#Obi goes and fucks Ani in the bathroom

[skywlker-sluvtt]

Just thought of Ani on a mission in a bar and sees his secret gf dressed hot and they have a quickie in the bathroom while Obi Wan is distracted

stop because i've had this stewing in my inbox, you don't understand how excited I get when I see ur user pop up 😭💕

lil nsfw anakin drabble below <3

this is like the most anakin coded idea I've ever seen in my life. I just imagine (padawan 😼) anakin finding out he and obi-wan are steaking out a few people at a bar. so he very secretively comms his girlfriend his location and gets you to come over.

when he sees you walk in the door he loses his shit and starts blushing n getting all hard right next to obi-wan. you lock eyes with him and wink at him before getting a drink. obi-wan see's the wink and looks at anakin's flushed face "nervous anakin?" "n-no master" he lies. "focus this mission doesn't need to involve your hormones" obi-wan tells him. but like dawg how's pretty little anakin meant to control himself when you're wearing such a short skirt?

his eyes are glued to you the entire time as you have a drink at the bar and dance for a while. he gets angry every time a guy nears you and you politely decline his advances. obi-wan gets sick of anakin's incessant staring and moves to the bar to get a better view of the criminals they were watching.

you walk over to the bathroom and nod your head toward the door signalling for him to follow. he eagerly does jumping from his seat and secretly (it's actually really obvious tbh stealth skills are lacking) goes with you. he spots the red panties hung on the last stall door and finds you in there.

"hello jedi" you tease but he can't even think of a reply before he's kissing you and pressing you against the wall. "you're so pretty" he whines lifting you into his arms. you giggle and kiss him feverishly. "you better be quick before your master finds you in here" it's a challenge for him and he makes quick work of removing his robes to fuck you.

he barely has time to tease you how he likes before he's inside you making you bite down on his shoulder to keep quiet. anakin continues to pound you against the wall whispering jibberish into your ear, something about how hot you look and how desperate he is. he's trying to be a gentleman and use the force to assist in holding you up to play with your clit.

the messy sloppy sounds echo through the bathroom as he slams into you repetitively. "close?" he asks. "mhm, good boy" and that in itself sends him over the edge. cumming deep inside of you while your walls clench him hard, coming down from your orgasm.

anakin doesn't want to put you down, he'd prefer to carry you home but he's currently meant to be on jedi duty. he helps you stand up straight and you give him one more sloppy kiss before shoving your panties into his pocket. "baby...i don't wanna leave" he whispers. "don't worry my darling, I'll keep your cum inside of me till you get home" you coo wiping the lipstick marks from his lips with your thumb.

he rushes to the sink to scrub his face, almost completely hard from the last thing you said. "anakin! where have you been?" obi-wan asks with furrowed brows. "I needed to use the bathroom" "for 20 minutes?" "it's not my fault the cafeteria food makes me sick" anakin lied. obi-wan knew what that dirty little fuck just did and stormed out unable to cope with him tonight.

you made it even worse by sending anakin a "good luck" photo of your tits after <3

[underacalicosky]

Yessss, the IT helpdesk! Any vibes or snippets you can share?

Thanks for the ask! @kittonafoxgirl asked about the same WIP. ❤️

Okay, I’m not sure what possessed me to even come up with this idea. Actually, it might have been when I was debating whether to get a new laptop since I can’t write my fics on my work laptops and my Macbook is on its last legs. But now that I’m typing this out, it sound bonkers lol. I’m not sure if I’ll ever finish it.

Anakin is an IT tech where Obi-Wan works. There’s some software update that gets botched when it’s pushed out and Obi-Wan calls the help desk because his laptop refuses to start. He drops it off. Anakin is his tech. Everything is fine. Anakin fixes his laptop and it restores the browser windows that were open when it crashed. That’s when he notices that Obi-Wan’s been reading smut on his work laptop.

Wait, no. Obi-Wan is writing smut on his work laptop.

Anakin takes screenshots of it, you know, as one does. When Obi-Wan picks up his laptop, Anakin lets him know that it’s probably not a good idea to be doing that on a company-issued computer. Obi-Wan is embarrassed, to say the least, and blushes a deep, adorable red.

Later that night, Anakin looks up the website where Obi-Wan posts his stories. He begins reading all his fics and is completely hooked. Weeks later, Obi-Wan begins posting a new fic.

Anderson is young, in his early twenties. He sounds like a twink. Tall with a lithe, tight body. Obi-Wan describes him as a clueless Adonis. Breathtakingly pretty with blue eyes and full plush lips. Golden curls adorning his head. He’s flawless, down to the scar bisecting his right eye.

Anakin’s brain grinds to a halt.

Swallowing, he reads the description again and then drops his phone. Anakin stands up slowly, paces the length of his bedroom three times before he walks to the kitchen, pours himself a glass of water, and gulps it down. With his hands braced on the counter, he drops his head between his shoulders, taking deep breaths. He goes to the bathroom, turns on the light, and stares at the scar that clips his right eyebrow.

He’s Anderson.

“This is so fucking awesome,” Anakin whispers to his reflection.

[lildemonsemen]

okay tho a concept since it’s Obikin week: post war happy endings all around Obikin4ever and Ahsoka is just in her room jamming to like the Star Wars equivalent to My Chemical Romance and Anakin bursts in like “holy shit. What. Is. That.” and Ahsoka is like ?? No way is he this emo all the time and not heard space mcr and aggressively has him dive head first into the full classic emo culture and gets them band tickets

and then Obi-Wan is just sitting around innocently with his tea or something night of as his partner and grandpadawan get ready for their concert and then — oh shit — Anakin comes out dolled up fully ready in the look he was always meant to rock, the Classic™️: tight af leather pants, eyeliner, black nail polish. Anakin Skywalker’s Final Form. And Obi-Wan just. Cannot. Handle it.

[tennessoui]

Last night I struggled with falling asleep and I thought of all of your wonderful modern setting AUs. I was wondering if you have one with Anakin as an airline pilot, because it seems like kind of an obvious AU but I don't think I ever read anything like that. Also, Anakin would look hot as fuck with a pilot uniform.

awww this is so sweet alright i don't have any pilot!Anakin, the closest thing i have is in Keeping Up With the Skywalker-Kenobis, Luke becomes a pilot when he grows up (i thought it would be cute because he was scared of heights for so long)

but pilot anakin???? amazing!!!! businessman obi-wan who hates flying and is stressing in the bathroom about flying and anakin comes into the bathroom to change into his uniform and idk one thing leads to another they fuck and obi-wan goes to his first class seat and settles down (all loose-limbed and much calmer from the sex) and then he hears the guy he just fucked over the intercom like 'alright thanks for flying with us my names anakin i'll be your pilot'

and he has to disembark at the end and walk past anakin who gets really red in the face but still says 'i hope you enjoyed your flight'

to which of course obi-wan replies 'it was quite a ride'

they're both staying at the airport hotel and both of them see each other at the bar and definitely definitely go again <3

[ladykissingfish]

Dining Out with the Akatsuki

Pein

The Pein-body doesn’t need food to sustain itself, but Nagato has made it so that he can taste and experience eating through the body. Surprisingly his favorite dish is a simple fish stew, which he enjoys several bowls full of, paired with a beer or two and a few pieces of delightfully crusty bread. But more so than the food, Nagato enjoys “being” with the others, especially Konan. When they were younger he and the blue haired beauty were often on the brink of total starvation, so to be able to afford the luxury of eating prepared foods in a nice establishment, and to do so with FRIENDS, is a dream that he’d never have dared to dream. Is a very tidy eater, and constantly makes sure the others are keeping their areas clean, so as not to make too much work for their waiter/waitress. The type to, if he thinks the server has too many empty plates and glasses to take back, will get to and help that person carry the empties back to the kitchen. Also makes sure everyone tips, even Kakuzu.

Konan

When going out to eat, Konan will always order a salad. That’s it. And it’s not because she’s a dainty eater; it’s because she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that every other member of the Akatsuki will be sharing large portions of THEIR food with her. Even Kakuzu will push whatever cheap dinner he’s bought across the table to her and gruffly tell her to take some of whatever’s there. The waiter or waitress will come back to the table to refill drinks and be confused that the delicate-looking salad girl is elbows deep in fries, ribs, steak, and anything else the group has pressed on her. And dessert is another matter entirely. ALL of them (with the exception of Kakuzu because he feels sharing his dinner was more than enough) will fight over who gets to buy Konan dessert. Usually settled with spirited games of rock-paper-scissors, and the winner gets to pick (and buy, of course) what sweet treat Konan gets. Also she never ends up paying for the salad she initially ordered, either, as the one buying her dessert will usually go ahead and spring for that, as well.

Hidan

Hidan is a big meat-eater, so when they go out to eat will typically order several pork, chicken, or beef-based dishes. His favorite is spare ribs, and he’s such an aggressive eater that the sauce will ruin whatever shirt he’s been made to wear for the evening. Watching him eat things like steak is always a bit gross, as he orders it cooked as rare as possible and always makes a big production out of licking the excess blood from his arms/the plate. He isn’t really a fan of sides, though, in particular vegetables; and will always push off the undesirables on his plate to whoever’s sitting closest to him (most often Kakuzu who will take whatever’s offered because hey, free food). He’s also one of the few who won’t order any sort of alcoholic drink with his meal, as he claims Jashinism prohibits the consumption of such things. Sodas or sweet fruit punches are his thing, and he drinks so much of this that he’ll end up rushing to the bathroom to pee a bunch before the meal is over. Is the fastest eater in the bunch so will try and start arguments or have arm wrestling contests with the others to pass the time along. If the waitress is pretty, he’ll flirt shamelessly and leave a big enough tip to make Kakuzu faint.

Kakuzu

It takes a LOT to get Kakuzu to go out and eat with everyone; he’s the epitome of the “we have food at home” mantra. When he does, he’ll always go for the absolute cheapest meal on the menu, even if the dish isn’t something he particularly likes. Also isn’t shy about using his advanced age to his advantage, to make use of senior specials and coupons. Always requests for there to be no salt in his meal because “too much sodium raises blood pressure which is bad for the heart”, and after all he’s got several hearts to take care of. Doesn’t really partake in the conversations at the table except to occasionally comment to the others about food being left on their plates; yes, even with the others paying for their own meals, he’s still hyper concerned about wasting money. The only time he likes going out to eat is his birthday, when everyone else will chip in to buy his meal for him. A big Sake drinker and will have almost an entire bottle ((of the cheapest kind)) with his meal, but he holds his liquor so well that he never seems drunk.

Sasori

Doesn’t eat but going out with the others is one of the few things he enjoys. He is someone who prefers elegant, quiet atmospheres, therefore favors going to smaller, somewhat exclusive restaurants. Since his attention isn’t focused on food, he’ll get up and wander from the table a lot, taking in the artwork (if any) on the walls. Has a special (and unexpected) talent, in calming down the fussy children of other diners. Because he’s curious about everything, he’ll ask Deidara or Itachi to describe their meals to him in heavy detail.

Deidara

This guy can eat. He, Hidan and Tobi are the biggest eaters in the company, so when everyone goes to a restaurant or cafe together, separate checks are a necessity ((Kakuzu: All I had was tea! Why should we split the bill when those fucks had 12 plates each?!)) Shares a slight commonality with Kakuzu in that his favorite meal is fish-based, and Kisame has taught him well in regards to knowing whether a fish is fresh or not. He isn’t the neatest diner, and will constantly be reminded by Pein or Konan to tidy up his area before the waiter/waitress comes back to the table. Will ALWAYS ask the server about the specials of the day, even though 9 times out of 10 he already knows what he’s going to order. Deidara has the ability to taste food through his hands, and will sometimes make a show of eating with all three mouths at once (which fascinates the other diners but leaves his own team disenchanted, to say the least). Can easily be goaded into eating “competitions” with Hidan, which almost always results in severe stomachaches and a need to be carried back to the hideout by their respective partners.

Tobi

What’s an entree? This guy will always go straight for the dessert menu. At first Pein and the others tried to stop him, telling him dessert was only to be had after a balanced meal; but Tobi’s tendency to eat a single bite of an expensively-priced steak quickly convinced the others to mind their own business. Whether at home or out to dinner, meal times are the only times he removes his mask; he still wears a rough black cloth over his eyes but without the mask everyone can see the (slightly scarred) bottom half of his face — and his smile. Which he does a lot; it’s obvious that spending time with the others means a great deal to him. His voice changes just slightly too — he still says the most out of place, goofy things, only in a much deeper tone of voice. Deidara especially is completely thunderstruck by how calm and quiet and NORMAL Tobi seems without the mask, and comes up with the (correct) theory that Tobi literally becomes a different person with that orange monstrosity on. Can be goaded into eating contests with Deidara and Hidan, although his food tolerance isn’t as high as these two and will more than likely spend all night in the bathroom.

Zetsu

Never ever joins the others when they dine out. Like never. Will occasionally use his exceptional scouting skills to scope out new venues for the group, but that’s as far as it goes.

Kisame

Restaurants aren’t really his thing, so (as in many other circumstances) will only accompany the others if Itachi goes as well. Like Pein and Deidara, goes mostly for fish-based meals, although he does enjoy an extra rare steak on occasion. Doesn’t drink alcohol but will order many cups of tea or, in the winter, cocoa. Is one of the few in the group who knows just how bad Itachi’s eyesight has gotten, so will always lean close and quietly whisper to him things on the menu that he thinks he’d like to eat. Enjoys eating establishments where they play soft music; it always puts him in a relaxed state of mind. Kisame is like Pein in that he abhors rudeness towards servers and restaurant staff, and will jump in quickly (and often very harshly) to “reprimand” anyone he feels is being an ass, whether it be another customer or his own team mates. Has gotten into a fistfight with Hidan twice over some of the more lewd things he’s said to waitresses, one of which got the whole group banned from that particular place. Doesn’t like desserts but will ask both Itachi and Konan what THEY would get for dessert, orders both things, and gives it to them.

Itachi

Like Kisame, dining out isn’t really his deal, but will go every now and then when the “persuasion” of the others wears him down (Deidara: You antisocial asshole; are you too good to spend time with us or what, hm?!). Prefers places that are small and dimly lit; bright lights hurts his eyes immensely and he’s never been comfortable in large crowds of people. A trick his father taught him when he was younger was that, when eating in a public place, always go with somebody you can trust to keep an eye on the entrance for possible enemies; so Itachi will always sit in a spot where he’s facing the door, to protect the rest of the group. Eats his food slower than the others (everyone thinks it’s because he savors his meal but really it’s because he has trouble seeing it), and, like Tobi, is a bigger fan of desserts than the entree. Also has a thing with napkins; will sit and tear one napkin up into dozens of tiny strips while the others talk to each other, or sometimes shows off Konan’s origami lessons by turning them into little flowers or birds. Hidan gets easily annoyed by him because Hidan flirts mercilessly with every female in sight — but Itachi simply sits there quietly and has every female in the restaurant staring at him with wide eyes and lovesick faces. Hasn’t once left a restaurant without being asked out by at least 3 women (all of whom be very politely turns down, but still).

[buckybeardreams]

Chapters: 1/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James “Bucky” Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark’s Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn’t want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he’s determined to stay away from him. 

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Words: 1622

The bar where Tony worked wasn’t exactly high end, but it wasn’t awful. He kinda liked his job, even if his boss was an asshole. His coworkers were great and he got free food on his break, so it wasn’t all bad. Tony was a server, Clint worked at the bar making drinks, and Bucky worked in the kitchen. It was a small place so it was usually just the three of them. 

Realistically, there should have been more employees. Obie was just cheap and refused to hire any more people than was strictly necessary to keep the place running, even if it would run much smoother with a bigger staff. They did have three part timers, twins that attended the local college and Thor, an older Norwegian guy who was always in good spirits, that filled in the gaps in the schedule. Tony was wiping up a table when Brock walked in and Clint whistled, calling Tony’s attention to him before pointing to the door.

“You’ve got a visitor, pretty boy.”

Tony glanced over at Brock and broke out into a grin. Brock smirked when the petite Omega ran up and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Tony accused, but he giggled when Brock scooped him off his feet and set him up on the bar.

Clint rolled his eyes at them.

“Get your ass off my bar,” Clint snapped. “Only paying customers are allowed to get all handsy on the bar.”

Brock rolled his eyes and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slammed it down on the bar.

“Why don’t you grab me a beer while you’re at it, baby?” Brock smirked at Clint who just smirked back, not nearly as annoyed as he pretended he was.

Brock asked Tony how his shift’s been going and Tony proceeded to tell him about the asshole customer that kept trying to feel him up and how Clint had just about jumped the counter to chase him out of here. Bucky had beat him to it, leaving the kitchen to yell at them for being creeps and throw them out. Even with only one arm their cook could be downright terrifying when he wanted to be.

