#swatch snippet

[myrleius]

the pageant (snippets!) — bakugo k.

bakugo k. x calm fem!reader│word count: 2.9k

synopsis: For their last school festival, Class B challenges Class A to join them in the pageant. With yn as their chosen representative, Bakugo was more than ready to make sure she wins.

cw/tags: fluff, established relationship

“Me?” yn asked, blinking slowly.

What was meant to be a relaxed evening of festival planning between Class A and Class B quickly turned competitive. 

Kendo had started telling stories about pageant preparations when Monoma, ever the instigator, had cut in with that infuriating smirk. “Funny how Class A’s never even tried the pageant. What’s the matter? No one pretty enough?”

And just like that, the gauntlet was thrown.

Mina, never one to back down from a challenge, had been the first to rise to the bait. Now she pointed excitedly at yn, who sat next to Bakugo, nursing a cup of tea, blissfully detached from the brewing storm.

“You’d be perfect,” Mina gushed. “You’re gorgeous, super chill, and you’ve got that ‘mysterious but approachable’ energy that pageant judges would totally eat up.”

“Are you all serious?” Bakugo spoke up. He had been quiet this whole time, clearly uninterested in whatever dumb rivalry Monoma was trying to stir up. “You’re really going to let this extra provoke—”

“Sure,” yn said simply, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “Could be fun.”

Bakugo turned to her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Why not? It’s our last year.”

Monoma’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?” He let out a theatrical laugh. “Well, if that’s your choice, I suppose there’s no harm.”

Bakugo stiffened.

“What’d you say?” he asked, his tone dangerously low.

But Monoma didn’t back down. “Just being realistic. You can’t expect someone like her to keep up with someone like Kendo.”

"MONOMA, YOU IDIOT—!" Kendo launched herself at her classmate, delivering a swift karate chop to his shoulder

But the damage was done. 

Something in Bakugo’s expression changed, a familiar fire igniting in his crimson eyes. He stood up slowly, cracking his knuckles.

“You’re on,” he said, voice firm. “We’re entering, babe. You’re winning that damn crown.”

Yn merely picked her tea back up, hiding a smile behind the rim of her cup. “Guess we’re doing this then.”

The next morning, Bakugo personally took charge, dragging everyone to the common room and barking orders.

“Alright, extras. Listen up! This ain’t a damn pageant. This is war, and we are not losing to those Class B losers!”

“Ooooh, Bakugo’s invested,” Mina beamed.

Bakugo ignored her comment and started pointing at everyone. “Racoon Eyes, Invisibitch—you’re on make-up! Shitty Hair, Flat Face—props! Ponytail, you’re with me on wardrobe! Dunce Face—you stay far away from anything important!”

“Rude!” Kaminari yelped, clearly offended.

Yn bumped her shoulder lightly against Bakugo’s. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Bakugo shoved her back with equal lightness. “Shut up. And get your ass moving too!”

Bakugo slammed three different fabric swatches onto the common room table, making the coffee cups rattle. “Charmeuse is the only option. Anything else is garbage.”

Momo frowned, holding up a shimmering sequin. “But this would catch the light beautifully—”

“IT LOOKS LIKE A DAMN DISCO BALL. NEXT.”

Yn yawned, resting her head on her arms. “I liked the disco ball idea.”

Bakugo flicked her forehead. “You’re not helping. And go to bed.”

Jiro strummed the final chord on her guitar, nodding as yn sang the chorus flawlessly. “Damn, you’ve got pipes.”

Yn huffed a laugh, reaching for her water bottle. “Only because you’re playing along. I’ve got nothing compared to you.”

Jiro set her guitar aside, uncrossing her legs. “Seriously, why don’t you sing for the live performances?”

A shrug. “I honestly didn’t know I could. Katsuki’s the one who mentioned it.”

Jiro’s eyes widened. “Wait. Bakugo pointed it out?” Then a slow grin spread across her face. “How’d that even come up?”

Yn blinked. “I, uh, hum sometimes. When we’re… napping.”

Jiro’s smirk turned lethal. “Oh my god. You lullaby him.”

“And… I regret telling you,” yn said with a sigh.

Jiro cackled, kicking her legs like an excited kid. “That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.” She flipped over and grabbed her phone. “Mina’s gonna lose her mind!”

Yn lunged at her. “Hey, Jiro! No!”

Bakugo watched as yn took one more wobbly step in the strappy heels Momo had made before immediately grabbing him for support.

“Yeah… I don’t think I can do this,” she declared, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“But they’re perfect!” Mina said. “Look at your legs!”

“Look at my ankles,” yn shot back, gripping Bakugo’s shoulders for dear life. “They’re about to snap.”

Bakugo slowly knelt down, his fingers gently undoing the straps. “Told you. Ditch the death traps.”

“But she looks so pretty in—” Uraraka protested.

“She’s wearing shorter heels. Just make ‘em pointed so she’d look taller,” he announced, tossing the heels aside.

“Hey!” Momo yelped as she caught them.

Monoma, disguised in a terrible wig, peeked into the stage where yn was practicing.

Kaminari spotted him instantly. “Uh, guys? We’ve got a spy.”

Bakugo didn’t even look up. “Flat Face.”

Sero grinned, happily taping Monoma up, while Shoji picked him up, ready to dump him in Class B’s dorm.

Yn waved as they passed her. “Tell Kendo I said good luck!”

Yn pushed open the common room door, blinking at the unexpected sight of Bakugo hunched over the sofa, papers in hand.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked, sitting in the space beside him.

Bakugo shifted slightly to make room without looking up. “Still rehearsing for the live show.”

“And… you’re not playing the drums?” yn asked, leaning back onto the couch.

“Tch. Already nailed my part,” he muttered, finally tossing the papers onto the coffee table and slumping back. “They’re just screwing around now.”

Yn hummed, letting the silence settle between them. The easy kind that only existed when it was just the two of them.

She inched closer, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. 

Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He leaned into the contact, his cheek brushing against her hair.

“Missed you,” he grumbled.

Yn laughed. “Katsuki, we share classes, a dorm, and now this pageant thing. I see you more than my own reflection.”

“With the extras,” he emphasized, nose wrinkling.

“Aww,” she cooed, playfully poking his side. “You wanted me all to yourself.”

Bakugo huffed, a flush creeping up his neck. “Shut up.”

Grinning, yn removed her slippers and curled up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she looped an arm around his. “Well…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, heart thudding in her chest. “You’ve got me now.”

Bakugo turned, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips. “Yeah?”

Yn nodded, her smile soft. “I missed you too.”

Bakugo’s expression softened. His hand rose to cup her cheek, rough fingers gentle against her skin. When she leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering close for a second, Bakugo looked at her like she was the only thing in his world.

He tilted her chin up, slowly closing the space between them. Their eyes slipped shut, breaths mingling as their lips finally—

“Hey, Bakugo! We’re back!” Kirishima’s voice rang out, the door slamming open.

Bakugo groaned, jerking away. He slumped back against the couch, scowling at the ceiling in silent, dramatic defeat.

The notification buzzed against yn's palm as she lay curled in bed, the glow of her phone painting soft light across her face. She didn't need to look at the sender to know who it was.

Stop scrolling through your damn phone and sleep.

A quiet laugh escaped her as she typed back, How do you know I'm scrolling?

The reply came instantly. Because you replied immediately.

Yn smiled, adjusting against her pillows. Maybe I'm meditating.

Bullshit. You're looking at memes.

She glanced at the image still open on her screen—a cat wearing a tiny, lopsided crown—and sent it without hesitation. Okay, but this one's good.

Her phone lit up with his response, the letters practically vibrating with indignation even through text. THAT'S LITERALLY JUST A CAT.

A royal cat, she corrected.

Go. To. Bed.

Can't. Too busy manifesting my victory.

The next message contained a single image: an alarm clock set for 5 AM with the caption ‘WAKE YN UP.’

Meanie, she sent, already dreading the early hour.

You'll thank me when you're not yawning on stage tomorrow.

Yn sighed, knowing he was right but unwilling to admit it. Fine. But only because you're cute when you're bossy.

The bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared. Finally—

You'll kill it tomorrow. If anyone says anything bad about you, I’ll blow ‘em up.

Her breath caught, thumb hovering over the screen. She smiled and sent her response.

I know I will. But thanks, Katsuki. Love you.

GO TO SLEEP.

Yn chuckled, about to turn her phone face down on the nightstand when Bakugo sent another message.

Love you too.

Yn stepped onto the stage, quiet and composed, mic in hand. Her presence alone was enough to hush the crowd. She paused at the center, took a breath, and closed her eyes.

From the back of the crowd, Bakugo stood with his arms crossed, gaze fixed on her. Her face glowed on the giant screen behind her, casting her features in a soft, angelic glow. 

Then the music began.

She began to sway to the melody, and when the moment came, she opened her eyes. Her voice followed, gentle and warm, filling the space like sunlight. 

The crowd didn’t dare move. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like polite silence. But Bakugo knew better. They were captivated. Hooked.

He smirked, pride swelling in his chest. Atta girl.

The song swelled with sentiment, a delicate ballad that mirrored her soft delivery. But then, without warning, it began to rain.

Gasps echoed. A few umbrellas popped open in the audience. Bakugo’s entire body went tense, instinctively stepping forward, already half-ready to shield her.

But yn didn’t flinch.

Instead, she stepped into it, letting the droplets catch in her hair, cling to her skin, trailing down her cheek like tears.

She turned slightly, just enough to angle her body toward the light, the water shimmering like it was part of the act. Her voice never wavered, staying smooth and steady.

Bakugo blinked. Then, he saw it.

That small tilt of her head. That calculated pause in her breath. The barely-there smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

She was guiding the moment, twisting the sudden downpour to make her performance more dramatic. She pulled their hearts with gentle precision, painting herself as this fragile, ethereal heroine.

And they were eating it up.

Bakugo scoffed, grinning to himself.

He knew better though.

Underneath that calm exterior, yn was competitive as hell.

She just hid it better than most.

Like how she always walked just a little faster whenever Sato brought out fresh cookies, slipping through their rowdy classmates like it was nothing, but always managing to snag the first one.

Or how she’d lean back and smile during game nights, cool as ever, until someone beats her in Mario Kart. Then suddenly, she’d be sitting forward, knees tucked up, focus lazer-sharp.

He’d seen it in training too. She’d nod absently when given instructions, like she was barely paying attention. But the second someone started getting ahead of her, her punches got sharper, her footwork quicker.

And she never backed down.

Not even when Bakugo dared her to eat the spicy noodles he made just to mess with her. She’d just stare at him, eyes watering, and eat the whole damn bowl out of spite.

She just hated to lose.

And that was one of the first things he ever loved about her.

The crowd probably saw an angel.

But all he saw was her.

Then, mid-verse, she looked up.

Right at him.

The connection hit fast. Strong. Like she'd reached straight through the crowd and found him exactly where he stood.

The mic hovered close to her lips.

The next line was supposed to be a tender, heartfelt I love you. A perfect romantic finish, made to be sung.

But she didn’t sing it.

Instead, she spoke. Changing the words, uttering it so softly. Like a secret passed only to him.

“Thank you.”

The word whispered through the speakers, yet somehow it was louder than everything else.

The crowd melted.

But Bakugo didn’t move. He couldn’t.

His heart was pounding, loud and erratic in his ears, drowning out the cheers.

He never believed in soulmates or any of that mushy crap. That wasn’t them.

He and yn weren’t some fairytale couple. They were two stubborn, messy people who’d somehow figured out how to make it work. No sparks or fate—just time, effort, and a whole lot of understanding.

Their relationship wasn’t built on sweet words or perfect moments. It was built on them showing up. On backing each other up. On knowing when to push and when to just be there.

And right now, standing there soaked in rain, watching her express her gratitude so beautifully—Bakugo felt it. All of it.

Up there wasn’t just his girlfriend doing some cutesy stage performance.

That was his person. His partner.

The one person who called him out, kept him in check, pushed him to be better—but never once asked him to be someone he wasn’t.

And he didn’t know what the future looked like after graduation, or what kind of shit they’d face out in the world.

But he knew one thing for sure:

He wasn’t letting her go.

Yn barely had time to adjust her crooked crown before the Bakusquad descended like vultures, hungry for drama.

