan going off on her adventures alone, without Moiraine (moment #7).

24. haha, hilarious! Gitara’s Foretelling LITERALLY SAID he “takes his first breath” and yet Moiraine thinks about how it means that the Dragon Reborn will be born “soon”. Pretty sure it just happened, Moiraine. I get why she thinks that. It is called a FOREtelling, but it’s funny.

25. Getting some very nice and useful description of what the White Tower looks like here. The Wondergirls spent so little time in the White Tower itself, comparatively speaking -- only a handful of months (yet still so much more training than any of the boys get). Moiraine and Siuan have been there for over three years at this point, learning things. Honestly, one of the big things that tripped Jordan up in the series was that the timelines really got skewed because the boys were all tripping into leadership without doing training beforehand, while the two female characters who become leaders spend a lot of time doing pre-leadership stuff. So by the time Egwene is ready to be Amrylin and Elayne is ready to be Queen, so much of Rand, Mat, (and especially) Perrin’s storylines have already been burned through, so they ended up just treading water while Elayne and Egwene do their leadership arcs.

26. I like this dive into Moiraine’s opinion on the Prophecies, because that’s going to be what influenced the way she treated Rand once she found him: that the Prophecies say he will fight the Dark One but do not say if he will succeed. That it is known that he will channel tainted saidin, which means that he will go mad and thus she worries that the Dragon’s victory has the potential just as bad as the Dark One’s victory, though she reassures herself that it must be better, if only slightly. Actually a lot of the characterization that we see in the show’s Moiraine is laid out here in New Spring. In general, between this and the still-alive Siuan relationship, it does feel like Rafe kinda gently lifted the NS!Moiraine and placed her into EotW!Moiraine.

27. Moiraine now thinks about how few women occupy the White Tower in comparison to how many it was housed to hold -- less than half of the rooms for Accepteds are filled, while back when the White Tower was at its strongest, the rooms held two women to a room, so the White Tower is essentially operating at a quarter of the strength that the founders planned for it to use. The waning influence of the White Tower is a fairly large and looming plotpoint for much of the main series -- the reforms that Egwene wants to make would return the White Tower to the numbers that it once used to boast. The White Tower is failing, Moiraine thinks to herself. But she also thinks: “The Tower taught its students to live with what they could not change too. But some things were important enough to try even if you were sure to fail.”

28. Moiraine and Siuan are so emotionally close that Moiraine feels a ~tingle when Siuan channels (moment #8). "The tingle was unusual. Women who spent a lot of time together in their training sometimes felt it, but the sensation was supposed to fade away over time. Hers and Siuan’s never had. Sometimes Moiraine thought it was a sign of how close their friendship was.”

29. They are also pranksters (though it’s a common thing in general, to relieve the tension of how stressful the training is). They pranked Elaida harder than anyone else, because of how hard she was on them during their novice lessons, holding them to impossibly high standards. They had one year with Elaida when she was still an Accepted, then one where she had the shawl, and then she was gone. So, wow, Elaida became Morgase’s advisor after only being Aes Sedai for a year? And she’s been gone from the Tower for years now but Moiraine still thinks of her as The Worst (tm).

30. Moiraine and Siuan practice for the test to become Aes Sedai and we learn the details of how the test works -- the student must create a hundred different weaves “perfectly and in a precise order while under great stress” and maintaining complete calm. So the ‘Aes Sedai coldness’ is essentially their last great test before they become Sisters. They have to be able to focus and remain calm despite provocations. I have so much curiosity about how these traditions got started, because I’m pretty sure this test is yet another “ter’angreal that was originally created for another unknown purpose but, hey, we figure it works well enough for this” like the one for going from novice to Accepted. But I feel like some kind of testing was certainly in place back in the Age of Legends, because the Aiel Wise Ones also test using a ter’angreal.

31. It’s interesting to hear about how difficult it is for them to use more than one or two weaves at once, because I’ve gotten used to being in Rand & the Wondergirls PoVs, who are all massively powerful by comparison and are able to split their flows much more easily. And, of course, Moiraine herself is much better at it twenty years from now as well. Hmm, I also wonder if these intricate “useless” weaves are possibly handed down from before the Breaking unchanged, because they don’t “require” hand gestures (which none of the weaves do, but the current Aes Sedai believe that they do). Creating beautiful weaves for the sake of being beautiful and not for any particular purpose sounds like art and not survival-mode (as things tend to be in the current Age).

32. Which takes me to a tangent on which weaves survived. Healing in particular, it’s fascinating to me that the big Healing weaves didn’t survive, only the most basic ‘battlefield’ healing. The one that was less intricate, that was easier to teach and easier to use, because it didn’t require as many flows being divided? Or Traveling and Skimming... those, I wonder if they perhaps got lost because the Breaking of the World changed the landscape so much that the weaves for Traveling and Skimming stopped working for a time. But also, so many of the most powerful channelers who could handle those ‘big’ weaves likely died in the fighting and, then, in the aftermath of the counterstroke and the Breaking of the World.

33. Yikes! Moiraine thinking here about how the Dragon Reborn would need to be gentled after he wins the Last Battle. “A grim fate, to save the world if he could, then for reward be cut off from this wonder [of using the One Power]”. Moiraine and Siuan are talking here about how likely it is that the Red Sisters would be able to hold back from gentling even the Dragon Reborn, as there are rumors that they don’t try very hard to take men who can channel alive. She thinks about how it should count as murder but she can almost understand why it doesn’t, given how destructive men who can channel end up becoming (due to the taint on the Source).