Tony cut off his recounting of how Bucky defended his honor and then Tony got all upset, because he could totally handle himself and he did not need an Alpha to swoop in and save him, when Clint set down Brock’s beer and pulled him in for a kiss. Brock didn’t stop him immediately, but he pulled back with a groan after a few moments.

“Sorry, angel, but I’m taken,” Brock said regretfully, pulling down his collar to show off a mark that definitely had not existed when he went out last night.

Tony’s eyes widened comically and Brock was too busy snickering at his expression to notice the flash of pain that flickered in Clint’s eyes. Clint swallowed and busied himself behind the bar, so he wouldn’t have to think about what that meant for him and Brock, or about the mark on his own neck that still haunted him when he saw it in the mirror.

“What?” Tony squawked. “I thought we were going to be bachelors forever.”

“Yeah, well, I guess forever has come to an end.”

“We made a pact!” Tony whined.

Brock rolled his eyes.

“We were eighteen, barely more than pups when we made that pact. Besides, you’d feel differently about it, too, if you met your soulmate. I saw him and I knew just like that that we were made for each other. So I dragged him into the bathroom and sucked him off and then I let him take me home. It sounds totally skanky, but I swear it was more romantic than it sounds.”

“Oh I’m sure,” Tony scoffed.

“You’re gonna love him, Tony.”

Tony huffed.

He definitely would not love whatever asshole Alpha had brainwashed his best friend, turning him into a knot loving, Alpha pleasing houseOmega.

“Whatever, just tell me how long I have to find a new roommate,” Tony grumbled, feeling bitter about the whole thing.

He knew that Brock being mated now would mean he would move in with his Alpha. That’s just how it worked. Brock gave him a guilty look.

“He’s coming over to help me move my stuff in the morning,” Brock admitted. “Don’t worry though. I’ll pay rent as many months as it takes until you find someone new. It’s just, well, you know how it is with soulmates. I don’t think I’d be able to sleep without him.”

“No, I don’t know, actually,” Tony snapped.

Of course he did know, and of course he didn’t really blame Brock for finding his soulmate. Tony couldn’t help but feel slighted though. This was a lot to take in and Tony was kinda offended that Brock would just show up and drop something like this on him. He knew that when it came to soulmates everything was sudden, but that didn’t make it easier on Tony.

“Tony, please, don’t be like that. I know you didn’t want this. I didn’t either. You know how much I hated Alphas, but then I met Sam and I don’t know… he’s amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know how it goes. You saw him and felt compelled to drop to your knees and present for him and the moment he knotted and claimed you, you felt whole, like the piece inside of you that was missing suddenly was filled by your Alpha’s presence and bite and his knot and let’s not forget his life giving cum,” Tony said sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ve heard the stories.”

“It’s not like that Tony.”

“So he didn’t knot you and now you’re obsessed with him?”

Brock groaned.

“No, he did, but it’s not as bad as you make it sound. I’m  happy about this. Can’t you just be happy for me?” Brock pleaded.

Tony glared at the ground stubbornly.

“I have a table to wipe down.”

Brock looked hurt when Tony walked away and Clint gave him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry. He’ll come around. Just give him some time.”

Tony was upset when he got home and the light in their apartment was off. Sure, it was so late that it was practically morning, but he knew that wasn’t why the lights were off. This time he knew it was because his roommate, his  best friend , who had returned home from the war and came to live with him, wasn’t here.

Tony felt like crying.

He dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes and let his coat fall to the ground. He didn’t care enough to pick them up and put them away. He didn’t care about anything. He just felt numb. Well, he felt hurt and betrayed and jealous, even though he’d never admit it out loud, but he also sort of felt numb, like he was feeling so many emotions that he just couldn’t process any of them.

He headed straight for the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, not even bothering to grab a glass, choosing to just drink straight out of the bottle instead. He plopped down on the couch and proceeded to drink his pain away, but ironically found himself just wallowing in his misery.

Tony always said that he hated Alphas and never wanted one, but the truth was that he hated how much he wanted one. Tony didn’t want to be controlled and have his independence stolen from him. He was terrified that he’d find his soulmate and they’d turn out to be some sort of asshole Alpha that wanted him to drop his whole life and be some damn houseOmega.

So yeah, Tony was glad that he didn’t have an Alpha, but secretly he hoped he had a soulmate out there. He hoped that his mate hadn’t died before they met and that they wanted him just as much as Tony wanted them. He hoped that they would have a fairytale ending, like in the stories that he heard as a kid about the kind and gentle Alphas that saved the day and rescued their Omegas. He hoped they’d meet and fall in love at first sight the way soulmates were supposed to and rush off to mate, because they just couldn’t go another second without each other.

Tony wanted all of those things, but he also cringed just thinking about it. He was not a damsel in distress. He did not need some Alpha to come and save him. Tony was just fine on his own. He’d survived this long without an Alpha, though he had to admit he would miss snuggling up to Brock, and Clint on the few occasions that Brock dragged him home and fell into bed with him.

Tony hadn’t fucked either of them, but he had no qualms snuggling up to them while they were sweaty and cum was still leaking out of Clint. He also had no qualms with sleeping on the other side of the bed while they fucked, just so he wouldn’t have to be alone at night. As much as Tony wanted to be fine on his own, he really hated being alone. 

He didn’t  need  an Alpha, but he kinda wanted one. Wanted someone to hold onto, someone to cuddle with and be close to when the night fell and the darkness of his mind crept in like the shadows that surrounded them. Tony wished there was somebody there to pull him out of his mind as he spiraled, laying on the couch, an empty bottle on the ground. He was numb and yet he hurt so much. How was that even possible?

Ch 2

[justsomeoneunordinary]

angst 3 for winteriron pretty please

Hi Ava, thank you so much for sending this prompt in. Finally I finished it, after… 3 months. I also used it for the WinterIron Week (which I am so much behind for, it’s not even funny). I still have no clue if this really warrants as ‘angst’, cause it feels more dull to me than angsty, but oh well. It is what it is.

Now, the whole organizational stuff (aka the pain in my ass):

On Crossing Paths

Prompt is from this list: “You promised you’d stop drinking.” — “And you promised you wouldn’t hurt me!”

Day 3 of @winteriron-week: Angst & “But I did it”

And since this got way out of hand anyway, combined with:

Day 4 of @winteriron-week: Tony needs a hug (Bucky too) & Forgiveness

(Nvm, I wrote something for day 4 anyway)

M, 5.2k, Alcoholism TW, Angst (-ish), Canon Divergence, Tony Feels, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, Hopeful Ending | AO3

(Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 4)

—

Tony meets James for the first time in a seedy bar in Brooklyn on the night of December 17th, 1991.

Twelve hours before that first meeting, he listens with deaf ears to the police telling him his parents died in a car accident.

Ten hours before that first meeting, he cries on Obie’s shoulder while Obie pats him on his head and tells him “everything would be fine”.

Seven hours before that first meeting, he speaks to Rhodey on the phone and makes him promise not to jeopardize his military career by showing up without permission.

Five hours before that first meeting, he drives to the scene of the accident where he screams into the godforsaken void from the top of his lungs, curses Howard and then has a mental breakdown in the middle of the street.

Two hours before that first meeting, he finds himself driving through the city with no destination in mind until he decides that he needs a drink.

Or rather ten.

Which is how he ends up at “Cheryl’s” where no one even bats an eye at the face of today’s headline and sole heir of a multi-billion company entering the bar. It’s too dark inside, the strong stench of sweat and smoke penetrates his nostrils on the spot, and Tony is pretty sure that the mold behind the counter is just about to build its own ecosystem.

He orders whiskey and gets a Jack. Not exactly what he wanted, but it will do.

There’s a glint out of the corner of his eye that gains his attention and when he turns, his gaze falls on the metal hand of a man with the saddest eyes he has ever seen. What once must’ve been a wild grey is now the lifeless stare of someone who’s been haunted by ghosts for a long while. A frigid expression on a pretty face framed by strands of long brown hair and cherry red lips made to be kissed. Wrapped up in an outfit that might as well be from a BDSM scene.

Tony likes what he sees. Very much so. He imagines dragging the guy into the bathroom, pulling those tight leather pants off and giving him the best blowjob of his life. It certainly would take his mind off other things. Like the fact that he’s an orphan now.

So he does, what he does best: he flirts. But this time it’s a challenge. It takes him three attempts until the stranger takes his eyes off the wall and looks at him, a tiny frown between his brows—but no other sign of acknowledgment.  

“Finally got your attention, Handsome! You’re not much of a talker, hm? No worries, I can talk for both of us.” Which Tony then does. He talks and drinks and flirts—a wink here, a featherlight touch on the guy’s biceps there—and drinks and speaks of DUM-E and Rhodey and all their pranks during MIT, watches with fascination how that dead look in the stranger’s eyes slowly forms into curiosity, beams in delight when he gets a snort out of him, drinks some more, slides closer with each drink and puts a hand on his thigh, slowly caressing it up and down.

“You got a name, Handsome?”

The guy seems to hesitate for a while until he answers in a deep, raspy voice, “James.” Tony is pretty sure it’s a lie, but then again—he doesn’t need to know the name when he’s got his mouth full of dick.

“Well, James, you can call me Tony.” He flutters his eyelashes and bites teasingly on his lower lip before he drops his tone and asks, “So… your place or mine?”

After that Tony remembers the night only in a blur. He remembers passionate kisses in a dark alley, hands wandering everywhere, rising heat and grey eyes shimmering in pure lust. He remembers a hotel room and soft sheets and strong arms around his waist.

And then he wakes up, the taste of alcohol and James still lingering in his mouth.

When he opens his eyes, he finds James sitting in the chair at window, instead of lying in bed next to him, his entire focus solely on Tony. It should be creepy, but James’ gaze merely comes from curiosity, as if Tony was a machinery whose workings he is still trying to understand. It’s kind of endearing.

Tony gets up, disinterested in getting dressed, and pours himself two fingers of whiskey at the bar.

“This your breakfast?”

Tony grins smugly at the hoarse tone of James’ voice. “Nah, that’s just my mouthwash,” he answers and winks at him over his shoulder.

He eyes James for a moment while sipping on his drink, and then adds, “There’s a diner not far from here. Serves the best blueberry pancakes in all New York, I can vouch for that. What do you think, want to accompany me?”

It’s not Tony’s usual style. Otherwise, one-night stands will remain exactly what they are for him: one-night stands. But James has something that fascinates him immensely. It’s not just the overdeveloped prosthesis that can impossibly be on the market anywhere, and makes Tony wonder where he got it from, but also that look in his eyes of someone who has seen way too much. This emptiness that suddenly becomes filled with curiosity when it comes to small things. This enigmatic thing that surrounds him and whose code Tony wants to crack.

At the diner, Tony watches with amusement as James’ eyes widen in delight at the first bite of the heavenly pancakes and can’t help laughing when James pounces on them like a starving predator.

Since James is not much of a talker, Tony does the speaking. For one, because he can’t stand the silence, but for another, because he needs to distract himself. Because he doesn’t want to think about the death of his parents or how empty the mansion will be when he returns. So he talks about anything he can think of until he comes to a point where he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, but is pretty sure that somewhere in the torrent of words, he tried to explain James the exact details of his AI study.

When they’re about to part ways though, Tony only too well remembers the emptiness that will greet him when he comes home, and he doesn’t even finish thinking it through, before he invites James to come with him.

James does not only come with him, but he also stays.

—

Weeks pass and before Tony knows it, James has practically moved in with him. If you can call it moving in when James doesn’t seem to have a single thing that needed to be brought here. Tony doesn’t know James’ last name, nor does he have the slightest idea who he is, and with each passing day his suspicions grow that he must have taken a homeless man off the street.

It should be terrifying or at least worrying but Tony can’t find it in himself to care enough. He lost his parents—and Jarvis and Ana even earlier—and would be alone in this big mansion until the loneliness would overwhelm him. And James turns out to be an excellent guest. Or rather roommate at this point.

For all he knows, James could be a serial killer, and Tony still wouldn’t care. He needs the company and he uses James for it—in bed and outside of it.

The more time they spend, the more not only Tony seems to be learning about James, but James also about himself. He discovers a love of books, especially C. S. Lewis, and sometimes holes up in the library all day except when he goes looking for Tony to read his favorite passages to him.

Every time he discovers a new dish that he likes, Tony can watch James’ whole face glow and none of the shadows of his past can be seen in that moment.

His favorite reaction, however, is when he trusts James enough to show him his workshop. James’ eyes widen in amazement and a brilliant smile forms on his lips at the sight of scientific chaos there is. “It’s like Narnia!”

“What? Where do you get that from? Narnia is nature and talking animals. I don’t have any talking animals here.” What DUM-E understands as a cue to speak up and whereupon James gives him a smug ‘told you so’ grin.

In these situations, it’s easy to forget that all is not peace, joy and pancakes. As soon as Tony gets down to the jobs Obie gave him, he remembers again, and the alcohol finds its way to his liver to ease the pain. In the morning, noon and evening.

Sometimes at night too when James has one of his nightmares and Tony can’t help him because James doesn’t talk to him, not about who he is, not about his past—although Tony guesses with an almost certainity on veteran—and not even vaguely about it his nightmares.

But they are fine, they have a routine: talking during the day, fucking at night. Eat blueberry pancakes for breakfast at the diner once a week and fiddle with James’ arm whenever he has time.

It works perfectly well as it is.

—

It’s not until on a particular bright morning in March 1992 Tony realizes that he had fallen in love with James a long time ago—the day after he almost dies of alcohol poisoning.

He wakes up to see James laying next to him, still asleep. Long strands of hair cover his face and Tony gives into the urge to brush them to the side, so he can take James’ peaceful expression in.

It’s a picture he’d like to wake up every day to. The longer he thinks about it, the more Tony has to admit that he can’t imagine a life without James in it—and that’s when it hits him. That those are feelings beyond of sole sexual attraction, beyond cameradine or friendship.

The realization hits him like a slap in his face. He breaths in shakingly and his first instinct is to get up and get himself a glass of whiskey to calm down, but before he can do anything the heart monitor starts picking up and only then does Tony realize that he’s not at home but in a hospital.

James stirs awake at the sudden noise and immediately glares at Tony. “You fucking idiot.”

His eyes are red, indicating he must’ve cried, and Tony isn’t sure what is going on but he can tell it must be bad. But he’s still too overwhelmed with the realization of his feelings, so he just gapes at James, not being able to say a word.

“You fucking idiot,” James repeats. “How often did I already tell you that you drink too much? That you should stop?”

And before he can react to that, he’s being crushed in a sudden hug, James holding him tightly to his chest and tears streaming down his cheeks.

“For a genius you are so dumb,” James murmurs and Tony—for Tony it’s too much. He doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know what to say, so he blurts out without a second thought, “I love you.”

That brings James to a halt. Tony’s muscles tense up and he instinctively holds his breath.

James pulls back a little bit, so he can look at Tony, who rather focuses on the white sheets of the hospital bed. “Tony did you watch too many rom-coms? Confessing feelings after you almost died should’ve been my job in that case though.”

Tony needs a moment to register the words correctly. “Almost died?”

“Alcohol poisoning.”

Oh fuck. Even Tony knows that this is not good, that he definitely went too far this time.

James gently cups Tony’s face so that he’s forced to look into those gray eyes shimmer in a happiness. “Tony, I love you too.”

Faintly he registers the heart monitor rising up again, but he’s too distracted by the warmth that fills him from within to feel any embarrassment at that. He looks up at the wonder that James is and then surges forward to steal a kiss. He expects a nurse to barge in any moment now at the way his heart rate jumps off the charts, but that’s not stopping him from burying his hands in James’ hair and deepen the kiss further.

“Tony,” James laughs as he pulls off. He rests his forehead at Tony’s while they catch their breath and slowly morphs his sappy expression into a serious one.

“Tony,” he repeats. “I love you. And because I love you, I need you to promise me to stop with the drinking. I can’t watch you destroy your own life any further like that. Yesterday I had to find you passed out in the workshop. Have you any idea what I went through?” His hands wander all over Tony while talking, as if he needs to prove himself, that Tony’s still alive.

Tony thinks of SI and Obie and the expectations he has to live up to. He thinks of mama’s piano and how he hasn’t played on it since the accident. And with each thought the urge to get a drink intensifies. He gulps audibly and asks, “Will you help me?”

James’ quiet smile is more than enough for an answer. “Always.”

“Okay,” he breaths out and adds, more hastily, “okay, but you have to promise to never hurt me, James. I can’t, after mum died and Jarvis and—”

“Of course I will never hurt you, Tony.” James interrupts him and those words leave James lips so effortlessly and earnestly that Tony has not a single doubt in the truth of them.