“OHHHH, LOOK WHO'S EATING HIS WORDS NOW—” Kaminari howled, slinging an arm around Monoma's stiff shoulders.

“Funny,” Sero mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I could've sworn someone said we ‘lacked elegance’—”

Monoma's eye twitched. “I believe I said refinement—”

“YET HERE WE ARE!” Mina spun in front of him with a dramatic flourish, gesturing toward yn’s glittering crown. “This queen just wiped the floor with you. In the rain, no less!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Yn stepped forward with a sigh, trying—and failing—to hide the amused sparkle in her eyes. “We shouldn’t rub it in…”

She paused.

Then pulled out her phone, the screen already glowing. “...without proper documentation!”

The Bakusquad erupted.

“OHHHHHH!!!”

“SHE’S ARCHIVING THE SHAME!!!”

“SEND THAT TO THE CLASS CHAT!!!”

Bakugo, trailing just behind her, let out a bark of laughter. He leaned over her shoulder, fingers zooming in on Monoma’s scowl. “Hold still, Knockoff.”

Monoma looked ready to combust. “This is harassment!”

Kirishima, barely containing his own laughter, grinned widely. “Yn use the clown filter. For accuracy.”

Kendo, watching the chaos with amused resignation, shook her head. “You're all terrible.”

“We learned from the best,” yn replied sweetly, passing her phone to Kirishima and patting Monoma on the shoulder with mock sympathy. “Thanks for the inspiration. You’ve been great for morale.”

Kendo chuckled and stepped in, offering a hand. “Seriously, though. You were incredible.”

Yn’s smirk softened. She took Kendo’s hand, squeezing it. “Thanks. You were amazing too. Had me sweating for a second. You made the competition tough.”

Kendo grinned and pulled her into a quick, warm hug. “Coming from you? That means a lot.”

They parted with a shared look of respect before Kendo dragged a sputtering Monoma off by the collar, still mid-rant.

Then, finally, yn let the tension drain from her shoulders. She turned and collapsed into Bakugo’s side, face buried in his chest.

“Carry me,” she mumbled into his shirt, her voice muffled and sleepy.

Bakugo let out a low chuckle, wrapping an arm around her. “Yeah, yeah. I got you, princess.”

The stars were out. Quiet, for once.

Yn climbed the stairs slowly, her sweater sleeves pulled over her hands. She found him exactly where she expected—leaning against the railing, arms folded, gaze turned skyward.

“You avoiding the party?” she asked, voice light.

Bakugo didn’t look at her. “Tch. Too loud.”

She joined him at the railing, shoulder brushing his.

“I can’t celebrate my win without my coach, y’know,” she teased, glancing up at him.

That earned a small scoff. “You didn’t win ‘cause of me.”

“I didn’t win without you either,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond at first, just stared ahead, jaw tight. Then—

“You were amazing,” he said, almost grudgingly. “Stupidly amazing.”

Yn smiled. “You’re getting better at compliments.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but his ears were definitely pink.

Silence followed, settling comfortably between them, soft and familiar.

“But I was a bit scared, you know,” yn admitted after a moment.

Bakugo snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Could’ve fooled me.”

She bumped his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious, jerk.” Then, more quietly, her expression softened. “I kept looking for you.”

Something flickered in his eyes. The distance between them diminished.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice low.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

This time, when they leaned in, there was no hesitation. Her fingers curled into his hoodie, his fingers hovered near her jaw, and the rooftop felt quieter than it had all night.

Their noses brushed, lips just about to meet—

“Yo! There you guys are!”

Bakugo’s forehead fell to yn’s shoulder with a low, agonized groan.

“Shitty Hair,” he growled, not even turning around. “I swear to god—”

“I just came to tell you there’s cake!” Kirishima grinned from the door, completely unbothered. “But hey, don’t stop on my account—”

“Kirishima.”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!”

He disappeared back down the stairs, laughing.

Yn pressed a hand to her mouth, giggling into her palm. “Next time then,” she whispered, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah… fuck that,” Bakugo muttered, before tugging her in by the waist. “C’mere.”

[consolecadet]

Trash Painting #15

2025

Waste acrylic and glitter glue on reclaimed wood panel

In my series 'Trash Paintings', I only use materials left over from other art projects—unused acrylic paint lingering on the palette, sheets of half-dried glue from the morning after a papier-mache session, snippets of cardboard picked off the floor. Creating with waste emboldens me to explore textures and compositions I'm scared will be ugly. What's the worst that could happen? It's already trash. This trash painting uses leftover paint from a swatch test and glitter glue that arrived half-dried because the seal was broken.

[synity]

hii can u write dk & woozi's sis who's a soloist + producer ? snippets of their life + carats making edits of them (were seen tgt in the green room & dk looks at them like they hung the stars) and cute interviews abt them

STARGAZER

(Lee Seokmin x FemReader ft.Lee Jihoon)

*Romance, Slice of Life, Rom-Com, Fluff, Idolverse AU, RPF (Real Person Fiction)*

[Green Room, Music Bank – 3:42 PM]

Seokmin sits in the green room, nervously adjusting his mic. He’s half-listening to his members when Y/N walks in, holding a tray of iced drinks with a shy smile.

Y/N: “Oppa told me you like peach oolong. Here.”

Seokmin lights up, eyes practically sparkling like he just won the lottery.

DK: “You’re the best… like actually. I mean—wow, thank you, angel.”

His voice cracks slightly and the staff behind the camera stifle giggles. Jihoon, who had been sitting next to them, raises an eyebrow.

Woozi: “I’m still here, just so you both remember.”

DK: “And I appreciate you too, hyung! Great genetics in the family!”

The interaction goes viral on X (Twitter), with CARATs captioning it:

“DK looking at Y/N like they hung the stars 😭✨ #SEOKYNDY #YNDK”

[Interview with Jihoon – Radio Appearance]

DJ: “So, Jihoon-ssi, we heard a cute rumor that your younger sibling is dating SEVENTEEN’s DK?”

Jihoon smirks, shaking his head.

Woozi: “They’re… loud together.”

laughter

Woozi: “But I trust Seokmin. He’s one of the kindest people I know. If it weren’t him, I might be in jail by now.”

[A CARAT-Made Edit: “He’s So Whipped 💘”]

🎞️ Soft music plays over a montage:

DK walking behind Y/N with a hand on her back protectively.

Y/N giving him a forehead kiss before a stage.

DK’s literal heart-eyes when she walks into a rehearsal room.

A fancam clip where he mouths “I love you” during “Fallin’ Flower” directly at her.

Caption: “This man looks at her like she’s his whole galaxy 🥹🪐🌟”

[YouTube Interview: “What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done?”]

DK: “I once wrote a song just using her laugh. I recorded it secretly.”

Host: “That’s… wow.”

DK: “She has this laugh that sounds like wind chimes. Jihoon hyung helped me mix it into the bridge.”

[Text From Y/N’s Private IG Story (Leaked by DK 😂)]

📸 Photo of DK in pajamas holding a cat plushie.

Caption:

“He showed up at my door like this after practice just to say goodnight.” 😭❤️

[Woozi’s Vlive Clip]

Woozi: “I was mixing a track and Seokmin kept smiling at his phone.”

Chat goes: [DK & YN texting?]

Woozi: “Turns out she sent him a video of their dog sleeping. He watched it on loop for 10 minutes.”

[MCountdown Ending Fairy]

Y/N is backstage cheering. DK glances over as he finishes the final pose and breaks into the softest smile.

Camera zooms in.

“That smile wasn’t for the fans this time… 😭🫶 #SeokYNDyForever”

One Quiet Afternoon — DK x Y/N ft. Woozi

The Pledis lounge was unusually quiet that day. Rain trickled down the windows, soft and steady, a rhythm almost matching the calm inside.

Y/N sat curled up on the new gray couch, laptop on her knees, frowning slightly as she scrolled through color palettes for a stage outfit she was designing. Her glasses kept slipping down, and she kept pushing them up with the back of her hand.

DK walked in with two mugs one slightly chipped, filled with hot cocoa, and the other with tea. He placed the cocoa on the small table next to her and plopped down beside her with a little bounce.

"Your eyebrows are doing that thing again," he said.

Y/N glanced at him. "What thing?"

"Like…" He leaned closer, gently smoothing her brow with his thumb. "Like you’re trying to win a frowning contest with yourself."

She huffed a quiet laugh, eyes returning to her screen. "I just can’t pick between this navy or the darker blue. Jihoon’s stage lighting might wash it out."

DK leaned his chin on her shoulder, studying the swatches. "That one," he pointed lazily, “darker blue. He always uses warm-toned lights anyway.”

Y/N blinked. "Since when do you know lighting setups?"

DK grinned. "Since I fell for a genius and started paying attention."

Y/N blushed and looked away.

Suddenly, a quiet voice cut through the peace.

"Can you both shut up?" Woozi muttered from the corner, sprawled out on a beanbag with his AirPods in. "Some of us are actually working."

DK grinned wider. "Some of us are trying to have a cute moment, hyung."

"Try quieter," Woozi grumbled, but didn’t get up. Didn’t even look mad, really.

DK gently took Y/N’s laptop and set it aside, replacing it with the warm mug.

“You work too hard,” he said softly, nudging her head to rest on his shoulder. “Let me do the frowning today.”

She didn’t reply just smiled into her cocoa, sipping in silence while the rain tapped against the windows and Woozi mumbled about deadlines in the background.

Want me to write a version where fans somehow witness this moment from afar? Or a similar one from DK’s point of view?

One Quiet Afternoon

The cocoa warmed Y/N’s hands. DK’s shoulder was warm too solid, familiar. She let her head rest there a little longer.

“You smell like vanilla,” she mumbled.

Dokyeom huckled. “That’s my body wash. I bought it because the name reminded me of you.”

She turned her head slightly. “So I’m… a body wash now?”

He beamed. “No, you’re vanilla cloud comfort essence, obviously.”

Y/N groaned. “Seokmin, you’re impossible.”

“Impossibly cute?”

“Impossibly dramatic.”

Mingyu groaned louder from his beanbag, still not moving. “I beg you. I’m not even trying to third-wheel. You’re just making it impossible to exist in peace.”

Y/N giggled quietly while DK leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “He’s just mad I’m cuter than him.”

“I heard that,” Joshua muttered without opening his eyes.

Dokyeom looked over at both Joshua and Woozi with a sly grin, then back to Y/N. “Wanna sneak out and get tteokbokki before practice? the Hyung won’t even notice.”

“we're literally in the room,” Woozi said flatly.

Dokyeom grinned wider. “But you’re emotionally absent.”

Y/N nearly snorted her cocoa.

They didn’t leave right away. They just sat there for a bit longer DK quietly humming something under his breath, Y/N sketching lazy lines on her screen with her finger, Joshua reading a mazine and Woozi pretending to ignore them all while secretly smiling behind his AirPods.

The rain kept falling, soft and steady.

Outside, a few CARATs lingered by the entrance under umbrellas. One of them spotted the trio through the slightly open blinds Dokyeom's head tilted toward Y/N, her laugh caught mid-motion, and Woozi glaring like a fed-up cat.

The photo would surface on Twitter later with the caption:

"Dokyeom looking at Y/N like she’s his entire sky and Woozi silently regretting introducing them 😭💙☔ #Seokmin #Woozi #Y/N #caratlife"

But inside that lounge?

It was just a quiet afternoon.

No lights. No fans. No edits. Just them. Normal. Soft. Home.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

If Halo gives me lore, by dog, I am going to play with it.

Last night I got a couple hundred more words on the MRE fic done and then as I was falling asleep after the second Cat Event my brain went " we know the next part of the Miller/Esparza thing". I cannot rest and I cannot focus on one thing at a time

[aira-cc]

Functional Clock & Pacifier for Infants

Hi!! Since I will be out of town for about 2 weeks and will not have access to a pc during this period, I wanted to share these before I go. Functional artist clock I promised a long time ago and my first CAS cc !! Suprise ☆⸜(⑉˙ᗜ˙⑉)⸝♡ I've tried to make cas content before but never shared them. I am very excited to share it for the first time. The clock is functional thanks to lot51's sunrise mod and the pacifier is the cas version of the one in ''Baby Set Part 1''.

