#taking them away from endeavor and keeping them for myself

[sarah-dipitous]

Me, every time I see the Todobros

#taking them away from endeavor and keeping them for myself #touya todoroki #dabi #shoto todoroki #mha 355 #bnha 355

[etheries1015]

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

#Twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #malleus #malleus x reader #Malleus draconia #Malleus draconia x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfics

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Do you ever struggle not sharing details of your story / spoiling people? It's one of the hardest parts of writing for me! I always want to just divulge all of my ideas immediately!

The answer, weirdly enough... is no!

And a part of that is definitely due to me being a giant, secret-hoarding dragon in disguise. But another part of that is the fact that I largely suspect that...

Keeping secrets and avoiding spoilers is the reason this comic is still alive and updating.

Now, that may sound odd. Why would keeping secrets help me post? Sharing work is kind of the life-blood of a lot of creative endeavors. Storytelling is an inherently social activity. All humans, even the most introverted ones, thrive on peer recognition and feedback.

But over the years, I've come to realize something about myself. And this realization may be mostly stemming from me, but I suspect it's actually a pretty common factor for other creatives as well. So maybe I should talk about it (again).

Let me introduce you to something I call...

The Emperor's New Accomplishment.

Here's the thing. I'm an extremely introverted, non-social person. I can go for months without talking to friends easily, even if I love them a whole lot. That all being said, I'm still a human being, and my brain derives happy-social-animal chemicals from being recognized as A Person With Traits. Humans are built that way! We can't avoid it.

So what you gotta understand is - at all times, our brain is seeking social/peer recognition like it seeks out high-calorie foods. And it (largely) does not care what we have to do to get it.

Herein lies the problem.

Usually, creating stuff and thinking about stories and then sharing what we wrote with friends is a great way to get that happy chemical.

But it's time consuming. And difficult. And there's a shortcut.

What we seek when we create Scenarios and Characters and Conflicts is not hard work toiling away writing/drawing/constructing stuff. Many artists actively enjoy this process, but it's grueling.

And just telling our friends about our ideas actually accomplishes the end goal, as far as our brain is concerned! We made up ideas! We told people about it! We got the Good Feelings!

So when I tell people about my Plans to Write A Comic or Ideas To Make a Story, what I'm actually doing is tricking my brain into thinking 'wow, this feels great! We have accomplished the task we set out to do! No more effort necessary!'

And that motivation to actually draw/write/create?

It goes directly into the trashcan.

Now I'm not saying this to suggest people who do this/fall prey to this are lazy. They're not!

But our brains are. They're lazy, and they want to save energy. And they don't care if you WANTED to actually make the story. They will gladly rip the Motivation energy out of our grubby little hands when they no longer deem it necessary to the process.

So - why do I keep so many secrets? How do I stop myself from talking about what happens next in the story?

I'm doing it to keep my actual comic alive.

Disclaimer: Not everyone functions like this, obviously. Everyone has a different creative process. But this is how I've realized MY brain works, so I now take steps to trick my brain back into working. Ha! Take that, brain! Two can play at this--waitaminute.

#chekhov answers #the funny thing is #i am my brain #but damn am i just dangling a carrot in front of myself most of the time

[howlsofter]

Hellfire.

You’ve been working for John Constantine for a little. He’s been too protective to let you learn anything but he wants to keep you close. Just my usual one shot smut with a little plot.

Words: 2.8k

Tags/warnings: m/f penetration, cunnilingus, drinking, smoking, a little dirty talk, choking, idk sex mostly

John Constantine hates being bothered.

But he needs a new driver.

Just temporarily.

He’d found me on one of his previous endeavors, but many already know who I am. Taught of the occult and arcane by a small circle on the streets after my parents passed, my skills are above most.

Not that I ever get to use them with John. He’s worrisome, shaking as he presses his cigarette back up to his mouth, inhaling like it was his last breathe. He is peering outside.

“John, this time please,” I beg as I round up to the building, John doesn’t even look my way, tossing his cigarette to the ground the moment he opens the car door. He rushes inside and I sigh, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel and letting my head fall back.

30 minutes or so and he’s back, staggering with another goddamn cigarette between his lips. He climbs into the car and I drive forward,

“Where to?” I ask, glancing in the mirror. He’s been crashing at mine for this stent, but he’s been talking about something West. Something I could help him with.

My life is in Brooklyn. I pursed my lips together when he told me. I agreed. He knew I would. I’ve been following John blindly these past few months, yet I don’t know if he really gives a fuck about me.

“Fuck,” he spreads out in the backseat, closing his eyes and pressing his cigarette up to his lips, “anywhere. Do you have alcohol?”

That’s code for my place, because I almost always have alcohol. He’s not a terrible house guest. He doesn’t touch my food, he crashes on the couch fully clothed, no blankets no pillows. That’s only if he’s tired, otherwise he sits and, thinks. I guess.

I pour us a glass and leave the bottle in the middle of table. John sits back and retrieves his cigarettes from his pocket, knocking out another and putting it up to his lips.

He lights it before taking a long sip of his drink. He’s sat back in his seat but leaned forward in a long folded over shape. He takes another drag as soon as he’s swallowed the liquid, huffing out and looking around my apartment.

Nothing has changed since the last time he’s been here, he realizes quick and settles back to me. I reach out, “may I?” He seems annoyed but he snatches the pack from his side pocket where he’d returned them.

I scoot my chair over closer as he grabs the lighter. He holds the cigarette up and I lean forward, taking it from his fingers between my lips. I still, following his hands as he takes another long drag, looking at me waiting for him. I raise an eyebrow and begin reaching for the lighter myself. John’s eyes dart to it and he reaches out quick, flicking his wrist to open it and swiftly sparking it up. I inhale just enough to light it before taking a real drag and sitting back.

“Any plans here, John.”

He takes another sip, “always asking me shit. No, there’s no plans. I’m waiting for someone to slip up.”

“I haven’t found anything about the soul stones,” I’ve been researching, asking around, “most people say they haven’t heard of them.”

“Then you’re asking the wrong people.” He takes a hit after every sentence, this man breathes no oxygen.

“Maybe it’s not in Brooklyn anymore?”

“West…” he mentions again, “but it’s just another gamble.” He turns his head away, like he’s tired of the conversation and finally I take another drag of mine. I can feel the nicotine buzz in my body, I only ever palm one off of John occasionally. It mixes well with a little alcohol.

John leans back up, resting his elbows on the table and taking another large sip of his drink. “Are you really coming?” He asks, suddenly so serious. He takes his last sip of his drink, putting it to rest on my tabletop, he flicks his ash into the ashtray I have specifically for him.

“I said I was.” I respond, lifting my own cup, I swirl the liquid around and take a small sip.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to?”

John puts the cigarette out, leaving it in the ash. “Only if you want to.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re… useful to me. But I don’t want to uproot your life.”

“I have no other life. Do you want me to go?” I’m shifting closer as I speak, John watches me careful, like I’m about to lunge at him.

“None at all?” He almost teases me, I watch his lips form the words, he tilts his shoulders towards me, leaning in.

I’m not going to engage, he tilts his chin up, like he’s going to kiss me, but I know John’s games and I turn my head. Quickly cutting him off to take a long drag.

John wants to roll his eyes, snaking a hand past me to take the short stick from my hands. He takes an equally long drag, burning through the rest of the cigarette before casting it out with his first.

“I want you to come,” he tells me. He says it like I’m holding a gun to his head, but his body is open, pulling me in slightly. I have to tilt my head up to him.

“Then I’m there,” I almost whisper it. He bites his lip for a moment, pats his blazer for his smokes and fills the gap between us. It’s sweet, one careful kiss. I capture it, silently allowing him to continue. He has his stance open, on either side of my chair. He leans in closer, sliding his hands around my hips and pulling me to the edge. I moan against his lips, he we taste the same almost, the same brand of cigarette. He pulls away and leans back, licking my saliva off his lower lip.

“This is your obligatory one minute to reconsider.”

“Reconsider?”

“To reconsider being with me. You have 45 seconds.”

I reach out and wrap my fingers around his tie, pulling him back closer to kiss him again. He stops the count, swallowing me up hold. He pulls me over into his lap and stands, holding me up against his waist.

I’m straddled up against his cock, which poked at me through his loose slacks. He fumbled to my room, forgetting which door it is at first, setting me up on my dresser when we were there. He bites at my neck, sinking his teeth in hard enough for it to hurt. I hiss, going to shove him away. No matter there I pushed or pulled him, he didn’t budge. John secures his arm he already has around my waist, his other hand reaches into his pocket. He retrieves his smokes and sets them beside us on the dresser. He kisses where he was just attacking me, hand sinking into his pocket to retrieve his lighter. My break is short lived, he runs his nose down my neck and delves into a soft spot there. I choke and stretch away from him, knocking his lighter from his hand on accident.

I hear it bounce around on the ground with a few soft thuds then silence. John follows it with his eyes before they snap back to me. I dont know why it’s so embarrassing, I can feel my face burning and John simply moves on. He presses more pretty kisses to my neck, coaxing me again. I give in easy, wrapping my legs up around him. He moves to kissing me again, going to undo his belt. I groan, reaching out to knock his fingers away and do it myself. My shaky fingers fumble over the black leather, pulling it from the matching black belt loops. I wait to break the kiss once I’m done, blinking up at John through my lashes. He takes over, pulling it completely out and dropping his belt to the floor, he’s completely hard now. His slacks sink down his waist without his belt, his briefs waistline visible and the tip of his cock pressed against the edge, waiting.

He sits back up, running his hands along my thighs and yanking me closer to the edge of the dresser. He forces me to sit back when he undoes my jeans, looming over me and nudging my nose with his.

I push my hands flat against the wood, lifting my hips up and letting him slide them off of me. He sinks down, the flat of his hand running from my outter to my inner thigh slowly, making sure they’re well apart before he’s sliding over my panties. I grip the edge of the dresser, looking down at John for once. One hand curves around my thigh, fingers hooking my underwear and holding them to the side with his ring finger, the rest of his hand flat between my hip bones. He presses there with minimal pressure, wasting no time sliding his tongue right between my folds. He opens his mouth wide, running right from my entrance up to my vulva then a few open mouth kisses, his tongue seeking out my clit and pressing in rough circle. He has his eyes closed until he’s found a rythme, looking up at me and shifting his free hand down, palming himself through his slacks.

It feels way too good, really, I’m trying hard not to wriggle out of his hold in pleasure. I can only grind down and shake, unable to rip my eyes from him. I snake my hand into his short dark hair, pulling at it then fixing it to the side.

John’s tongue slips down, exploring my entrance as his hand finally manages to get his button off and he’s exposed himself. He stroked himself slowly, lustfully, trying to fuck me with his tongue.

I switch between his hand and his face, I’m getting closer. His mouth feels better and better each second, I begin to freeze up, focusing on the sensation. I’m almost smirking, I’ve never thought I’d have John Constantine in this position. Jacking off while I grind against his face.

He sees my smirk and he just can’t help but be an asshole. Slowing his tongue, he licks one more slow strip up me before pulling off, he practically rips my underwear off as he stands back up.

I groan, edging myself back from the dresser and cursing quietly, “getting too cocky there, Hellfire,” he warns me, brandishing my nickname he’s almost called me one before. He goes back to holding my hips, lulling me forward as he drags his cock right up against me. His saliva mixed with my pleasure coats his cock and he groans into my ear, “protection?”

“Already casted,” he nods.

He runs his hands up my hips and finally slips my top off, letting it fall with his other clothes beside us in the pile. He undoes a few of his shirt buttons quickly, pulling it off over his head when he’s had enough.

John assumes position. “Hold my shoulders,” he commands, bringing his hips back, one hand adjusting himself and the other holding my side. He presses the tip in carefully, my body rejects him. It aches, I tighten my hold around his shoulders, encircling him closer to me. “Fuck, relax,” he tells me to like it’s easy. I inhale stiff and sharp and he runs his hand around me to my back, “breathe,” he tries again, speaks slower. I do, inhaling again slowly. He’s pushing into me on my exhale, carefully, steady. We both make a noise when he’s, passed the hardest part for me. John is hungry, running his hand up to cup my breast, he sinks his hips into me further.

I lean back on one hand, supporting most of our weight, my other arm is still encased around John. I can’t go anywhere as he fills me up, pushing him away only makes him smile. He gets halfway in before he snaps up into me. His name falls past my lips, not given a moment to regain my composure before he’s fucking me. Quick and rough, his body makes a slapping sound every time we meet.

He groans over me, following the curve of my open mouth with his brown eyes. His pupils blown, he grabs at my neck, encasing his large hand around it and holding me still.

He’s gripping me just rough enough to steady me but I can still breathe. My gasps are raspy against his palm, the pain is all pleasure. I gaze at him through my eyelids, going weak against his grasp on me. I paw at him with my free hand, running the line of his collarbone and trying not to let my eyes shut.

John yanks me forward, my useless hand coming up quickly to his wrist as the rest of my body sits up in order. He speeds up his thrusts, holding me by my neck right up his face. He’s so focused in, there’s not a thought behind those dark eyes besides need.

I let my sticky forehead press against this, eyes eyes dip down, not realizing how hard he’d started choking me. He loosens his grip but only moves his hand when his hips have slowed, scooping me back up while he’s still pressed inside of me. I wrap both arms around him around, barely assisting him in the transition from my dresser to my low bed.

He gets on his knees, falling out of me as he sets me back on the bed. I fall back doll, letting my arms rest above my head as I lift my hips and stretch out. He runs his hand over himself a few times, trying to really take in his view before crawling back up to hover above me. He pushes my legs apart with one hand, still touching himself as he leans over, pressing an open mouth kiss to the soft spot of my thigh. The niceties never last long. Next he’s biting me again, holding my leg down when I immediately begin my escape.

“So pretty,” he hums, running his nose up my leg, licking my hip bone and adjusting himself to press against my entrance. It’s easier for him to slide into me in this position, he grabs my arm when I go to block my blush.

He eases slowly, shuffling to find the best position where he has at least one free hand. He runs it down my side, squeezing my hip and bringing me closer. With his thumb he presses more slow circles against my clit, I lay still and lazy, following his slow motions with my hips as encouragement.

“Am I being good?” I prompt him, my voice scratchy from him grip before. I say it quiet, unsure if he even heard me. But John most certainly did, unconsciously picking up speed.

“That’s what you want?” He snaps up in me, moving his thumb over me with a matching thrust. My hips jut out, trying to push my legs apart further. The same tingling heat building up inside of my groin.