And with James on his side, Tony believes he can make it. Not just getting sober, but living an actual life. Getting his shit together, looking forward.

He finally tells him of his plans of a new home in Malibu, those he was too afraid to talk about because James is bound to Brooklyn and Tony feared he wouldn’t come with him when the mansion’s constructions are finished. But James just laughs and says, “The only place I belong to is your side. So wherever you go? I will follow.”

Tony feels happy like never before. Things finally go well.

—

Until they don’t.

—

The Winter Soldier fights for the first time against his programming on the night of December 16th, 1991.

It’s the shocked “Sergeant Barnes?” Howard Stark gasps that evokes hidden memories from the back of his mind. Memories from war—gunshots, explosions, screams and the smell of fire and blood. Memories of a guy once tiny suddenly big. Somehow the same person, somehow not.

Memories that lead him to Brooklyn instead of the meeting point where he should deliver the serum to his handlers.

His legs walk him the entire day through the city, while he’s taking in each building—some he recognizes, most of them not. Until at night he looks up at a blinking light stating “Cheryl’s” and sees flashes of himself, hair shorter and a laugh on his face, dancing with another man and exchanging forbidden kisses in a dark corner.

He enters and not much later he meets the whirlwind that is Tony Stark.

With Tony the Winter Soldier becomes James and learns to feel again. Other emotions, besides constant rage and pain. Curiosity first, then amusement, lust, care, warmth and somewhere around March 1992 he knows it’s love.

He falls in love with Tony Stark who treats him like a human being rather than a tool, who talks and talks and makes him laugh, who touches him softly always and everywhere, who isn’t afraid of the metal arm but fascinated by it, who studies it without causing him any pain, who sings and laughs and dances and doesn’t shy away from James even once.

Tony Stark who drinks more than he should, reminding him of a man that might be his father coming home, reeking of alcohol, hitting a woman that might be his mother—bringing back memories that rather stayed forgotten. Tony who almost dies and promises to stop with the drinking. Tony who sometimes looks like a man carrying the entire world on his shoulders, dark bags under his eyes, a haunted expression in them and yet does his best to keep James’ sorrow’s away.

Tony Stark whose parents he killed as he realizes after a nightmare on November 24th in 1992.

—

In the morning of November 25th 1992 Tony wakes up alone in bed, a yellow sticky note on his nightstand and the words “I’m sorry, doll” scribbled on it.

—

Tony waits first, clinging onto the hope that he misinterpreted that note and that James will come back. All of James’ few things are still here—Tony checked.

But the longer he waits, the stronger the urge gets to wrap his fingers around a bottle of whiskey. So he gets up and starts looking. First at the diner, then the park, further to the Brooklyn Bridge, to “Cheryl’s” at last.

He returns to an empty home. Doesn’t sleep in the first night, neither the second nor the third and collapses on the fourth—his face buried in James’ favorite wool sweater, the bathroom reeking of his vomit.

And then he repeats that circle anew.

—

James doesn’t come back.

—

On December 1992 Tony moves to Malibu without looking back.

The bar in his new home is fully stocked.

—

The next sixteen years pass by in a rush. Tony drinks. A lot. He drinks and fucks, and then drinks and fucks even more in a desperate attempt to forget James. To forget his touch and smile, his smell and his taste. To forget James’ everything.

And he doesn’t care enough what happens around him during his wake of self-destruction.

Until it comes back to bite him in the ass.

—

In 2008, after 3 months of captivity, Tony returns to the New York mansion for the first time since moving out. There on the night stand of his old room are still the photos of him and James from the photo booth they once took.

Tony blows the dust away and looks at the old pictures, a wistful expression on his face. He soaks James’ soft smile and bright glint in those beautiful eyes in, remembers how those pouty lips felt on his own, remembers the sound of James’ laugh, the taste of his mouth, his body pressed against Tony’s.

In all this time J.A.R.V.I.S. was never able to find even a trace of James. It was, as if he disappeared from earth. Chances are, he died. Because how far can a guy with a metal arm get without the most advanced AI of the world being able to find him? But even though he doesn’t believe in ever seeing James again, Tony thinks of him and the promise they gave each other when he empties his bar down the sink.

The photos end up in his workshop, next to the arc reactor’s glass case Pepper gave him. Tony finally starts looking ahead.

—

Years pass and Tony lives his life again.

He also almost dies some countless times, and every single time he thinks of Pepper, with a lingering memory of James’ laugh.

—

And then in 2016 Johannesburg happens and with Johannesburg the Sokovia Accords follow.

—

Over the years Tony imagined countless scenarios where he would see James again. Not in one of those could he have imagined it to go this bad.  

“I know that road.”

—

Fourteen hours after the whole Siberia debacle Tony pulls the old photos from the drawer in the workshop and sets them aflame. He watches with a grim satisfaction as they slowly crumble to ashes and takes his first sip of whiskey in years. Directly from the bottle.

DUM-E’s distressed efforts at saving anything from the photos with the fire extinguisher are just a tad bit too late.

Nothing is left.

—

Tony starts drinking again.

—

In 2016, despite careful avoidance, Bucky does meet Tony again—in a HYDRA bunker of all places. And his heart aches at the sight of Tony’s shock.

Tony might’ve aged and changed, but those eyes are still the same. Big and expressive and at that very moment filled with sadness and anger and disbelief. And worst of all, it’s Bucky’s fault.

He doesn’t plan to fight and neither does he want to leave Tony behind, but he doesn’t believe Tony wants him anywhere near—Bucky had already done more than enough.

So he goes with Steve and goes back into cryostasis, hoping to stay there forever. Only to be woken up a few months later and informed that they got rid of his trigger words and Tony made sure that the Avengers were allowed to return to the States.

Bucky included.

It seems surreal to him to enter the Avengers compound; as if he was dreaming. As if there was a catch that would strike later because he doesn’t deserve to be here.

And then, in the kitchen waits none other than Tony, his eyes hidden behind colored sunglasses, his fake media smile on his face and a whiskey glass in his hand, the sight of which freezes Bucky’s blood in his veins. He’d like nothing more than to take the glass out of his hand and hug Tony tightly.

Which is a privilege he no longer has.

“Ah, the fossil duo! Welcome back,” Tony couldn’t sound more unwelcome if he tried. “Everything is still as you left it, Rogers. You can show Barnes yourself where everything is.” With these words he mockingly salutes them, turns around at his heel and disappears from the kitchen again without giving Bucky a single look.

A chill runs down Bucky’s spine at the sound of his last name from Tony’s mouth. It’s so… wrong. To Tony, he has always been just James. If affectionate or angry or laughing, James was the name Tony would call him with. This single, condescending “Barnes” feels like a thousand knife stabs in his heart. It’s only thanks to his training that he stays composed and doesn’t go running after Tony in a desperate attempt to try talking to him.

The next few weeks pass similarly. If he and Tony even see each other, which is a rarity in itself, even though they live in the same building—he has the suspicious feeling that Tony is deliberately avoiding him with F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s help—then Tony ignores him as if he were not here at all.

Bucky knows, he deserves worse than just the cold shoulder, but that still doesn’t make it easy. Especially not when he keeps finding empty alcohol bottles scattered around somewhere and can do absolutely nothing about this problem.

His only bright spot is Rhodes, who looks at the bottles with just as much loathing as he does. It means that at least one person keeps an eye on Tony’s consumption, since Bucky himself cannot. Bucky never had a chance to meet Rhodes twenty-five years ago, and Bucky is pretty sure Tony hasn’t told him anything, otherwise Rhodes wouldn’t be content with shooting him deathly looks only.

That’s why he doesn’t say anything to Steve either, no matter how hard he questions him, because he sees that there is something between him and Tony that he doesn’t know about. If Tony doesn’t want to tell anyone about their past together, then Bucky won’t either.

Bucky keeps the distance that Tony obviously wants from him.

Until two months after his arrival at the compound on a Tuesday morning F.R.I.D.A.Y. sends an urgent distress signal, and Bucky is on his way so quickly that the other Avengers don’t have a chance to follow him directly even if they tried.

—

Tony wakes up in a hospital with a throbbing pounding in his head and aching bones all over his body—James’ worried face hovering over him. It’s the shittiest déjà-vu he’s ever had.

At least the circumstances aren’t quite the same. Rhodey diluted Tony’s alcohol every time he thought no one would see him. So that something like alcohol poisoning wouldn’t happen again. Tony is grateful and annoyed at the same time.

No, this time he just flew drunk in his Iron Man armor, lost the connection to F.R.I.D.A.Y., which he has to get to the bottom of as quickly as possible, and then fell. So, waking up in the hospital makes sense.

But that James is here instead of Rhodey or Happy or Pepper or anyone else is both, surprising and unwanted.

James opens and closes his mouth several times, seemingly unable to decide what to say before croaking out, “You promised you’d stop drinking.” His voice sounds suspiciously as if he had cried recently, and Tony almost laughs at the irony of the situation.

But then he remembers the day he woke up without James at his side. Remembers searching everywhere for him, waiting, not being able to sleep for days, and how miserable he felt without him, not knowing what happened, not knowing where he had gone.

He remembers that James had fucked him—no, made love with him—knowing he had killed Tony’s mother. And he feels the blood boil in his veins in anger at that. How dare James after all these years, after all that happened, now talk about that promise?

So he throws him a deadly look, his hand clenched into a fist and growls, “And you promised you wouldn’t hurt me!”

James visibly flinches at that and takes a step back, his eyes wandering everywhere but at Tony. Then he takes a deep breath and looks Tony straight in the eye as he says, “You’re right. I promised you that I would never hurt you. But I did it. I have—”

“Why did you do it?” Tony interrupts, because that’s what he wants to know. What he had asked himself over and over again over the years—the why.

Bucky blinks at him in bewilderment and asks: “Why what exactly?”

“Everything!” Tony throws his arms in the air in frustration, ignoring the ailment of his broken ribs over the sudden action. “Why you suddenly left me overnight, why you never told me anything about yourself, not even vaguely hinting at who you are and what happened to you, why you let me fall in love with you when it was you, who killed my mother and were therefore to blame for my misery!” The last part comes out much more honest than Tony wanted it to be and he quickly looks ashamed to the side to blink away the rising tears of anger.

He hears a deep sigh from the side and out of the corner of his eye he can see James drop into the visitor’s chair.

“Tony, I didn’t know who you were or that my mission had been your parents when we met in the bar,” James begins hesitantly to explain. “Howard… his words brought a few memories to the fore. Just blurry, barely recognizable images. I didn’t even know my own name when you asked me for it—I just named the one that was at the tip of my tongue.

“During the time we were together, my memories have only gradually returned. I had no idea about your parents until a nightmare reminded me of it.” This is where James looks up from his hands for the first time, straight into Tony’s eyes, his gaze steadfast and honest. “And then I realized I had broken my promise—I had already hurt you.”

James sighs and runs his hand through his hair and swallows hard. “I understood that it was only a matter of time before HYDRA found me. We were lucky before that because no one suspected I could be with you. But under no circumstances did I want them to get you. I knew I had to go. That is why I did it.”

Tony nods slowly. “And then what? You just decided to go back to HYDRA?”

James laughs dryly, without a trace of humor in his voice. “Of course not. I went on the run. But in the end, no matter what I do, they always find me, don’t they?” His mouth twists into a grimace of self-hatred and resignation.

Not under my watch, no, Tony thinks to himself. Instead he says, “You broke my heart.” Because as reluctant as he is to show his vulnerability, this is James. And he’s always been able to be honest with James.

“I’m sorry,” James says in all earnestness.

“I’m not forgiving you for what you have done.”

“I understand.”

“Not yet at least.”

At that James’ gaze shoots up in surprise.

Tony clears his throat slightly shy. “I—I understand that the… brainwashing and stuff. That it wasn’t you. I just… I just need some time.” And it’s true. Tony had read the Winter Soldier’s files; he saw what they did to him and he understands on a completely rational level that it’s not James who is responsible for all those deaths.

He only needs his emotions to come to that understanding too and then he would truly be able to forgive him.

And really, as much as he always claims that he worked to bring the Avengers back together was because the world needed them, he knows the real motivations for it had been for James only. When Pepper had broken up with him because “there was someone else occupying his heart she could never reach” he hadn’t been able to contradict her. Seeing James again after all that time has only proven her right too.

“Tony…”

“Great, now that that’s settled, take my tablet and read me something,” Tony interrupts James before he can go any further, because there is only so much emotional talk Tony can handle in one day and that line has been exceeded a long while ago.

“I… what?”

“Read me something. I am a poor injured soul deserving to be properly pampered. And I want a good-night story.”

And as James slowly smiles brightly at him, gray eyes glinting in hope and wonder, it’s like not a single day has gone by since he disappeared on him.

Tony is still wary. Remembers only too well those days after James had left him. Can’t forget the Winter Soldier’s hand around his mother’s neck. His fingers itch with the urge to hold a drink, but he snuggles deeper into bed, letting James’ soothing voice and the story of a girl who finds a wonderland in a closet lull him into contentment.

Tony meets James for the first time in December 1991 in a seedy bar in Brooklyn and then a second time in 2016 in a Siberian bunker. He thinks that if against all odds their paths cross not only once, but twice, then maybe they should take a step forward together and see, where the path will lead them to.

And if they just believe strong enough in it, they might even find their wonderland for a second time too.

[agoddamn]

“Anakin tries to convince the queen that she too is a slave” oh boy, we boutta get DEEP

it is so funny that the writers just, like. Suddenly remembered that Obi-Wan is here. I don’t remember him being anything but incidental since...Mandalore? It’s like they went “oh shit we have Obi-Wan here, fuck him UP”

“the queen, the queen, the queen”...hang on, does she have a name? I can’t remember hearing one

This whole Anakin and the queen subthread is just very...Not Feeling It lmao it’s not the concept, just--the emotion. It feels beyond disingenuous to be evoking slavery, and specifically with such sexual connotations (waking up in her bed, etc) and then just having Anakin doing perky Jedi flips and rescues. It’s like the characters aren’t allowed to emotionally engage with the story they’re in barring specific scenes. And it really doesn’t feel like they’re compartmentalizing/dissociating, either--the upbeat action music, the way Anakin’s smirking to the camera. His escape doesn’t feel like Anakin is struggling with something hugely stressful. It’s like he gets two or three scenes in which to go I HATE SLAVERY and then goes back to being a bouncy hero. I know that part of this is on purpose, because Anakin himself is repressing and avoiding a lot of shit, he’s supposed to feel off, but it doesn’t feel...off. He feels a lot more like he rubberbands between being completely normal and Darth Vader. They’ve had scenes where they pulled off Ominous Anakin Foreshadowing before, but I don’t think they’re pulling it off here. I don’t have a sense of struggle.

So this is obviously running with the Vader Foreshadowing Hammer--Jedi enslavement, yadda yadda yadda. But while the tail looks like it’s in the right spot on the donkey, it’s not quite the right type. The point of foreshadowing/prefiguring is not to be literal repetition, but the queen’s ‘if you torture someone you can make them a slave!’ is clearly supposed to sound meaningful and big-brain and it’s...not. It’s another one of those Saturday Morning Cartoon moments that’s the hyper-compressed Cliff Notes of the situation for children but supposed to be emotional and it just doesn’t...land

>Ahsoka shot framed with a closeup of her bare thigh

Oh, thanks, I was worried we weren’t gonna be weird about this

>ATAI

LMAO THIS DUDE’S NAME IS ATAI???

It’s like...a really rough/blue-collar/informal way of a girl talking in Japanese

>institutionalized slavery

>this is a problem we can solve with laser swords and throwing chairs

I mean, come the fuck on, show, don’t treat me like an idiot. Funtime action OR socio-economic commentary, not both. This shit is like orange juice and toothpaste

This queen plot lmao zzzt. Just zzzzt. There’s gotta be a million essays already on the lethal whiplash of going from sex slavery imagery to “I, TOO, AM A SLAVE -bleghehk-”, right? I don’t have to do it? This is clearly intended as a ‘the villain, too, has pathos!’ scene but lmfao??? where bitch

Has Rex had like...one line inside this detention facility so far?

Oh. he says “about time” once the escape starts

Yes what a nuanced examination of Rex’s character and what must be going through his mind in such a unique, traumatic circumstance

Yeah, this “I’m no Jedi” line is excellent but it’s payoff without any fucking buildup! It’s best experienced as a gif because it’s not part of anything! It’s an orgasm with no foreplay! Jesus goddamn christ, I’m disappointed. 

I thought Rex would matter for at least like a minute but he doesn’t even speak to Obi-Wan in captivity. We get nothing from their own perspectives here. We get, of all fucking things, the queen telling us how Obi-Wan must feel. Are you for real? Are you fucking with me here?