The Clock:

♡ 8 Swatches | 1k Polys

♡ Custom specular maps    

The Pacifier:

♡ 12 Swatches | 2.4k Polys

♡ Disallow for random

♡ Necklace category    

♡ All LODs 

Additional Info:

BGC

Tagged swatches

Custom thumbnails

What you should know

✧ For artist clock to be functional, first, download the functional clock file from this post then download lot51's sunrise mod here. Put them directly into your mods folder. I can’t thank @lot51 enough for the helpful explanation, ready-made snippet, and for letting me use the mod🌼

✧ Please either use the decorative clock from ''The Artist in Me'' set or the functional clock here. Do not use both at the same time.

You can quickly access build/buy cc by searching “artist” or “aira” in the game. Since this is the first cas cc, there may be issues. Please let me know if there are any. Hope you enjoy them!!

♡ Download on Patreon(Free)

[lovelyhan]

— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢

at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1k words

★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)

★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers. 

Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening. 

Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—

“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”

You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips. 

But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line. 

Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.

“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”

“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”

He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”

“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”

“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.  

“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.” 

Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”

“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”

All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.

With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.

But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?

“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”

“In what way does it concern you?” you grit. 

The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.” 

You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.

But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.

“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”

Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste. 

But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him. 

This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast. 

You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…

Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

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[silverskye13]

small, zero pressure nudge (feel free to ignore/delete), are you still working on the 'guish and helsknight fake dating ficlet?

Deepest apologies dear heart I'm not working on anything right now. But you can have a snippet of what I got done previously if you like:

"You want to order me an outfit?" Tanguish asked, bemused. "Are you... Sure?"

"Were you planning on pulling a new dress suit out of nowhere?" Helsknight asked matter-of-factly, ushering in a rather stuffy looking tailor. They immediately opened a bag they'd been carrying and started pulling out supplies: measuring tape, types of fabric and color swatches.

"Well... No."

"Then we'll get one made." Helsknight shrugged. "I have to get one done anyway. Might as well take your measurements at the same time."

Tanguish squinted at the knight suspiciously. Helsknight hadn't said anything about getting himself an outfit made, and he knew the knight's utilitarian nature. If he could get away with wearing one he already owned, he would have.

"You scared I'll embarrass you by picking out something you don't like?" Tanguish asked, trying not to sound betrayed. "Ruin your networking."

Helsknight surprised him by laughing. "I'm the Champion, Tanguish. I'm not networking with anyone. They're networking with me. But, no, I don't think you would pick out something embarrassing."

Tanguish glanced at the tailor, who he thought was doing a great job at pretending to still be busy. "Uhm... Why all this then?"

"You wanted the once-in-a-lifetime gala experience, didn't you?"

"I wanted to see the fancy party and eat the fancy food."

The tailor hid an amused snort, and dug for more fabric that probably didn't exist in their bag.

"This is part of the fancy party experience," Helsknight smirked.

"But... I can't pay you back for this," Tanguish said, dropping his voice a little lower in embarrassment. "I mean -- this is a lot. This is going to be a lot."

Helsknight waved a dismissive hand, "It's all on the Colosseum's diamonds. Don't worry about it. And like I said, I would need a new outfit made anyway. So." Helsknight shooed Tanguish over to the tailor. "Get measured."

Tanguish managed one last chagrined look at Helsknight before the tailor sprung into action, taking Tanguish's measurements in a flurry of profession movements. Everything from his height, to the length of his legs and tail, to the spaces between the spines on his back were committed to numbers, all while the tailor made little grumbling noises that Tanguish didn't quite think were judgemental, but certainly sounded like they were. Then Tanguish was shooed to the swatches of colors and sample fabrics, and the tailor did more mutterings. Tanguish only caught the bits and pieces.

"Dark complexion..." "Should really emphasize the skulk lights..." "Maybe a fabric with some shimmer..." "Add a little contrast..."

It took the tailor asked him twice if he was allergic to any metals (Tanguish honestly had no idea) and tutted disapprovingly when an inspection revealed Tanguish didn't have any piercings to speak of.

"You will be hard to accessorize," they sniffed, giving Tanguish a critical look over. "Your skin is already very busy."

"Uhm... busy...?"

"The dots, the little lights. It's like trying to accessorize freckles."

"Ah," Tanguish felt his stomach twist. "I'm sorry."

The tailor frowned up at Helsknight, "Why is he apologizing to me? Can he wash them off?"

"No."

"Then why with the apologizing?" the tailor sniffed haughtily. "You are giving me a good challenge and I will rise to the occasion. Hold the satin up to you I want to see if it will catch the light."

Tanguish did as he was told, holding different colors and cloth against his skin. The tailor chattered as they worked, and sometimes made notes in a little book they carried. Tanguish was relieved when, after about an hour, they moved on to Helsknight. They took his measurements down ("Always you are growing, knight. And these scars on your knuckles -- how am I supposed to dress them up? I should give you a wolf skin and make you look like the barbarian you are. I will speak with someone about concealer for you do not let it rub off on my clothes.")

[onboardsorasora]

Renovation AU

Ok I tried to stop but I couldn't stop thinking about Renovation AU (especially considering I was literally going to write it then got derailed by Enchated AU: Christmas). And then when I wrote this little snippet it was like floodgates. so here it is Renovation AU in all its outline glory all 2k words of it 🥴🥴🥴I'll just put it under the cut

Max is a handyman/contractor. I know I know. We know how his hammer skills are and how he looks holding it and an axe. But let's just pretend he actually learned this skill and he's fucking hot about it and it triggers every competency kink.

He's built, he was able to grow into his stockiness and he's strong (I'm thinking like that tree splitting tiktok guy but not as Thor thick)

Christian hires Nyck as an interior designer and Nyck hires on Max and his small team. They get shit done. Geri wants to redo the whole cottage and they have until the start of the riding season? to get it done. (Don't question me. I know nothing about riding)

So anyways– they’re behind and Christian doesn’t think Nyck can manage the scope of the job so he fires him and hires on Daniel. Daniel’s a little bit more eclectic than Nyck– but he came highly recommended by Lewis and Seb and Geri loved what he did with their house in Switzerland so she had no problems changing directions a bit.

The problem becomes clear because Max and Nyck work well together, they know each other. Max doesn’t like big change and Daniel is a big change. He’s also good looking but that doesn’t matter. He’s annoying and picky and refuses to go by Nyck’s old plans and his laugh is funny and endearing and his face is pretty and his tattoos are cool.

But none of that matters. None.

Daniel is excited to get working, but he thinks Christian could have been a bit more forthcoming about how far behind they were. Daniel was expecting that maybe he’d be starting on some walls or something, he came with with swatches and tiles and everything. But no….the house is still pretty husk-like. And he’s annoyed cause now he’s standing there in his shorts and sneakers looking like a dick on this construction site.

Anyway, it doesnt matter because he comes prepared! He has like overalls in his raptor. So he grabs that and changes right there in full view of god and everyone. Why yes he is wearing his hot pink hot pants, thanks for fucking noticing. The creative juices always flow when he’s wearing them!

So he goes to Max– who is fucking hot– and also very angry with him. And Daniel gets it, because he and Nyck were friends and there's nothing worse than seeing your friend get fired for things out of their control.

No matter, Daniel is profesh. He can work in almost any environment and he’s not going to embarrass Sewis like that. They’re long time clients and friends. And their recommendations are always highly regarded.

So Daniel gets to work, first he’s helping this guy named Simon update the bricking outside, Geri wanted a whitewash on the southern side so the garden doesn’t get too hot and it’ll match with the new patio going in. Then he’s helping a guy named Genty inside the bathroom– a couple of the pipes needed updating. There weren’t any leaks but no one uses lead pipes anymore for reasons. And then he helps GP lay some new tiles in the bedrooms so that the floors are heated in the winter.

So this is going on for a few days, Daniel helping members of the team, building a rapport– keeping a wide berth of Max. Because Daniel knows when to not ruffle feathers. But he can’t avoid him forever, so finally when all the walls are up and the electrical is done. Daniel goes to Max with the new plans– because his part of the show is about to start.

Max…isn’t happy. Sure the changes aren’t that major, and it's not like they’ll be undoing anything his team has already done. But how dare this guy with his hot accent and laugh come in and befriend his team?! If Max had to hear one more inside joke that he has no clue about or hear his crew talk about Daniel this and Daniel that, he was going to throw a hammer.

So when Daniel comes to him one evening to go over plans, Max doesn’t really want to hear it. He’s come here in his shiny truck (untrue, the truck is dirty as fuck– they work in a construction site), in his tight fucking pants (ok true, Daniel’s work pants are a tad on the skinny side), and his fucking city boots (it was one day the first day. And Max will never let it go), and his gelled hair (ok fine, he makes sure to use his curl cream. Daniel is vain), and tries to take over Max’s job site.

So Max lays into him, letting out all his frustration and pent up sexual tension for this guy that he’s barely interacted with but hears all the time and sees his team– his friends enjoy his presence and maybe he also feels a little left out. And Daniel just stands there and takes it, doesn’t interrupt him, doesn’t fight back. Even when Max is saying blatantly untrue things– but he got a good rant going and Daniel wasn’t stopping him so he was just gonna keep going.

“–and your fucking hot pink–” Max cuts himself off because there was no reason to finish that thought. And Daniel gets this smug fucking grin on his face that Max just wants to kiss off.

“My hot pink what now?” Daniel raises a brow in a challenge that Max is so not going to take. But Daniel is nothing, if not a little shit. “Were you checking me out when I was oh so privately changing that one time Maxy?”

“You stripped in the middle of the driveway while everyone was working. That was hardly private, I think Daniel.”

“But no one else has mentioned my hot pink underwear Maxy Max. Did you like what you saw?” Daniel is dragging a finger along Max’s shoulder at this point and Max is just..frozen in place because how did we get here????

“I– well–You are changing in the middle of a site Daniel. You, of course, cannot be crying modesty now!”

“You wanna know what other colours I wear?”

“Don’t be silly Daniel.”

“Of course not Maxy, yesterday when I was tiling the guest bedroom with GP, I wore my favourite bright green pair that has some smokey black watercolour pattern. And when I was outside doing the patio I was wearing this pretty yellow polka dot ones.”

“I think that's enough Daniel, maybe. I do not–” Max is trying to push him away because when did he even get cornered by this wall? Who put a wall here??

“Oh but I think you’ll like the pair for today, you’re Dutch right? Do all Dutchies like the colour orange?”

“That’s enough Daniel I think! We–we can do the plan your way! It should look great–Geri will love it! I–I think I should go. Have a good night Daniel!” And Max manhandles Daniel out of his way and gtfo’s. He does not think about how Daniel’s waist felt under his arms because why did he even grab there??? He does not think about the fucking hot smirk on Daniels stupid face and kissable mouth and he absolutely does not think about Daniel’s ass in orange hot pants. Nope. He doesn’t.

That changes everything of course. He’s way more aware of where Daniel is in the house now. And its not like Daniel is going anything different. They speak now, and Daniel teases him with tool puns and very bad jokes and Max laughs at every single one because he’s down so bad. And everyone knows it.

Daniel makes random comments when they're alone, pouring over the blueprints and notes, about how Max’s thighs look like they can crush things and the he’ll make a loud offhand comment to the guys about having thighs wrapped around his face when they’re all making increasingly lewd sex jokes at lunch.

Daniel tells Max that he likes his thigh holster and Max internalizes the implications. So what if he’s blushing while they install the kitchen– he’s exerting himself!

Anyway they’re getting closer to the deadline, they have furniture delivery coming soon and there's still so much to do. Daniel has the team painting and wallpapering and Genty is doing the crown moulding and GP is finishing up the fireplace in the den and Max and Daniel are arguing about a chandelier that Geri wanted last minute. 

“We can extend it a little lower by three maybe four inches, c’mon Max it’ll really change like the look of the room. If it's too high then it’ll look too small and throws everything off.”

They're standing in the middle of the formal dining room, surrounded by chaos. Everyone is tired and a bit cranky because they’ve truly been going non-stop to meet this deadline. 

“It’ll be too low Daniel and the weight distribution will be off." Max sighs because he’s tired of arguing about this.