I only kinda nod, too close to be embarrassed. I ghost over the tattoos on his forearm and grip his upper, pleading with him with my eyes. “You’re being so fucking good,” he murmurs, coaxing my orgasm with every thrust, “letting me use you.”

“John,” I whimper his name, trying to get him to keep talking and attempting to drag him closer. He’s getting closer, not daring move from where he is now he’ll spill. His arm is shaky, flexing under my grip. He is losing his breath, mouth ajar.

He sucks in quickly, “fuck, you can cum, baby,” he says it in a growl, edging himself as I spill. My body grips around him and his head falls slack against my shoulder, he bites into the skin there but I don’t even register it past the pleasure that’s hits me.

It rings out through my whole body, John slows, sloppy thrusts as he continues to use me. When I’m settling he pulls out, letting out a delicious moan and cumming. Warm spurts all over my bare stomach, I hum in delight, running my fingers to scoop some up and lick them clean.

John sits up slowly, huffing as he pushes his sweaty hair back. “Fuck, Hellfire,” he mumbles, climbing off the bed to grab his smokes and lighter. I’d knocked it off halfway beneath the dresser. He lights one up swiftly, how he’s done it a thousand times before, and grabs a random shirt off my floor. I don’t protest, it’s dirty anyways. I steal the cigarette from his lips as he wipes me clean.

#john constantine #constantine #constantine 2005 #john Constantine 2005 #constantine fanfiction #constantine fanart #john wick gif #john wick fanfiction #fanfiction #constantine x reader #john wick x reader #constantine smith #smut #john wick #keanu reeves #alternative #john wick smut #john wick fanfic #john wick x y/n

[im-a-wonderling]

Rescue Me, Part 1 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

I started writing this in August of 2022. Four rewrites later, I’m posting it now in August of 2023. Shoutout to @writing-on-the-wahl​ for inspiring me and helping me smooth this over as well as to my brother for supplying all the military/niche Star Wars knowledge I needed. 

Summary: A simple mission takes a turn, and suddenly Y/N has to work carefully with Master Kenobi to ensure they both survive. 

Warnings: Satine doesn’t exist, mentions of mistreatment, mentions of Pong Krell (yes, this is a warning, Clone Wars fans get it. If you haven’t watched Clone Wars, you should still be able to understand this fic) 

Word count: 7.5k

Rescue Me masterlist

Never in my entire life had I been so cold.

The cold sucked all the Force-given agility from my limbs, numbness spreading from my toes to my knees. I could feel the hairs inside my nostrils freezing, and every gasp of air burned its way down my throat and into my lungs. My nose felt moments away from falling off my face altogether. 

There was no blushing horizon, no boulders or trees visible, no dynamic landscape whatsoever. There wasn’t even a way to discern where the sky ended and the land began. 

 It was just white. 

The pelting snow obstructed everything from view, keeping me unaware of anything unless it was two feet from my face. For all I knew, we could’ve been walking in circles. 

The very idea set my teeth on edge, and I quickly attempted some deep breaths to calm myself down. I kept pushing forward, practically dragging Master Kenobi along through the snow that had reached my knees.

It was because of this blasted snow that he hadn’t seen the D’oemir bear trap until its metal jaws closed around his foot. I’d been busy studying the defenses of the Separatist base when a shout of pain came from behind me, alerting the Separatists of our presence and our location. 

What had started as a simple scouting mission was now a fight for survival.

I took more deep breaths, trying to lean on the Force for peace, just as I’d always been taught. And yet, like every other time I tried, the mystical energy seemed muted, like it’d been covered in a blanket to hide it from view. For all intents and purposes, Master Kenobi and I were alone. 

As if the planet somehow eavesdropped on my thoughts, the wind picked up, sending an extra bite of pain through my exposed cheeks. “How much farther to the ship?!” I yelled in an endeavor to be heard, holding tighter to the arm slung around my neck. 

Master Kenobi didn’t answer, and my heart sank. We weren’t even close then. 

A particularly brutal gust of wind buffeted past us, nearly pushing us backwards. 

"We can't go on much further!" I shouted. "Master, I don't think we're going to make it!"

Master Kenobi held up his free hand, holding it up to block the gale from his face. His lips moved, but the sound coming from them was lost.

"What did you say?!" 

He leaned in, positioning his lips right beside my ear. "You need to get yourself to the ship!"

A blast of anger imploded in my insides, momentarily warming me up. "I'm not leaving you!" Another squall of wind nearly sent us toppling over. 

"There's no point in both of us being stuck out here when you can save yourself!" Master Kenobi pulled his arm, unwinding it from its position around my neck.

I fixed him with a glare and gripped his arm tighter. "I'm not deserting you!" I didn’t know what exactly the council would do if I showed up on Coruscant without Master Kenobi, but I knew the judgment would be swift and severe. 

Master Kenobi's exasperation grew as well. "I'm your master, you need to do as I say!"

Yet another gust of wind barreled past us, breaking the conversation and forcing us to brace ourselves. 

"The only other shelter for miles is the base, and we can't go back there!" I said, once the wind returned to its previous howling intensity. “So we have to find some other means of staying warm!”

Master Kenobi straightened, studying our surroundings. I tried not to roll my eyes. There was nothing to see except wind, snow, and desperation, yet he surveyed it all with great care. Even a gaze as hypercritical as Master Kenobi’s wouldn’t be able to conjure something from nothing. 

Suddenly, Master Kenobi twisted around, looking behind us. A strange light jumped forth in his eyes. He mumbled something, but the wind blew it away. 

"What?!"

"That way!" he shouted, pointing off to the side. 

"What about that way?!"

Master Kenobi still didn't answer. He took a step in the indicated direction and would've fallen, had I not shifted to take the weight. 

I glanced down at his injury. The sight of the dried blood that long since had soaked through his boot sent my stomach flipping. Ironically, the only thing keeping him from bleeding out was the same infernal cold that would kill us if we were exposed much longer. 

We didn’t have much time.

"C'mon!" he yelled, bringing me out of my thoughts with an impatient look thrown at me. 

"Where are we going?!" 

"There's a bunker this way, I've been in it before!"

I stared at him warily. "How do you know where it is?! I can’t see a thing!"

"I just know!”

He just knows, I thought sourly. The almighty Jedi master in his boundless knowledge just knew everything about everything.

An irritated grunt left my lips. Thankfully, the wind covered up my defiance, and my mental shields kept any doubt from spilling over. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter where we freeze, I thought to myself grimly before obeying Master Kenobi. 

“Just keep heading towards the mountain!” 

Mountain?

I glanced around, checking to see if a mountain had somehow snuck past me since the first time I’d looked around. But no, the terrain was the same.

“What mountain?” I shouted back.

Master Kenobi shut his eyes for a moment, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to exasperation or pain. “Reach out with the Force, and you can feel it!”

The Force? As some sort of land radar?

I wanted to scoff, to argue with him. But while giving into my doubts seemed appealing, I knew Master Kenobi would still be assessing every move I made. So I pushed on, fighting the snow and the wind for every step of distance covered. What felt like an eternity later, Master Kenobi reached out his free hand to point ahead of us. “Look, there it is!”

I peered around us, feeling the snowflakes stuck in my lashes. “I don’t–”

“Just keep going!” Master Kenobi urged.

I’m never leaving Coruscant again, I promised myself with every step. The numerous threats and corrupt politicians would be manageable, especially because death would likely come in a swifter and more exciting package. Like poison. Or a dramatic duel to the death. Not something as rudimentary as snow.

To my utter surprise, I felt the ground underneath us start to slope upwards. Could I really be at the foot of a mountain and not see it? I squinted in the direction of the slope and caught sight of hits of gray mixed in with the white. 

Son of a mudscuffer, there really was a mountain. 

Master Kenobi brought the hand that wasn’t around my neck to his mouth, tearing his glove off with his teeth. Fingers free, he pressed his hand to the snowy rock.

“Welcome, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” an automatic voice said. The wall of rock slid to the side, revealing a door that opened.

A sudden burst of heat came from the doorway, and I nearly lost my grasp on Master Kenobi as I stumbled through the doorway, leaning against the wall immediately inside. Clearly aware of my exhaustion, Master Kenobi leaned his weight away from me and up against the wall as the door closed behind us.

The roaring of the wind dulled, making me feel as if someone had stuffed earplugs into my ears. But I couldn’t make myself care about that.

The delicious warmth caressed my face, like flickering flames running their soft, welcoming hands up and down my skin. I started to regain feeling in the tips of my ears and my nose. 

Then the burning started. 

The flames grew hotter, setting my skin on fire. It itched. I could feel my joints getting stiffer and stiffer as parts of my body started to swell. The heat that I’d so desperately craved a few moments ago was proving to be just as dangerous as the chill.

“What the–” Master Kenobi said, raising his rapidly puffing fingers. 

“We’re warming up too fast,” I gasped, picturing a description from a med book I’d read once, accompanied with gruesome pictures I didn’t want to recreate. “We have to slow down the temperature change. Is there a refresher in this place?”

Master Kenobi stepped forward to show me the way, and he immediately pitched forward, losing his balance.

My arms shot out, grabbing him before he could fully fall to the floor. “Silly old man,” I said through gritted teeth as I began to drag him once more. 

“I’m not that much older than you,” Master Kenobi bit back before pointing down the hallway with his free hand. Wordlessly, I followed his direction. Scorching pain started where his arm met the skin of my neck, but I only held him tighter as I focused on getting us to the refresher. Master Kenobi tried to help, leaning some of his weight against the wall as we passed, but it didn’t make much of a difference. “Last door on the left,” he panted.

I slammed my hand against the pad, and the door slid open.

The revealed quarters could barely be called a refresher. It wasn’t even big enough for a Wookie to hide in. Would Master Kenobi and I even fit? 

Only one way to find out.

I lowered him to the floor and quickly turned the water on. “We have to get in.” I jerked my hat off, shrugging out of my coat. “If we take too long, our hearts are going to fail.” I pulled off my overtunic, cursing the number of layers I had on. After getting the undertunic off as well, the exposed skin of my arms and stomach started to prickle painfully. It grew even worse when my pants came off, leaving nothing to protect my skin from the heat except a pair of tight undershorts and the fabric binding my chest. All I wanted to do was get under the stream of water for some relief. 

I stepped towards the refresher, my foot touching the water as I glanced over at the master.

Master Kenobi’s shoes lay discarded as his fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his coat. He saw me watching him. “Get under the water!”

I didn’t hesitate, crouching in front of him, clumsily pulling at the fastenings of his coat. By some miracle, they opened, and I tugged the coat off.

“Get under the water!” Master Kenobi ordered, but I ignored him, fisting his overtunic in my stiff hands. “Leave me!”

I met his eyes, ignoring the fire ants crawling all over my skin. “Arms up.”

“Y/N-”

“The more difficult you make this, the longer it will take for me to get in the refresher,” I barked. “Arms up.”

Looking extremely vexed, Master Kenobi finally sat forward, lifting his arms to allow the overtunic to be tugged over his head. I tossed it to the side, getting to work unwrapping his undertunic. He shifted his weight, hooking his thumbs into his pants and pulling them down his legs. I pulled them off, discarding them as well.

Then I stared down at his body, a new conundrum taunting me.

Master Kenobi’s frame far exceeded mine in size, and it was riddled with heavy muscle. The refresher was barely big enough for us to stand in it together, so he couldn’t crawl in and sit on the floor. But how was I supposed to get him into a standing position and into the refresher? 

“Go.” Master Kenobi’s shove was far from gentle. “Get in.”

I grit my teeth. “I told you,” I learned forward, hooking my arms under his armpits, “I’m not leaving you.”

“You are my padawan, and you will listen to–”

I hoisted, trying to pull Master Kenobi up. He barely budged.

“–me because I am your–”

I tried again and failed again.

“–master–”

I screwed up my face, shutting my eyes and summoning every last bit of strength I had.

Master Kenobi’s body lifted, his arms wrapping around me as he let out an alarmed yelp.

For a moment, satisfaction wracked through my core…but I’d underestimated how much momentum we’d generated.

I stumbled backwards, my arms wrapped around a toned torso and heavy arms wrapped around my shoulder. The stream of water hit my back, it’s chill making me gasp. Then my back collided with the wall, just before a body slammed against mine, knocking all the air from my lungs.

My eyes flew open, and all I could see was Master Kenobi.

His usually voluminous hair stuck to his head as water ran down in torrents. His lips, surrounded by his overgrown beard, were parted, and his chilly blue eyes were wide.

I shoved him away, forcing him to catch his balance by bracing himself on the wall opposite the refresher head. Unfortunately, the refresher was so small, if I wanted to, I’d still be able to place my palm on his chest without even straightening my arm. The tempo of my heart hastened, the little pitter-patter sounding akin to quickening footsteps. What my heart barreled towards, I didn’t know, but my body seemed to.

A shiver ran up my spine, causing me to tremble. 

“Are you alright?” 

“S’cold,” I said shortly. 

“I believe that’s the point,” Master Kenobi shot back. Despite the humor in his comment, I couldn’t find any in his expression, not even so much as an upturn of his mouth. His face was a hard slab of stony displeasure. 

Standing here in a refresher with Master Obi-wan Kenobi in nothing but my undergarments was not my idea of a good time either, but it was better than freezing to death. 

“Next time,” he grunted, “you’d better get in the refresher first.” 

Nevermind.

Master Kenobi pursed his lips, still looking upset. “I’m not solely charged with teaching you–.” 

“I get it.” The impertinent words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Master Kenobi’s face spoke of vexation, like it always did when he was interrupted. “You are not just my student, you are my ward. I am responsible for you, so when I tell you to save yourself, you are to listen, do you understand?”

I hated that he was talking to me like I was a child. I may not have been his padawan for longer than a week, but I wasn’t a youngling.

“It is not a hard concept to grasp.” His tone danced between stern and impatient.

I remained silent, twisting the refresher dial to make the water slightly warmer and keeping my face impassive as I’d always been told. But his words only fed the fiery furnace roaring inside me.

The crease between Master Kenobi’s eyebrows flattened. “You’re angry.”

My cheeks heated up. I quickly shoved the rage down, frustrated that it had momentarily broken through my mental shields and bled through my Force signature. My previous master had been able to harness the Force to hide his emotions as easily as breathing. I tried to do the same, but the Force rarely allied itself with me.

“I understand,” I said as evenly as possible, keeping my eyes averted and my temper in strong hand. “I'm just a padawan. You're the master.”

“There is no ‘just a padawan’,” Master Kenobi interupted. “Being a padawan is just as crucial a part of the Jedi cycle as being a master.”

I barely withheld my huff as I turned the water slightly warmer again. I didn’t need any Jedi propaganda about the value of life and each stage of it. 