The sharp paint apps on the Wolf Pack make me smile :3 you know, though, it’s weird that Plo and Anakin never seem to bond over their shared piloting skill

Anakin says Ahsoka did well but Plo is the one to proudly put his arm around her shoulder lmao

>literally no decompression or coping or even characters happy to see each other again

THIS SERIES IS WRITTEN WITH ALL THE SATISFACTION AND EMOTION OF A PREMATURE EJACULATION INTO A TISSUE IN AN AIRPORT BATHROOM

[firelinphd]

shinra x fem!reader | relief

shinra kusakabe x reader

female reader

After his fight with Sho, Shinra goes to the hospital. However, (Y/N), his girlfriend, is particularly worried.

warning : blood

        ''Don't move !'' Vulcan said, as Shinra still tried to move by himself despite having a whole sword in his chest. The brunette hesitated, but did as he said. Quickly, he glanced at (Y/N), who he had been dating for 8 months. She tried to smile at him, but he knew it was fake. Still, seeing how worried she was, he agreed to let his friends carry him instead of walking on his own. He tried to smile back at her.

          They rushed to the hospital, Shinra collapsing in the process. Of course, (Y/N) was panicking, so her friends had to do anything they could to calm her down. ''She's the best doctor I know, (Y/N). She has powers. She'll help him.'' Captain Obi said, patting the top of her head. After that, her colleagues started to ask him questions about that mysterious power owned by the captain of the 6th company.

         ''I hope he won't die. I didn't get to fight him yet.'' Arthur commented, making (Y/N) glare at him. Tamaki groaned at the blonde's comment, making him furrow his eyebrows. ''What ? I'm trying to help !'' He said, earning a hit against his arm. ''That's not how it works.'' Tamaki muttered. But it seemed like (Y/N) didn't care. She was staring at the door, until someone walked in. ''He survived. His flames really are something. He might stay unconscious for a few days, though.'' The captain explained, making the girl sigh in relief. It made Maki smile at her.

         The first day, (Y/N) brought Shinra lunch. He wasn't going to wake up today, but still, he had something to eat in case he did so. She rest her palm against his forehead -he was still burning. That's why she decided to run her hand through his front hair after that, snorting to herself at the feeling ; his hair was still, somehow, soft. The girl stayed still, next to him, for the whole day. She was mostly staying on her phone as she couldn't talk with him, but she was still feeling better to stay all day with a silent Shinra than without Shinra at all.

        The second day, she brought him a piece of cake she had bought on her way. She noticed that the rice ball from the last morning wasn't there anymore, surely a nurse had eaten it instead. Cool, at least it wasn't wasted. When she checked his forehead, he seemed much better, making her smile. This time, she also checked his chest and his bandages -there wasn't any blood on it anymore. She was scared to look at it the previous day since she was terrified of seeing him hurt. But today, it was clean. Thus, she was okay.

      After that, she couldn't visit him anymore as she had to work ; she had already got 2 days off while everyone else had to work, so she wasn't going to whine so much about it. However, even when Shinra woke up, that day, she couldn't go see him ; actually, it's because she didn't know. Everytime the phone would ring, she would run and ask whoever had answered to it what it was, if it was from the 6th company. But after 16 phone calls for random missions -since people were still taking them for random firefighters- she stopped and just got to work. ''Hey !'' Obi told Vulcan. ''Shinra has awoken, but I want to make the surprise to (Y/N).'' He said.

        The boy thought that his captain's idea was quite mean, as she had been waiting for it and surely wanted to be the first to see him, but Vulcan wasn't going to tell this to his superior. ''Where are you going ?'' The girl asked, seeing him packing up. ''I have to pick up some merchandise. I'll be back soon.'' He said, winking at her. She only nodded, and went back to her paperwork with Arthur.

        Shinra was also surprised when Vulcan was there to pick him up, alone. ''I'm sure you wonder where (Y/N) is. Well, Captain wanted you to be a surprise.'' He explained, making Shinra nod quietly ; he was still shaken because of the revelations about his mother and the fire that 'killed' her. ''She visited you the last 2 days, she gave you food. I think the nurses ate all of it, though.'' Vulcan explained, chuckling. ''She's nice.'' The brunette replied, smiling at the thought of his girlfriend staying all day long to watch him -Vulcan had told him everything.

       When he was finally back, (Y/N) was actually taking a shower -as she was the most concerned about Shinra's condition, she could take several breaks during the day, much to Arthur and Hinawa's dismay. Thus, everyone greeted the brunette before telling him to wait outside the bathroom. He couldn't help but grin, waiting for the girl's reaction.

       When she walked out, she noticed him immediately, her eyes widening and her mouth opening. She jumped in his arms, even if she felt guilty -maybe he was still hurt and if it was the case, that he'd surely hurt him. Shinra laughed at her happiness, hugging her as tight as he could. ''I'm okay, don't worry ! I'm glad you stayed to watch me, though.'' He muttered, his lips against her neck. ''And thanks for the food too ! Even if I didn't eat it.'' He continued, making her chuckle. She had wrapped her legs around his waist, so she could release her grip on his shoulders to look at him.

         ''What ?'' Shinra asked, giggling as he saw the smile on her face. That said, (Y/N) didn't reply and only cupped his cheeks, running her thumbs against his cheekbones. Then, she bent to kiss him, before hugging him back. ''I'm relieved. I was so worried.'' She whispered, her eyes closed as she was resting them against his shoulder. ''I'm not hurting you like this, am I ?'' She asked, realizing he was carrying her. ''No ! Not at all !'' He replied, laughing -he couldn't tell why he was laughing that much. Maybe for him too, it was relief.

         ''I'm so going to sleep in your bed tonight.'' The girl said. But as her boyfriend was about to reply something, she already cut him off. ''Fuck Arthur. I'm gonna stay in your dorm tonight cause I missed you and I really need to fall asleep hugging you tonight.'' She said, still whispering, for some reason. As he put her back on her feet, it was Shinra's turn to cup (Y/N)'s cheeks and peck her lips, at least 6 times. ''I felt so guilty when I got hurt cause I knew I would've worried you.'' He admitted, making her snort. ''I always worry, so don't think about it.'' She replied, smiling when she saw him ; as he looked very thin and almost dead in his short coma, he was now full of life and his cheeks were even pinkish. Maybe was he blushing, she thought.

         He loved her so much. She cared about him so much. All those years, nobody cared about him and he only needed to feel loved. He kissed her for a whole minute before releasing her and hugging her tightly, her face against his chest. The brunette rest his chin against his girlfriend's head, as he told her ; ''You hear my heart beating, right ? I promise it won't stop soon.'' He said. Realizing how cringy he was, he laughed to himself. ''And tonight you'll get to listen to it to fall asleep.'' He heard her giggle. ''Yeaaaah !'' She replied, using a child's voice.

wow I actually wrote something for fire force??? impressive!!! it’s actually because I finally watched all the episodes I missed and I’m feeling inspired lmao

[glimmerglanger]

SO ABOUT THAT SUGAR DADDY AU (Oh, Worm?)

Oh, anon, you know how I said I thought it wasn’t my thing? TURNS OUT I WAS WRONG. It is my thing, if it’s involves silly shenanigans and worm research. Many thanks to @lackingfaculties for convincing me of my wrongness. I am recording out conversation re: that sugar daddy au right here, under a read-more for my own future reference and because it makes me so happy.

lackingfaculties: My mind jumps to Anakin as the sugar daddy, and Obi-Wan as a down-on-his luck nematologist or something. Mainly I just laugh at the crazy shit rich!Anakin would get away with.

glimmerglanger i started grinning at nematologist and HAVE NOT STOPPED he needs the money, his work is important! (anakin keeps trying to eat the things he's studying) it's ani getting the money from palps, where is it coming from???

Some sort of extreme sports star? Or in a modern au, a cryptocurrency guy or a youtube titan who builds battle robots or something? What's the most ridiculous way a 22 year old could become fabulously wealthy?

"youtube titan who builds battle robots" is the best thing I've ever heard. Or, oh, those people who build and fly the really fast little planes for redbull? But idk if they make any real money....

Maybe he incorporates some revolutionary computer software in the plane that he patents and licenses? But he makes his $ in a way that Obi-Wan finds inexplicable, and enough $ to substitute for his psychic powers and laser sword

ahaha, obes googles him after they meet and is like.... sounds fake, but ok. He can't really argue, anakin definitely HAS money and is easy with spending it, after all

Would Anakin proposition him the first time they met, like that bad movie with Demi Moore and Robert Redford, and have to convince Obes? Or would Obi-Wan come into this already open to being a sugar baby?

 i feel like maybe obi-wan knew what was up (maybe an app was involved) but anakin attempts the proposition anyway and is so bad at it the whole thing almost falls through? But obes really needs that worm research money, so....

also, i am imagining ani's friends his age teasing him about getting a sugar baby that's so much older and calling him sugar grandpa and then they see him and they're like oh shit oh fuck nvm we get it

Huh... Obes and Bant the ichthyologist get drunk, and after chugging a few bottles of rose make some dubious decisions?

And Obi-Wan has been making people lose their minds over his hotness for the past 21 years IRL, so I completely agree.

I feel one if his friends must actually say the term GILF

 *crying amused tears* they're like what are we going to do, our funding is in the shitter, we desperately need some outside revenue. More drinks are had. No one remembers who actually suggested obi-wan uh.... using his money maker, but there they are

OMG PLEASE THEY MUST

How would Obi-Wan's friends react to this? Would this even be the most ridiculous thing he's ever done? Probably not. Would Quinlan the parapsychologist ask him for sugar babying tips?

 i am laughing about bant having a moment of drunken revelation and suggesting the sugar baby thing and obi-wan going oh no i could never ask you to-- and her being like, no, obes, I'm talking about YOU doing it, for the good of the department

 this is def not most ridiculous thing he's done, some of them knew him when he was a grad student. OMG QUINLAN LIKE LISTEN DOES HE HAVE ANY FRIENDS YOU COULD INTRODUCE ME TO AHAHA

Obviously quinlan meets Aayla through Anakin! She's his lawyer or his agent? Or Anakin introduces Quinlan to Padme, who's a former debutante/current... uh. Radical fashion environmentalist?

Bant masterminds the whole thing! She whips out her phone and takes some tasteful, softcore photos that she uploads to the app

 obi-wan barely remembers the photos and is like aha surely they weren't that revealing and then he checks the app and is like OH FUCK but before he can delete them in embarrassment he realizes that he's got like.... multiple replies... and the department really needs the funds.... and what could it hurt really, to meet this guy who does... something with airplanes....ahaha

 i now need actual fic about professor quinlan and radical fashion activist padme, or, oh what would ventress do, hm...

Padme goes somewhere to organize a protest at not!Zara HQ, with her inner circle who all wear kabuki makeup to elude facial recognition tech. Coincidentally Quinlan is there investigating a potential... uh. Jesus on toast sighting? Something Fox Mulder-y. Asajj is Zara's efficiency consultant? So she chops heads off figuratively in this AU

I mean, Bant is a tasteful woman. No dickpics, but Obes didn't realize just how much butt cleavage was showing? But enough to attract Anakin's attention. Just how did he start browsing this app though?

 i feel like maybe he just has no idea how to start a relationship, he's got that prodigy awkwardness, but he's also lonely or needs a date for something fancy or just is horny and he looks thru pretty sure it'll be a dead end BUT OH THERE ARE OBI-WAN'S ASSETS and he.... cannot select fast enough

That's Anakin all right! And Obi-Wan can tell himself it's just escorting

 obi-wan: I'm def just going with him to this party, that's all. Anakin: plotting how to get him in bed and naked, maybe offering more money would work?

 also, obes hiding in anakin's bathroom, msging bant desperately like: he just bought a microscope i mentioned once and touched my back, bant, what do i do am i a hooker tell the truth

She tells him, think of the worms. Think of their joint research project into worms and fish. Future generations of scientists need their research. You're their only ho[pe], Obi-Wan Kenobi.

ahahhaah, and so he does, at least until the first time they kiss, and then he isn't thinking about worms

Exactly, Anakin is hot and very sweet underneath the ridiculousness. And Obi-Wan's lonely too, his worms can't keep him warm at night

If you end up writing this, please include the word "worm" as often as possible

if i thought i could write good humor i would write this and title it "Oh, Worm?"

[sabraeal]

Merry & Bright, Chapter 9

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Written for @k-itsmaywriting, who won third place in my 500 follower raffle...two years ago. Listen guys, I have had some REALLY GOOD REASONS for not finishing those yet. Just don’t check.

The thing about being a foster is: everything sucks.

Not that good things don’t happen-- if there’s one thing the system taught him, it’s that life is an endless roller coaster of ups and downs, and you really learn to love the straightaways-- but the scale changes. Other kids would get cars for their birthday, or they’d get to study abroad a semester, but Obi--

Obi had the bedroom catty-corner to bathroom.

For a kid who hadn’t been in a house with less than five kids and more than one full bath for close to a decade, the location had been choice. Prime real estate. The number of mornings he’d lain in wait, never moving from the warm cocoon of his covers until Toddy’s lumbering shuffle scuffled down at the end of the hall, just to dash across and snipe the first shower-- that would be all of them.

But tonight-- god, tonight--

Obi braces his hand against the wall, watching water whirl down the drain. It’s the safest place to look; once glance up and he’ll be contending with the mirror. Not that the mirror is the problem, oh no. It’s what’s in it that’ll make him crack his head on the tile.

His room is catty-corner to the bathroom, which means the second he looks up he sees her.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Doc’s passed out on every bed he’s slept in since he’s known her. There were entire weeks he wasn’t sure she even knew she had her own room in the frat; if they tallied up the nights she spent in her bed versus the ones she spent in his, he suspects his doubts would not be unfounded.

This shouldn’t be any different. It’s just one more place he’s slept, and one more that she’s shared. It’s just Doc, wearing only one of her too-large conference T-shirts, sprawled out on his bed.

And he saw parts of her. Parts he doesn’t usually see. A bare back, a hint of more thigh, the briefest, barest glimpse of a curve of a breast--

He scrubs a hand down his face, stubble rasping against his palm. It shouldn’t be different but it is-- he might be used to her wearing shorts and a tee and baring a mile of leg at home, but seeing it against the unrelenting black of his high school comforter is something else entirely. Like something right out of his weirdest wet dream.

And this isn’t a natural occurrence; an unplanned side effect of her being the size of the Energizer Buddy with a battery life half as long. This is planned. They are choosing to be in bed together. Because he’s too much of a fuck up to have a real girlfriend to bring home, and Doc’s too nice to ruin it for him.

Obi pulls himself upright, dropping his toothbrush back into its holder. He made this bed, and now it’s time to lay in it. Literally.

Doc doesn’t look up when he pads back into the room. Doesn’t jump when he shuts the door behind him. Doesn’t say anything as he wends around the bed, trying to adjust his angle of approach. Just stares up at the ceiling, jaw clenched, brow furrowed.

He flicks off the light, and it’s not until the mattress dips beneath him that he hears her sigh. Not a nice, oh Obi let’s cuddle sigh, but a I’m pissed you haven’t put my clues together, Blue.

“Something wrong?” he ventures, not even bothering to cover himself. If she’s going to kick him out of bed, he’s not going to waste time getting cozy first.

Doc huffs, rolling to face him. “I thought we talked about this.”

He launches himself upright, swinging his legs off the bed. “You’re right. I’ll go find Gayle. I’m sure she can scrounge up another--”

“No!” Her fingers band around his bicep, gentling guiding him back down. She squiggles closer when he’s settled, knees poking into his thigh. “I didn’t mean any of, um, this. I meant with Ryuu.”

He stares at her, blank.

“You know what it’s like when you don’t feel the same as everyone else.” Her hand unlatches, palm running soothingly over his arm. “We don’t know what he likes yet.”

He thinks about the poor kid, about the number for cute skater girls-- and skater boys-- who have bounced right off the impenetrable shell of his hyperfocus. “He probably doesn’t even know what he likes yet.”

“Exactly.” Her knees knock against him, excited. “And we need to leave space for whatever he finds. We need to do better for him than what was done for us.”

He hums, stilling her hand with his. “We are, Doc.”

“Then you shouldn’t tease him about girls when--”

“Doc.” He has to bite his cheek not to laugh. “I know this isn’t really what you’re used to when it comes to the high school experience but--” he can’t help himself, he grins-- “he was not talking about a girl very loudly.”

Her chin drops, right against his arm. “Oh. Oh. Are you--?”

“Please,” he drawls, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I’m a connoisseur of not talking about girls and boys. And that...that was not talking about a girl.”

“Huh.” Her head rolls back along his arm, hair tickling his elbow. “Who do you think it is?”