"Well if your guys installed the fucking beams–" Max had enough, he was tired, he was annoyed and he would not have Daniel complain about his team and fucking beams so late in the build. He sees white and he pushes Daniel’s chest. He’s mad, you don’t talk about his guys. He’s mad and Daniel is annoying and fuck. Max presses Daniel up against the wall and kisses him hard. And Daniel grips his shoulder and kisses him back.

And literally no one bats an eyelash because fucking finally. They can get shit finished now.

So they compromise on 2.5 inches lower. And Max is now wired because now he knows what Daniel feels like under him, pressed against him. Now he knows how his lips and mouth taste and what Daniel’s stubble feels like against his jaw.

It's late another night, the guys have all gone home and Max is with Daniel in the finally finished kitchen, going over what’s left to be done. Daniel’s team would be coming with the furniture install in 2 days so they needed to have everything done for them to take over.

Their time together is coming to an end and Max can’t stop looking at Daniel’s focused face while he makes a list and tries to figure out the best way to make things work. He’s staring at Daniel’s lips, at his nose, at the furrow of his brows.

Daniel looks up at him like ‘what?’, eyes wide and owlish? They really haven’t spoken about the kiss– not about it or what it meant or anything.

And then Max is kissing Daniel again and Daniel is all in. And it’s a push and pull between them and it’s hot and messy and they fuck right there in the kitchen. Daniel sucks Max’s dick in the nook that the stove’s supposed to go in and Max bends Daniel over the countertop (which they had argued about whether it was the correct height–it was).

Anyway so the house is finished, Geri is in love. Christian is happy with it all and life goes on. Max and Daniel go on a few dates, they fuck a lot and when Daniel got hired for another big job, he hired on Max as his contractor. 

It kinda went that way for a little bit, them doing jobs together, their teams merging until they make the leap to start a business together. Which incidentally happened before they took the step to move in together. Which is funny because they technically already did. A lot of Daniel’s stuff– clothes, plans, swatches– are already strewn around Max’s place and the cats know to leave the tiles and swatches alone. But moving together is a big step. Starting a business together is just smart. Anyway, they love each other and are grossly in love and their guys tease them about it daily. And Daniel now starts every job in his hot pink hot pants.

[im-a-wonderling]

Rescue Me, Part 2 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

Dedicated to @sassysaxxy for quoting my own writing at me, showering me with compliments, and sending me your screams and other genuine reactions to my snippets. Your enthusiasm as a reader ignites my enthusiasm as a writer. I hope you enjoy this! 💗

Summary: Y/N is succeeding as Obi-Wan Kenobi's padawan, but who knew succeeding brought other kinds of difficulties with it?

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: war

Rescue Me masterlist | Main masterlist

I swiped at my forehead, wiping the moisture that had collected there away with my sleeve. Obi-Wan warned me about the thickness of Felucia’s climate, but I hadn’t realized this was how it felt to breathe in equal amounts of water vapor and actual air. I felt as though a mesh swatch had been implanted in the back of my throat, making me work twice as hard to gain half as much oxygen. 

All the Coruscant patricians spending hundreds of credits on expensive moisturizing hair and skin treatments just needed to visit here. 

Obi-Wan’s voice flowed through the comm in my ear. “We need more fire towards the east!” 

“Units C3 and 4, fire three clicks east!” I shouted over my shoulder. The brief telltale clatter of the artillery units calibrating behind me was nearly deafening. 

“Yes, sir!” two clones chorused. I twisted my neck slightly at the sound of it. All Jedi were called ‘sir’, but that didn’t mean I would ever get used to it. 

“How’s the view from up there?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“It’s stunning. Too bad you can’t see it.” His huff made me grin as I raised my binocs to my eyes, looking out at the southernmost front in some hope of catching sight of him. But the only thing I could see were the white flashes of clone armor and the streaking red and blue blaster bolts. “How’s the view from down there?”

“Clanky.”

Droids. 

“How many of them?” 

I heard the telltale sound of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber slicing through metal. “One less now,” he grunted. 

I sighed. “Only a few hundred thousand to go.”

The war continued to gnash its way through the galaxy, and few planets were as devastated as Felucia. Sparsely inhabited, the value of the planet came from nysillin. The Separatists and the Republic had been battling for months over control of the precious healing herb. My master and I had only been here for a few days to resolve the current standoff, but I was ready to leave the moment we were allowed to. 

Directly in front of the mountain I stood on was Master Plo Koon’s battalion, arguably the most important part. If the middle of the field was lost, the battle was lost. To the south was Obi-Wan’s battalion, steadily gaining ground, in no small part because of my master. 

The northern regiment, the smallest group of the three, was currently at a standstill. Commander Cody reported no action and no sightings of the Separatist forces, and so, that battalion was currently out of combat.

My position with the artillery gave me the perfect vantage point, not only of all three fronts, but of the village at my back, one of the only villages the Separatists hadn’t managed to pillage. It would stay that way, if the Republic had anything to say about it. 

My master’s voice crackled in my ear. “There’s more trying to cut through the mountains.”

“Unit B, two clicks to the south!” I relayed to the closest artillery gunman. 

“Yes, sir!” He immediately started punching in calculations for trajectory, and I preemptively clapped my hands over my ears to try and hear Obi-Wan’s next words. 

“When the droids fire up their backup generators-” My master’s voice garbled, becoming unintelligible amidst the horrid clatter from behind me.

“Repeat orders!” I requested, pushing my comm-link further into my ear in the hopes of hearing better. But instead of getting clearer, the words got softer and more garbled before completely cutting out.

“Obi-Wan?” No response. “Obi-Wan, can you hear me?!” No response.

I waved over at the comms technician. “I’ve lost Master Kenobi. Can you restore the connection?”

“Right away, sir.” The clone’s helmet tilted down as he started tapping on his screen. Then, his fingers stopped. “Uh…sir?”

My brow furrowed. “What’s the problem? Is the machine malfunctioning?” 

The helmet shook from side to side. “No, sir, it’s not the machine, it’s something external.”

“What about Master Koon? Can we reach him?”

“No, sir, I can’t locate any signals on any frequency, much less hone in on what they’re saying.”

“No other signals?” I said under my breath. Surveying the ground below me, I searched for any suspicious movement, anything that could resemble a jammer. But the battlefield resembled how it looked before with conflict on the central and southern fronts. Desperate, I panned to the north. My eyes caught sight of the glimmering of the shiny, gray armor of battle droids.

“Oh no.” I quickly adjusted the settings on my binocs and let out a gasp. 

Four clicks ahead of Commander Cody’s battalion, the Separatist AATs were charging. And because of the foliage, Commander Cody wouldn’t be able to see the tanks until they were already within range.

“Scrag!” I ripped the binocs from my eyes, breathing heavily as I stared out at the valley. 

“What’s going on?” one of the clones asked. 

I didn’t reply, still staring. What was I supposed to do? Communications were down. If Commander Cody’s unit was overcome, the Separatists could easily incapacitate the artillery before storming the village.

It’d be a massacre.

And they didn’t even appear to have a jammer with them.

The group marching on the front were still a few minutes away from firing distance, which meant I had a chance to act. How should I seize it? How could I seize it? I was here, with the artillery, removed from the battlefield. 

“Obi-Wan,” I said weakly into my comm, knowing he wouldn’t hear me. “What do I do?” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm down.

In the darkness, Obi-Wan’s wisdom came back to me.

From the Force were we formed and to the Force will we return, he once told me. Sitting cross-legged, his tone perfumed with his seemingly infinite patience, even as I struggled to master the elusive practice of meditation. The Force is your ally. Let it use you, and it will let you use it.

Sentiments that appeared contradictory, but instead formed a perfectly balanced harmony, like the Force itself.

The beginning and ending of all things.

I took in a deep breath, inhaling the humid air before breathing out, letting the cacophony of worries and what-ifs go.

I am here, I thought. 

And the Force answered.

“Commander Y/L/N?”

My eyes flew open to reveal a nervous looking clone.

“What is going on?”

“Communications are down, and there’s a massive force about to reach the 3rd regiment.”

“What are your orders, sir?”

“Fire two kilometers in front of the 3rd regiment’s line and keep firing!” I gave a strained smile. “You’ve just gotten a promotion, trooper.”

There was no path leading up or down the mountain. The artillery was only set up here after being transported by a slow carrier, and I wouldn’t be able to land that thing down on the field. A target that big would be shot down by the Separatists immediately. 

So I stepped right to the edge of the mountain, looking down below. 

I reached out with the Force, took a few shallow, bracing breaths, and jumped.

One of the clones let out a cheer, but the sound whipped away as I free-fell, gaining speed. The wind whipped past me in a roar, and my eyes watered so badly, I had to shut them.

Blindly, I reached out for the Force and felt its aura surrounding me, imparting soft comfort instead of hard, cold fear. The wind around me slowed. I suddenly felt as though I were floating instead of tumbling. I opened my eyes, and I could see the whole valley. 

A searing warning came, and I immediately tucked in my head, bent my arms and legs, and waited for impact.

My feet touched the ground, and I immediately rolled forward.

I stayed there for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest as I fought against the water vapor to catch my breath. 

Then, I took off running, ripping through the Felucian vegetation as I sprinted towards the northern front. 

No other planet I’d been to had plants which compared to the size of the ones on this one. The cyan pitcher plants, shaped like the bulb of a flower, stretched far above my head while long, wispy red growths bent and curled every which way. The dangling parts of the yellow plants made them seem like they dripped with sticky yellow syrup. The dull light from Felucia’s yellow sun was colored by the translucent nature of the plants, shining all manner of different hues around me. All the plants grew so fast, it was all the Republic forces could do to keep clear paths between battalions. If I hadn’t been on the mountain looking down at the battlefield a moment ago, I might’ve taken a wrong turn. As it was, I knew precisely which paths to take.

My heart raced when the white tents and equipment came into sight. I tore through the camp. “Where’s Commander Cody?” I asked the first clone I found. He wordlessly pointed, and I rushed in the provided direction. 

A helmetless Commander Cody stood above a projected map of the area, the very view I’d just seen from my position. The commander looked up, clearly surprised to see me. “Commander Y/L/N? What are you doing here?”

I skid to a stop. “I saw the Separatists moving on this position, they’ll be here any minute.” My own voice sounded so even, a marvel considering how out of breath I should’ve been. 

Commander Cody cursed. “That’s why the long range comms aren’t working.”

I nodded.

“We have to hold this line while Master Koon and Master Kenobi are informed and push their lines forward.” Cody turned to one of the clones standing beside him. “Take my speeder to inform Masters Koon and Kenobi of the situation!” The clone nodded and ran the direction I’d come. 

“How long until the troops can be deployed?” 

Commander Cody’s face went grim. “There’s only a platoon assigned to the front. The rest are sleeping or eating. The clankers will be here before I can get them ready.”

I started running towards the front. “I’ll buy you that time!” I called over my shoulder.

Subtly reaching out with the Force, I let the life forces of the clones ahead of me guide my path, and it was a good thing I did. 

The only reason I recognized the edge of the battlefield when I reached it was the gradual dwindle in the number of large pitcher plants, allowing for a slightly more unobstructed view ahead. Heart pounding, I dodged the ferns and giant mushrooms, waiting for the thick air to suddenly fill with blaster shots.

SCREECH!

That was my only warning before a shell screamed over my head. My heart dropped, because I knew I hadn’t reached the squad in time. 

“AATs ahead!” the voice of a clone yelled, and all hell broke loose.

The air filled with blaster shots, and I was surrounded by the high pitched whines following their discharge and the heat that followed them. I deflected as many shots as I was able, trying to reach the platoon. I spotted the camouflage helmet of a clone scout trooper and bounded towards it. 

“Where’s this fire coming from?!” one of the clones behind me cried from his defensive position. “We didn’t hear a warning!”

I managed to reach whom I assumed was the squad leader, an ARC trooper I recognized as being called Driver. “Commander Cody is rallying the troops now!” I shouted over the noises of combat. 

Driver gave a curt nod before crouching out from behind the pitcher plant to fire a few shots at the Separatists and then rolling back to safety.

I glanced around at the other clones I could sense, all valiantly returning fire. Nine clones and a Jedi had no hope of winning against the infantry corp that was bearing down on us, but we just needed to buy time.