“You’re angrier.”

I quickly raised my mental shields again, cursing them for continually breaking down.

“Tell me why you’re angry.”

I eyed Master Kenobi warily. To discuss this with him was wrong, but to disobey a direct order from my master was even worse. 

“Y/N-” he began, and I snapped. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I barked. “That I don’t know this mission is a test? If I show up on Coruscant without you, the council will assume I’ve followed in Master Krell’s footsteps and execute me.”

“Why would you be executed?” 

“Master Krell was,” I said with gritted teeth. “A padawan stands in their master’s shadow, don’t they?”

His mouth turned down in a deep frown. “You haven't gone over to the dark side and killed scores of clones.”

“And yet if the council trusted me, we wouldn't be here on a so-called surveillance mission!” Master Kenobi didn’t immediately reply, watching me, waiting for more answers. I lifted my hands to pull the pins out of my bun, letting my hair fall. My outrage cooled slightly. “Look,” I set the pins off to the side, “saving myself doesn’t do me any good here. Can we leave it at that?”

Master Kenobi didn’t seem to catch the hint. “No.” 

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. The more my irritation grew, the more he questioned me, making my irritation rise even further. It was an endless cycle.

“You're frustrated.”

I slammed my mental shields back into place.

Master Kenobi tilted his head. “Why do you try to hide your emotions from me? 

Distantly, I knew the more anger I showed, the more likely I was going to get into trouble, but when there’s enough heat to make the pot of boiling water froth and overflow, slamming the lid down only worked for so long. “If you want to quiz me on the Jedi Code, can it wait until we’re back on Coruscant?” 

“No, it can’t.”

I wanted to scream.

“You’re getting angrier.”

Gripping the reins of my temper, I yanked them back so hard, my body hit the wall of the refresher.  “Why do you care?” I bit back.

“Because only a Sith tries to hide their true feelings.” He looked me directly in the eyes. “Are you a Sith?”

It was a natural thing to ask, yet the question still felt like a hammer between the eyes. 

No! I wanted to scream. Of course not! How could you think such a thing?!

But as I looked into Master Kenobi’s grave expression, a small trickle of doubt started.

Master Kenobi wouldn’t lie. It was against his character and offered him no advantage here. If hiding emotions was a component of the Code of the Sith instead of the Jedi Code…

Pong Krell was my master. As his padawan, I was expected to follow his lead and take his teachings to heart. To be a padawan was to be molded. Master Krell abandoned the Jedi Code, lost his respect for life, regardless of whose it was, and started ending lives instead of saving them. How long ago had he chosen the dark side? And how long had he been molding me the wrong way?

Maybe…maybe I didn’t know how to be a Jedi at all.

Thoughts started swirling in my brain, picking up speed until they were so fast, I couldn’t catch hold of them.

“You don’t want to be one,” Master Kenobi said softly, more to himself than to me. “And you’re worried you are.”

I almost went to reinforce my mental shields, but if that was truly the method of a Sith…perhaps my own impulses were untrustworthy. “I’m so confused,” I managed to say. 

“Why are you trying to hide?” Master Kenobi asked, slowly and clearly. I considered him, no longer with skepticism or a wild need to prove myself, but to see him as he was.

Tall. Pale. Strong-browed. Sturdy-shouldered. Piercingly blue-eyed. Hair charmingly tousled. Mouth sternly set. 

All of it whispered of forbearance. 

I felt it then, deep within myself. A push to speak.

“Because Master Krell told me to,” I mumbled. “He…he said my thoughts were too loud, so…he taught me to conceal them.”

Master Kenobi’s mouth opened and closed, producing no sound as he stared at me. Finally, he closed his eyes, looking pained. “I didn’t realize that his teachings were so corrupt.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

Blue eyes rested on my face, striking me with soft wisdom. “I am sorry. Krell’s failings should’ve been spotted long before they were.”

I nearly gaped at him, discomfort coursing through me as my skin started prickling again. A master, apologizing to a padawan? It wasn’t seemly. 

“His failings?” I repeated.

Master Kenobi squared his shoulders. “To be a master is to be your padawan’s strength so you can aid them in their weakness. To protect them, to respect them, to build their confidence.” Master Kenobi’s eyes turned sad. “Did Krell do that for you?”

I thought I felt bare already, but Master Kenobi’s question stripped me completely. To ask for my opinion…it felt wrong. So wrong, that I couldn’t even fathom giving it. I crossed my arms, bowing my head to let my hair fall forward like a curtain. I stared at the drain at our feet, wishing I could melt and slide away with the water.

A hand rested on my shoulder, calluses gently scraping against my skin.  

I started to lean away from it, but I froze when I looked up, coming face-to-face with the fiery resolution in Master Kenobi’s face. “Now that you are with me, things will be different.” Master Kenobi’s hand squeezed my shoulder. 

A simple gesture. A kind one. 

Different, Master Kenobi said, did I dare to hope it could even be better? 

I immediately buried the hope in an avalanche of doubt. My display of emotion and insubordination surely warranted chastising at some point, as neither of them were signs of a competent Jedi. He was waiting. He would scold me for my actions at a later date, surely. 

Yet no trace of Master Kenobi’s displeasure remained in his face. The moments that passed were only filled with the sounds of water hitting the refresher floor.

My body still felt too big for my skin, like my skin was straining to stay together, but my skin no longer burned. I reached over, turning the dial farther, and the water could finally be called warm. 

A small sigh sounded, and Master Kenobi leaned his head against the refresher wall, his eyes closed. Even with his slumped posture, the ends of his hair brushed his shoulders. With the rapid succession of our last few missions, neither one of us had much time for personal grooming, even by Jedi standards. Judging by the way he’d been absentmindedly brushing his hair out of his face these past few days, it was far past the length that he liked it to be. It’d fallen into his face now, collecting in a tangled clump on his forehead. 

As I watched and without opening his eyes, Master Kenobi lifted a hand, pushing the hair back. As my eyes remained on the locks, a bizarre fluttering started in my stomach. 

The sensation started out subtle, but the longer I looked, the more it grew. 

Was I getting sick? 

Had our traipse through the snow caused some further harm than just the discomfort I was now experiencing? 

His eyes fluttered open without warning, meeting mine. I read the question there, clear as day. Had he picked up on my feelings? “Your hair,” I replied, hoping the Force hadn’t given him the exact subject of my musings. “It’s long.”

He self-consciously ran his fingers through it. “I know, I know. It’s high time for a haircut.”

“I could cut it for you.”

Suspicion bloomed on his face. “Have you ever cut hair before?”

I gestured to my own hair. My work was a bit choppy, but I wore my hair up most of the time anyway.

“Yeah, you’re not touching my hair,” he said, running his hand protectively over his locks. “I’d probably end up having to shave it all off.” He shuddered, and I nearly snorted, reaching over to turn the water off.

“Are there towels in this place?”

“Here, I’ll-” Master Kenobi stepped forward and immediately crumpled.

I sprang forward, but my strength was only enough to slow his descent to the floor. 

I’d forgotten about his wound. I kneeled beside him, reaching for his bare leg, but he quickly shifted out of my reach. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Taking a look at your injury, old man,” I said matter-of-factly, trying not to show how worried I was.

“I assure you, I’m fine–”

Before he could finish his protests, I grabbed the leg, pulling it towards me. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on it that it was bad.

The punctures oozing blood were not the worst of our worries, nor was the swelling and bruising already making their way up and down the appendage. It was the odd angle of the foot.

I looked up at him. “I think it’s broken.”

A ripple ran up his jaw as he grit his teeth. “Can you set it?” he asked. 

“You didn’t even want me to cut your hair!”

“Can you set it?” he repeated. 

“I-I know the theories of how, but you should really have a med droid do it.”

“I don’t have a med droid.” Master Kenobi paused, his expression softening before he said: “I have you.”

“I could hurt you.”

He glanced at the wound. “I think we’re beyond that now.”

“I could make it worse.”

“You won’t.”

He was…trusting me…to help him.

I shook my head slightly. I was the best chance he had. There was a difference. 

I studied Master Kenobi’s foot. If I did something wrong, would there be lasting complications? What if I did something that delayed his healing? Or worse, what if I made a catastrophic mistake that led to him losing his foot altogether?

I didn’t want to do this now. 

But if we waited, the untreated break would surely take ages to heal.

“I’ll do my best.” 

He nodded, looking determined, and his resolve lent me strength. As gingerly as I could, I prodded the skin.

Master Kenobi’s whole body tensed. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the exact point of the break. It doesn’t seem as though the bone has pierced the skin, but it’s displaced.” I finally located what I was looking for and got my hands in the right position. Then I stopped. If Master Kenobi tensed up, it’d make it harder to shift the bone. I could put him through all the pain of trying to set it, only to not get the bone back to where it needed to be.

I needed him to loosen up, something I hadn’t seen the Jedi Master do in all the time I’d known him.

“How do you know all this?” Master Kenobi asked. “About the rewarming and the bone setting?”

“Before I was chosen as a padawan, I was studying to be a healer,” I answered distractedly, still trying to figure out how to get him to relax. Perhaps he was ticklish? 

Master Kenobi cocked his head. “You didn’t continue that study after you were chosen?”

I shook my head.

“Why not? The Jedi Order always needs healers.”

I glanced up at him, slightly irritated that he’d chosen this moment in time to ask questions. “Um…I tried to help heal a Clone once.” Maybe laughter would help him relax. What were the odds of me telling a joke that would make him laugh?

Master Kenobi raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“When Master Krell found out, he hit me.” So distracted by my task, the words left my mouth before I could even think about them. 

Master Kenobi’s eyes grew wide as his limbs went completely slack. “He-”

I seized the moment, wrenching the bone back into its proper place.

To his credit, my master only let out a strangled groan. After a moment passed, he shifted. “Y/N–”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a Vodran,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Their bones are considerably harder to set because their skin is so tough.” Sitting down, I pulled his foot into my lap, grabbing my overtunic. The fabric was thicker than the fabric of my undertunic, meaning it would behave more like bandages. 

“What are you–” Master Kenobi started to say.

“I have to bind your foot so that we didn’t just set the bone for nothing.”

“But that’s your tunic!” 

I shot him a confused look. “It’s just fabric.”

He went quiet, but judging by the ferocity with which he started chewing on his lower lip, he was still anxious. Why was Master Kenobi, the most practical creature I’d ever met, worried about a tunic?

Maybe he was experiencing the same weird feelings I felt earlier, where pain and low temperatures met to form a delirium.

I wrapped his foot up as best as I could, but I had no idea how tight to tie it. I didn’t want to cut off circulation, but the bone needed support. He definitely needed a med droid, and that would require us somehow getting back to our ship. But that wasn’t going to happen until the snow let up, which meant we were stuck here for the foreseeable future. We could only hope that the Separatists didn’t find our ship, and that the ship was still functional when the snowstorm ended.

In the panic of getting his foot set, the water clinging to our skin had evaporated. Grabbing my pants and undertunic, I shrugged them back on, getting to my feet. “I’m going to go see if there’s food.” I nodded towards his foot. “And you should elevate that.”

An exploration of the bunker didn’t reveal much. It was small and almost completely empty, save for two bunks that had been built into the wall, one on top of the other. There were some empty boxes here and there, but there were no provisions to fight against hunger or cold. This bunker functioned as a hiding place and nothing more. 

I returned to Master Kenobi to find him not elevating his foot, but instead struggling to put his pants on over his undershorts. I briefly considered helping, but if he wanted help, he would ask for it. 

“Did you find anything?”

I shook my head. “Just empty boxes. What is this place anyway?” 

Master Kenobi shifted side to side, slowly inching the pants up his legs. “Anakin and I once had to lay low here for a week. It was originally a hideout for some workers from the shadowport on Socorro, but Anakin reprogrammed everything to only respond to us two.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why were the two of you here for a week?” 

A mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes. “We might have had a bounty on our heads.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Anakin made a bet with some mine slavers on Socorro. They lost and had to free fifty slaves.”

A pang shot through me at the casual pride in Master Kenobi’s tone. 

Anakin Skywalker. 

The chosen one himself. 

The relationship between master and padawan was a profound thing. An eagerness to learn and single minded devotion on one side, and knowledge rooted in deep compassion on the other. Given the Jedi stance on attachment, it was the most important relationship a Jedi experienced. Everyone in the Order, padawan, knight, or master, had heard stories of Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker. No pair got in more trouble nor accomplished as much as they had. It didn’t matter if Skywalker was no longer a padawan; the admiration and respect they held for each other was unmatched. 

I didn’t need to hear it from Master Krell’s lips to know that he never felt that way about me. All I ever received from my old master was guidance, and stern guidance at that.

Suddenly I realized my mental shields were up again. Without meaning to, I was again trying to hide my thoughts and feelings. I frowned. I didn’t want to lower my shields, to expose myself to Master Kenobi, but…if I wanted to be a Jedi, I needed to act like one. Slowly, I let my defenses fall, carefully watching Master Kenobi for a reaction. Master Kenobi’s gaze remained on his foot. Perhaps his pain was blinding him to my feelings.

Master Kenobi put on his undertunic, but he left his overtunic where it was on the floor.

I shook my head, letting the thoughts fall away. “C’mon,” I said lightly, holding my hand out to Master Kenobi. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Lifting his arm to wedge myself into his armpit, I hoisted him to his feet, and together, we shuffled towards the bunks. I helped him sit on the bottom bunk and stepped back, stretching out my neck.

“When you say Krell hit you,” Master Kenobi started, causing me to freeze, “what do you mean by that?” I shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t mean that he physically struck you, right?”

As I hesitated, a wave of discomfort washed over me so suddenly, I nearly staggered back.

It wasn’t my own, I realized, as I looked at Master Kenobi’s face. 

As a youngling, I hadn’t heard of any physical punishments being used by the Jedi to discipline their padawans, but it happened often enough with my previous master, that I’d assumed it was common practice. Did Master Kenobi’s reaction mean that it wasn’t?

“I can feel your turmoil,” Master Kenobi murmured. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He was apologizing again?

“It…” I licked my lips. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

Really, it wasn’t. 

He raised a hand to me once in a while, but most of his aversion was reserved for the clones. Unlike them, I was never intentionally put in danger for the purpose of furthering strategy. Master Krell treated me more like an ally than them, and that counted for something. 

Still, a memory surfaced from a few weeks ago, shortly before Master Krell’s deceit had been uncovered. 

Master Krell had caught me dragging the battalion’s captain out of danger during a conflict, but he hadn’t said anything until the battalion had camped for the night.