34. I feel like Jordan pulls a bit of a retcon here when he notes that Myrelle thinks that the Last Battle might be coming due to the presence of the Aiel outside the Waste. IIRC, we don’t really get any hint that the Aiel are believed by any Sisters to be involved in the Prophecies when Moiraine is arguing with Rand back in The Shadow Rising. But here, it’s said that Sisters have been arguing over the subject back and forth since the beginning of the Aiel War.

35. One of the ways that Siuan attempts to distract Moiraine during their practicing for the shawl test are “embarrassing caresses” *wiggles eyebrows* (moment #9).

36. Our next White Tower cameo is Tarna. She spent nine years as a novice, and has few friends. She’s come to tell them that novices and Accepted have a free day from classes today, because Gitara has died. Luckily, this means that Myrelle assumes that this is the ‘secret’ that Siuan and Moiraine were hiding from her.

37. Ah, interesting, Moiraine thinks here that getting Tuatha’an novices is just as rare as getting Atha’an Miere, but we (the readers) know that the Atha’an Miere are deliberately hiding from the White Tower how many channelers they have and how strong those channelers are by only occasionally sending relatively weak in the Power women to make it look like they just don’t have the talent at the Power. With the Tuatha’an... we’re told that “they did not want to channel or become Aes Sedai” and if anyone is discovered to have the spark, she is immediately taken to the White Tower, so that puts a darker spin on them being so eager to live in Seanchan lands in KoD. Perhaps they’re fully willing to throw their poor sparkers at the Seanchan as the blood-price for the rest of them getting to live protected. Also, Verin is shorter than Moiraine, which I hadn’t known before!

38. Oooh, Tamra’s secret hunt for the Dragon Reborn is that she is offering a ‘thanksgiving’ bounty to any woman who gave birth “between the day when the first soldiers arrived and the day the threat ended”. The Accepted are to be sent out to try to record the names of all these women and their information. We’re reminded that Whitecloaks are currently part of the consolidated forces and “if he can safely put an arrow through [an Accepted’s] back, it will please him as much as if she were an Aes Sedai”, so the threat of the Whitecloaks was present twenty years ago as well. That’s another place where it feels like the show drew on New Spring for inspiration. Moiraine thinks “when an Aes Sedai went out into the world and vanished, as sometimes happened, the first thought was always the Whitecloaks. The Children called Aes Sedai Darkfriends and claimed that touching the One Power was blasphemy punishable by death, a sentence they were all too willing to carry out”. And Moiraine and Siuan are the only two here who know that Tamra is sending them out to try to find the Dragon Reborn.

39. Ah, Moiraine gets a ‘getting ready for traveling’ scene here, like she does in the opening of the show, including making sure to bring her dagger with her. I am reminded of how much Jordan liked to describe clothing in great depth, though. I have to admit, I absolutely skim over his descriptions of clothing most of the time, because I just. Don’t care that much lol.

40. I have to admit, when I originally read this in publication order (which was between CoT & KoD), I’m pretty sure that it made going into KoD make me despise the Seanchan even more deeply, because of how we get to see the inner workings of the White Tower and get to see more of the people that the Seanchan/Tuon will remorselessly brutalize in twenty years (this thought came to mind as I ran across a mention of Edesina, who is one of the Aes Sedai who came with Mat out of Ebou Dar). I must profess my PROFOUND bafflement that Jordan could choose to write the Seanchan storyline the way that he did in CoT & KoD in Perrin’s and Mat’s storylines and yet, in between those books, he wrote this prequel which showcased the complicated humanity of all of these women that Tuon and her Empire want to strip of their rights and freedoms. What was going on in his brain? How did he reconcile writing NS with having Mat genuinely feel like he “more than likes” slaver empress Tuon (who he is still terrified will enslave him, personally) and Perrin thinking about what a likable person his slaver BFF Tylee is (while she’s in the active process of enslaving people)? Baffling. CoT & KoD just... screwed over all the momentum of the Seanchan storyline, presumably all for the sake of a spin-off series that will never happen.

41. Moiraine bought a horse for herself to celebrate being made Accepted and she’d wanted to buy Siuan one as well (moment #10) but anti-horsegirl Siuan refused the offer.

42. lol, Moiraine disses on the random Andorans in Tar Valon so hard. “stubborn, overproud, and they lacked imagination”. And you’re gonna get stuck with five of them in the future! lol. She hates how plainly they dress, too, in comparison with people from other countries. We also get a very loving description of Tar Valon here (pg 69-70, for reference). Moiraine feeling so awed at actually being allowed to leave Tar Valon even though she’s still only Accepted is another fascinating contrast against how not-normal Egwene, Nynaeve, and Elayne’s experience in the White Tower was.

43. Yeah, the brazenness of the Whitecloaks here, momentarily blocking Moiraine & Co’s path out of Tar Valon, very much reminds me of the angle that Rafe took with the Whitecloaks in the first season.

44. “After six years practically in one another’s belt pouches” (moment #11). And Moiraine makes Siuan blush here. We see that they help keep each other in check and from going too far, when necessary.

#wot #wheel of time #wot reread #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #moiraine damodred #siuan sanche #siuraine #new spring #lan mandragoran #i am ready and willing to read something that has literally zero seanchan characters in it #i need a break from them #knife of dreams