Another shell barreled towards us, and I threw my hand out, diverting it into the trees. Sending a glare at the AAT that came so close to destroying the platoon, I deflected every blast I could. “Hold your ground!”

But it couldn’t last forever.

“Dank’s been hit!” one of the other squad members yelled.

Distracted, I looked behind me to see the white-clad body of a clone on the ground, not moving. Turning away to parry another shell, I reached behind me with the Force to feel Dank’s life.

I felt nothing.

And in that nothing, suddenly, everything slowed down.

A shell came hurtling towards me, slowly rotating in the air as it came closer and closer. With a yell, I threw out my hand, sending the shell back in the direction it’d come from. 

The explosion of an AAT made the corner of my mouth twitch up. Take that, I thought with satisfaction. 

“Engage!”

I dared a glance over my shoulder to see scores of clones running out of the foliage, taking cover behind the pitcher plants and returning fire.

Commander Cody joined me behind the pitcher plant I was using for cover. “Took you long enough!” I called over to him. He waved his hand in the air, dismissing my teasing. “Have either of the masters sent back word?” The commander shook his head, and my heart sank. To win this battle, it was imperative that the other two battalions pushed forward. Cody could hold the line, but he wouldn’t be capable of pushing the Separatists back. 

I ducked behind another pitcher plant, gripping my lightsaber in front of me as I panted for breath. “Obi-Wan,” I said quietly. “Where are you? Why aren’t you here?” I shut my eyes, tuning out the commotion around me.

I am here.

The Force rose up, the crackles of energy surrounding me.

Obi-Wan. I need Obi-Wan.

The answer was a grab of my consciousness. The Force dragging it at top speed, not bothering to weave through the trees and fighters. It was an odd sensation, to fly through solid things and feel only the energy that knit them together.

Then, I felt the light.

“Obi-Wan,” I breathed, my own voice sounding far away. “You need to attack.” The light didn’t react, and I knew he hadn’t felt me. Reaching out with my conscience, I prodded the light sharply. “Attack.”

Suddenly, I got ripped away, flying back to the confines of my own body. I opened my eyes, once again hearing the blasters firing.

Had he heard me?

I wasn't sure.

I peeked over the edge of the plant. The hundreds of droids were nearer, and with it, the crowd of AATs. I was about to turn away when an AAT in the middle caught my attention.  Standing with its top half outside the hatch of an AAT, was a droid, tapping onto a large, welded addition to the AAT.

It could’ve been anything, but I knew better. 

Eighty meters away, there it was.

If I were still with the artillery, I could order them to fire on that AAT, but I was in the battle, and my options were limited.

I scanned the field. The fighting was thick, but the foliage was thicker. With Cody holding up the rear, I might be able to sneak past the droids, get to the jammer, incapacitate it, and turn the tide of the battle.

I’d need back-up.

My eyes fell on Driver, and the plan started to form. “Driver!” I called. The ARC trooper turned, and I waved him over. “On me!” Without hesitation, I started on a zig-zag path, darting from cover to cover, never staying still enough to be a target. Driver and two other clones followed me.

It was harrowing, leaping from side-to-side, hoping that no droid would notice us before we got around. Finally, we got to the edge of the battlefield.

“What’s going on, sir?” Driver asked.

I peeked over the tree we hid behind. “We’re going to take out the AAT that's jamming our comms,” I told them breathlessly.

Driver and the other two clones exchanged looks, but none of them raised an objection. They nodded at me, and together, we snuck through the foliage, trying to keep the battlefield within sight, but remain unseen.

Finally, we reached as far as we needed. Maybe fifteen meters into the battlefield, and we’d reach the AAT.

I singled out the AAT with the welded addition. “That’s the one!” I shouted above the clamor on the battlefield. 

“Click,” Driver yelled, “you’re up! We’ll cover you!”

One of the clones nodded, his hand drifting to his belt where a number of dangerous looking items lay. He took off in a zig-zag jog, ducking around droids and staying low to the ground.

I watched him, my anticipation rising.

Click reached out to lay a hand on the AAT when suddenly his body contorted. I caught sight of a blaster mark in the center of his chestplate before he crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

Horror rose up in me, and with it, the distress of the two clones standing with me.

I shook my head. Time to do my job. My eyes shifted to the thermal detonator on Driver’s belt. 

“I need your detonator!” I hissed at Driver. 

Driver’s helmet shifted slightly, and I could feel the sense of duty that tugged at him. “Sir, I should be the one to–”

“Driver, now!”

Grabbing the detonator from his belt, he tossed it at me, and I caught it. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sprinted into the battlefield, the air around me filling with red and blue blaster bolts alike. I didn’t check my surroundings to see if the droids or other AATs had noticed me, trusting the Force to warn me of an impending threat. 

I felt the blaster bolt before I saw it and ducked, the bolt whizzing over my head. I didn’t bother to look in the direction it’d come from, solely focused on my target. 

Finally, I reached the AAT and jumped onto it, throwing open the hatch door. Hitting the activation button, I dropped the detonator into the interior and slammed the hatch closed. 

I slid off the AAT as fast as I could. Dropping beside Click’s body, I hooked my arms underneath his armpits and yanked. 

Another clone appeared beside me. “Sir, we need to lea–”

The detonator blew. 

The vigor of the blast threw me backwards. I landed hard on my back, my head snapping back.

“–and do it now!”

I nearly cried with relief upon hearing my master’s voice through my comm. 

“They’re retreating!” said Commander Cody’s voice in my ear. “Push forward!”

I lifted my head up in time to see droids retreating…right in our direction.

The clone beside me let out a groan, and I caught sight of the bashed side of his helmet. I was on my feet in an instant, slinging his arm over my shoulder and practically dragging him with me. 

Driver ran from the tree, coming to the clone’s other side. 

Together, the three of us reached cover, just in time to hear the shouts of victory and aggression as the clone forces ran forward, chasing the Separatists away. 

Driver and I leaned the clone against the tree. I could sense his pain, which only increased my guilt. This clone had just been trying to get me to safety and ended up injured because of it. I was not going to let him die like the others. I crouched in front of him, reaching out to inspect his helmet. “What’s your name?” I asked softly. The clone didn’t respond; his arms were out to the sides, as if he were trying to balance himself. Resting a firm hand on his shoulder, I asked again. “Soldier, what’s your name?” 

“CT-7563.” Even through the modulator of his helmet, I could hear that he tripped over the numbers. 

My eyes flicked to Driver, who now kneeled beside me. “What’s his other name?”

“We call him Exit,” Driver answered. 

I grabbed both sides of the helmet, preparing to ease it off. “Okay, Exit, I’m going to take off your helmet so I can see your wound better.”

I could feel Exit’s hesitation, but when he raised no objection, I gently tugged on the helmet, pulling it off his head. 

The right side of Exit’s head was already swelling, and there was a nasty gash oozing blood into his buzzed hair. Exit blinked rapidly, and I wished I had a flashlight to check his pupillary response. But I didn’t have a flashlight; I didn’t even have a bandage to stop the bleeding.

I glanced around to see what was available to me, and my eyes fell on a red spotted plant—the very plant responsible for this skirmish. “Here,” I said. I delicately plucked a leaf. “Chew this, it’ll help.” 

Disoriented as he was, I didn’t expect Exit to hold up his hand. “I s-shouldnnn’t.” 

I threw him a stern look. “There’s more than enough to go around. Chew it.” Exit obediently put the plant in his mouth, and Driver knelt down to help him up. “Help him back to the FOB, will you?”

“Yes, Commander Y/N.”

Another clone joined them, and together, they brought their injured brother onto the battlefield, towards the camp. 

I stopped, crouching onto the ground to take a moment. As my adrenaline receded, the muscles of my neck started to ache from the detonator’s kickback. I could only hope for no more explosions in the near future. 

Click’s body still lay where I’d abandoned it, and the sight made my chest feel tight. 

“May the Force be with you,” I murmured under my breath as two clones walked up to their brother, rolling him onto a stretcher so they could carry him off to the field. Had he died on Coruscant, his body would be cremated. But I’d been in this war long enough to know his body was headed for a mass grave, marked only with the helmets that no longer had anyone to claim them.

The only funeral rites these warriors were likely to receive.

A hand patted my shoulder. “You did good,” Commander Cody said. Through the thicket of gruff and stern words, I could make out the undertone of pride. 

I sighed, knowing it was undeserved. “I deserted my post.” I reflexively tightened my grip on my lightsaber. “I was supposed to stay with the artillery.”

“You saw a problem no one else did, and you acted before it was too late.” Commander Cody glanced over at where the Separatists had been minutes ago. “Your leadership prevented the worst case scenario and turned it into a victory.”

I straightened. “We can only hope my master agrees.” 

“Padawan Y/N!”  Master Plo Koon approached. Normally, his presence was a calming one, but at that moment, I was unnerved by the inability to see his eyes.

“Master.” I bowed my head, ignoring the twinge from my neck muscles.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Thank you, master.”

Master Koon and Commander Cody started for the camp, sharing information on the battle as they went.

The sound of humming light filled my head, causing me to look up.

Obi-Wan walked straight towards me, dirt covering his grim face and unignited lightsaber clenched tightly in one hand as he crossed the field with his long, uninterrupted strides. He looked tired, but uninjured. 

I walked to meet him, a soft smile on my face. “In one piece, old man?”

Obi-Wan huffed. “Of course it would be too much to hope the Separatists might’ve goaded you into holding your tongue.”

“Well, they couldn’t goad me into holding onto my thermal detonator.” I grinned.

“Equally as explosive,” Obi-Wan muttered, shaking his head, but he couldn’t hide a small smile. “Come, we must go check on the village while the troops secure the field.” 

Obediently, I fell into step behind him. “How long do you think the Separatists will take to regroup?”

“No way to know,” Obi-Wan answered as we strode through the camp. “They took a hit today, but it’s just another step in the dance.”

I lowered my eyes somberly, the day’s victory coming into perspective. He was right, as always. In fact, I couldn’t think of a single time when Obi-Wan had been wrong about–

“Master Kenobi?” a voice from behind us said.

Commander Cody stood there, his arms folded in an imposing stance. 

“Yes, commander?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Commander Cody jerked his head to the right. “The village is that way.”

I pursed my lips to keep from smiling.

-

“Don’t put any weight on that leg, y’hear?” I said, playfully narrowing my eyes at the Felucian villager as I wrapped bandages around her wound.

She laughed, bending her long neck sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright, let’s get you up.” I helped her shift to the end of the rickety cot in the med tent, hoisting her up onto her right leg.

“Thank you,” her husband told me, bowing his head as he reached his arm around his wife, helping her balance. 

“No problem,” I replied, watching the two of them hobble towards the mess tent to join the other villagers that had joined the Republic camp to receive some nourishment. Judging by the tightness around the villager’s eyes, she was still in pain, but her husband watched her with such tenderness, as if he was counting himself lucky to be nothing more than a crutch.

“How’d she get injured?”

I jumped, then relaxed when I recognized the voice as Obi-Wan’s. I’d been so focused on the villager, I hadn’t noticed the nearing of his light. “She got caught in a Separatist trap and nearly lost her foot. Unfortunately for her, the village still hasn’t found a shaman to replace the last one.” I walked over to the makeshift sanitizer, quickly cleaning my hands. “Honestly, she still might lose the foot if she’s not careful.”

When my statements were met only with silence, I glanced up at my master and caught sight of the calculation on his face. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Nothing. Shall we go eat?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was thinking something, and he was thinking something about me. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He let out a little sigh, his mouth curling into a smile. “Seeing you acting as a healer. It’s…satisfying.”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Well, don’t go getting any ideas about jumping in a Rathtar den again, ‘cause I’m not patching you up this time.”

Obi-Wan laughed easily, clearly aware that I would patch him up every time he needed it regardless of my complaining. “C’mon, let’s go eat.” 

Perhaps when the clone wars ended, there would be things I missed. I would miss getting to explore new planets and meet new people. I would miss the demands of battle, whether it demanded more energy where there was none or ingenuity in the face of stress.

I would not, however, miss the rations.

I popped another sweet energy cube into my mouth, chewing it and trying not to grimace. 

Opposite me, Obi-Wan was staring at the cube in his palm with great distaste. The delighted cry of a child filled the air, and a stampede of them started to run past in the strange waddling way of Felucians. 