The deep tenor of his voice and his related stance with all four of his hands clasped behind his back hadn’t matched with the accusation in his words when he’d asked me what I was doing, neglecting my duty in a fight to save a clone.

I didn’t have time to reply before Master Krell took matters into his own hands. A phantom burst of pain across my face, the memory as clear as when it’d happened.

“Caraya's soul,” Master Kenobi said softly, the color draining from his face. “He hurt you.”

Out of habit, I threw my mental shields back into place. “It could’ve been worse.” It could have been so much worse.

Master Kenobi must’ve been in a lot of pain, for his face was screwed up in an unpleasant expression.

“Is your leg alright?” I asked worriedly. Maybe the bandages were too tight, and he was losing blood flow.

“Leg?” he asked slowly. “Oh, my leg…it’s fine.” He seemed almost distracted, as if he’d not only forgotten that his leg was injured but that he even had a leg in the first place. Master Kenobi sat up, leaning closer with such intention, I knew more questions were coming.

“I should go check the status of the storm,” I said, getting up.

“What?”

I grabbed my coat off the floor, pushing my hands through the sleeves. “The snow might have stopped.”

“I’m coming with you.” Master Kenobi sat up in his bunk.

“No!”

Master Kenobi blinked at my outburst. “You’re injured,” I said abruptly. “You shouldn’t be putting any weight on that leg.”

“You can’t go on your own.”

“Why not?” I rubbed nervously at the inside of my wrist. “I can secure a perimeter.”

“You should have someone watching your back.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Wait!” Master Kenobi held up his overtunic. “At least wear this. You can’t go out in the cold with just your undertunic.”

I hesitated.

“Please.”

I gingerly took it, wrapping it around me as carefully as I could before walking to the door. 

As I lifted my hand to push the button on the pad, a strange, masculine smell drifted up into my nose. 

Master Kenobi’s smell.

It made my head spin a bit, and I quickly hit the button before ducking back into the harsh winds. I couldn’t be angry with the pain flashing through my face, not when the winds seemed to blow away my momentary vertigo. 

I glanced around. The snow had stopped, and the planet had lightened, meaning I could decipher where the sky ended and the land began. The wind continued to blow, and that was probably the reason that there was no sign of our footprints.

Now was the time to make a break for the ship.

-

The biting wind continued to harass us on our trek back to the ship, but being able to see made the journey much quicker. I kept us moving, worried that when we got to the ship, we’d have to commence the warming process again, especially Master Kenobi, since he’d insisted I wore his overtunic. 

As we neared the ship, I noted with relief that the astromech droid was still in its droid socket. It beeped and whistled in droidspeak, relaying its concern for our tardiness.

As soon as Master Kenobi was inside, I went straight for the cockpit, turning the ship on while thanking the Republic fleet for allocating us a ship designed to withstand freezing temperatures. The ship turned on with a slight hum. Wasting no time, I maneuvered the ship off the ground and into the air, straight for the atmosphere.

Once we left the planet’s atmosphere, I relinquished the ship to the astromech droid, quickly ducking back into the hold to check on Master Kenobi, who lay on the cot, using the stiff pillow not for his head but to elevate his foot. 

“We’re maybe a few hours away from Coruscant.”

Master Kenobi didn’t say anything and didn’t spare a look in my direction. I lingered for a few moments, waiting to see if he would break the silence. If reputation was to be believed, he didn’t stay silent for long, prone to questions, criticism, even wisecracks. Perhaps he would dig more into my past or shed more light on the actual teachings of the Jedi code. 

But the silence remained unbroken.

Unsure of myself, I walked into the cockpit, and the door slid shut behind me. The astromech was doing all the work, so there wasn’t much point in sitting here. But to go back in there…for some reason, the idea of it made my stomach twist. 

I realized, as I sat in the pilot’s chair, that my mental shields were up again. Frustrated, I lowered them.

And then, what I could only describe as the humming of light came from behind me. 

Master Kenobi, I realized. I could feel him. Not his thoughts or his feelings, but his presence. Here, in a separate part of the ship, I felt closer to him than when I’d been standing skin-to-skin with him in the refresher. 

“What in the name of Chobb?” I muttered to the stars, who of course, offered no answers. 

-

“Master Kenobi, we are pleased to see you and your padawan returned safe,” said Master Windu, clasping his hands in his signature, thoughtful look. “I will say, your mission took quite a turn.”

“That it did,” Master Kenobi said. “I certainly didn’t expect to nearly lose a limb.”

Chuckles rippled through the councilroom. I nearly rolled my eyes. When we’d landed, I brought Master Kenobi to a healer right away, who declared that Master Kenobi would heal just fine. From my position slightly behind Master Kenobi, I could see that he was still favoring his uninjured side, despite the healing sheath that was currently wrapped around his injury. Even so, the healer had never even mentioned amputation.

“What did you observe of the base before the snowstorm hit?” Master Murag asked.

As Master Kenobi rattled off the information we’d gained, I subtly gauged the expressions of the masters.

Their expressions were pleasant, but revealed nothing. They kept their attention on Master Kenobi, barely sparing a glance in my direction. I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“Well done,” Master Koon said once Master Kenobi had finished. “This information is valuable. We have another mission for you, once you have healed up.”

I bowed, expecting the meeting to be over.

But Master Kenobi didn’t move.  

“To say, more have you, Master Kenobi.” Master Yoda said, showing his famed clairvoyance. 

“Yes.” 

I tried to keep my face impassive while desperately wishing I could see Master Kenobi’s. What was he doing? What more could he have to say about this mission that hadn’t been in his report? I’d been both at the mission and in this room when he gave his report. There was nothing he missed.

Master Kenobi rounded out his shoulders, standing tall.

“Padawan Y/N’s diligently-gained knowledge kept me safe from threats I myself would not have known how to approach.” My breath caught, and I stared at the back of his head, wondering what he was doing. “Without her, I would not have made it back. She was invaluable.”

None of the masters reacted, their faces not showing a single hint of surprise, as if they had no investment in the conversation at all. I, however, felt like I’d swallowed a box of fireworks and been told to stand still. 

“Is that so?” asked Master Tiin.

“Indeed. I believe she is well on her way to being a great asset to the Jedi Order.”

Master Windu glanced over at Master Yoda. “Well, thank you for your words. You both are dismissed. We will inform you of your next mission once your injury has fully healed.”

Master Kenobi nodded to his fellow masters and walked out of the councilroom. 

I followed him through the door and through the Jedi temple, completely at a loss for words.

“Why did you say all that?” I managed to ask once we’d passed the library. 

Master Kenobi didn’t even bother to act confused or clueless. “Because it was the truth. And they need to know the truth.”

“But they weren’t asking about my conduct.”

Master Kenobi stopped walking, looking at me dead in the eyes. “The way Krell treated you was abominable. I suspect I know very little of the true extent of his mistreatment, but had any of us known what I do know, we would’ve put a stop to it immediately. But you spent years under his tutelage, suffering.” He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It is my responsibility to right his wrongs. That starts with clearing your name.”

“Why?”

“Because I am your Master. It is my job to help you become the best Jedi you can be.” 

“But–” I froze, wishing I could recall the interjection. It wasn’t right to question my master like this. 

Master Kenobi gave me a meaningful look. 

I shifted. “You’re not going to pass me off to someone else?”

Master Kenobi smiled softly, like there was some secret joke between us. “I may not have chosen you traditionally, but I did choose you.”

“Why would you–”

“Because you saved Captain Rex.”

My mind went utterly blank, and it was only by some miracle that my jaw did not drop. Saving a clone—the action Master Krell condemned me for—was what appealed to Master Kenobi?

“Who told you I saved him?”

My only answer was a tiny gleam in Master Kenobi’s eyes. “I believe it is time for you to wash up and get some sleep. In the morning, we will start to fix Master Krell’s teachings.” He turned and started limping down the corridor.

“Master Kenobi?” I called, and he turned to face me. “How...how am I supposed to know which of his teachings were good and which were bad?”

“Simple,” Master Kenobi said. “You ask.” With a nod, he went on his way.

I watched him go.

When I’d been informed after Master Krell’s death that I would now be reassigned to Master Kenobi, I expected a period of adjustment, but I hadn’t known the two masters would be so different.

Master Krell accomplished much in this war, because his single-minded approach meant nothing else mattered besides victory. He was brutal and untrustworthy. Because he’d been my master for so long, I’d nearly forgotten what the Jedi Order valued.

Over the course of this mission, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had proven himself to be the epitome of everything a Jedi should be.

A selfless, powerful warrior equipped with bravery and strong with the Force. 

I didn’t…I didn’t have the words to explain it, this feeling rising up in me. The feeling that made me hold my head high. The feeling that challenged some of my long held beliefs. The feeling that perhaps I wasn’t completely alone in this galaxy. 

I only knew that whatever it was, it was because of the Jedi Master with hair too long and heart much bigger.

-

Part 2

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle​ @valiantlytransparentwhispers​

Rescue Me tag list:

@penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @starlazergazer

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fanfic #obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #padawan!reader #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #pong krell #kenobi #sw #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction

[ramblingoak]

Sliding Home

I couldn’t stop thinking about Secondo in a baseball uniform so this fic happened xD Now with bonus Ghaseball Secondo art by @tasty-ribz !

Secondo x Female Reader

Warnings: baseball innuendos, smut, nsfw 18+ only mdni, 2,800 words

“You want me to what?”

“Uh, well it’s not so much me as it’s the cler—“

“Don’t I pay you to get me out of stupid shit like this?”

“Technically I think Imperator pay—“

“You want me to make a fool of myself like the Rat did?”

“Actually it was pretty popular onli—“

“I don’t give a fuck how many hits, likes or whatever the fuck else that stupid event got Copia. I’m not fucking doing it.”  You winced and bit your lip, trying to decide how to break the news to him.  “Sorella, the answer is no.”

“Alright, so you’re going to walk out the tunnel. Cue the music, applause and the scr—,” The force of Secondo’s glare made you stumble over your words for a moment, so you turned your back to him and continued, “—eaming. Then it’s just a quick jog to the mound, a wave to the crowd and you uh, you know. Throw the ball.”

You spun around with a huge smile on your face but his continued glare caused it to falter.  Why he needed to be such a grump about everything you had no idea. This whole “ghaseball” endeavor had been a giant pain in the ass.  You sighed and put your hands on your hips, trying to match his glare. 

“Papa, please just…try?  For me?”

“For you?”  You nodded, trying to bat your eyelashes but he just raised an eyebrow at your attempt. “What do I get, sorella?”

“Well, you get to keep the uniform.”

“Go on.”

“And you know, please the fans. They always love seeing you.”

“Keep going.”

“I think the pitcher might sign a ball for you, I can as—“

Secondo growled and stood up, only needing to take a few steps before he was in your space.  You were in trouble here, it was no secret you were attracted to him. Whether he was in his papal robes or one of his fitted suits you couldn’t help but sweep your eyes over his body appreciatively. But in the baseball uniform?

Lucifer’s balls he was hot. 

“Here’s what I want, sorella,” His hand came up to cup your chin, the smooth leather was warm and it felt so good you had to fight to keep from whimpering.  “You.”

“What?”

He smirked down at you, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your chin. 

“Don’t play coy, I’ve seen the way you look at me.  I’m supposed to ignore it when a beautiful woman keeps ogling me?”

“I haven’t been ogling you.”

“You’ve been practically drooling ever since I put this damned costume on.”

“It’s not a costume, it's a uniform.”

His gloomy demeanor broke for a moment, you saw his frown nearly turn into a smile but before you could yell ‘ah ha!’ in his face he leaned down and kissed you.  It was a little embarrassing how fast you melted against him, but the smug bastard was right and you’d been ogling him for months. You threw your arms around his neck and his own slid around you to grip your ass, lifting you up from the floor briefly. 

The moment was over far too quickly. As soon as your feet touched back down he pulled his mouth away. The black on his lips was practically gone and you assumed it had transferred to your own.  You jumped when someone banged on the locked room door shouting that Papa had five minutes. 

“Shit, shit shit shit.” 

You slipped away from him and scrambled over to your bag for some wipes and his paints. When you turned he had already sat down on one of the benches and remained still as you cleaned him up and reapplied everything.  His eyes stayed focused on your face while you worked and you did your best to avoid meeting them, you didn’t have any time to get distracted again. 

“Alright, you’re good to go.”  

Secondo slowly rose from the bench, continuing to stare you down. You cleared your throat and pretended to fiddle with the makeup case. Another knock on the door and he had two minutes left before it was showtime. 

“Don’t forget to wave at the crowds and stop to take a few pictures.  Oh!  I almost forgot.”

You turned back to your bag and pulled the last piece of his uniform out, a black leather baseball hat.  He didn’t mirror your smile but he still took it and resignedly put it on his head.  Your smile only grew and you didn’t even care anymore if he didn’t return it. The sight of your Papa in this uniform was going to fuel your fantasies for years.

Oh fuck it, you might as well live out your fantasy if he was offering. 

“I’ll just uh, be here when you’re done.”

“What’s wrong with your eye?”

“My eye?  Wha—I’m winking!”

When a small smirk appeared on his face you growled and flung a hand out to smack his shoulder. Secondo easily caught it and used it to yank you against his chest once more. Another knock on the door and a frantic shout that they needed him had you trying to push him away, but he just held you tighter and brushed his lips against your ear. 

“Be ready.”

He pulled away and waited for a response, but you couldn’t get any words to leave your mouth. All you managed was a thumbs up, squeaking when he leaned down and nibbled on the tip. The door to the locker room burst open then and Secondo pulled away, quickly turning and stalking out of the locker room to head onto the field.  You stayed frozen in place, only moving to touch up your own makeup when you heard the roar of the crown. 

You probably should’ve followed him out there, but he was an adult and could handle himself. Also you were nervous as fuck and Secondo would never forgive you if you threw up on the field. So instead you wiped his paint off your face, touched up your makeup and waited.  The click of your heels echoed in the empty locker room as you paced end to end.  

He should’ve been done by now but they were probably keeping him around for photos and autographs.  You hoped he was spending some time talking to the fans.  Secondo always underestimated his popularity, especially with younger fans of the band.  Something about his grim demeanor appealed to toddlers.  You had asked him about it once before, but he had just cryptically said something about toddlers being closer to the devil at that age. 

Whatever the fuck that meant. 

You resigned yourself to another lap of the room when the door burst open making you yelp. Secondo marched inside, closing the door firmly behind him and stared at you, neither one of you saying anything for a few moments. While you really wanted to ask him how it went you also really wanted to kiss him. Thankfully he seemed to have the same idea, closing the distance between you quickly and capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. 