“Oh, now who’s not giving him space?” He squeezes her close, playful. “What happened to waiting until he was ready to talk to us?”

“I’m not asking him.” Her nose nuzzles into his side. “I’m asking you.”

Obi presses a had to his chest, affronted. “You’re asking me to betray a confidence? I’m shocked, utterly shocked.”

“No, I didn’t mean--”

He squeezes her again, letting her words fizzle out before he says, “I’d tell you if I knew, Doc, but I don’t. We’ll just have to pump Kirito for all the juicy goss when we get back.”

“No, no, we don’t need to do that,” she says. “I’ll just text Shidan--”

“Oh, come on,” Obi laughs. “Aren’t you the one who always thinks information is better given than taken or whatever?”

Doc whines, squirming against him in a way that makes him think less about Ryuu’s situation and more about his own. “I just want to know if she’s nice or if she’ll hurt his feelings, or--”

He holds up his hand, stoppering up the flood of anxiety. “Leave it. A boy his age needs some secrets.”

Her eyes shine up at him in the dark, and feels rather than sees her lips cant against his shoulder. “Oh? And what sort of secrets do you have at fifteen?”

Obi stiffens. Not just a quick flinch; oh no, he’s got to full on embarrass himself with a full-body tetanus, teeth gritting down with a clack.

I was fourteen and it was more than kissing.

Doc’s head jolts up, eyes wide. “Oh! Obi, I’m so-- I didn’t even think--”

“It’s fine,” he lies. “I don’t think Ryuu will have any of those.”

He’s made sure he hasn’t. There wasn’t any Orphan Club to look out for him when he was a kid, but Obi will be damned if Ryuu goes through any of the stuff he had to. Sure, he’s not a foster, and yeah, his parents are technically alive, even if they communicate with him solely through his bank balance but still-- that’s not parenting. If he can’t count the number of times they’ve called Shidan to make sure he isn’t some child-murdering pedophile, it’s because it’s impossible to count lower than zero.

Silence stretches over them, thick and itchy as wool blanket. This is the worst part of having a tragic childhood. Sure, all the shit that happened to him as a kid was, well, shitty, but it’s in the past, something he can stuff in his mental closet-- even if that psych in Wistal frowned when he mentioned it-- and forget about until it surfaces uncontrollably at the worst fucking time. But this, this--

It’s worse. Having people who love him and respect him suddenly pull away like he’s made of glass, like he’ll break if they so much as breathe on him-- it sucks. Whoever wrote fear is the mind killer never had a sucky enough childhood to cause an awkward silence, and it showed.

Obi nearly jumps out of his skin when an arm slaps across him, followed by at least half of Doc’s body weight. A leg hooks around his, tugging her flush against his side.

“I know.” The words are muffled by his chest. “He has us.”

The quiet takes on a different texture now. It’s not the sound of not knowing what to say, but of nothing more needing saying; the subtle satisfaction of knowing and being know in return. It’s comfortable, warm, like the way her body relaxes into his, the safest space he’s ever known.

Obi’s nearly asleep when she tenses, when she asks, “What happened to Shannon?”

It was a mistake to leave her alone with Kelly Ann. His mind is a steel trap, but the timeline of his sexual history was what Yuzuri would deem a hot mess. Most of it wasn’t performed fully sober either. But Kelly Ann...

Kelly Ann never forgets a single fuck up. Probably takes them out and shines them every once and a while with a smile on her face.

His brain races through his list of high school flings but comes up short. “Shannon?”

“Her picture is up on the mantle,” she murmurs softly, almost shy. “Laila said she was an-- an angel.”

His heart plummets into his stomach. File this under ‘things he should have explained before they left.’ “Oh, Shannon.”

It’s an effort to lie still, to just breathe. “She’s Bob and Gayle’s daughter.”

“I got that.” Doc nuzzles her head into his shoulder, kneading at his pecs like they’re particularly stubborn pillows. “She died.”

His breath sighs out of him. “Yeah, a long time ago. Before either of us were born.”

That’s not enough information, not to survive Christmas, but he can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t his story to tell. He’s a few years and a heap of paperwork short on being enough of one of them to talk about it. Still, short of just telling Doc to ask around, he’s the only one who can.

“She had...I don’t know, some lung disease.” He’d shrug his shoulders if she wasn’t using them as a pillow. He settles for squeezing her instead, enjoying the steady tap of her heart against his ribs. “No one really talks about it, but I guess it was long and slow. She was a teenager when she died.”

Doc lays silent for a long moment. “There wasn’t anything...?”

“It was the eighties,” he explains, “and from what I’ve picked up, the life expectancy today isn’t much brighter. Like...twenties or something.”

“Gosh, that’s...awful.” Her nails scrape over his chest, tucking into her palm. “But she was their-- there weren’t any, um....?

“She was born with it.” He can’t imagine that, knowing from the start there was nothing to do but wait, that you’d have only a handful of years before they’d be gone. “They said it’d be a miracle if she lived to see twenty. Gayle gave up her job to take care of her, you know, doing the medical stuff she needed to stay alive. They just...wanted as much time with her as they could get, and any other kid born into that, well...”

“It wouldn’t be fair,” she says, pained. “How could you explain to another child that you weren’t playing favorites, but that their sister was going to--” she shakes her head, and something wet settles on his skin-- “I get it.”

He wishes there was an easy way to make things better, a way to wrap this whole awkward shit sundae up with a bow or whatever, but...there isn’t. There’s no heartwarming but she’s the reason they saved me, because he up and bolted before they could. He’s got a big fucker of a scar across his chest to prove that all their goodness never changed him, at least not enough to matter.

“What about Lori?” Doc asks, because tonight’s the night for picking at scabs, it seems. “Laila called her an angel too.”

“That was their first foster.” He only barely knows this story, told to him by Kelly Ann almost a decade ago in the hushest of tones, and only to inform him how bad he fucked up. “She was Shannon’s roommate I guess, toward the, um...end. Mom died of some cancer and she became a ward of the state, and Bob and Gayle...”

“Did what they did best,” she offers, so sincere it hurts.

“Yeah.” His throat aches. “That.”

Her fingers slip between his. He thinks she might say something, might ask for more history he hardly knows and doesn’t own, but instead she squeezes his hand, stilling against him, breath easing into a lull.

“Goodnight, Obi,” she murmurs, sleep thick in her voice.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Goodnight.”

It’s not the first time Shirayuki’s awoken with a shiver, a warm breath tickling her neck and something far lower poking into her back. But it is the first time since-- since that night, and what had seemed so innocent, just a healthy reaction to sleep and proximity to a warm body, feels very different now.

His mouth lays slack against her skin, breath puffing hotly across the sensitive hairs of her nape. The heat there is only rivaled by the one trembling beneath the palm on her belly, a slow roil that sets her blood to a tantalizing simmer. They hadn’t fallen asleep like this-- she’s been so careful to arrange herself so she’d do little move than roll into the levee of his chest-- but somehow she’s the little spoon again, and, by the feel of it, someone’s ready to fork.

He grunts, hips shifting and hand tucking her close. What had been a mere hint through dress slacks in a hallway is now-- haah-- a full investigation against her back. And it’s, ah, definitely not a small one. Many, many lines of inquiry.

Shirayuki groans, burying her face in the pillow. It’s her. She’s the one ready to fork. And Obi’s just--

“I hope we’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning.” Gayle sweeps into the room, ruthlessly flicking on the light. “Got a whole lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in.”

Obi jolts, the whole length of his erection pressing hard against her ass, she-- she yelps. Just a little.

“Five more minutes,” he groans, hand flexing against her stomach, fingers brushing down to where her T-shirt has ridden up and--

And he stills, like he’s been caught snatching snickerdoodles off the tray.

“None of that business, mister.” Gayle bustles in, pulling on one of his shades until it snaps up, perfectly hung in the window. “If I let you alone now, all I’ll get is the same trouble when I come back.”

“R-really.” He’s definitely more awake, but his voice cracks. “Just-- a minute. I’ll, um, get right up.”

He wriggles behind her, like he can’t decide whether it’s safer to edge away or hide in her, and she realizes-- he’s hard. He’s hard, and his mom is right there, squinting down at him like she’s trying to pick the lock on his diary.

Shirayuki reaches back, palm resting on his hip, and he stills. “Don’t worry, Gayle,” she chirps brightly, “I know how to get him up.”

Gayle turns to her, eyes wide, and Obi’s forehead bonks into her shoulder. “Oh, honey,” she says, grin lighting up her face. “I just bet you do.”

Obi honks like a dying goose into her shoulder blade. “She didn’t mean--”

“Breakfast should be up in fifteen minutes.” Gayle approaches the hall with a buoyant step. “I won’t send up a search party if you’re late.”

With a wink, she shuts the door firmly. Obi flops onto his back with a groan.

“What?” She blinks. “Do you really need five more minutes?”

His head rolls toward her, eyes fixed on her with a sullen glare. “You know how to get me up, huh?”

“Wh--oh,” she yelps, clapping her hands over her mouth. “I didn’t-- you don’t think she--?”

“Oh, she definitely did.” He rolls over, face-first into his pillow.

Shirayuki blinks. “Aren’t you going to get up?”

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs, hugging his pillow tight. “If she thinks we’re having the world’s best good morning, I have at least twenty minutes to spare.”

“Come on now, keep up,” Gayle chides, hounding their heels into Harris Teeter the way corgis do to toddlers. “We’ve got a late start--” she eyes them both with an expression that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but smug-- “but I think we can still come out on top.”

“It’s six am,” Shirayuki murmurs, leaning into Obi. “Does she know it’s six am?”

“Oh, she definitely does,” he confirms with the tiredest dog-eyed look he can muster this early. “We’re running on Christmas Time.”

Her jaw hangs slack, turning into a yawn. “Christmas time?”

“We need to make cookies,” Gayle informs her, abandoning the carriage for a deep dive into the sprinkle section.

“Oh.” Shirayuki stares after her, lost. “I didn’t realize this was serious.”

“Cookies are very serious business,” Obi confirms, heaving a sigh as Gayle holds two frosting tins up to the light. “I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling. She’s just going to make her own. Here--” he reaches in front of her, hooking his hand around the flashy red handle-- “let me grab the buggy--”

“The what?”

He blinks, eyes as clear as amber. “The cart?”

“That’s not what you said,” she insists. “You said-- what did you call it--?”

“Same difference.”

“It is not.”

“It’s a regional thing.” He shrugs, shoulders hovering up around his ears. He’s not an blusher, but she could swear she sees some pink lingering at the tips of his ears. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I wouldn’t,” she informs him primly. “Except we’ve been going to the store for years now, and I’ve never heard you say that word in your life--”

An unbelievable amount of sprinkles clatters into the cart. “Well,” Gayle says, mouth wide. “That should be enough for the cookies.”

Obi frowns, picking up a thirty ounce jar of nonpareils. “Enough for an army of them.”

Shirayuki grins, poking him until he squeaks. “So just about enough to fill one of your stomachs.”

“Hey.” He presses a hand to his chest, lifting his chin regally. “It would be at least one and a half.”

Gayle huffs out a laugh. “You two are going to make such cute kids. Look at you, just flirting right in the middle of Baking Needs.”

Shirayuki flushes red hot, hem to hairline. “No! We’re not--”

“C’mon then.” Gayle turns on her heel, heading to the back of the store. “We’ll have to get enough for dinner too. Gonna need it after all that cookie making.”

Shirayuki glances down into the cart. “There’s more people coming, right?” she murmurs, only just holding back a helpless whine. “We’re not just making...all of these ourselves.”

“Don’t worry, Doc.” He slings an arm around her shoulders, side pressing warmly into hers. “I’ll help you.”

“Mm,” she hums, dubious. “Eat them, maybe.”

“There won’t be none of that,” Gayle calls back, inspecting a package of ground beef. “Bob need your help downstairs.”

“Aw, no,” Obi groans, shoulders slumping. “Not--”

“You bet your buttons, mister.” She drops a pair of four-pounders right into the cart. “It’s time to put up the Christmas Village.”

[abdicatedarchive]

Sleepover at Chase’s || Wren, Chase, Jonah, Jesse, Stevie

The boys (Stevie included) have a sleepover at Chase’s. 

@chrysolites @jessekxller

Chase: Chase had pulled out a few air mattresses and put out a bunch of wine and mixed drink stuff plus snacks for the boys. He had facemasks in the bathroom, but he was going to wait until everyone was drunk to bring that up. He heard a knock at the door, "It's open!" he called out.

Jesse: Jesse was nervous for the sleep over, he had never really done one, he had slept over at Liv's, but that was different. Jesse opened the door with a smile. "Hey!" He said talking in. His one goal of the night was to be the one that didn't sleep. The boys couldn't find out about his night terrors. "Melissa sent me with some snacks."

Jonah: Jonah hadn't been feeling too great in general and it seemed like it was starting to become pretty obvious so he was glad to have this sleepover as some kind of distraction. He smiled at Chase as he walked into his friend's place. "Hey." 

Stevie: Stevie also came along shortly after with decorative baggies that her parents made for her friends. What goobers. "So I also got snacks... but my parents made these so like, maybe don't eat them. They might not be great."

Wren: Wren came in and plopped down on the couch and let out a sigh, "sorry boys, I was in the car texting my girlfriend" he said with a cocky smile. Wren was just so happy.

Chase: Chase greeted his friends excitedly, "Thanks for coming everbody, and thanks for all the extra snacks. We're eating good tonight" said the boy with a big smile on his face. "Should we play something?" he asked.

Jesse: Jesse playfully rolled his eyes. "No need to brag. There are singles in the room" He said as he looked over at Chase. "Yes, I'm ready to pig out." He said as he plopped down on the couch

Chase: Chase put his arm around Jonah, "Dude I am so glad you're here" said Chase, making sure to carve out some good time for his buddy. "I was worried you wouldn't make it" he added.

Stevie: Stevie went in to give Wren a high five, "I'm happy for you, man." she said with a big smile. "Right in time for the holidays too. It'll be a fun Chrismukkah for you." she nodded her head, proud that she remembered the lil name. "Here, pig out on this." Stevie smiled sarcastically at Jesse as she handed him the shitty vegan treats. 

Jonah: Jonah smiled at Chase, "Of course I'd make it. If we're playing any kind of video games, I needed to be here to kick your ass in person." he jokingly said. They were both evenly matched when it came to the games.

Chase: "Oh ho ho" said Chase with a laugh, "You're on my terf now. You better bring your A game" he said with a smile, it would be a fair fight no matter what.

Jesse: Jesse caught what Stevie tossed his way. "Oh!... look at that. My IBS is acting up. Can't eat this." He said tossing it over to Wren. "For you, my king."

Wren: "Vegan treats?" said Wren with a smile, "Tell your mom I love her" he said to Stevie as he put them down anyways. He would eat them if it came to it.

Jonah: "I always do, Chasé." Jonah said in the accent, laughing afterwards. "So what are we playing first? Unless you meant games as in truth or dare?" he asked as more of a joke, but knowing Chase, that could definitely be a possibility. 

Stevie: Stevie frowned when the baggies started hopping around. "You guys are gonna take them and you don't have to eat them but I will tell my parents you loved them."

Wren: "What would we even ask in a game of truth or dare" said Wren to the group, "I feel like we already know everything. Unless one of you guys is harboring a secret child" Wren laughed.

Chase was SWEATING.

Jesse: Jesse looked over at Chases alcohol collection. "Why don't we play a drinking game?" He suggested. "Guys, Its me. I fathers a illegitiment child. I've been hiding him from you this whole time." He said playfully.

Chase: "Yeah let's play a drinking game" said Chase, acting as normal as possible. God, this was too much for him.

Jesse: "You got a deck of cards?" Jesse asked moving over to the locked closet with hidden baby stuff. "Do you keep them in here?"

Chase: "That's the Hale's storage. I have no idea what they keep in there" said Chase passing Jesse and grabbing cards from his room. "Got a specialty deck right here, it's dr. who themed" said the boy as he put the cards out on the table, "What should we play?"

Jonah: Jonah laughed, "That's actually where he keeps his secret child." he said, just trying to play along with the joke. A fool, indeed. "I'm up for a drinking game though."

Chase: Chase laughed along with everyone, his heart racing. He did not enjoy this joke at all. Fuck Wren Bishop and his mun. "Kings cup?" he suggested, grabbing a beer for the middle.

Jesse: "Ah, the Hales can't even give you your own complete space." He said with a laugh. "Maybe he does jo," Jesse knocked on the door. "Secret child, are you okay in there?" He smiled. "Kings up sounds great. Love that game.

Stevie: Stevie nodded in agreement, "Sounds good to me." she said with a smile.