Obi-Wan slyly reached out to them, allowing one of the children to pluck the cube off his palm and into her mouth with a grin. 

I sent him a sideways glance as the children ran out of the mess tent. “You’re going to go hungry.” 

Obi-Wan conspiratorially lowered his voice. “Better an empty stomach than a stomach with that stuff inside it.”

I snorted. “I’ve fought on an empty stomach. Trust me, it’s no good.”

Obi-Wan’s face fell. “Krell?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to, Obi-Wan already knew more than I’d ever meant for him to know. Instead of dredging up the past, I looked down at my plate. "Agh," I blurted at the burst of pain that ran up my neck.

Obi-Wan tensed. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no." I rubbed at the sore spot. "Caught the wrong end of an explosion and earned myself some whiplash."

"I think I saw some cream in the med tent." Obi-Wan started to get up, but I grabbed his arm.

"I'm fine."

Obi-Wan didn't ask me if I was sure, he simply fixed me with his classic I-know-better-than-you look.

"It'll clear up on it's own," I insisted. "Save the supplies for the clones and the villagers."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth.

“Are you ready, Master Kenobi?” Master Koon approached our table. “The council is waiting.”

My master threw me another look and then got to his feet. “Yes, Master Koon.”

“Your padawan will have much to tell us,” Master Koon said. 

I shot upright in my seat. “What?” I looked at Obi-Wan, hoping he would provide me with insight, but he was staring at Mast Koon as well, a slightly wary expression on his face. His Force light was flickering with uncertainty.

“What am I telling?” I asked Master Koon.

“We will want to speak of your actions today,” Master Koon replied, seeming absolutely calm. 

My…actions?

An uncomfortable tension settled in my stomach, and the souring of the previously sweet energy cubes made me wish I’d followed my master’s example and refrained from eating. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Master Kenobi.” Master Koon left us, walking towards the erected tent for the council meeting.

Obi-Wan didn’t move for a moment. He kept his eyes on Master Koon’s retreating back, but I could feel the buzzing surrounding us, like the Force was flocking to my master. Whatever he was thinking, the Force was drawn to it. 

Obi-Wan started walking towards the tent, not sparing me another glance as he left me alone in my panic.

If Master Koon thought my actions deserved a place in a council meeting…perhaps my desertion of my post in the battle was a bigger deal than I thought. 

Of course it was. What had I been thinking? I must’ve been possessed by some maverick spirit, urging me to leap into battle without instruction from my superiors. Perhaps the spirit of Skywalker, I thought nervously to myself, except I don’t have the role of the Chosen One to cushion my fall. 

Now I was to defend my actions in front of the council? Not once in all my appearances before the Jedi council had they asked me to speak. Every time, I stood in Krell or Kenobi’s shadow, keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself. 

The longer I waited to be summoned, the greater the buzzing of the light grew. Only Master Koon and Obi-Wan were physically inside the tent. If the Force gathered around any of the other members, I wouldn’t be able to feel it, not this far away from Coruscant. What could the council be discussing that would send Obi-Wan into such a flutter?

After what felt like ages, Obi-Wan poked his head outside of the tent, making eye contact with me. 

I sucked in a breath, slowly rising to my feet.

But then Obi-Wan’s eyes moved to something behind me. “Commander Cody, the council wishes to speak with you.”

Commander Cody appeared as aghast as I felt. “As the council wishes,” he said finally. He got up from his chair, shooting me a look before ducking into the tent. I stared at the tent flap. Why did they want to speak to Cody? Was it simply for a report on the battle? Or were they asking Cody to give a report about me? 

Altogether too soon for my tastes, the tent flapped opened as Commander Cody came out. I searched for something in his face to clue me into what he’d said about me, but his stoic face revealed nothing.

“Y/N.” My master stood, holding the tent flap open. “We’re ready for you.” I stayed where I was, trying to read his face, but the words there were in Shyriiwook. 

“Hells,” I muttered. “Here comes the heavy weather.” After lingering a moment to lift my chin high, I walked inside the tent.

Master Koon stood off to one side while Obi-Wan moved to stand at the other. In between them, life-sized holograms of each member of the Jedi Council was projected. With the glitching and imprecision of the transmissions, it was impossible to tell what expressions they wore. 

“Padawan Y/N,” Master Windu began, “the 3rd Regiment went into conflict under your discretion, correct?”

Aware of Master Windu’s deep distaste for excuses, I erred on the side of brevity. “Yes.”

“And you joined them once the comms went out?”

“Yes.”

“Can you please tell us why?”

“When the comms went out, I surveyed the battlefield with binocs, and I spotted the enemy making a move towards the 3rd Regiment in force. Knowing they weren’t expecting conflict and being unable to communicate with them, I left orders for the artillery to fire upon their position while I got to the line as quickly as I could.”

Master Fisto tilted his head. “Commander Cody informed us you arrived on foot.”

It wasn’t a question, and yet there was still a suspicious silence. “I…looked for a speeder of some sort, but the only ship with the artillery was the command platform, and I wouldn’t be able to land that by the front without it getting shot down.”

“How did you get down off the mountain?” Master Windu asked.

“I jumped.”

The humming of the light dissipated for a moment, and it took everything in me to keep my focus on Master Windu. 

Master Windu cleared his throat. “So once you…jumped…and you reached the northern front, then you took control of the regiment?”

I hesitated. “No.”

“No?” Master Tiin asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Sweat gathered on my palms. “I told Commander Cody of the oncoming fighters, and once a messenger was sent to Master Koon and Master Kenobi, I went to the front line to buy enough time for the regiment to deploy.” A few of the masters glanced over at each other, and I couldn’t keep quiet. “I didn’t give Commander Cody orders. I informed him of the situation and gave him the time he needed to rally his troops.”

“But you did take three clones with you to bring down the jammer.”

“Yes.”

“And you brought it down how exactly?” 

I swallowed hard. “A thermal detonator.”

“Why didn’t you go to Master Koon or Master Kenobi directly when the comms went out?” Master Mundi asked. 

I hesitated. It felt like a trick question, but it was impossible to know what the masters wanted me to say, so I opted for the truth. “Protecting the village was the most important. That’s why the Republic is here, to defend life. There was very little time, so I trusted my–”

Gut, I very nearly said, but Jedi didn’t make decisions on gut feelings. 

“I trusted my training.”

No one spoke, and a skittish feeling scratched at the walls of my stomach. To stand in front of the most powerful Jedis while none of them spoke? How royally had I screwed up?

“Impressive,” Master Yoda muttered, stroking his chin. “Impressive, very.”

…impressive? 

Did he speak of my disobedience? Were my actions a kind of wrong of epic proportions, it was impressive someone could have behaved so poorly?

My hands started shaking. 

“Padawan Y/N, have you started preparing for your trials?” Master Unduli asked. 

“Yes,” I said hesitantly, unsure of where the question was leading. “I’ve been studying for months.” A strange, shuddering pulse of light shot through the Force like a bolt of lightning, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at my master. His stony face offered no insight. 

“I don’t think you’ll be studying for your trials much longer,” Master Unduli said.

Desperation rocked through my core. I knew it, I thought. Abandoning my post would get me kicked out of the Jedi Order.

“The way I see it,” Master Unduli said, looking over at Master Windu beside him, “Padawan Y/N acted as a Jedi Knight in this situation and turned the tide of the battle.” My mouth fell open as murmurs of agreement rippled through the tent. I quickly closed it, hoping none of the masters had noticed it.

“We commend you on your quick thinking and serenity under pressure,” Master Windu said.

Commend? Serenity? I hardly dared to believe it. “Thank you, masters.”

“The jogan doesn’t roll far from the vine, eh, Master Kenobi?” Master Fisto asked, and appreciative chuckles rippled through the room. Not even my years of strength and endurance training kept me from smiling. They were comparing me to Obi-Wan? That was surely one of the highest compliments in the galaxy.

Aching to see the approval on my master’s face, I dared a peek at him.

But instead of a beam of pride, Obi-Wan’s brows were furrowed and his lips downturned. My stomach flipped. Was he displeased with me?

“We’ll be keeping our eyes on you, Padawan Y/N,” Master Mundi said, drawing my attention once more. “As for right now, you are dismissed.”

“Yes, master, thank you, master.” I bowed low and left the tent, leaving Obi-Wan and Master Koon to finish up their business with the council. Once the tent flap closed behind me, I breathed in the heavy air, trying to process what had just happened.

“Well?” Commander Cody asked from his chair, helmet off and eyebrows raised. “What did they say?” 

“They’re pleased with me,” I answered, surprised by my own words. “They commended me.”

Commander Cody rose from his seat to clap me on the shoulder, celebrating with me in his own grisly way: without saying a word. No reassurances or comments.

“I thought they were going to kick me out of the Order,” I confessed. “Or give me some consequence, not…not tell me I did well.” I smiled at Cody. “But they did.”

Cody went back to his chair. “I’m sure your master is very proud.”

I stopped.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem proud. In fact, he hadn’t said a single thing about the battle. If I’d done something right, Obi-Wan would’ve given a quick affirmation before we went to the village. If I’d done something wrong, we would’ve been knee-deep in a lecture instead of spending time with the children. But Obi-Wan hadn’t done either. If I didn’t do anything right and I didn’t do anything wrong…then what had I done?

Was the Jedi council being generous in their commendation? 

No.

The Jedi Council showing kindness to me had never been much of a priority before, so they must’ve meant it. 

Why was it, then, that Master Windu of all people praised me, and Obi-Wan hadn’t even smiled? Was Obi-Wan simply withholding his pride to save it for the right time? Or did he disagree with the other masters? Did Obi-Wan believe that I’d acted rashly and deserved to be scolded for my disobedience?

I felt weirdly jittery, as though my bones were shaking underneath my skin.

“Safe travels, Master Kenobi,” Master Koon said as he and my master came out of the tent behind me. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” Obi-Wan replied. 

With a nod in my direction, Master Koon walked off in the direction of the mess tent, and Obi-wan brushed past me to walk in Commander Cody’s direction.

I caught up to Obi-Wan. “We’re leaving? 

“The council is pulling us out,” he said, not bothering to look over his shoulder at me. “The Separatists have pulled back, and the Felucian platoons can advance without us here. Master Koon will remain to supervise until this heats up again.”

Dreams of Coruscant filled my mind. The tall buildings, the tempered weather, the crowds. “Are we returning to the temple?” I asked hopefully.

“No, they're assigning us to a diplomatic mission.”

“Diplomatic mission?” I echoed, coming to a stop. I’d never been on one. They were rare these days, and in the days when they’d been common, Master Krell would most certainly not have been the council’s first choice to go, which meant I wouldn’t have been either.

Obi-Wan, the great Negotiator, would be. 

My master and Cody exchanged quick words.

“Y/N, let’s go,” Obi-Wan said, his every word clipped.

There was no point in telling me to gather my stuff; the only things I possessed with the robes on my body and the lightsaber at my belt.

Cody flicked two fingers out from his forehead in a tiny salute. “See you later, kid.”

“Next time you see me,” I said with a smile, “I might be a Jedi Knight.”

“About time,” he said gruffly.

I could’ve hugged him for his words, and I stood for a moment, debating doing so.

“Y/N,” said a firm voice behind me.

Ducking my head, I followed Obi-Wan towards the rudimentary spaceport. His light was casting uncertain shadows through the Force. I tilted my head, honing in on the flickers, but the nearer I got to it, the more light skittered away from me.

How strange that I'd felt him as clear as day across a battlefield, but now I couldn't when I walked beside him.

When we reached the ship, I wordlessly went to the cockpit, preparing to take off. According to the rumors, Obi-Wan was an excellent pilot, but I only saw him occupy the pilot’s chair when we were under fire. If we were simply navigating from one planet to another, he left the piloting to me.

“Where are we going, Master?” I called behind me.

“To Taris, in the Outer Rim.”

Taris.

A planet of overgrown swamps and yellow smog that choked the atmosphere. And if we were headed there for a negotiation, we were headed to the far side, where all the wealthy lived. 

Fantastic.

-

The ship’s engine hummed as it hurtled through lightspeed. 

I settled myself on the floor, ducking my head to catch sight of what I needed in the mirror I’d propped up against the wall. I lifted the pair of scissors in my head, grabbing a section of hair.