This time when his hands slid down to cup your ass he lifted you up and kept you in the air.  You slid your legs around his waist as best you could in your skirt, moaning when his belt rubbed against your silk covered cunt. He growled and started moving across the room, fumbling a door open and kicking it closed behind you both.  Secondo didn’t stop until you felt him lower you onto a desk, pulling his mouth away to look into your eyes. 

You were both panting, out of breath from kissing. His makeup was ruined again, as was his hair. The hat had fallen off at some point and you needed to remember to grab it before you left. He would definitely be wearing this uniform again, even if it was just for you. 

“Sorella…”

His voice was heavy with lust and the sound went right to your core.  He remained still, looking into your eyes and you knew he was waiting for permission to keep going.  You smirked and reached for his belt, deftly undoing it and then working on the fly of his pants.  When he still didn’t move you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

Secondo chuckled, shoving your hands away and then dropping to his knees between your legs. 

“Don’t worry sorella, I’ll fuck you.”  He shoved your skirt up, bunching it at your waist so he could grab your panties and slide them down your legs.  His hands pressed against the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart to expose you completely to him. “But first I’m going to taste you.  Ok?”

“Yeah, ok. I mean. Yes. Please.”

You placed your hands behind you and leaned back a bit, your eyes never leaving his face. His own gaze was on your cunt and you could see the hunger on his face.  You could feel yourself getting wetter as he exhaled against you. When his tongue finally touched your flesh you let out a deep moan and fell flat against the desk. 

Secondo’s tongue began to roughly lap at you.  Sliding back and forth from your entrance to your clit. He was relentless, never letting up the pressure and only pressing harder against you when you started to squirm. His arms slid around your thighs to help anchor you but your legs still kicked uncontrollably as he worked you over with his mouth. 

When he closed his lips over your clit and sucked you had to slap a hand over your mouth to try and stay quiet.  His tongue flicked against it roughly while it was in his mouth, at the same time a gloved hand moved from its place on your thigh and you felt two thick fingers start to rub around your entrance. There was barely any resistance as they pushed into you and that must’ve pleased him because he growled as he started to pump them in and out of you. 

The wet sounds of him fucking and licking you filled the room.  You could barely think straight, overwhelmed with the pleasure he was giving you. When he pulled his fingers out you whimpered at the loss, but he soon replaced them with his tongue and felt like you were going to black out. He lapped at your inner walls, moaning at the taste. His nose rubbed against your clit as he buried his face against you. When his lips closed over your entrance and he sucked, your orgasm crashed into you, leaving you a shuddering mess before him. 

While the aftershocks rippled through you he lapped at your cunt lazily, cleaning up the traces of your release.  You heard him groan as he stood up and you opened your eyes to watch him. His face was smeared with his paint and your juices, a feral grin letting you know he couldn’t be happier.  

Secondo gave your thighs a squeeze before he brought his hands to his fly, finishing the work you had started. His cock instantly sprung free, red and leaking at the tip. You licked your lips as you watched the bead of precum gather there.  He grinned even wider when he noticed where your attention was. 

“Don’t worry, sorella. You’ll get a taste soon.”  He moved closer between your legs, rubbing his cock up and down your cunt. You gasped every time it caught at your entrance.  “Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

“Yes, please. I’ve been ready.”  He continued to tease you, seemingly content to make you beg some more. You groaned and tried to push against it but he placed his hands on the top of your thighs to keep you still. “Fuck Secondo, just slide home already.”

You instantly realized what you said and froze. 

“Mi scusi?  What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Now fuck me.”  

You growled when he easily prevented you from moving.  The tip of his cock was resting right at your entrance and you were going to scream if he didn’t start fucking you soon. 

“Slide home?  What the fuck does that mean?”

“Goddammit, it’s a baseball thing.”  You threw one of your arms over your eyes and waved your free hand at him. “Come on, you slide home. You score a point. You shove your dick in me.”

“What is your obsession with this sport?”

“Does it matter right now?!”  

Secondo made a humming sound, gently beginning to flex his hips a bit.  You nibbled on your lip when he pressed deeper inside you little by little.  After a few moments you moved your arm so you could watch, once more entranced by the sight of him in the baseball uniform. 

Ok so maybe you were ogling him. 

“Satanas, you are so tight. It’s exquisite.”  You both groaned when his hips met yours, his cock buried as deep as it could go.  The stretch was so good you nearly felt like crying.  He seemed to sense your thoughts, quietly shushing you as he gazed down where you were joined. 

“Secondo, plea—ah!”

Your begging was interrupted by him pulling out until just his tip was in you and then slowly pushing back in. It was too much but also not enough and you clung to the edge of the desk behind you as his thrusts grew faster. The pleasure was so good it almost hurt and you nearly wailed when he brought his thumb to rub against your clit. 

“That’s it, sorella. Take it. Take my cock.”  

His speed increased until he was roughly snapping his hips forward right when his cock was about to leave you.  A slow pull out followed by a hard shove back in.  At each push back into you the breath was punched out of your body and you found yourself taking gasping breaths between your moans. 

Secondo wasn’t unaffected. You could hear him growling out Italian words under his breath. His eyes were locked onto where he was disappearing into your body, mesmerized by how you were stretching to accommodate him.  It wasn’t long before you could feel his thrusts getting erratic and he began to rub your clit harder, trying to get you to come again. 

You held out as long as you could, mostly because you wanted him to come first, but your body couldn’t take the pleasure and another orgasm was soon moving through you. Secondo wasn’t far behind. He slowed down a bit to gently fuck you through your orgasm, but as soon as you gave him a little nod he picked up the pace again. He let out a deep growl when his orgasm hit and you could feel his cock twitch as he released inside of you. 

Neither one of you moved for a moment. Secondo’s hands were braced on either side of you as he caught his breath. You closed your eyes and whimpered when he straightened up and pulled out.  When you blinked your eyes open after a moment you noticed he was staring down at your cunt and you could feel his release start to trickle out of you. 

“What are you doing?”  

He shushed you and moved a hand to your thigh, rubbing and squeezing the flesh there before sliding it to your cunt.  He clicked his tongue and then slid his fingers through your swollen flesh, pushing two of them back inside of you. You groaned as he did it a few more times, pushing his release back inside and rubbing it along your walls. When he seemed satisfied he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them both before sliding them out with a pop. 

“You’ve ruined me, you know?”

“Have I?”  There was zero remorse in his voice and you rolled your eyes. He held his hands out for you and then pulled you up to sit at the edge of the desk when you took them. “That was not my intention.”

Secondo took a step back to pull his pants up and then leaned down to collect your panties. As you slipped them back on you remembered why you were there in the first place and you grabbed his hand. 

“Hey, how’d it go out there?”

“Out where?”

“The field, how did the pitch go?”  He winced and you decided not to push him any further.  You hopped off the desk and straightened your skirt, taking his hand again and smiling up at him.  “How about you change and we’ll go watch the rest of the game?”

“I’d rather not.”

“I’ll buy you some crackerjacks and I’ll let you keep the prize.”

“I don’t know what that means, but fine. We can go watch.”

You whooped and pumped your fist into the air, slapping the palm of your other hand on his ass as you started to walk by.  He caught your arm before you got too far and spun you back around so you landed against his chest.  You ignored his frown and lifted up onto your toes to give him a quick kiss, grinning as you pulled away and winked at him. 

“Go team.”

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of Our Own ~ My Tip Jar

#my fics #my writing #secondo x female reader #papa emeritus ii x female reader #papa emeritus x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #secondo fanfiction #papa emeritus ii fanfiction

[bettsfic]

hi betts!

i’ve been a fan of yours for years now (training wheels is one of my favorite stories— not just fics. stories— ever, and i really admire your style. as a writer myself, i want to ask how you’re able to keep your motivation up to complete your projects? i feel like i start out so motivated when i fall in love with an idea, but once that fevered haze fades, it’s almost impossible for me to get the motivation i need to write. i have a few wips that i feel so guilty about not finishing/not wanting to finish/wanting to finish but being unable to get the inspiration to. so, in short, how do you maintain the motivation to finish your wips?

thank you so much! i'm glad to hear it; training wheels is still very dear to me.

first, if you want a step by step guide to finishing your wips, i wrote a tutorial earlier this year in my newsletter.

also as i've said elsewhere, i believe it's more important to follow your inspiration and interest where it takes you even if it means not finishing things. one of the reasons i love fanfic is because it's the only genre i can think of where you get to read unfinished works and be present during the writing of them.

but you asked about *my* motivation to finish things, and i'll say it's taken me a long time to build the endurance necessary not only to complete big projects but also complete them to my satisfaction. in my experience, the better you are at finishing things, the worse you become at starting them, and so whereas i used to have a million wips and ideas happening at once, now i can see the ridiculous endeavor ahead of me and pick my battles more knowledgeably.

also, i don't finish everything, especially not right away. sometimes i sit years on a story before i eventually come back to it. but i've found that it's inevitable that when i put something down that i care about, i'll come back around to it when i'm ready. it's not something i have to force. my attention and interest bounces around all over the place but the things i love, i love forever. so i'll always come back around to them.

most importantly--and this is really very important--i lie to myself.

here are the two main lies i tell myself:

"this is the best thing i've ever written," and

"i'm almost done."

being a little delusional is a huge benefit as a writer. if you're too honest with yourself nothing can get done. but i've always had a natural talent for convincing myself of things that aren't true and although that's gotten me in a lot of trouble in all other aspects of my life, in writing it keeps me just far enough away from reality that i can finish things.

the process is something like this:

vague story idea!

will probably be very small, the shortest story i have ever written in fact

begin writing

feels good, feels organic

no no that's not right, bad vibes

start over

ohhh i see what i'm trying to do

outline the tiniest, easiest outline i have ever made. five bullet points. this happens, and then this and this, and the story ends. EASY

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

definitely tomorrow, almost done

check word count. 25k. uh oh

doesn't matter, almost done. have *checks* four out of five bullet points to go

write write write

five point bullet outline no longer effective

re-outline. five points turns into five pages. uh oh

check word count. 60k. big yikes

but! almost done! will finish tomorrow, probably

write write write

get stuck? how? but the outline...

the outline is ineffective. re-outline.

check word count. 100k. :(

almost done :)

a plot knot arises. spend six hours staring at a wall to undo the plot knot

plot knot is more insidious than expected. open new document. start over

*now* i'm almost done

rewrite, restructure, reorganize

check word count. 20k. :(

write write write

check word count. 200k. :((

weeks-long fugue state during which i am god

awaken to filthy apartment. i have not eaten a vegetable in many days. i have not seen the sun.

eat a broccoli

go outside

am i living? am i truly living? is this all life is? am i loved? am i worth loving?

return to safety of fictional world to avoid existential despair

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

so it's really less about motivation to finish and more about motivation to chase down an increasingly elusive feeling of joy through immersion into worlds of my own making and control. it's way easier to run away from something than toward it.

#writing advice #motivation #process #listen i'm not saying i have a healthy relationship with writing #if you can do it healthier than i do that's what i recommend

[bnha-more-like-bnh-gay]

Could we have headcannon for Izuku having a cat quirk?

I see you like dadzawa /hj

No, but dudeee, izuku is feral in his own right, add that with the chaos of a cat😭😭😭 doom. Doom to all that befall izuku’s wrath

Fuck those who befall izuku’s wrath though, because my son doesn’t even get mad easily, and when he does it’s justified

Get angry at kaachan, izuku. Do it. You know you wanna.

Okay though, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted where like,,, he can shape shift into a cat or he has like,, cat senses, but I’m going to go with cat shape shifting and when he’s in human form he still has some cat like reflexes? Like heightened hearing, always landing on his feet, and such!

I just think it’s kind of funny to imagine someone (we all know who) pushing izuku off a tall place and him just landing in his feet like nothing happened. Like, it’s horrible, but also just izuku being unbothered is so personal to me

Just, chaos going on around him and he’s just like, “oh, are you okay?”

Or even better, as a kid, he’s climbing a tree and falls out, scaring inko half to death, and he just lands perfectly on his feet or in place where he was about to land is a little cat, and both of them are like ?????

What type of cat do you think he’d be? Like, would he still have green fur/hair? Or would he be some type of regular house cat? I’m low key leaning towards green little cat because that’s adorable, but it’s up to you, really!

But I imagine izuku shifts into cat form a lot to get away from bullies and to sneak closer to villain/hero fights.

Is koda able to control izuku when he is in cat form????????

Shinsou “I’m not here to make friends” hitoshi

Izuku “I can shift into a cat and I think your quirk is incredible”Midoriya

Shinsou: ….

Shinsou: if anything happened to Midoriya, I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.

Mic takes so many pictures. So many. So does Aizawa, but he won’t admit that. Bastard.

He 10000% uses his smaller form as a cat to sneak out of U.A. for his. Unadvised adventures.

One time when Aizawa was sleep deprived and checking in on class a in the middle of the night, he spots izuku sneaking out in his cat form and doesn’t connect that the cat is his problem child, so he takes the cat up to his and mic’s apartment

He doesn’t realize it’s izuku until the next morning when mic is like, “was Midoriya trying to sneak out again?” Aizawa is confused, and then he remembers. And then he realizes.

And then izuku gets scolded :(

I once read a fic where izuku got turned into a cat due to some quirk, and bakugou was being mean to Shouto and he just did the cat thing where they stare at you while pushing your glass/mug/something off the table, and it was so important to me

But like. Imagine him doing that 😭

Imagine he gets found roaming around by the league and they don’t know it’s izuku at first, but toga decides that he’s adorable and she wants to keep him. So he’s like, okay, I can gather information I guess??????

And then he just like,,, completely fucks with them??

Like, shiggy is gaming and he just sits on the controller or computer keyboard or whatever

And shiggy is considering designating this goddamn cat, but toga would probably kill him if he did that

He helps Eri calm down from her panic attacks/ptsd by shifting into his cat form and sitting with her! Sometimes she prefers if he helps her in his human form, but she also loves running after cat izuku

Mina 1000% sets up a social media page for the cat hero. Not his hero profile. Just a profile for him as a cat. No one knows it’s even a human with a quirk. They’re all just like, damn, U.A. Has a pet cat

Izuku is very affronted by this at first, but accepts that it’ll probably help his cover once he does go pro

He 10000% made a hairball for overhaul to find later on. He fits as many, “fuck you’s” to overhaul as he can

As he should

Likes to fuck with endeavor the same way.

Has 1000% chewed/scratched holes in endeavor’s clothes

Shouto was so proud.

I already say that he’s a vent gremlin, but imagine bent gremlin izuku with a cat quirk😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

U.A. Is not safe

Was it ever?