- They played Kings Cup - 

Jesse: Jesse put a card under the tab, it was getting pretty full and the can was to bust any second. As he slipped it under, the can busted so had to remove the cards and chug. Luckliy the game was a sucess and they were all pretty drunk now. Jesse finished off the can and looked around now that the game was over. "Brosssss, that was so much fun! I feel amazing." The boy said with a slight slurr to his words

Jonah: Jonah wasn't very used to drinking, but he did every once in a while at the parties. "It was fun. I need to have more often." he said, his words slurring. 

Stevie: Stevie leaned back with a big smile on her face, "Dude I feel fucking great too. This is just what I needed, what we all needed am I right?" she asked looking around at everyone in the room. "Shit has been getting stressful and we deserve a good time."

Jesse: Jesse laid back on the floor before he started laughing for like a minute straight. “Jo jos drunk” he said as he pointed over to his twin. “Steeves we all did need this. I love a good de stresser. And getting to hang with the boys”

Wren: Wren was sitting and texting Chanel like a whipped piece of garbage, "Hm?" he said looking up to process that Jesse had just said Jo Jos drunk. Wren let out a laugh, "I'm just glad we can have a nice drama free night" said the boy drinking a little bit of water.

Chase: Chase went to his room and grabbed two lightsabers and threw one to Jonah in the living room, "You have allowed this Dark Lord to twist your mind until now . . . until now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy" said Chase holding up the saber to fight Jonah.

Jesse: "wrenny boy, you look to sober, drink more." JEsse sid moving closer to the boy. His attention was distracted by the lighsabers. "I am so videoing this" He said with a laugh as he took out his phoneNovember 29, 2020

Jonah: Jonah caught the lightsaber and smiled at Chase. He knew what the fuck was up. "Don't lecture me, Obi-Wan. I see through the lies of the Jedi. I do not fear the dark side as you do. I have brought peace, justice, freedom, and security to my new Empire." he got up and walked towards Chase, holding the lightsaber up before they began to duel.

Chase: Chase was smiling such a goofy smile, "Your new Empire?" he said as he waited for the next response. After that he replied, "Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic ... to DEMOCRACY" he said as they were dueling. It was an epic battle, and Chase was laughing so hard from all the alcohol in his body and how much fun he was having. He hadn't had fun like this in so long. The democracy line was also his favorite.

Jesse: Jesse continued to laugh as he watched the boys battle, getting it all on video. Though he was nver a big star wars fan, he had seen one or two of them before, not enough to really understand what they were saying. "Wack him with the glowing stick!"

Wren: Wren smacked the back of Jesse's head, "It's the final battle from Revenge of the Sith" said Wren, "and those are light sabers you fucking nerf herder", ashamed that Jesse was the way he is.

Jesse: Jesse shook his head. "Yall assume I was allowed to watch tv while being trapped in the dungeons of hell, I mean foster care? Funny." Though not every house was bad, there was competition for the tv remote at times and a lot of kids, when there even was a tv

Wren: "Damn debbie downer" said Wren a little drunk, he took another swig from the liquor bottle, "We're planning a movie marathon next" he added.

Jesse: Jesse downed his beer and stood up on the couch. "I'll show you what it was like." He said before letting out a laugh as he leaped onto Wren, tackling him to the floor. "Wrestle!"

Stevie: Stevie picked up Jesse's phone and continued filming all the battles. "Take his top off!" she yelled as a joke, as she started laughing.

Wren: After a few minutes of wrestling, Wren got Jesse into a headlock, "Dude I did wrestling back in Cali" said Wren letting him go.

Jesse: Jesse and wren went fo a few minuted till it seemed that Jesse was at his witts end with a big loss. Jesse tapped on the floor as Wren let him go. "Did you wear the man leotard?" He asked with a laugh.

Jonah: Jonah tried holding in his laugh, "Don't make me kill you." he said with enough passion. And the Oscar goes to... "If you're not with me, you're my enemy." he stated as he continued the light saber fight.

Chase: The scene continued and they played through the whole battle. "It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground" said Chase as he stood on the couch, Jonah on the ground. He pretended to cut his limbs off and yelled, "You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you."

Wren: Saphira came out of Chase's room and Wren scooped her up immediately, "For your information, yes. But there is no photo evidence sorry" Wren said with a smile as he started petting the cat. He sat back down on the couch and was just petting her, "Saphira, I'm gonna steal you" he whispered to the cat.

Jesse: "What? Not a single photo? What a shame those leotards make you look hung." He said with a laugh. "Awe thats a cute cat." JEsse said but didn't get any closer

Jonah: "Shit, give me one second." Jonah said, breaking character. He sat on the floor and placed the lightsaber beside him before pulling his arms into his shirt so it looked like he had no arms. He moved from side to side as the sleeves on his shirt flapped around, cause no arms. Then he got back into character and acted as if he was screaming.

Chase: Chase was cackling at how funny this all was, they had done this seriously once before. But it was most definitely better drunk. "Somebody got all of that on video right?" he asked the room, finally looking around. "And how are we feeling ... about some shots? ... and maybe some face masks?" Chase joked, well let's be very clear. Chase was not joking about any of it.

[norcumii]

Reblogged from the prior tumbl, originally posted 02/04/2016. Question submitted by @makiruz. Slightly reformatted to avoid a readmore cut and whatnot.

In Full of Sith, they always ask new guests how they got into Star Wars. And you know? That's a good question, how did you got into Star Wars?

HEH. Oooh, that’s a bit of a loaded question. So I’ll give you the short answer, which I suspect would fit the thing you mentioned what I haven’t heard of; and then because I’m a wordy bastard what overshares, the long answer which is more accurate and has content warnings for self harm and suicide.

SHORT ANSWER

It was the 80’s. I was young, in single digits, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what age. I was already dealing with an irregular sleep cycle, though all I knew was I had a flashlight, a pile of books near/on my bed, and a thick pound puppies duvet to read under.

I don’t know if I was in my room or on my way to/from the bathroom, but I could hear my parents watching something downstairs. Swooshy noises, a shrill screee, and some thwoom bzzts.

Of course I went downstairs.

I don’t know if it was episode 5 or 6. I’ve a fondness for 6, but carbonite left a HUGE fucking impression on me, and my parents have always approved of muppets, so Yoda.

I knew I loved it. I didn’t have any toys, though I think somewhere there was a print edition of A New Hope running around. I do recall multiple sleepovers at my grandmother’s place – a tiny house on acres and acres of woods – and she’d sometimes pull out Return of the Jedi and we’d watch it together on her tiny TV. Later on I’d be in bed, staring out at woods and trees that I knew, but seemed huge to a little kid, and I’d dream of Ewoks.

RotJ was Gram’s favorite, and for many years mine, too.

I like Ewoks.

VERY LONG ANSWER

TW: mental illness, depression, self harm, suicide, abuse

In late elementary, early middle school, my brother and I were basically reading ANYTHING we could get our hands on. He sometimes dove into books that didn’t interest me, so I’d read the first of something and then be bored and he’d keep going.

Star Wars EU was one of those. It was too grim for me. I think I didn’t run into any of the really good writers. It was all Han and Luke and Leia on the covers, so take that for what you will. There also was no Wookiepeia, so I was depending heavily on the writers’ abilities to convey things to someone very visual, yet pretty impatient with descriptions, so it never took.

I was in high school when The Phantom Menace came out. Mine honorable brother was off at college, so it was with great excitement on my part, and bemused tolerance on my parents’, that they and I went off to the theater.

On the one hand, I was dazzled.

On the other, there was Jar Jar. There was the fact that I hadn’t been impressed with the re-release of the OT – Han shot first. FITE ME. There was the fact that TPM didn’t feel like Star Wars, which was darker and grittier and…simpler to me.

So I wrote it off. Packed Star Wars away as “one of those things” that I’d been into, but felt like I was moving past. I was obsessed with Gargoyles, I was looking at going to college, and I would keep m’damn ewoks without needing to try to extend that vision with gungans.

College sucked. I went in, not sure if I wanted to go into English, for writing, or Psych, because I had always been what I’d now call The Mom Friend. I met a nice guy who tried, but things never really clicked between us, and there was an interesting bit that he was mad about Star Wars and insisted that I read the Rogue Squadron books.

That was a Good Decision. Dating him, not so much.

I had a huge assortment of Life Issues. Got into an abusive relationship that would end up lasting 14 years. Transferred schools. Got the fucking Psych degree, though literally only by the grace of a professor who didn’t want to see the kid not graduate just ‘cause she couldn’t numbers and I did go in and try. Talked to him and still couldn’t with the maths but the effort was there to bump me a few points above failing.

I was burnt out. I was depressed. I tried killing myself a few times – not very good at it, as you can see. Took up self-harm as a coping mechanism. Failed in the still never successful search for a decent therapist in Pittsburgh. Got a job slinging food, because needed some kind of income, and people without pressure was nice. The keeping on a schedule thing failed, leading to an average of 4 hours sleep a night. Losing contact with family and friends because I couldn’t stand the pressure of “how are you?” and “what’s going on in your life?” Clinging to Warcraft because repetitively farming was better than clawing open my back or neck again, and the people there were ok with some rando dropping out of sight on a dime, and only a persistent few had the grace and spirit to make it past some serious defensive issues of mine.

I stopped writing. Stopped caring about Gargoyles, stopped being able to see into that AU I’d made for myself of a crazy clan and the weird human who survived cancer with them.

Stopped going on IM, for the same reasons I stopped talking to people.

I still kept track of some folks via LiveJournal. A handful of the Gargoyles folks who were determined, gods know why and thank you, since I know several are here on the tumbles and I genuinely love you to bits.

I quit my job after five years, because enough was enough between the fact that it had all the hallmarks of an abusive relationship and I was fucking tired of being a manager without any actual authority, and the endless hamster wheel of hiring and people quitting because it was a nice, but highly dysfunctional place.

I missed the customers, though. Several of them are here too, and it’s kinda funny ‘cause I know in at least one case I talked to them about Star Wars. I still hope they’re not too shellshocked that I kinda went down the rabbit hole pretty deep.

Started getting more sleep. Not less anxiety, not less depressed. Tried out a few depression medications, with very mixed results.

Then one day @dogmatix came into the LJ area I still hung out in. Enthusiastically recommending to all and sundry that if there is even a shred of interest in Star Wars, THERE IS THIS THING YOU SHOULD READ.

She drew a Wookiee. That was a character?

I’d always liked Wookiees.

And I needed something to read.

Star Wars was one of those things, from back in the day before things went to shit. Low investment, since if I didn’t like it or didn’t care, then eh. Whatevs.  Dogmatix was one of the Gargs holdouts still in my circle (or whatever it is that I was hovering at the edges of), and in the past I’d liked her recommendations more often than I disliked them.

I’m also endlessly weak to her art.

Wookiee.

So I did that thing. That so many of us here have done. It took me about 2 weeks to get through Re-Entry. It had trouble taking root in the depression, but Obi-Wan going crackers was something I could empathize with and appreciate.

There was the hope that had been missing from the EU novels I’d tried reading back in the day.

There was Wookieepedia, which meant I could stop and see what a Nautolan was. I had tabs open for DAYS so when someone named Adi or Gallia who were apparently the same person? I could see who that was. I got stupidly distressed that Abella didn’t have an entry, until I twigged and checked for a Chitanook, and holy shit I could never tell what character was going to crop up as canon, obscure EU character, or home brewed.

I honestly expected to set it aside, get updates as they happened, and gradually step away because that’s how things were going at the time.

But I still needed something to read, to stave off empty hours when my brain was too full of screaming.

On Ebon Wings. I’d loved The Crow when I’d seen it back in high school, and that story tapped into the powerful visuals and the lovely message I’d adored and in ways I still don’t quite understand it somehow validated that I could be mad and still be ok. Maybe. Maybe not now, but someday.

Maybe.

So I gave in and got a Tumbl. I’d been a stubborn holdout, regularly checking the same half dozen feeds daily because dammit, I don’t wanna go through the trouble and I was close to giving up on LJ and another journaly thing? That was stupid. But I wanted to follow Flamethrower and Dogmatix, and it made it infinitely easier to follow several blogs (and oh GODS one of those is a mutual and holy fuck I swear I screamed the day that happened and it’s still a high to realize).

Dogmatix wrote Möbius and Accidental Timeshare, wherein Venge goes universe hopping. That’s also a weakness of mine.

I’d been kvetching IRL about the treadmill and wanting something to watch, and someone mentioned in Dogmatix’s feed The Clone Wars – which conveniently was on Netflix. So I figured what the hell. I was disinclined to like clones – ‘cause yeesh, they’re the reason the Jedi all died, and yeah, ok, the Order was SERIOUSLY FUCKED UP, but.

I still had never seen Episodes 2 or 3.

I turned on the Clone Wars movie, and within ten minutes I nearly fell off the back of the treadmill due to crying.

THIS was the Star Wars of my youth. THIS was what I remembered. A little grim. Lots of quips.

That sound. Lightsabers igniting. A-wings rumbling overhead. Blasterfire, and that music.

I had to stop and calm down and for the first time in ages WRITE [, because I just had to ramble about how it all hit me in the feels]. I had no idea I’d missed this.

By the end of the movie I’d decided ok, I wanted more. Wasn’t sold on these clone fellas, and damned if I could tell one set of armor from another (this is ALSO due to the treadmill screen being calibrated to be a compromise of a very short person – me – and a very tall person, which means neither person gets a decent view but that’s not what the treadmill tv is for).

I’d been told there was an order to the episodes, but I didn’t care. Continuity is for those who think about the future, and I was still regularly suicidal.

So the first episode I watched was Yoda romping around a planet, playing with droids while three clone troopers tried to babysit his mad little ass.

They had me, all in one episode. I loved these guys. They had individuality, I could tell them apart by the voices (which is sometimes just as important to me as visuals) even if I couldn’t name them, and the personalities –

They were loyal. Their primary concern was old batty Yoda which I had adored as a child because MUPPETS. They were willing to die to keep him safe and there was this lovely reciprocity in taking care of each other and all of them, clones and Jedi alike were doomed to extinction and I don’t think I knew yet HOW the clones were except they weren’t in the OT so there was shit going down.

Tragic figures, loyal found family, incredible voice acting, Batty Old Yoda who OH YEAH FUCKING KICKED SO MUCH ASS I COULD NEVER GET ENOUGH.

I wanted to keep those three clones. I was willing to keep them all.

Final blow, that knocked me into the fandom so hard I’ll be surprised if I ever leave?

THIS.

The origins of Balance. This is the post that started a simple notion, to try to write something when I’d gone….anywhere from 7 to 10 years of not writing A SINGLE. DAMNED. THING of substance – and that was after thinking I might try to get a degree related to it.

Darth Wraith was a tentative idea. I was scared @deadcatwithaflamethrower would be irked I wanted to play in her sandbox (oh my gods I was inserting myself into a conversation with her this amazing person who wrote blindingly well and so damn much and how the FUCK was I daring to speak up about a silly half DREAM I’d had because once again I couldn’t sleep).

Then, because I was trying to break out of the depression, the cycles of mental ill health, and if I was on this tumbls thing, fuck it, I’d try the IM thing again.

I’d been gone long enough that pretty much no one on my contact list was still there. That…was ok. There wasn’t the pressure.

And Dogmatix popped on, asking if I wanted to share details about this Sith Qui-Gon thing.

I had A SCENE. ONE. SCENE. And she was spinning it off into this EPIC, which at first I was gleeful because she had neat ideas and I couldn’t wait to see what she would do with it and then wait, she’s not talking about writing it herself, this is more about something WE could work on.

Thank gods it was IM, because I had a little panic about commitment to a project when I regularly was sure I wasn’t going to see tomorrow and if I didn’t wake up one morning that’d be MORE than ok.

Still. There was that itch. The visuals in my brain. The characters I’d started to like in Flamethrower’s universe, which had formed my mental voices for them.

The only sound in my head for so long was just screaming.

Writing down that scene in Knock On Effect, where Venge meets Wraith – that felt good. It never changed much from the first draft to what was posted. The rest grew, and quickly. It was clear if we were doing this, then there were multiple stories, spanning in universe years.

And then there were spinoffs. Wonderful ideas and plots spiraling away from this one notion, and gods I wanted to write about those glorious clones.

How’d I get into Star Wars?

Chance. One strange little step at a time, and a bunch of miracles and horrors that kept me bleeding but not dying. Damn good fic. The kindness of friends. The generosity of strangers.

The tragedy of a once great order of space monks, and their allies-forced-to-be-betrayers clones.

One little picture, of Qui-Gon Jinn with Sith eyes.