“What are you doing?” 

Obi-Wan stared down at me, the grime gone from his face. He must’ve washed it.

“My hair’s too long, so…I’m cutting it.” 

A strange heaviness shot through the Force, as if Obi-Wan’s light had tumbled to the ground with a loud and hollow thunk. Before I could try to reach the light, Obi-Wan turned away from me.

His Force signature was confusing me left and right today. The exorbitant turmoil I felt through the Force seemed disproportionate to the lack of words coming out of his mouth. Usually when I sensed this much distress in him, we dialogued about it.

Perhaps the issue now wasn’t with him, but with me. As the battlefield on Felucia had shown, sometimes the receiver was a problem just as much as the transmitter. 

I shook my head softly, raising the scissors again to make the first cut.

“You’ve been my padawan for less than six months,” Obi-wan said suddenly, nearly making me jump out of my skin. He stood above me again, his lips pursed. 

Why was he mentioning our timeline? “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t realize,” he said, the words curt, “that you were studying to take the trials.”

“Oh.” I looked away, my scissors hovering uncertainty as I tried to decide whether to go ahead with cutting or put them down. “Well, I’ve been a padawan for years.” Obi-Wan said nothing. I shifted to face him, gripping the scissors in my lap. “I’m twenty-two. Everyone I trained with as a youngling has passed their trials already, and some of them even have padawans of their own now.”

“Right,” came Obi-Wan’s unenthusiastic reply. 

“Do you think I’m not prepared?” I asked worriedly.

“No, no!” he burst out. “I mean, yes, you are, you’re capable, to be sure.” He scratched his chin. “I guess I thought I had more time…” he trailed off, his expression troubled. “More time to…to teach you, to help you…improve.”

“What do I need improvement on?” He didn’t answer, sending my anxiety through the roof. I got to my feet, abandoning the scissors on the floor. Obi-Wan took a step back so as to keep us from colliding. “If there’s something I should be working on, something that would hold me back, I would like to know.”

“There’s…” He paused, his eyes darting all over my face. Why did he seem so…uncertain?

Then it dawned on me, the reason he was reluctant to speak. I crossed my arms, trying to hold the pieces of myself together through the implosion of disappointment. “It’s because of Master Krell, isn’t it? No one wants me to pass the trials because no one trusts me.”

“That’s not true,” Obi-Wan said sharply.

“It’s because of what I did with the regiment, then. I should’ve found some way to contact you first."

“Y/N-”

“Or maybe it’s my combat skills, I know I’m not the best fighter–”

“Y/N!”

I bit my lip, keeping the flood of words from bursting forth. 

With the opposite problem, Obi-Wan didn’t form any words, didn’t move. He just…examined me.

“Why am I not ready?” I asked, slowly and clearly.

“It’s…you’re…I think…” Obi-Wan visibly wrestled with the words coming out of his mouth, seemingly unsure of which sentiment to land on. Finally, he let out a large sigh. “You’ll be a good Jedi Knight.”

I blinked. That was not the answer I was expecting, nor was it a true answer to my question. When Obi-Wan minced words like this, he minced with great care. So what was the hidden meaning, the intent hiding behind his words?

Obi-Wan shuffled towards the cockpit, leaving me alone with the burgeoning company of my thoughts.

He had doubts. He must’ve, for why else would the echoes of his thoughts fall so heavy?

It was strange. Obi-Wan fought for me, fought to overpower my reputation within the Order and establish me as a true Jedi. The council had always been skeptical, and it hadn’t hindered him one bit. In fact, it seemed to spur him on. 

Now I’d received affirmation from the council, yet Obi-Wan had doubts?

I returned to my reflection, trying to resume my planned activity. But my hands were shaking so much, I couldn’t hold the scissors straight. Every time I worked up the courage to make a cut, the scissors faltered.

-

Part 3

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

Rescue Me tag list:

@penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @starlazergazer @blackqueengold @ajwild220 @exploringalaxiesfarfaraway @mortallycrispyglitter @nerdory10 @shinybananapastanickel @sassysaxxy @sunshine-girl013

[hazbeans-for-thee]

Radioapple Week Day Three - Deal

Characters: Lucifer, Alastor, Alastor's shadow

Warnings: None

Word count: 796

Summary: A little mischievous shadow decides to pay Lucifer a visit upon Alastor's request. What might he find while he's there?

Alastor watched as Lucifer ducked into his room at the end of the hallway. His lip curled in slight annoyance as he huffed an irritated sigh.

That snake of a demon has been avoiding him nearly all week! What few jabs he has been able to thrown at the king were simply being laughed off or completely ignored! This was their game they played, and Lucifer was breaking the rules. He hummed in thought as he turned around, casting a shadow on the opposite wall that began to twitch with life. Maybe he could get some usefulness out of this mischief maker.

"Go and see what our majesty is busying himself with that is so much more important to him," Alastor commanded. The shadow's mouth glowed a bright green as it slipped onto the floor and underneath the bedroom door.

Inside his room, Lucifer was sitting on his workdesk, his legs crossed as he examined the duck in his hand. "I think that color is right..." he muttered as he tilted it in the light. It was painted a dark red shade, almost like the color of blood. After a few more moments of pondering, he scowled and tossed the duck aside- right into a pile of discarded pile of ducks colored in various shades and hues of red. He stuffed his face in his hands and groaned. "No, no, it's not right, none of these are right! How the hell am I supposed to even tell what color it's supposed to be! I can't just go and compare swatches or something, he'd know immediately what's going on! Why can't I just-"

Lucifer paused as he heard the sound of rustling. His tail suddenly appeared and swished behind him as his eyes darted around the room. "Alright, who's pulling the funny business?" he asked as he hopped down from the desk. "If this is some kind of prank, I'm not falling for it..." he quickly spun on his heel and came face to face with the moving shadow. He pointed at it, and a burst of gold magic erupted from his fingertips, causing the shadow to freeze in place when it was hit.

"Aha! Gotcha bitch!" he exclaimed as he stepped toward the shadow that was now stuck to the wall. "You're tall, dark and creepy's little buddy, yeah? I bet he sent you, didn't he?" The shadow scowled back in response. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. In fact... I might need your assistance for a little project of mine. If you help out, and promise not to tell, I'll let you go. How's that sound?"

The shadow seemed to huff in annoyance before it nodded in agreement.

"Perfect!" Lucifer motioned to the pile of red ducks on the floor. "You see, I'm working on a little gift. It's a duck that plays a little song and can dance to it! Pre-programmed with five snippets of songs from the thirties! But I want it to match Alastor's red, and I've gone through at least a hundred prototypes, and I just don't feel like I've gotten the shade right. And since you're literally attached to the guy, you're the perfect one to ask!"

The shadow seemed to bristle a little with pride. Lucifer snapped his fingers, allowing it to escape momentarily from the wall but not from the room. It sunk down into the pile and rummaged around before producing a duck in its hand.

"That one looks good?" Lucifer asked, and the shadow nodded. "Much appreciated! Now, do you plan on telling Alastor about this?"

The shadow shook its head.

"No-?" Lucifer exclaimed in bewilderment. "What, do you want something else too?"

The shadow nodded and held out its hand, palm facing the floor. It took Lucifer a moment before he realized what it was asking for.

"Oh, you want a kiss on the hand...?" The shadow nodded once again, and Lucifer found a fond smile crossing his face. "Just like Alastor, always trying to pull a fast one on me." He took the shadow's hand in his own - it felt a little odd to be holding something that isn't supposed to be corporeal - and placed a small kiss on the back. "There, the deal is set."

The shadow grinned and made a motion of zipping its lips shut. Lucifer laughed and snapped his fingers again. "Alright, you're free to go." The shadow gave a salute before sinking out of the room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"What the hell do you mean, 'he caught you'??"

The shadow's ears fell flat against it's head as it noddded.

Alastor groaned in frustration as he rubbed his temples with his fingers. "You choose the worst times to be incompetent."

While Alastor wasn't looking, the shadow's lips curled up into a grin.

[lovetherobot]

Another snippet of a new art series called "Dreaming Animals” A pencil drawing on paper, digitally coloured and collaged with watercolour paintings and paint swatches.

This will be a series of 6 illustrations, the full piece and more very soon.

[magpies-gold]

Back From Mysterium

I did a very small couple of posts before this, but Saturday at Mysterium blew my expectations out of the water, and so I decided I needed to circle back around and try again as a much bigger post.

First, foremost, and coolest - yes! I got to meet Rand Miller (bonus infamous RAWA just to the left as well)! Even better, for once in my life my social anxiety didn't turn me into a non-verbal lump and I was able to say a grand total of two full sentences and a greeting. If you know me at all, then you know that that's quite the accomplishment. Usually @timmcosplay has to do the talking for me when I inevitably choke on my own tongue, but by a quirk of fate we got separated (he wanted to get our Book of Ti'ana signed and got yoinked into a different line up from me, who wanted photo evidence) and I had no choice but to attempt to be a functional human. My theory is that I've talked to Rand's face so many times during the intro to Riven (I always talk back) that it was just second nature to say hello the second he looked at me. Genuinely, though, he's so kind and so patient and I'm stoked that he made time to meet all of us and then spend a couple hours even after that being a presenter and answering heaps of questions.

Tim may have not been with me directly, but he was still creeping in the sidelines getting photos of me getting photo'd and briefly chatting. ;)

Ultimately, we were split into three groups and everyone ran through the events of the day in a different order.

Tim and I were on Team Ytram (or Team Forg as I insisted on calling it) and had little Rivenese froggos on our badges.

After the meet and greet, we got lunch. It was simplistic fare, but the fact that we got hot dogs and Cool Ranch Doritos out back of the Cyan HQ means that they were very special hot dogs and Cool Ranch Doritos. Legendary!

And then... they actually allowed my wee goblin self and Tim to go through the iconic archway entrance and to scramble around their actual studio. I've seen pictures of the place on the internet before and knew how neat it would be to some degree, but now I know where everything is!

In no particular order....

Iconic signage and that giant honkin' Moiety dagger that Adam Savage apparently worked on?? It is truly large in person!

Costumes from Riven! Including Catherine's dress, which I remember my mom was always cooing over when I was playing the game on my clonky PC in the late 90's, and Gehn's costume, with Tim posing (and having not totally slightly held up the rest of the group by getting detail shots for cosplay purposes, no, no, he wouldn't do that....)

Art! Design sketches and THE MAP.

The infamous elevator wherein you'd better know your D'ni numbers if you want to get anywhere (I would get stuck).

And then... artifacts!

They had THE LEVER from the beginning of Riven. Did it never occur to me that the lever was a real lever? THE LEVER IS A REAL LEVER.

Plus there were goggles and books and Gehn's gun (AKA the only Game Over inducing object in Riven) and more character design sketches with actual costume fabric swatches! That last bit made Tim make high pitched glee noises, as someone who both designs and makes costumes himself.

There were presentations after all of that. Trailers, talks, a non-profit project to digitize over a hundred hours of behind the scenes footage from the making of Uru and Riven and other things, which we got a sneak peek of. They showed off a snippet of the remake of Riven. There was just so much. It was hours and hours and I was practically vi-bra-ting by the time we finally were ushered back to the bus and back to Spokane.

I will never entirely get over the fact that I was able to go see all that with my own two eyeballs. As someone who's been enamoured with the universe surrounding Myst island for the full 30 years of its existence, ever since I was 8 years old, who used to make big calligraphy posters of passages from The Book of Atrus and The Book of Ti'ana and tape them up all over Thorhild Central School whether my fellow students and teachers wanted me to or not, and who was so solidly influenced by the idea of books as literal doors to other worlds that it became a foundation for how I view my own characters and stories (namely that I'm no god, and they do have a life all their own), this is a treasured memory.

[roboticnebula]

Trick or treat!

You get a… trick?

This is a snippet from a fic concept I’m exploring but still hesitant to actually write! It started out as a silly ‘Barry and Jay are in a passive-aggressive argument and Alan and Hal do not understand how is it the speedsters are fighting instead of them’. And then it got... sad.

Background AlanJay and Halbarry.