But nezu finds it rather fun to try and determine where izuku will pop up next

Nothing will be happening, and all of a sudden, there is a cat falling out of a vent and everyone is screaming

Nezu sips on his tea and smiles

Aizawa is totally not itching to pet the little cat whenever he sees him. Not at all. Nope. He would never.

He succumbs to petting the cat once he finds that it calms izuku down sometimes.

He’s not happy about it though!

If you pulled down his capture scarf you totally wouldn’t see him smiling!!!!

No matter what hizashi or nemuri tell you!!!

If stain had control over izuku while he was in cat form and was making him stay still, if koda was also there, would he be able to override stains blood control????

Monoma finds himself petting a cat one afternoon and is surprised that the cat is acting like he understands him. It isn’t until izuku shifts back into his human form and starts talking back to Monoma that he understands.

He also freaks the fuck out.

But izuku nerds out about Monoma’s quirk and he’s suddenly pulling a Shouto and a shinsou with the whole “I’ve only had Midoriya for ______, but if anything ever happened to him I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself”

Shouto, shinsou, and Monoma are the trio who, “didn’t come here to make friends/didn’t want to be friends with class a bastards-“ and then they talked with izuku and suddenly they’re best friends, and this is something I hold very dear

I HOPE YOU LIKED THISSSS!! I’m so sorry it took so long 😅😅😅 my mental health was absolute shit and I had a lot of homework💀 I know this wasn’t super long, so sorry about that too 😅😅 I still hope you like though!!!! Thank you for the ask!!

#cat quirk #bnha #mha #feral izuku #izuku problem child midoriya #izuku quirk au #dadzawa and his problem child #dadzawa #izuku midoriya #shinsou hitoshi #monoma neito #todoroki shoto #toga himiko #shigaraki tomura #league of villains #dadmic #hizashi yamada #Eri #nezu

[kywaslost]

Hii!! I hope you are having a good day❤

Would it be okay to ask some comfort with Hawks (or Izuku) where the reader feels like they are always annoying him and apologizing about it a lot.

Like they feel like they might be too clingy at times, or that they are talking too much when getting excited about something. Or if they ask him to do something small like asking for a water they immediately say something like "actually no, I'm sorry I can get it for myself."

Basically they are just afraid they are being annoying and he would eventually start hate them for it and leave

(I love your writings so much!!❤ Reading them makes me always smile! :3 I hope you had good Christmas!❤)

You Don’t Bother Me - Izuku

A/N: Hey! My day’s been alright, hope you’re having an amazing day <3 I love this idea so much because this is my thought process lol. I always find that my writings are better when I can have some sort of personal connection with them :) And I’m so glad you like my writings, that makes me so happy!! I hope you had an amazing Christmas as well!!!!

Most people have the slight thought pass through their mind from time to time, ‘am I annoying?’. Of course, there are some who don’t give a care in the world, and those are the people no one can stand most of the time. Then there are the ones who sometimes act on this thought, maybe opting out of certain actions or choosing not to say certain things just to be a more likable person. Finally, there are the ones who overthink this thought. They stew over it endlessly, which only ends up with them convinced to the high heavens that they are the most bothersome person around and no one likes them.

Alright, maybe you didn’t take it that far, but you most certainly were one of the few people who overthink about their status with others. Especially your boyfriend Izuku Midoriya. He was just so sweet and kind to you that you sometimes felt like maybe he thought it was a chore to help you with things or to do things for you.

You weren’t sure when you first thought he may be annoyed by you. Maybe it was the time when you asked him for an emergency study date for math because you had an exam the next day and were lagging behind in class a bit. You felt bad because Izuku already had work studies with Endeavor and he looked worn down, but nevertheless, he smiled softly and said, “Sure. I’ll meet you in your dorm in about half an hour.”

That night, as you lay in bed, you began to think of every time Izuku had inconvenienced you. The countless times he had helped you with homework, or dropped whatever he was doing to calm you down when you got anxious or scared. That happened often. You rolled over, pulled your blanket tighter around yourself, and tried to sleep away the thoughts.

A few days later, you were hanging out in Izuku’s room. You both had the day off and chose to spend the day together. Izuku had just gotten out of the shower and flopped down on his bed when you walked into the room. Your movements were quick and it startled the boy.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You huffed, blowing hair from your eyes as you turned to your boyfriend. You began to pace as you answered, “I’m fine. Just frustrated.”

“Why?” Izuku sat up, all of his attention on you as you began to ramble.

“I was playing Minecraft with (best friend), you know, my friend from middle school, and we had cheats on to keep inventory. We decided I could use commands to find the location of the nearest stronghold, which was 1071 blocks away.” You went on to explain how you spent an hour and a half mining to the strong hold just for it to be a staircase and 1 room. No hallways, no portal room.

The more in detail you got in your little rant, the more you began thinking that Deku would rather talk about something else, or how this is just an inconvenience for him. As you neared the end of your tale you spoke slower and a lot quieter. “Sorry. You probably didn’t want to hear all of that.”

Izuku laughed gently, shaking his head. “I don’t mind Y/N. I love hearing your rants.” He stood up and pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your head with a smile. “Now what do you want to do today?”

As time passed you couldn’t help but feel like you were bothering Izuku. When deciding what to eat for lunch, Izuku insisted he’d make whatever you wanted since you were much more of a picky eater than he was. You felt bad, because you knew he didn’t particularly like what you were craving at the moment. And then you felt bad because he was cooking for you.

“No, Izu, I can make lunch myself,” you smiled slightly. “I know you don’t really like (favorite food).”

“I’ll cook whatever you want me to,” he smiled back. “Really, it’s no bother.”

When the two of you went to train later in the afternoon, you finally met your breaking point. You felt so bad for Izuku. In your mind, he had to deal with you and put you before himself. You had to start training on what you needed to work on, and breaks had to be taken whenever you were feeling weary. Every time you asked Midoriya if he needed a break because he was looking worn down, he’d deny it and keep training.

During one of your breaks, you fell to the ground and let the coolness of the floor cool you off. You had finished off your water bottle on the last break, so you had nothing to drink for the moment.

“Y/N, I’m going to go get a snack, would you like anything?” your boyfriend asked, looking down to you on the floor.

“Yeah, can I have some water? I drank all of mine.” The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You didn’t want to annoy Izuku more than you thought you already had. “Actually, I’m sorry. I can get it myself.” You pushed yourself up on your feet, swaying slightly.

Izuku placed a hand on your shoulder to steady you, frowning. “Hey, no, don’t be sorry. I can get it. You need to rest for a moment.”

You shook your head, tears brimming your eyes. And then you cried, covering your face with your hands.

Your sudden outburst startled Izuku, and his arms immediately wrapped around you in a tight hug. “Honey, what’s wrong? Are you overworked? Did I do something?”

You took a moment to cry into your boyfriend’s chest, gripping his sweaty shirt. It took a while, but your sobs finally died down to soft whimpers and you were able to speak again. “I feel so bad for annoying you,” you sniffled. “I”ve been bothering you a lot recently. I’m just afraid you’re going to have enough of it and break up with me because I’m too clingy. I--”

Izuku cuts you off, hugging you tighter. “Baby, you aren’t bothering me. You don’t annoy me. You aren’t clingy, Y/N.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and sighed. “I figured something was going on. You’ve been apologizing a lot more. I was worried about you. But I’m glad you’ve told me what’s going on.” He gently pushed you to sit down on the bench behind you, then wiped the tears from your eyes with his thumb. “I’m going to get you some water and a snack. Then we’ll head back to the dorms. We’re going to spend the rest of the evening talking through this.” He smiled softly. “I want you to feel comfortable, n/n. I love you. I hope you know that.”

Izuku spent the rest of the night helping you work through your feelings. He reassured you that you were never a bother to him and that he would do anything for you. He ordered your favorite take-out, put on your favorite tv show, and cuddled you in his bed. Deku hated that you felt this way, and he promised to work with you on your self-esteem around him.

#comfort #bnha #bnha comfort #x reader #platonic #bnha fluff #mha deku #deku squad #deku comfort #bnha deku #deku fluff #izuku midoria #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #mha izuku #midoriya x you #deku midoriya #mha midoriya #izuku midoria x reader

[takusan-no-ai]

We’re Just Friends

PAIRING: Heimdall/Thor/Baldur x Female Reader (Romantic) (Separate)

SUMMARY: Heimdall, Thor, and Baldur are unaware of (Y/N)’s love, but that doesn’t stop her from helping them.

It’s understandable why you’d believe Heimdall has no romantic interest in you. His constant insults, which sometimes hit too close to home, don’t make for a great case against the idea. He’ll often times act like his very existence is above everyone else’s, including your own.

Heimdall will either take advantage of your kindness or outright dismiss it as pity. If he’s dismissing it, then Heimdall will avoid you for the life of him. Heimdall will straight up insult you just to make you go away. “Go act submissive to someone else you dog.”

If he’s taking advantage of your kindness, then it’s only because you actually hold some value in what you do. Wether it’s being a great combatant, or practically the best maid ever to live, if he finds value in it then you’re screwed. Heimdall will compliment you just to keep you around. “My girl doesn’t have to do all this for me. I love it when you do though.”

Heimdall may come to appreciate your kindness if he ever gets humbled enough. And if he doesn’t, then it might be time to evaluate how much you actually like this guy.

If Heimdall did, however, like you, then he would return the favors that you do for him. He also doesn’t hesitate to flirt more now that he knows you feel the same way. He’ll be against you fighting in battle with him unless you’re strong enough; his foresight makes it so he’s usually more likely to win. Last thing he wants to do is babysit while fighting.

Thor isn’t the most open guy about his feelings, so if he isn’t treating you with such obvious gentle care like he does for Thrúd, then you’ll likely never think he has any interest in you; Thor is a brute by nature and is therefore more rough with the majority of people, including you.

He’s not particularly fond of your kindness, believing that you are just trying to get something out of him. “What is a dimwitted dame like you trying to get out of being my shadow?” Thor becomes less skeptical if you stick around long enough without any ulterior motives.

When you also help his daughter, Thrúd, Thor will appreciate what you’re doing for her. He’s still on guard around you though. Make one fatal mistake and it could cost you your life.

Whenever you risked your neck for him or Thrúd, Thor feels both grateful and angry. Grateful that you cared enough to try, but angry that you risked going to Valhalla too soon for a god as powerful as him and his goddess daughter.

If Thor has a crush on you he’ll make it pretty obvious without even realizing it. He’s more gentle with you, often thanking you for the actions you do. He’ll try to do something nice for you back; a gift, romantic evening, and a cuddle session to end the day.

Baldur really doesn’t care if you’re kind to him or not. He’s too busy working for his father, alongside living in sorrow, to even really notice what you do for him. If he ever did notice anything out of the norm, he’d just assume a servant did it. You’ll have to be caught in the act for him to put two and two together.

When he does find out it’s you, he’ll become a mixture similarly to Thor, but more so on the grateful side. He doesn’t care enough to be angry about everything, so he’ll just state that he’s thankful for your help, and to stay out of his way.

If you try to help find a cure to his curse, Baldur will appreciate the intention, but quickly shoot down how worthless the endeavor is. A part of him seems like it died inside watching you care so much, when even his own mother told him no flat out to his face.

Baldur will laugh if you try to protect him in battle; he even takes great offense to your action. “You must be some kind of idiot. Just like my mother, something with overly caring woman like you…I swear. Think I can’t defend myself even though I can’t die!” He goes back into a spiral of insanity. Avoid being his bodyguard if you don’t want to end up on his kill list.

If Baldur does like you, then all your attempts to be kind to him are immediately cherished and will forever hold a special place in Baldur’s heart. For a large portion of his life, Baldur has been filled with nothing but empty hatred. So seeing your selflessness for him, of all people, made him tear up a little.

- Fin

#god of war x reader #headcanon #female reader #heimdall x reader #heimdall #thor #thor x reader #baldur #baldur x reader

[crystal-multifandom-now]

Can i maybe ask for Jacob holland x princess reader. The reader is the daughter of the king and queen in sea beast?

Remember to take care of yourself :)

Heya! Apologies for the delay and thanks for the well wishes. Admittingly, I found myself enjoying imagining this kind of scenario. I just wish I had proper time to write my imagination out or even good mental health to do so. Anyways, I don't know if this was a writing request or a headcanon but I'm just gonna assume its headcanon. I hope you like it.

P.S. sorry too if my writing is kinda out of touch right now...

>Upon Jacob's endeavors in hunting the beasts, his crewmates would often speak of the Princess' beauty and privileges, but they could never know what she was truly like, only that they hear a bunch of rumors on how she may be spoiled, demanding, and has a horrible attitude.

> Jacob never expected himself to be well acquainted with one of the royals. He sees himself only as a subject paid to hunt down monsters and save the people from them.

>When Jacob arrives at the palace and announces the presence of the royals. He found himself in awe when he saw the presence of the Princess for the first time, with soft and regal features that makes her look more elegantly natural than the king and queen.

>The Princess would often scoff every time Admiral Hornagold tries to make his impression on everyone in the room. She scorned at the mere mention of her parents' plans to betroth her to the Admiral.

>Jacob would steal a glance at the Princess whilst everyone heads to the balcony to introduce them the Imperator.

>The Princess expresses disbelief when her parents threatened to revoke their support to the hunters and things began to get tense. But eventually turned into shock and admiration towards Jacob when he tries to ease the tension and negotiate with her parents. She was very impressed on how he was able to handle things well for both parties.

>Because of what happened in the palace balcony, the Princess considered the idea to stow away with the Inevitable, leaving behind a letter to her parents as well imploring them to not find her.

>Jacob discovered the Princess on the boat and was terribly shocked that she stowed away, he had no choice but to keep her identity a secret on their voyage to hunt the red bluster as well as promising her that he would keep her safe and return her back to the palace in one piece.

>As time passed by the sea, the crewmates naively welcomed her and later found themselves teasing Jacob for being his woman, the captain and Sarah were suspicious of her identity but did not push to know her further. Eventually, everyone sees the Princess as a potential romantic interest for Jacob and would make a fine wife for the future captain of the Inevitable.

>The princess was also fond of Maisie as she expresses her enthusiasm to hunt the sea beasts down. And when they proceed to have an adventure with Jacob, Red, and Blue. The Princess learned and slowly changed her perspective regarding the sea beasts, and it sparked her to make a strong stand against her parents' will.

>With the Princess' plan to rebel against the crown, her own blood, and legacy. She welcomed the idea of a different life, possibly an ordinary life with Jacob and Maisie.