[raptorginger]

Snow Sparkles Like Stars: Chapter 2 - Snowed in

chapter 1

Rey didn’t consider her life a terribly exciting one.  A bit odd, perhaps, but not exciting.  She’d been adopted in London by a pair of older gentlemen whom she came to know and love as Grandpa Obi and Grandpa Jinn.  They’d moved to a ranch out in Montana when Rey was ten, and Rey discovered what she was meant to do.  She had a way with animals, particularly dogs, and Grandpa Obi put her in charge of training the ranch’s herders.  Everything that happened afterward had flowed from that moment.  She rehabilitated the strays, the abused, the injured and helped find them loving homes.  After rescuing her first Siberian Husky when she was in her early teens, she researched dog sledding and found another thing she excelled at.  When Obi and Jinn died, they left Rey a large trust and the ranch.  Rey worked with a nearby reservation to give the land back and left for Washington, intending to live a quiet existence outside Spokane with her eight rescued Malamutes, offering the occasional training class and sled ride to the locals.

For all intents and purposes, she had accomplished this goal.  She was happy.  Really, she was.  She wasn’t lonely.  She had eight dogs for company, who could be lonely?

But sometimes, deep in the dark of the night when she was all alone in her loft, she’d let her mind wander.  It would wind sinuously down long corridors, to the dark and heated corners where a nameless faceless man lived.  He was tall and broad, strong but dextrous.  His hair dark and soft.  But it was his voice, his deep voice whispering dark and filthy things to her, that she liked imagining most.  He would praise her, call her his good girl, while she imagined the obscene things he’d do to her.  She wished, oh how she wished...

Rey tried not to think about this during the daytime.  And certainly not right now.

It wasn’t strange that someone would have gotten stranded in a snowbank outside her house during a blizzard.  It wasn’t strange that her pack noticed.  They were dogs with incredibly keen senses, after all.  It was, however, a bit strange that the literal embodiment of her darkest fantasies had crawled out of the car and was currently pawing around her record collection with his large hands.

Rey watched keenly as Kylo’s long fingers tugged on a worn record jacket, dislodging the disc.  He flipped it over and slipped it on the turntable, switching the player on and dropping the needle.  The instantly recognizable melody of “As Time Goes By” from Casablanca filled the air, the tone rich and warm.  He approached her chair, his hand held out entreatingly.  ‘I’ll put my big hands on whatever I want.’  If only you would.

“Dance with me?” Kylo asked, his voice dropping lower, like a roll of soft thunder.  He smiled wickedly as he watched a shiver chase through Rey’s slender frame, her trembling fingers coming to rest lightly in his.  It wasn’t fair what his voice did to her.  It just wasn’t.

“I don’t really dance,” Rey muttered apologetically.  Heat trilled through her as his fingers wrapped around hers, gently squeezing as he pulled her to her feet.

“I find that hard to believe.  You’re very graceful,” he murmured close to her ear.

“Believe what you want.  Doesn’t change the truth,” she replied, clearing her throat a little.  She swallowed nervously as Kylo placed one of her hands on his shoulder and one of his hands on her waist.  He took her other hand in his again and began to lead her in a simple movement.  Like any of the other handful of times she’d tried, she stumbled over her own feet.  Graceful, right.

“You just need a teacher.  Follow my lead,” he commanded softly.

Rey wasn’t accustomed to following, but she found she had no choice in this case.  His arms were sure, his movements fluid as he guided her around a small space in her living room.  She enjoyed relinquishing control to someone else.  To him.  It was a nice change of pace.

“Good.  That’s it,” he practically purred as she clumsily followed his steps.  

Holy hell.  THAT’S going in the mind palace.  I’m going to have to wash my damn underwear.  “Don’t patronize me,” Rey snapped, overcompensating for her arousal and hoping he wouldn’t notice.

The dim light made it hard for Rey to see that Kylo’s eyes had darkened.

On the next turn, Rey felt something hard but fuzzy behind her knees.  She yelped and fell backwards to the floor, the dog quickly scampering out of the way.  Her instinct, being a musher, was to tighten her grip when something unexpected happened, which explained why Kylo was now perched on top of her, his fingers interlaced tightly with hers.

Rey snapped her head to the side in time to see a grey tail disappear around the sectional.

“Damn it, Loki!” she yelled.  A mischievous face appeared on the arm of the couch, the perfect picture of innocence.

Rey looked back up at Kylo and sighed exaggeratedly.  “Sorry.  He does that all the time.  BUT NOT USUALLY TO COMPANY!” Rey shouted in Loki’s direction.

“Quite like his namesake, isn’t he?” Kylo whispered.

“Yeah, I suppose so.”  It dawned on Rey that Kylo had made no move to get off of her.  She shifted awkwardly beneath him, the wood floor pressing hard against her shoulder blades.  Kylo’s nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply.  Huh.  Okay.  Yeah, jump the stranger you just met because you like his voice.  And his hair.  And his mouth.  Smaaaaart.

She cleared her throat for what felt like the millionth time that evening.  “Listen, it’s getting late…” “Of course! I’m sorry, let me help you up,” Kylo said hurriedly as he scrambled off of her.

“Thanks,” Rey muttered, dusting a few stray dog hairs off her sweater.  “Umm, the guest room is just there.  I recommend you keep the door shut, or else the dogs’ll shove you out.  Under the sink in the bathroom there’s a basket with a few things in it - a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, that sort of thing.  Towels are under the sink too.”

“The dogs don’t sleep with you?”  

“No.  They’re bed hogs.  They sleep down here.”

Rey was keenly aware of Kylo’s eyes on her as she moved about the lower floor of her home, turning off lights and putting out the fire.

“Tomorrow, depending on what the weather is doing, I’ll try and get your car out with my truck.  If you help me move the sled, we could probably get it in the garage until the roads are safe to travel,” Rey continued, trying to keep herself from shaking.  She flipped the hall light on for him and made her way to the spiral staircase that led to her loft bedroom.

“I think I can do that,” Kylo replied.  “Thank you, Rey.”

Rey bit her lip as she set her foot on the first step.  “No problem.  Let me know if you need anything,” she murmured.

“Yeah, I will.  Goodnight, Rey.”

Rey blushed and hurried up the steps, grabbing her sleep shirt from the foot of the bed and a pair of clean underwear from her dresser before heading into her bathroom to complete her nightly routine.  While brushing her teeth, Rey had an argument with herself.

You know it’s the twenty-first century, right?  You’re allowed to bang a guy just because you think he’s hot.  And he seems warm for your form so...

Shut up.  I know next to nothing about him.  He could be a total asshat.  Or in a relationship.

So?  He’ll be gone in a day or so.  Hardly enough time to find out.  And I don’t think so, not with the way he purred and eye fucked you just now.

He probably has women throwing themselves at him all the time.  He’s a college professor for God’s sake.  He has his pick of attractive co-eds.  He lives in Boston, for crying out loud.

Please.  Does he really seem like the type to have a fling with a student?

I don’t know.  That’s the point, you idiot.

Just let him fuck your brains out.  God knows you need it.  It’s been ages since you got any.

Shut up.

Rey spat the foamy paste out and rinsed, angry at herself.  Sometimes she wished she could be one of those people who hopped into bed with a stranger, no mental hang ups or qualms, but that just wasn’t her.  She liked to know at least a little bit about the person she was letting into her bed.  Plus, there was her tendency too fall too hard too fast.  Rey didn’t need that weight on her shoulders after Kylo left.  He’d go off, a smile on his face and a song in his heart, and she’d be left here, miserable and pining with him none the wiser.  Rey gave an aggravated sigh and got into bed, her flannel sheets doing nothing to warm her.  She listened to Kylo putter around downstairs, getting ready to go to sleep.  She wondered if he often slept alone, or if he regularly had someone to warm his bed.  She heard several soft ‘thumps’ come from the living room followed by the sound of nails clicking on a hard floor.  

“Oh shit,” she heard Kylo grumble after the faucet turned off.

Oh no…

“Get off, shoo! I was supposed to keep the door shut.  Dammit! Get off!”  Kylo was arguing with a silent opponent, or rather, opponents.  Rey knew his entreaties would fall on deaf ears.

“Fine! Take the damned bed!” Kylo cried exasperatedly.  “Can I at least have a pillow?”  There was some huffing and grunting before he said sarcastically, “Thank you for your generosity, Thor.”

A few muttered curses followed as Rey listened to Kylo make his way out to the couch in the living room.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered darkly.

Oh no...again.  Rey got out of bed and tugged on a pair of sweatpants.  She went to the railing and looked down.  In the dark, she was barely able to make out the forms of Frigga and Odin on the couch and Kylo standing in front of it, arms akimbo.

“Kylo?” Rey called softly.

Kylo looked up.  Rey couldn’t see the expression on his face, but she imagined it was adorably frustrated.

“You weren’t kidding, were you?”

Rey laughed.  “‘Fraid not.”

“Do you have a couch up there?  Or...something?”

Rey felt herself blush in the dark.

“N-no I don’t,” she stammered.

Kylo groaned.  “I’ll just sleep on the floor then.  Do you have some blankets anywhere?”

“Don’t be silly!  Get up here!”  Rey commanded, stomping her foot a little.  She was overcome by pity, that was it.  Poor man was stranded here in a blizzard, and he was going to sleep on the floor? Ridiculous!  Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Kylo was up the stairs in a flash, pillow in hand.  Rey swallowed a nervous lump in her throat when she saw that he was in his boxers and an undershirt.  She led him to her bed and pointed to the left side.

“You sleep on that side,” she stated, hoping her voice sounded even and calm to him.  It certainly didn’t to her.

Kylo tossed the pillow on the floor and crawled under the covers, curling onto his side so he faced away from her.

Rey scrambled onto the side opposite, assuming a similar position.  She switched off her reading lamp and pulled the covers up to her chin, tucking her knees close to her chest.  Her bed was a queen, but she could still feel the heat radiating off of him.  It was nice; she was always so cold.

“Thank you, Rey,” Kylo murmured in the darkness.

“Don’t get any funny ideas.  The middle of the bed is the Neutral Zone,” Rey muttered halfheartedly.

“Does that make me the Klingons or the Federation?”

Oh God, this is a horrible plan.  Or a GREAT plan.  Shut up!  “Whichever.  Goodnight.”

Kylo chuckled softly.  “Sweet dreams, Rey.”

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Pas de Deux - Obi struggles with Izana's choice of primo

Set during Chapter 9 of Pas de Deux.

“I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.”

Obi hums in agreement, warm and giddy and more relaxedthan he’s been in months. Maybe even ever. “I am,” he agrees with a solemn nod,taking another drink from the bottle. He bumps his shoulder against hersmid-swig and Torou goes down like a log. “But you, my dear, are far more than drunk.”

Her voice is muffled by her pillow. “Fuck off.”

Obi’s mouth stretches wide in a grin, stumbling to hisfeet. The room spins and he has to balance his hands on the edge of themattress for a bit, but he shuffles up enough that he can push her onto herside. “Is that any way to talk to the man that saved you from having to washvomit out of your hair?”

Torou’s face scrunches in, half angry human, half upsetkitten, and covers her eyes with her arm. “I could have handled it.”

This time, he barks his laugh and pushes himself tohis feet. He only sways a little bit. “Is that so?”

“Screw you,” she groans, peeking out from under herarm. “You cheated.”

“Libel!” he gasps, staggering across the room anddragging the tiny hotel trashcan to her bedside. “Just because I have a year onyou drinking this cheap American shit…”

“They’re trying to kill their people.” Her head rollsacross the pillow, arm curling around her skull as she buries her face. “Ittastes like battery acid.”

“You would know,” he calls, finding his way to thebathroom and squinting against the bright florescent lights. He hears hermutter something indistinguishable and is certain it was nothing polite.Grinning, he grabs a plastic cup off the counter and fills it with the tap.Hopefully it’s better quality here than his place.

She’s squinting at him when he comes back. “You’regoing?”

Obi casually sets aside the water and yanks theblanket out from under her. His smile turns vicious when she squeals in outrage,body thumping against the wall.

“Yup!”

Torou kicks at him halfheartedly when he grabs herankles, dragging her to the middle of the bed, and slipping off her shoes. She growlswhen he fans the bedding out on top of her. “You’ll get wrinkles like that,” hetaunts, covering her scowling face up to her nose.

If anything, the scowl gets deeper. “I hear a coupleof wrinkles can give a ballet instructor gravitas.”

“Your early retirement,” he clips back, tapping thepiece of paper on the bedside table. “Don’t lose this and call me to let meknow you made it through the night.”

“Yes, mother,” she mutters, sinking into the blankets.“Don’t get shanked on the way home. You gotta be famous first so people willcare about you dying.”

“I’ll tell my murder to keep that in mind.” He grabshis coat and does not sway. He just needs to balance himself against the wall.That’s all.

“Hey Obi?”

He hums, frowning down at his shoes. They were givinghim more difficulty than they should. “Yes?”

Her voice is softer than before. “Your littlegirlfriend. She’s cute.”

His lip twitches, and all at once, the lightness inhis body is heavy as wet earth. Ah, she was going to have to pay for the nextbottle. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Torou snorts. “I thought you said those glasses ofyours cured your blindness.”

~ ~ ~

He’s getting too old for this shit.

Obi stumbles down the street, tripping over unevensidewalk and scowling when his path tilts, sending him leaning into the wall.It’s hot. Too hot. He tugs at his scarf and unbuttons his coat, ice cold airfreezing the sweat against his skin. They should’ve ordered take out beforehitting the bottle.

It takes a few more blocks before the heat clears, uncomfortableas the process is, but he doesn’t get a chance to even enjoy it. One discomfortis traded for another, his bladder pressing against the pressure of his beltand, ah fuck-

Groaning, Obi leans his forearm against the building andfumbles with his pants. The metal jingles faintly when he finally manages tounthread the leather and he goes for the fly.

Cheek pressed to brick, he glances down the streetjust in time to see a powder blue and white Dodge Diplomat round the corner. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Cops are the last thing he needs.

Pushing himself up, he shoveshis hands in his pockets to keep his jeans up, jacket falling in a way that isnot overly suspicious. He takes one step, two, focusing hard on the linebetween slabs in the concrete in front of him and following it. He can hear theDodge slowing beside him and fuuuuuuuuuuuck, the last thing he needs is to haveto call Boss at two in the fucking morning to walk him out of jail. Or worse,to pull Maestro away from his pregnant wife to have him talk to immigration.

Obi stops at thecrosswalk, and the cop turns in front of him. For one breathless moment, hiseyes meet the yellow lenses of the ride-along, and then they’re gone,disappearing slowly down the street.

Obi exhales.

He winces.. Ah, hestill needs to piss.

Glancing blearily up atthe street signs, he tilts his head. Somewhere in his alcohol addled brain is acomplete map of this city and in it, he can see a little star of his location, onlythree blocks from the studio.

He can hold it.

~ ~ ~

The Wisteria Ballet Company looks lonely aftermidnight, the windows dark and the gating pulled down like the curtains whenthe final number has been called. Obi groans, rattling the metal bars. Itdoesn’t budge. And his apartment is way too far away for him to survive walkinganother step.

Fucking- that’s fine. That’s just fine. He hadn’t survivedafter his train let him off in Leningrad from just good looks alone.

It’s more difficult to do this when drunk. But thenagain, everything is more difficult to do when drunk. Except maybe fuck. Buteven that he’s not too sure about. Still, it doesn’t take long. These thingsare half for show anyhow. There’s a click and the loud pitched screech ofunoiled hinges giving way just enough for him to squeeze inside.

If he thought the outside looked lonely, it’s evenworse standing on the inside. Each of his footsteps echo in the dark, the smellof faded sweat and lycra and dreams almost ephemeral. He blinks, lost, all thelights are off save the one above the receptionist area. It glows like a spotlight,the posters above it smiling at him, all pale faces and golden hair and mockinglaughter.

His hand curls into a fist.

This was bullshit.

Whipping around on his heel so fast the room spins, hestalks towards the dressing room. All he needs is to get in, go, get out, gohome. Nurse his hangover tomorrow. Show up before anyone else. Dance betterthan any dancer ever could. Make it to another day. To another paycheck. Survive.

His head spins and he catches himself against the wall.His heart pounds inside his ears, panic blinding him. He drags in his breath,yanking his scarf clean off, and stares at the floor until his vision clears.

And then he blinks.

There’s light coming from under Maestro’s office door.

Looks like the bullshit master was still here.

He doesn’t even know what he’s done until he’s doneit. The door swings open under his hand, banging with a loud crack against thewall. Obi blanches, using his free arm to shield himself from the light. Hethought the door was heavier than that.

Maestro is bent over his deck, pen held just above hischoreography notes, and stares at him placidly. There’s not even a blot or astray line across the lines of stick figures to indicate that he was surprised.Obi is beginning to see why Boss was always so annoyed by his brother. He wasn’tnatural.