>When Red got captured, the princess was devastated, and the Inevitable crew found out the truth, so the captain decided to confine her in one of the ship's rooms to return her to the palace along with their prized possession. She fought with Jacob expressing her anger and her change of mind to proceed with her parents' plan of an unhappy married life with the Admiral.

>Jacob feels ashamed and guilty, he also didn't want her to be with anyone else but him, yet he could not express his feelings towards her properly because of his thoughts on how they both live in different worlds that are not meant to be.

>The moment the princess witnessed Jacob fighting and defending Red, She could not help but feel worried for him and when Jacob was plunged into the waters, injured. The princess did not hesitate to dive in and help Jacob, which led to people witnessing her actions and suspecting her intentions.

>At the end of all the troubles and Maisie's speech, the princess regained hope and vow to continue Maisie's intent and Jacob's declaration to end the hunt and to find the truth about their history despite revealing the flaw and mistakes of her family and that it might cost her life in doing so. Nonetheless, the princess was persistent in her vow.

>The princess finally confessed her true feelings to Jacob and so did he. Both of them shared a deep kiss as it will be their first and last for the moment since they won't be seeing each other for a while as they move on to their different lives.

#jacob holland #jacob holland x reader #jacob holland headcanons #sea beast #sea beast fanfic #sea beast netflix #jacob holland sea beast

[blankiebloo]

You remembered...

Wanderer(Scaramouche) x Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): Spoilers for the new archon quest!

Note: I myself haven't gotten to the new quest line yet, but I've heard many people say that Scara got everyone to forget about him except for Nahida and the Traveler, so what if you didn't forget about him too?

"Lesser Lord Kusanali, it turns out that everyone but you and the Traveler has forgotten about me. What if..what if they did too?" Wanderer asked, fumbling with his hands.

"They? Who are you talking about Wanderer?"

"You know...[Name]. What if they forgot about me, just like everyone else? Would I...would I have to remake my entire relationship with them?"

"Wanderer don't think about that! I'm sure even if they forgot you two would still hit it off instantly!" Nahida patted him on the back and ruffled his hair causing him to groan out in feign annoyance.

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

Back at your home in Snezhnaya, you feel like something, no, someone's missing. But you can't place your finger on it.

"Maybe I'll just go out for a walk," you thought aloud as you walked outside.

As you left your house you noticed that there was something in your mailbox, you looked inside and noticed a letter! Taking it out and reading it, it turned out to be from the Traveler themself!

"An invitation to Sumeru, to meet someone the Traveler is friends with? I must be dreaming..." You pinched yourself on the cheek, but nope, you're still awake.

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

This place is so big... You thought as you walked the streets of Sumeru, unsure of where you're supposed to be heading.

"You must be [Name], right?" The voice of a little girl came from behind you. Turning around you see a girl with white hair fading to green at the tips with green eyes.

"I'm Nahida! I'm a good friend of the Traveler, sadly they're quite busy but they told me to come take you to the person they wanted you to meet!"

"Oh, thank you Nahida!" You crouched down a bit and patted her head.

She suddenly reached up and grabbed your hand and started pulling you somewhere.

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

As she continued to pull you to your destination you decided to admire the scenery around you two until she stopped her movement and tapped your hand to pull you back to reality.

"We're here, maybe you should keep your eyes closed for this."

You do as she says and close you eyes as you let her guide you inside; soon enough you hear her open a door as she calls out to someone who's inside. "Wanderer, we're here!"

"Finally," you heard a familiar voice say as he presumably walked closer. "Now, who is it that they wanted me to me..et.." He trailed off at the end of his sentence. "[Name]?"

You opened your eyes and saw Scaramouche standing there, eyes opened wide and watery.

"Kuni? Oh here you are! I've missed you so much!" You let go of Nahida's hand and rushed over to give Scara a hug.

"[Name] you remembered me, I-" Wanderer cleared his throat as he pulled away from you. "[Name], I truly am happy to see you, but I no longer go by Kunikuzushi anymore, I am now Wanderer." He said, trying to keep his composure as you stared intently at his face.

"Well then, now that you two have been brought back to each other I think it's time for me to leave! Take care you two!" Nahida waved goodbye as she left, leaving you two in an awkward silence.

"Well then, uhm, Wanderer," you took his hands in yours and squeezed them as you brought them to your lips. "Would you care to tell me about your recent endeavors? I'm quite curious about what you've been doing since you've been away."

He nodded in response and took you to sit down with him on the couch as he told you about him becoming a God and the fall of it.

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

The sun was setting outside as someone walked into the room.

"Huh, I guess Nahida really did take care of everything," the Traveler mumbled to Paimon as they saw you and Wanderer cuddled up together on the couch fast asleep.

#blank writes!♡ #genshin fluff #genshin x gn!reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x gn!reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer fluff #wanderer x gn!reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing’s Wrong with Dale - Part Ten

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 10

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven]  [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] Part Ten [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

A strange sort of silence fills the library after the pair leaves and you take a moment to regain your footing. There’s nothing you can do while they’re gone, you remind yourself ruthlessly. Whatever happens is out of your hands.

Dale has done an adequate job of containing himself these last few days and perhaps it would even be good for him, to expend some physical energy and to re-familiarize himself with those on the hunt. He has all of human Dale’s memories and has shown no difficulty accessing them. That should reassure Grandfather. 

It has to.

You turn to the table, aggressively shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, where they will no doubt lurk until it's time for sleep, and attempt to focus on other things. Before the interruption, you and Dale had gotten through the majority of the martial plans, and plotted the rough course of your post-wedding tour. You should finalize the letters to the councils, informing them of your attendance at the next meetings and so on. Grandmother’s clerk’s apprentice should be available shortly, perhaps she could aid you in addressing and sending these.

With Grandfather and Dale away, along with a few other members of the household, that left fewer here to do the work, although there will be a bit less of it. Perhaps you can talk over some of these with Grandmother, get her opinion on some of your plans and her impressions of the officials she dealt with the most. 

You start organizing the papers closest to you as you make a mental list of what to do in the next few days. The hunt truly signified the start of the wedding celebrations. The tournament will take a few days in its own right, then you’ll likely relocate to Connton for the city galas, until finally retiring back to the estate for the final balls and the wedding itself. 

A cough startles you from your thoughts and you look up to see Steward Bilmont head moving back down to look at his own paperwork. You frown, wondering why he made what had seemed like a deliberate sound to get your attention when he isn’t even looking at you, when he says, “Lord Archibald seemed surprised by Lord Dale’s attitude regarding the hunt.”

You stiffen slightly. “Yes, I suppose Lord Dale’s head was rather more firmly stuck in his thoughts and paperwork than Grandfather expected.”

“Still,” Bilmont replies mildly, “I expected more excitement from Lord Dale myself. Even some of all this,” he gestures at the table and the papers that cover it, “was rather unforeseen, at least to me.”

You know he means Dale’s interest in Northridge minutiae. “Lord Dale has long been anticipating his inheritance,” you say, only a bit woodenly, trying to stick to the facts. You stand up from your chair to better aggregate the various papers together, to occupy your hands so they don’t shake as they seem inclined to. “It is not such a surprise that he is trying to grasp the reins as early and as completely as he can.”

“No,” Bilmont’s tone is thoughtful and conciliatory. “It is not.”

You calm at that to some extent and try your best to act as though you are focused on the reports, not this idle conversation the steward has started. Why? To what end? What does he know or suspect? You should just hurry and leave before he can ask or make any further observations. Without an outside party to confront, to confirm or deny those observations, he might let it drop, or at least move on to other tasks.

“He did seem to warm up to the idea at the end,” Bilmont says, closing the ledger he was writing in and glancing up at you. Looking back down, he continues, “Although given what happened a week ago, I hope that’s not a mistake.” Your eyes widen against your will as you scramble for something to say. “Given his health.”

“Yes, his health,” you reply, grasping at the pieces of straw he’s offered you. You think he’s testing you somehow, you wonder what he knows, but all you can do is play along. You didn’t think Bilmont was the sort to prod in such a way, but he’s certainly got a reason to—his livelihood is tied inextricably with Northridge, which is tied to Dale. “With the fever gone and his strength returned to him, I don’t think there would be any cause for concern over the hunt. He does use the cane occasionally, but that is primarily for balance, which I hope does not affect his riding ability.” 

Truthfully, that thought had never occurred to you until you said it and now you are worried about that too.

“Yes, I suppose Lord Dale,” Bilmont begins, eyes still on his letter, “certainly, by all appearances, seems to have…recovered… from his illness.”

“Yes, quite.” You dislike the way he says both ‘recovered’ and ‘illness’ and even ‘by all appearances’. 

Does he know about the demon? 

There are also those who are human but suffer side-effects from encounters with the Depths or momentary possession. Perhaps Bilmont suspects what happened, but not the full extent of it. Dale certainly didn’t hide any of his research into demonic activities very well, particularly from any of the servants. Mayhap Bilmont wants to ensure Dale’s recovery or see what you know of it, under the impression something like that has happened?

You find you’ve gathered all your papers into your leather folder and wrapped the cord around so tight it’s threatening to snap. You mechanically unwind and re-tie it. “He seems to be suffering no dramatic physical side-effects from what happened. I think he shall make a full recovery.”

You turn your focus onto the books and ledgers, stacking them up by how you think they were originally, but mind only half on the task. Your shoulders are practically up by your ears waiting for…

“You know,” Bilmont says, his chair scraps against the floor as he pushes it back away from the table. “It was I who found him in his…” he chooses his words carefully, “stricken state. In his study.”

“Oh,” you reply, flinching at the sound of your own high-pitched exhale at that information. You suppose it had been rather naive to think Dale had managed to get somewhere less conspicuous before needing further attention that night. You have no doubt Bilmont is referring to the hidden room in Dale’s study. 

Shit.

Perhaps he’s not trying to get information from you. Perhaps he’s trying to figure out what you know. It’s still possible he only found Dale in the main part of his study and that after everything, Dale had managed to clean up after himself in the hidden room without anyone knowing. But it’s a tough sell, even to yourself. You have to try though, you can’t be the one to give it away.

“That must have been quite a scene,” you say tentatively. As far as you know, none in Northridge besides Dale himself are particularly familiar with demon summoning given Grandmother’s distaste, but the steward isn’t an idiot. If he truly found Dale, unconscious or the like, in the hidden room, with all the demon summoning paraphernalia then he has to know.

“Yes,” you see him swallow, eyes unfocused as if remembering. “Quite. Made a mess.” You’re certain he saw the hidden room now, given the drawn look in his eyes. “I’d thought Lord Dale had passed at first. No pulse, you see.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say. Under your panic, your mind is racing with distant questions like: does that mean Dale died before the demon took over his body? Did the demon not know how to pump blood through a human body at first? Is that something he could forget even now? Could he do it wrong? You are suddenly very aware of the rush of your own blood through your veins. 

You wish you weren’t. 

“The physician was very distressed when called and pronounced him deceased four separate times in those first few hours until the Lady told him to stop,” Bilmont continues, staring down the table at you. “Once he seemed stable enough, though in the grips of his fever, she left him to Lord Archibald and Doctor. Until the doctor was sent away, of course.”

“Yes, I recall,” you say faintly.

“Although he seems to like your brand of medicine just fine,” Bilmont’s next words hold the hint of accusation in his voice.

You manage to contain your flinch, discharging the nervous energy by fiddling and fidgeting with your clothing. “It’s nothing,” you say, daring to look back at him. “That’s likely why he tolerates them. Little homemade teas and tonics from when I was sick as a girl.”

“They still seem to have made an impression on him.” You feel like he means to say that you left an impression but that doesn’t make any sense. When you only gaze back at him blankly, he clarifies more leadingly, “The entire ordeal seems to have left quite an impression on him.” Bilmont’s voice is skeptical and wary, “On his countenance at least.”

“Yes,” you give a jerky nod and venture, “I suppose an experience like that might give one cause to re-examine their choices and what is truly important to them.”

“It might,” Bilmont allows. Then his expression hardens. “Lord Dale was never much given for introspection.”

“No,” you agree. “He wasn’t.”

“He seems more inclined these days,” Bilmont says, gaze narrowing. “Almost a changed man, one might say. A different man.”

“Yes, he does,” you murmur, feeling almost numb. Bilmont knows. He knows what happened and what Dale is. It's all over then. Or is it? After all, he’s merely telling you this, talking with you in private. He broached this topic so why? Does he know that you know?  Can you persuade him? Persuade him to work with you rather than against you. “A better man.”

“Oh, is he now?” Bilmont’s cool demeanor falters and a hint of a manic edge enters his voice. You wonder if his attitude so far has been more of a front than you realized as he unravels to some extent in front of your eyes. “You think this—this novel Dale is indeed improved. That he is to be trusted?”

You tilt your head to the side. Bilmont is a realist as you are. “Was he to be trusted before?”

Bilmont falters, his fingers tightening around the ledger in his hands. “I knew what-who he was then. We managed.”

“Yes,” you nod. “We would have had to manage with him, around him. I think now… Now I think he is someone I can work with.” When Bilmont just stares at you, you gesture to the table, still covered in papers. “How do you think this would have gone previously?”

Bilmont scowls, which mirrors your sentiments exactly. You say your piece anyway, “If he took the time to contemplate any of this, he would have cherry picked the councils that interested him to take charge of personally and left the rest to us. He would have installed those he wished, regardless of their suitability or the offense to Grandfather.”

“He would have,” Bilmont concedes. “But I knew that he would. Because I knew him. I knew what to expect. I don’t know that anymore. Anything could happen. He seems relatively fickle, one new idea to the next and they seem like fine ideas, but what if the next one isn’t? What if he grows bored of this?” He gestures at both the table and at the large map of Northridge. He takes a step closer to you, his eyes a bit wild.

“He is an entirely different, different person,” Bilmont hisses. He seems to have left fear behind and is incredulous, leaning towards anger. “Who we know nothing about—not of their goals or plans or—proclivities. And you think we should—what? Just go alo—”

“Yes,” you interrupt, your heartbeat loud in your head as he voices everything you’ve already thought a dozen times over. “Like a different person. One without the flaws and vices of before. One who, thus far, has only shown himself to be polite and intelligent and who wants to invest in this life, in Northridge—not waste it on frivolity and pettiness. 

“I have far less reservations of him, than I did of…before,” you’re content to talk around this as he is. “Different reservations, with more assessment to come. But fewer. Can you tell me true that you do not? That you prefer the unaltered to the one we have before us now?”

There is a long silence as Bilmont stares at you, long enough for you to want to try to calm your breathing, to want to check your hair after behaving in such an agitated manner, to want to look away. But you don’t. 

He looks away first.

“No.” Belmont shakes his head slowly as he looks back up at you. “I can’t say that.”

“I’m not—I’m not saying this isn’t an, an absurd situation to find ourselves in.” You try to gather your thoughts, to put them in some semblance of an order because while you hadn’t expected to have to articulate them, perhaps if you can, you can convince Bilmont to your side of things. “That he hasn’t, hasn’t changed. But think on the alternatives and tell me which you think is better, which you think has the least potential for harm.”

Another long pause before Bilmont admits, “This is a very delicate situation.”.

“Yes,” you agree immediately, because it is. 

“There aren’t many other avenues to explore,” he taps his pen against his ledger, “you are not wrong. For Northridge at least.” His eyes narrow at you, suspicion on his face. “However you are not bound to it, not yet.”

“Aren’t I?” you ask blithely. 

“No,” his voice is blunt and unamused. “You aren’t.”

“Perhaps not, but…” you try to find the right words. “I think you overestimate the number of other choices I have—separate from Northridge and after—if anything. If anything deteriorated here.”

“I suppose,” he says, but you can see skepticism in his eyes as well as some judgment, some pity–some condescension.

It’s that more than anything that makes you straighten. Defensive and raw with the conversation as it is, you will not have this. “You think you have a clearer picture of my situation than I do? You think I have not thought as long and hard about this as possible?” You’re speaking too fast, too offended to keep your tone even. “That I am not still thinking and evaluating. I am still ready to step back, if it is necessary. But I am aware of what it would be to no longer be connected with Northbridge and what it would have been like to be Lady Northridge before—even more aware than you.”

He seems to concede to your point, or at least he is unreadable to you once more. “I did not mean to imply you had not.”

Your posture eases to a degree at his words. “I mean to say that you are not telling me something I do not already know and that I have not already made my decision regarding. Unless something occurs which dissuades me, I will marry Lord Dale as he is now, more happily than I would have who he was before and with more hope to the future, for myself and Northridge.”

“You truly believe that,” Bilmont says and you know it isn’t a question. He sighs, rubbing his forehead, before saying, “I cannot speak against it, although it feels foolish, because I do believe I agree.” Your eyes widen at his admission even as he cautions, “I reserve the right to change my mind, but for now…” He nods. “Yes, I will accept who he presents himself as. 

“His grandparents must never find out,” Belmont cautions. “Neither would recover well from the shock, if indeed they did at all, and you’re right, the resulting inheritance debacle would be most disastrous.”

“I’m worried about this hunt,” you confess, if its fears you’re sharing. “Grandfather is definitely noticing he is different, just as Grandmother has not, for she has always wished to believe the best of Dale.”

Bilmont snorted, seemingly more comfortable now that you are speaking frankly. “Yes, her largest blindspot, truth be told. Losing Remington and even Qiana, who had not been in her life long, was devastating to her. For a woman renowned for clear sight, he is a black spot–as to some degree is her vendetta against the tool which was used to take her son from her. We all wondered, what with Lord Dale barely trying to conceal his new hobby from her, which of the two would supersede the other. Given she’s never even made a passing remark about his predilections, I suppose we now know which. Hopefully, that will work to his advantage now.”

“I shall endeavor to do my best to help keep his condition to myself and away from their notice,” you say, a pledge almost, and he nods, seemingly having expected it. “Now that he’s feeling better physically, he seems to have better control over himself, general hunger aside.”

“Yes, he just needs a bit more practice with some of the things he says,” Bilmont says and you are inclined to agree. “Someone will take note eventually.”

“Yes, I try to help brush over them, but,” you give a small shrug, “I’m not the best at smoothing over conversation.”

“Nonsense,” he waves a hand at you and smiles kindly. “You do just fine, my Lady.”

“Thank you, Steward Bilmont,” you reply, warmed by his words. It gives you the courage to say, “I believe we can do this though. Do you?”

He takes his time to think it over, briskly tapping some papers to the table to straighten them out as he does so. Then he gives a sharp nod. “Yes, I think we can.”

You leave the library shortly after, feeling more than a little wrung out from your conversation with Bilmont, but also all the time spent talking over Northridge with Dale. There’s so much coming up ahead—it's as daunting as it is exciting. 

Still, there is one clear fact to you, that you are coming away with: you have an ally.

[Part Eleven]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #nothing's wrong with dale #story part #terato #exophilia #male monster #monster bf #slow burn #osha compliant #arranged marriage #the lack of Dale 2 is regretable but inevitable #everyone got too focused on grandpa and forgot the whole ass other person in the room lol #this is one of the scenes that first came to me #lov the ik but do uk #do we both know? #what do we know? #are we making some Choices? #yes #next time will be after the Hunt so we shall see how that went #gotta run to family events #but i will b distracting myself with tag and reactions #so let me know what u thought!

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Hi! I wonder if you could rec some books that are helpful for writing - I love everything you write and your language style. I'm kind of a writer myself and recently I got stuck in this phase where I just couldn't improve my writing... or don't know how to. I tried to read more, but most of them faded away in my brain after a day or two. I'm also curious, in terms of writing techniques, how do you usually write

[2]? Do you always go back and re-edit it? How do you deal with the writer’s block? Do you take notes while reading to learn from them, such as dialogues or stuff? I hope this is ok to ask - and good luck with any ongoing projects you have right now!

I'm not sure what you mean by books that are 'helpful for writing' - if you mean books about writing, I don't think I've read one since I was like, 14. If you mean books that will inspire you to write...I think inspiration is so personal. I think you should read widely, and read at or above your reading level as much as possible. Chuck Palahnuik, Kurt Vonnegut, and Shirley Jackson are probably the writers who influenced my prose style the most.

The best way to improve as a writer is to find a good editor. I mean somebody who will read your work open-mindedly and with love, but who will also take a big red pen and cross out 70% of it and explain to you, kindly but firmly, why what you wrote is garbage. I have been lucky enough to have a few editors in my life (starting with my dad, when I was like, 12) whose opinions on prose and storytelling I respected, and who were cheerfully merciless in applying them to me. I will always be grateful that they gave me enough credit as an aspiring artist who hoped to improve that they were willing to blowtorch my darlings before my eyes. It's a bracing but invaluable experience.

My process is always the same, no matter what I'm writing. I slam through a first draft as fast as possible. The first draft is shit. That's the point of the first draft. I usually don't even know what my story is about until I finish the first draft, I'm just trying to hunt down good character moments, good scenes, good lines, and a framework for a story that I can rake out of the muck later. Nobody sees the first draft but me.

Then I walk away from it and I don't look at it for a while. If it's a short story, that might be for just a day; if it's something longer, I might walk away for a week or more. Then I come back and re-read it, in a relaxed but critical mood. It's not longer "my writing" at this point: it's just a piece of writing, and I'm going to read it to find out if it's any good.

It isn't. That's fine. I take my big red pen, and I start planning out how I'd fix it, the same way I'd approach editing a stranger's work.

The second draft might bear only a passing resemblance to the first draft, but now I have a plan, and I know where I'm actually going with the material. The second draft takes much longer to write. It's a more thoughtful process. I re-read the first draft often, to keep in touch with what it was about this story in its raw form that made me want to tell it.

Then I submit the second draft to one of those priceless, merciless editors in my life. My wife is my go-to these days. She takes a turn pulling the piece apart and figuring out how she would fix it.

When I'm done re-tooling it based on that feedback, I'm usually happy with what I've got.

I don't know if I believe in writer's block. I think you either want to write or you don't. You can psyche yourself out of doing anything; writing isn't special. You can make anything stressful or unfun or a referendum on your worthiness as a person if you're anxious enough about it.

I think that if you're not getting better at something, you're either not practicing enough, not challenging yourself, not seeking honest feedback, or not applying the feedback you've received.

Writers are frequently annoying people, who think their ~craft~ has special rules that don't apply to any other human endeavor. It's just a skill, like any other skill. Take the same discipline and humility to writing as you would to learning a language, or learning to run a mile, or learning how to build a cabinet. You'll get better.

[siderealmaven]

Hi, Hello, Happy New Moon Solar Eclipse in Pisces!! 🐠🐠✨

This eclipse is a bit of a doozy y’all, and I don’t say that to freak anybody out because I don’t think anyone should be freaking out about eclipses, but because it coincides with Mercury Rx reentering Pisces on 4/9 followed by a Mars-Saturn conjunction in Aquarius on the 10th, and Sun conj Mercury Rx on the 11th. When we have a lot of significant transits like these all bunched up together, the energy can be tense and people can easily be overwhelmed.

So before I get into the message of these beautiful cards from the Intuitive Night Goddess Tarot, I just want to remind everyone to slow down, to breathe, and stay away from those conspiracy theory videos that insist your whole life is going to change overnight or that the world will somehow fall into a zombie apocalypse if you blink too long. Make room for whatever you’re feeling and try to remember that this can be a busy, chaotic time for everyone.

The 4 of Wands speaks to this Mercury Rx and the need to slow down and reconsider our boundaries. This is something that is very difficult for a sign like Pisces, who struggles to disentangle themselves from the emotional narrative of the peoples around them but even more so for Aries, which simply can’t be bothered to slow down when it’s mind has been made up.

It’s likely that you have projects, goals, and such that you feel like are on the verge of being “Done,” but will find over the next week that there is more tweaking and perfecting necessary to move forward because you haven’t yet considered all of the angles.

While this can be frustrating, the 4 of Wands also speaks to celebration, graduations, reunions, ceremonies and group gatherings. It’s about hitting a milestone and taking a break to acknowledge how far you have come in your endeavors. It’s about protecting your peace.

Consider how much your perspective and attitudes towards your Pisces and Virgo house topics have changed since March 7th, 2024. How has your intuition allowed you to observe things that you didn’t notice before? What dots are you connecting and what larger picture do they tell you about yourself in this moment in time? Have you found yourself more capable than you originally thought?

The Temperance card advises us to find a balance between our desire to press forward and the need to pause and reflect. Really, this is talking about the types of boundaries we set with ourselves when we are working on something big. Are you the type of person who brews that 3rd or 4th cup of coffee and works late into the night, or someone who keeps saying “yes, I can do that!” When your body is telling you no?

Perhaps you are like me (neurodivergent af) and find yourself hyper focusing on your work and completely forget you are a person that has needs until you look up and see that hours seem to have passed in minutes. If you are like me, you might also be a perfectionist that feels like they can’t walk away until they get things “just right.” (Which honestly, could be never.)

Well if you are, then you also have to learn that creation is exhausting and therefore not having firm, explicit boundaries about how you will treat your body is necessary for any kind of sustainable work schedule. What works for me is setting timers to remind myself to switch tasks. To record my progress everyday so I have a physical reminder that yes, I did work, and it mattered and it adds up over time, I didn’t just imagine it! It’s intentionally scheduling days off because I work for myself and this often leads me to working nonstop.

The Temperance card is a reminder that there are times of work and times of play, times of progress and times of rest. We need both of these times in order sustain our bodies and minds in healthy ways in the long term. This Eclipse Szn, it is time to pause and celebrate how far you’ve come, instead of having that extra energy drink and hammering out the details. Focus less on how far you have left to go and just be proud of yourself for getting to this point.

It’s time to make your boundaries with yourself explicit, so that you can express them to others and they can respect your boundaries too. And I know, this is so much easier said than done, which is why you definitely deserve to have a cookie and hang out with your friends after. Pay attention to who respects your “No,” who accepts your “Maybe next time,” and who reminds you “As long as you’re taken care of, I’m happy.”

As we move into this Mars-Saturn conjunction you may find yourself ready to let go of things, perceptions, ideas, attitudes, old clothes, or even jobs and relationships you’ve outgrown. This is it’s own sort of milestone, even if it feels small or insignificant now, you will look back on this moment as a key time when due to this shedding, you started to see yourself just a little more clearly. (And you look beautiful!)

So take some time off, clean out your closet, call up your friends and get outside. There are a lot of big, bad scary things in this world we can’t control, but something you can always do is plant some joy in your moments and celebrate them like the gift they are.

Originally posted on @siderealmaven ‘s Patreon.

Thank you for reading! ♡

#sidereal astrology #sidereal zodiac #eclipse #full moon eclipse in aries #it’s in sidereal Pisces tho #tee hee

[chocodile]

Hello! I've been a longtime fan, but I just started getting into Calico Critter/Sylvanian Families customization myself! If it's not a bother, could you tell me how you add hair to your critters (like the final fantasy viera bunny)? I wasn't sure if you were gluing it or if you'd poked holes in to reroot hair like how doll customizers replace regular doll's hair. I haven't found much other precedent for Sylvanian hair besides your posts, so I'm at a loss ^^'

Hey there! That's exciting to hear! I feel that Calico Critter customization is a seriously underutilized crafting field and I'm pleased to hear more people are getting into it!

I root the hair the same way doll customizers do, yes! Since there are no holes in their heads by default you gotta poke the pilot holes for the hair tufts yourself.

You will need to remove the head with a heat gun or blow dryer, which isn't too hard. I used this Youtube video as a guide.

Box braids and locs (like on the Kaitos and Oscar figures) are the only hairstyles I just glue to the outside of the head. A bit of glue goes at the tip of each hair noodle to keep it from unraveling and then the noodles are glued to the figure's head. Paint can be used to smooth over the hair/scalp transition and hide any visible glue spots.

Some additional tips I've discovered:

Bunnies and ponies are easier to root. Figures with big ears with wide bases or weirder head shapes have thicker plastic and are harder to root. The hardest one I've rooted was the kangaroo... fennec fox also gave me trouble. I plan to root hair on otters in the future, which may not be possible with traditional hair rooting tools. I can tell without even taking the heads off that the plastic is extremely thick. I might need to use a drill on those.

The flocking glue softens at about the same temperature that the plastic does. I'd advise using something softer than pliers when heating the heads for removal or else you might end up scraping a bit of the flocking off.

Some types of doll hair also will melt under the heat gun.... keep the hair covered and away from the heat when you're reattaching the head. Or just avoid low melting point hair materials... I haven't worked with doll hair enough to know which ones to recommend, though.

Longer hair will stick up and look goofy even if you style it due to the small size of the figures. I used a tiny bit of velcro to stick long haired characters' ponytails to the backs of their clothes and hold them down. I'm not sure how you'd do long that's not in a ponytail or braid of some kind.

I haven't found a technique for making locs that I'm really happy with... there are some tutorials online but they're aimed at bigger dolls. On something as small as a Calico Critter they're a bit stiff and messy looking... go easy on the glue if you try this.

Thanks for the compliments and interest! Good luck with your figure customizing endeavors!

#doll customization #sylvanian families #doll custom #calico critters #crafts #not an art post #ask #anon