Maestro doesn’t move. “Obi.”

“I had to take a piss,” he blurts back.

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Yes. I heard youclomping about the reception area. I do hope you found the rest room.Accurately.”

His discomfort melts back into annoyance. “I haven’tmade it there yet.”

“Ah,” Maestro straightens, capping his pen and settingit perfectly parallel to his notes. “Please tell me you didn’t break anythingto get in. I don’t want to have this place looted in the morning.”

Obi’s still staring at the pen. “I picked the lock.”

“Impressive.”

“It’s a shitty lock.”

Maestro huffs. “Well. Don’t let me hold you back fromgoing on your way.”

Obi’s face twitches and it rushes him all at once. Hedoesn’t get mad. Not at other people. He doesn’t let himself get mad. And yet here he was, borderingon enraged. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Interesting,” Maestro waves his hand at his work.“Considering that it is right here in plain sight, I should be impressed byyour powers of observation-”

“This isn’t a game,” he hisses, taking another step in.“You can’t just fuck with people’s lives and expect them to just roll over.”

Maestro taps the back on his pen against the edge ofhis desk. “You’re more offensive than normal tonight. Not only in fragrance butin manners. Come back in the morning.”

Maestro takes his arm to steer him out and Obi shrugshim off. Maestro huffs, grabbing his elbow, and something inside him snaps. Inless than a second, his hands are curled in the collar of Maestro’s shirt,their faces so close that Obi can see the lines of weariness in that perfectWisteria face.

“Stop it,” he hisses. “I’m not your toy. Don’t offerme something I can’t say no to just to take it away when you’re done harassingyour brother.”

There are some things you don’t want to see drunk. They’rehard enough to see sober. The end of the barrel of a gun, for one. The newswhen your hometown is caught between two superpowers swinging their dicks. Alover in the arms of another; someone- someone better than you could ever be.And it may be a trick of the eyes, but in the space of a heartbeat, thepassivity of Maestro’s gaze flips and Obi wishes he was sober to face whateverinsanity he finds there.

He doesn’t have long to ponder the nature of hisdemise. The room flips, his ears ring, and he lands flat on his back, wheezingas the air is knocked clean out of him.

He’s still violently coughing when Izana steps overhim. “I don’t play games with my legacy.”

Obi’s fist rests against his forehead and he doesn’tknow if his abused bladder or his head are more important. He tries to pushhimself back up but the stabbing pain behind his eyes keeps him down. “Zen isyour legacy,” he manages. “Not me.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Obi lays there, cradling his head, his ears stillstinging as he waits for his vision to stop flopping around.

“Please don’t pass out in my office.”

Obi laughs, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting toshake out his brain. “Why?”

Maestro sighs, his chair squeaking as he sits backdown. Obi feels the metal in his teeth ache. “Because if I leave you hereovernight, your little prima and mine will both never let me hear the end ofit.”

“No,” Obi licks his dry teeth so his mouth can workbetter. What did Maestro even do tohim? “No, I meant, why me?”

“Because you were the best choice.”

He says it like it’s a given. Obi knows it’s not.

“Bullshit.”

Maestro sighs, long and suffering, and Obi’s head clearsenough that he can turn it, leveling a glare at the man as he straightens hisclothes. It’s with too little effort that everything seems to fall into place.

“Obi.” Maestro sounds serious now. “Do you rememberhow we met?”

A smile cracks his lips. “Of course. You are good atfirst impressions.”

Maestro doesn’t look half as amused. “I’ve seen thatdance countless times by countless performers.”

Obi scrubs his face, nodding. Yes, yes, he knew. Itwas nothing out of the ordinary. It was just common tripe.

“Your performance-” Maestro pauses, seemingly at aloss for words. “It was… the first time I wished that death hadn’t won.”

Obi stares at him. There is- He’s too drunk for this.

“Bullshit,” he whispers.

Maestro smiles, wan. “You can believe whatever youwant. But that is all the answer you are going to find here tonight.”

He’s still way too fucking drunk for this. He tearshis eyes away to stare at the ceiling.

“And Obi?”

His head is swimming. “Hmm?”

“If you ever get it in your head to bring violenceinto my office again, you won’t be leaving this studio without the aid of an ambulance.”

Obi snorts, closing his eyes. Frenchmen. So full ofthemselves. “I could…” his words come out in a slur, “take you.”

Maestro hums, but it seems so far away. “Didn’t yousay you needed to go to the bathroom?”

Obi nods. Or he thinks he does. He really did need totake a leak.

But the world was too busy fading to black.

[stardefiant-blog]

everyone is gay: the sequel // evak & magnus

even and magnus are hiding something from isak. (sequel to everyone is gay: the musical)

When both of their phones go off at the same time, it means either one of two things: 1) Eskild is telling them to keep the noise levels down, or 2) there’s a new message in the guys’ groupchat.

Since the closest contact they have with each other’s fun zones (at the present moment, at least) is Isak lying with his head in Even’s lap, Even can only assume it’s the latter.

“Ugh,” Isak says, groping the bed for his phone.

“What are they saying?” Even asks, not bothering to look up from his sketchpad—he’s just beginning to capture the way Isak’s curls splay out around his head when he lies on his back, a feat he celebrates with a mental pat on the back. His internal triumph is rather short-lived, however, as Isak sits up seconds later.

“Isak,” he whines.

“Magnus says he’s ‘cancelling on the pregame on Friday’,” Isak reads aloud. He makes a face at Even. “Did we even have a pregame set for Friday?”

Even shrugs. “First time I’m hearing about it.”

Isak sighs and flops back down into Even’s lap, peering up at him with a pout and, yeah, okay, his drawing can wait.

Even puts the sketchbook aside to card his fingers through Isak’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s been…weird towards me,” says Isak. “Lately.”

Even’s hand stills. “How so?”

“Like,” Isak wiggles around until he’s lying on his back, blowing air at the ceiling. “Alright, so, the other day—he was talking to Jonas at his locker about something, and when I walked up, he just went ‘bye’ and walked away without even looking at me.”

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

“And in the groupchat, he responds to everyone but me. Until now, which…” Isak waves the phone in his hand, dejection etched into the crease between his brows.

Well, fuck. This puts Even in an awkward spot, nestled somewhere in between being loyal to his friend and keeping up with his boyfriend duties of not letting Isak feel like shit, ever. Even hates this spot. Hates it, quite possibly, more than he hates Michael Bay movies.

“I can’t help but think that I did something wrong,” Isak finishes.

“I’m sure it’s nothing you did,” Even tries—weakly, his futile attempt at providing comfort paired with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Just let him have his space, baby. He’ll come back around.“

It only takes Isak a few moments to squint at him, and Even has to give it to him, he’s become damn good at reading Even like a book. A little too good.

“Do you know something I don’t?” He asks.

If only you knew, Even thinks.

“About Magnus?” Even huffs, pushing the hair back from Isak’s forehead. “Does anyone ever know what’s going on with him?”

“You do.” Isak sits up, plants himself right in Even’s lap instead. “You totally know why he’s been avoiding me.”

Even goes rigid, and he’s already running a list of lies to tell him (“he wants dating advice”, “he needs recommendations for artsy porn”, “it’s a bipolar thing”) through his head when Isak leans in close, crowding Even back against the wall.

“It’s because you’re having an affair with him, isn’t it?”

Even’s mouth pops open with a laugh. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Isak pokes him in the chest, “I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

“I…you caught me,” Even puts his hands up, “I just could not resist that persistent staring.”

Isak wrinkles his nose. “Makes sense that he’s the new man of your life, then. You’re both desperate.”

“Excuse me?! Desperate?”

“Yeah,” Isak says, like it’s so obviously true. “How long do you think it’ll be before he starts stealing tissues to get laid?”

Even makes a noise. He can’t believe this. He’s being brutally attacked by the sweetest seventeen-year-old in existence, attacked. “That—was not desperation, that was a last resort.”

“It was desperate,” Isak confirms, before stealing a kiss from him, then two, then three. He pulls away before there can be a fourth one, and Even chases his lips as he sits back against Even’s thighs.

So Even is a little desperate.

“You know you’re the only one,” he murmurs.

Isak hums, doing that scrunched-faced thing that makes Even’s heart feel like it’s going to burst out of his chest. “I don’t know. Do I?”

Even smiles.

(He thinks that by the end of the night, the answer is pretty clear.) 

***

When Friday rolls around, there’s still no pregame, but Magnus does manage to catch Even by himself at lunch again. Even really needs to think of an excuse to give when he asks Isak if they can start eating in the bathroom alone, he thinks.

“Even,” Magnus says with purpose, leaning over the table, his palms flat on the lacquered surface.

“Are you about to interrogate me?” Even asks him, lips quirking. Considering the events that occurred the last time they met like this, he’s only half-joking.

“So I read the articles, right,” Magnus continues, grabbing the seat next to him, “and it seems to be the case that I might be bisexual.”

“Oh. Congratulations?”

“But, then!” Magnus points at him. “After I read the articles, I took a quiz online, and the results told me that I’m ‘open-minded’.”

Even opens his mouth to respond, and as per usual, Magnus interrupts him with a groan, burying his face in his folded arms. “Ugh, I don’t know what that means! First there’s bisexual, then pansexual, now open-minded? Where does that even fall on the LGBLT?”

“Magnus,” Even laughs. “An online quiz isn’t going to tell you what your sexuality is. Believe me, I’ve tried that approach.”

Magnus picks his head up to shoot him a helpless look. “You have?”

Even nods. “More times than I’d like to admit,” he says. “And all I learned from it was that a couple of psychometrically invalid quizzes weren’t going to know who I was any better than I did.”

Magnus frowns. “Is psychometrically a sexuality, too?”

“All I’m saying,” Even ignores him, “is that it’s okay not to have a clear idea in your head right now. That’s completely normal. What matters is that you come to that conclusion on your own, when you feel that the timing is right, because you’re the only person who gets a say in who you’re attracted to.”

By the time he finishes, Magnus’s eyes are wide. “You’re so wise,” he whispers.

Even shrugs. He is kind of like the bisexual Obi-Wan to Magnus’s Luke, isn’t he?

“But,” Magnus sits up, “how do I come to that conclusion, then? Because I really don’t want to wait until I have another dream about banging Isak.”

“What?”

They both glance up in perfect sync, two pairs of eyes going wide and two mouths dropping open at the sudden materialization of the man, himself.

“Isak!” Magnus squeaks. “Even was just telling me about the sex dream he had about you last night.” He punches Even’s arm a little too hard, pushes himself up from the table a little too quickly. “Hot stuff. Like, wow. Wow, guys. You should definitely reconsider marketing that shit to NRK. Minute by minute, right? The eighteen-rated version. Ha ha. Okay, bye.”

He all but darts out of the room at speeds that could make Road Runner green with envy, leaving a very speechless Even alone with a very pissed off Isak.

When Even regains his ability to speak, it’s only because the heat of Isak’s glare has thawed his frozen vocal chords. “Okay, that was not—”

“I’m getting food,” Isak mumbles, whirling around and heading straight for the door. Even sighs.

This isn’t what he’d meant by wanting to eat alone. 

***

When they’re heading to the tram after school, Isak tightrope walks on a ledge that sticks up beside the sidewalk. It’s cute, because it makes him taller than Even, but also not cute, because Isak refuses to hold his hand.

Nah, who is Even kidding; it’s still cute. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s bummed about it.

“Baby,” is all he says, and Isak points a finger at him without looking up from his feet.

“Don’t. I’m mad at you.”

“I didn’t tell Magnus about any sex dream,” Even tells him. “I would never.”

“It’s not about the sex dream thing.” Isak pauses. “Well, it’s kind of about the sex dream thing, because you have literally no idea how much fantasy material that would give him.”

Even nearly chokes.

“But I’m mad about the fact that—” Isak huffs. “I’m mad about the fact that you guys are hiding something from me, and you won’t tell me what it is. And I expect that from him, but you? We’re supposed to be honest with each other.”

“Hey,” Even says, stopping dead in his tracks. He reaches for Isak’s hand and coaxes him down from the ledge. “Hey, look at me.”

Isak does, and Even has to stifle a laugh at the deadpan look of annoyance written all over his face. Even cups that face in his hands, because annoyed or not, this is his. Holy shit, he still can’t believe it’s his, sometimes.

“What?” Isak asks all grouchily, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Even gives him a gentle shake, “I promise. Magnus told me something in confidentiality and it’s not mine to tell, but I promise you, it’s not that we’re just purposely trying to keep things from you.”

Isak gives him the tiniest of smiles, and Even’s grows so wide it feels like it could split his face in two. There you are.

“Do you believe me?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “I guess so.”

Even has to hold himself back from fist-pumping—he made a promise that he’d stop doing that in public.

“You guess so,” he teases, wrapping his arms around Isak’s middle. Isak falls into him with a huff.

“Okay, but,” Isak says into his shoulder, “why was Magnus saying something about banging me when I walked up to the table, then?”

“I—”

“Guys!”

Isak jerks away when he sees a blur of blond racing toward them. “Magnus?”

“Isak,” Magnus breathes. “Even. I need to tell you guys something. Well, mainly—” He stops and puts his hands on his knees. “Mainly Isak. I need to tell Isak something.”

“Right now?” Isak says.

“Right now?” Even repeats through clenched teeth. Is he really doing this?

Magnus heaves a deep breath. “Oh, fuck, I should have participated more in PE.”

“Magnus,” Even says, warning in his tone.

“Can’t you just say it, then?” Isak asks. “We have a tram to catch.”

Magnus straightens (ha ha) himself out, face flushed and contorted in pain. Even’s decided that the best course of action for him to take is bracing himself, at this point, both for Magnus’s undoubtedly graceless confession and Isak’s—also undoubtedly—angry reaction.

“Isak,” Magnus says, “you know I’m one of your best bros. And that I’d never do anything to hurt you, o-or make you upset, at least not on purpose.”

Isak sucks in a breath. Even closes his eyes.

“It’s just that—it’s been eating me up inside for a week now, and I feel so bad, like I’ve violated you, or something.”

“What the fuck,” Isak says, voice trembling. “Magnus, what did you do?”

“I—Even didn’t have a sex dream about you. Or, maybe he did. I don’t know his life. But…” No no no no no— “Earlier, at lunch, it was me who…I had the sex dream.”

And, there it is. Even opens his eyes, if only to gauge Isak’s reaction, see if he needs to physically hold him back from lunging at Magnus.

Magnus just keeps going. “I swear, I didn’t mean to! I don’t see you like that. I’m not sure if I even see guys like that—yet, but Even’s been helping me and giving me all these cool articles to read and if I do then we could all be, like, the Into Dudes Squad and have secret meetings and handshakes, and—”

He stops abruptly, when Isak’s shoulders start to shake. Isak’s got his face in his hand now and he’s just shaking, and whether it’s with rage or tears or both, Even can’t tell.

“Isak?”

Isak tips his head back, and a loud, bright laugh rips through him. He’s laughing so hard that it’s nearly soundless, tears gathering in his eyes for much different reasons than Even had originally anticipated.

Magnus frowns. “What’s so funny?”

“You—” Isak chokes on a breath. “You had a sex dream about me? Seriously?”

Even puts a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at the way Magnus’s jaw drops.

“It was an accident!” Magnus exclaims. “I had no control over it!”

Even snorts. He can’t help it. He tried, but he can’t help it, it’s all so horribly entertaining.

Isak thumbs at his eyes. “Ah, fuck—is this because I told you you’re the last person I’d have sex with? Did it really affect you that much?”

Magnus’s mouth twists with frustration. “I’m going home, now.”

“No—Magnus,” Isak says, once the giggles have died down. “I don’t care. Jesus Christ, it was a dream. Am I supposed to get angry with dream-you for banging dream-me?”

God, Even thinks with a sigh. He could kiss him right here, right now.

Magnus perks up at that, gives Isak a sheepish grin. “Sooo…we’re cool?”

Isak just looks between him and Even, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Even and I were just about to grab kebab, actually, so…if you wanted to join? For our first ‘Into Dudes Squad’ meeting?”

“Uh, yeah,” Magnus lifts his hands for a double high-five, “I am so down.”

“And maybe while we’re eating you can tell me whether I was the man or the woman? When you were banging me in your dream?”

“Fuck,” Magnus groans, as the laughter starts all over again. “Forget it. Forget I ever said anything.”

He starts to walk away, and Even fixes his boyfriend with a look, brows raised and all.

Isak rolls his eyes. “I’ll go invite him for real.”

“Atta boy,” says Even, giving him a quick peck before he runs off after Magnus.

Even smiles to himself. He gets to hit that, when they get home. Him.

And that’s so much better than any dream.