Jay is aware he and Barry are arguing over two barely distinguishable shades of beige paint for the guest room, but their fight isn’t really about the paint color anyways. Alan and Hal made themselves scarce a few hours ago, the moment Jay commented he didn’t want his guest room to be the same shade as Barry’s sweater vests, and Barry immediately retorted it was a good thing Jay wouldn’t actually be the one sleeping in the room then.

This was after a long debate over paint swatches, where both Alan and Hal’s inputs that the room should have a nice non-beige color, had gone entirely unheard. The lanterns had realized they were standing in the blast zone and been unwilling to risk becoming collateral damage. Jay is glad to see that after all these long years with them, the GLs are finally starting to be smart about the whole fearless thing.  

It’s a good thing they left when they did too, because paint started flying quickly after. The walls of the guest room are absolutely atrocious right now, randomly sploshed with paint and primer, a whole gallon wasted and spilled all over the floor, but Barry and Jay have retreated to the kitchen to wash up and calm down. Jay is leaning against the counter, waiting for the water to boil for his tea. He’s got paint in his hair, but hasn’t bothered to try and get it off, only rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. Barry is very quiet as he scrubs his arms and forehead free of the paint, his annoyance is palpable in the air, and Jay doesn’t know why he’s so irritated when he insisted on helping out with repainting the room.

Barry won’t leave him alone these days, it’s annoying.

“Did you go get that extra gallon from the garage, yet?” Jay asks him, gruffly.

Something flashes in Barry’s eyes: sad, scared, quickly buried, and Jay realises it’s not the first time he’s asked.

“Yes,” says Barry.

For the first time all day, his tone is light and neutral, instead of passive aggressive, and the patience behind it annoys Jay even more, a flush of rage crawling up his throat. The phone is deadly quiet on the countertop between them, and Jay vacillates between grateful and irritated that Barry is handling him with kid gloves.

They both know what diagnostic is coming: it’s why Jay hasn’t actually kicked Barry out of his house yet, even if he’s still mad at him for confronting him about this and convincing him to go get tested. Jay didn’t want to be alone when he got the call. Jay didn’t want to get the call at all, doesn’t want to have to break the news to Alan and have Barry, Wally, Bart and the others worry. He wants to stay in denial, wants more time. At 90, Jay hasn’t been bitter about slowing down until this very moment: when it gives his own damned mind the chance to fall apart at the seams.

Barry is saying something about the quality of the wall primer when he’s interrupted by the shrill ringtone of the phone. They both fall quiet and stare at it, their fight entirely forgotten. Barry practically falls in the seat in front of Jay, but doesn’t press: they’re both stretching the seconds of this moment, remain on the cusp of change before it becomes irreversible.    

Jay’s first instinct is to run the phone to the Atlantic Ocean and chuck it, but he focuses on Barry and catches his own reflection in the oven door behind him. They both look ridiculous, the first two Flashes, covered in paint, and childishly arguing. He laughs, slightly hysterical, but also absolutely delighted. He looks at Barry and thinks: this man is my legacy, I would not choose any other and it gives him the courage he needs. He stays standing up, picks up the phone and places it down on speaker between them.

“Mr. Garrick, this is Dr. Brady. I have your test results in front of me and I’m sorry but I have some bad news.”

---

The idea would be to explore speedster physiology as they age/effects of the speed force long term/what that healing factor can handle, but also how chosen family can rally around you when you’re dealing with something like Alzheimer.

Apart from some stray notes and drafts, this snippet is all I have to show for it for now.

Thank you for the ask, I hope you enjoyed! Happy Halloween!

[direwombat]

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton (tysm~!)

tagging @trench-rot, @cassietrn, @strangefable, @voidika, @madparadoxum, @adelaidedrubman, @aceghosts, @josephslittledeputy, @inafieldofdaisies, @g0dspeeed, @simplegenius042, @miyabilicious, @strafethesesinners, @confidentandgood, @jillvalentinesday, @poetikat, and anyone else with something to share! (to be added/removed from the taglist, please like/unlike this post here!)

once again i am bringing you some werewolf au, first a bit of syb just trying so hard to do her job, and another snippet from jacob's pov of him continuing to be a violent and possessive creep <3 (also just for context, at the start of the first snippet, they're talking about renovations being done to st francis.

“Quite the project you’ve got goin’ here,” she remarks. “How long’ve’ya been workin’ on the place?”

“Couple months,” he answers, but doesn’t offer anything further. 

Jesus, this is gonna be like pullin’ teeth, ain’t it? So, she tries again. “Y’all’ve worked fast,” she hums, pointedly admiring the work done and emphasizing her awe -- give his ego a little stroke. “Good craftsmanship too, by the look of it. Think you’ll finish it all before winter?”

He tilts his chin up, puffing his chest out -- preening ever so slightly at her words. Yeah, that’s what I thought, she thinks. 

“That’s the goal,” he nods. 

But, once again, he doesn’t volunteer any more information. So, she presses once more. “What’re ya gonna do with it once it’s done?”

He pulls to an abrupt stop outside a set of french doors and gives her a stern look and folds his arms over his chest. “Is this pertinent to your investigation, Deputy?”

She blinks, taken a bit back. “Well, no --” 

“Then I’m not obligated to answer that.” He grasps the door’s handle, pushes it open, and steps inside. 

Sybille narrows her eyes, focusing on the point on his back where his shoulder blades meet. “You realize that makes you sound suspicious,” she says evenly, and she follows him into a large office. The walls are covered in renovation plans -- blueprints, schematics, and various paint swatches cover every last inch. Even more documents and plans lay scattered across the desk, and tucked away in the corner is a small cot. The bed has been made, the corners of the worn green blanket are tucked neatly at the corners. Army regulation.

Wonder if he slept here last night?

“And you realize you can’t do a damn thing about it,” he says shortly. “Private property is private property, Deputy. What we do here is our business.” He strides over to the desk and fishes a ring of keys out from one of the top drawers. “Now, if you have any questions that are actually relevant to your investigation, I’d be happy to answer them. You and I both have more important things to do than engage in chit-chat.”Giving the bulk of the keys a little flip around where his finger is hooked through the ring, he walks back over to her and gestures to the door. “After you.” 

Were she a smaller or less hardened woman, she might have been cowed by how he towers over her. There are some people who intimidate as easily as they breathe, and it’s become clear to her that Jacob Seed is just That Kind of man. Even his “after you,” a phrase and gesture that’s so becoming of a Southern Gentleman from Georgia, hides within it a direct order. A command she is expected to obey, lest she break the social parlance.

It’s not a fight worth having, so she nods and shuffles out of the office. The door clicks shut behind the two of them, and they begin walking back towards the courtyard. 

“So,” she tries again, once again falling in step beside him, “how late were you here last night?”

“All night,” he grunts. 

So, he did sleep here last night. “Anyone else with you?” To confirm your alibi? She doesn’t say. 

“No.” 

“You hear anything strange last night?” 

“No,” he repeats. 

She frowns. “What about any wolves howlin’?” 

He glances down at her from the corner of his eye and snorts. “This is wolf country, Deputy. I hear wolves around here nightly. It’d be strange if I didn’t hear them howling.”

“How about screamin’? Or gunshots goin’ off?”

“Do you know what a mountain lion sounds like, Deputy?” Jacob asks. 

“Pardon?”

“If you don’t know what you’re hearing, the call of a mountain lion sounds a lot like a human scream. Most accounts of people claiming a forest is haunted because they heard shrieking, are just people hearing mountain lions,” he explains dismissively. 

“Fascinating,” she answers flatly. “Doesn’t answer my question, though.” 

He sighs heavily, as if frustrated that his half-assed question for an answer wasn’t satisfactory to her. “No, Deputy. I didn’t hear any screaming or gunshots last night.” 

and a bonus jakey pov of him continuing to be creepy <;e3

As tempted as he is to give the Deputy the run around -- to see just how fast and far she’d run to catch him -- she doesn’t give him the option to. Her cruiser’s front bumper never strays more than a few feet of his own back one, making it explicitly clear that she isn’t just going to let him take off with the beast currently held on the bed of his truck. 

Besides, after smelling the shift in her scent when he picked the Feral up and carried it to his truck, he decided that playing nice, at least for the time being, would give him what he wants. The quickening of her pulse and the sweet, albeit suppressed smell of her arousal at his display of strength told him everything he needed to know. She’ll deny it -- loyal women like her always will -- but there’s a part of her that’s drawn to him. 

She likes that he’s strong. 

Picking up a dead body is nothing, his Wolf salivates. Let her see what we could do to Eli. Show her how strong we really are.

His grip around the steering wheel tightens until his knuckles turn white and he glances at his rear-view mirror. She’s driving with one hand on the wheel while her other arm is draped through her open window, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Do it, the Wolf urges. We know where he lives. We can end this little problem right now. His fingers move of their own accord and he barely catches himself before subconsciously flipping his signal to turn back north. 

No, he barks back. She’s human and has human sensibilities. She wouldn’t react to the normal mating rituals the same way a fellow werewolf would. He needs to be patient. Careful. If he’s going to pursue her, he has to treat it more akin to a hunt, rather than a courtship. He needs to lure her out; get her to trust him so that when she gets injured or frightened she comes running to him rather than Eli -- he needs to prove to her that he can protect and provide for her. 

It isn’t enough to force her to be his. He needs her to choose him over Eli. Her submission to him needs to be voluntary. That way, when he finally does destroy the Hunter, he’ll do it in every way conceivable. He’ll break his spirit first, then his body. Maybe he’ll claim her in front of him. Just to see the betrayed look in his eyes when Jacob kills the love he thought he had. Just to make him hear how his dear, sweet Deputy howls like a bitch in heat, begging him to bury his knot inside her cunt and fill her with his pups.

Eli Palmer will die a humiliated and broken man.

His Wolf makes a low, pleased growl and is placated by the thought. Fine. The sheep suit can stay on, for now.

[ouiouimochi]

thanks for the tag Hannah @justwinginglife mwaa

rules:

1. make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous

2. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

3. tag others to continue the game

I'm telling yall I have a l o t of wips, and most of em don't even have a title + titles present now may change when I post them too. in no particular order:

jin kamurai

special event (secret for now)

tokyo debunker with customized mc

gen narumi and his hair problems

want a swatch? kn8 headcanons

rematch. gen narumi

"damn is that ass real?"

pretty smile, but you lie

easily misunderstood statements

kn8 but you're secretly a social media idol (unsure which way I'm going forward with this since someone made a fic of idol! reader already)

banters with a multilingual reader ft. hoshina

arranged marriage with hoshina

abyss razor x crossdressing f! reader

drunk! reader x soshiro hoshina

kn8 fanfic idea 639994626

vampire hoshina and narumi

hoshina smut (almost forgot I was working on it)

narumi and reader's nephew

mashle scenarios

+ many more i haven't transferred to my docs yet

@ryescapades, @o-sachi , @17020 + i forgot my other moots tumblr handle fuck

[cheswirls]

xx snippet as promised :)

-

Sabo gets hired as a full-time neurologist just before the year draws to a close.

It’s a busy enough time of the year as is, but this process cinches it. They had no free time between the two of them to relax, always busy with some project or another. A shame, really, Sabo thinks, considering he’s just getting used to having his wedding ring on his right hand.

They ended up following through with their plan to buy a house instead of going somewhere for a honeymoon. The time left on their lease gave enough leeway to pack and move things over as they could. Most of what they owned still laid in boxes scattered about the empty property. 

Sabo gets a signing bonus and an office space immediately upon being hired. On his insistence, they use the bonus to buy furniture, something they’ve never gotten to do through the years they spent at the small apartment. It’s another task that gets added to their list, others getting shuffled and pushed back to make time, but it’s very worth it. Amidst the chaos, picking out fabric swatches and discussing clashing colors and having silly, pointless arguments with Ace turns out to be the most fun thing Sabo has ever done through the course of their relationship.

The first night their couch comes in, they collapse onto it and remain there until morning, spending their first full night in the new house instead of going back to the apartment where their bed still was. Ace wakes up late when the sun starts shining in his eyes from the back door windows. He sits up in a panic, hair in disarray, and separates from Sabo to go tame it in the shower while Sabo digs through the scattered boxes for a single spare bath towel.

Ace’s second trimester of his final year of residency is believably kicking his ass, but he still insists on helping Sabo set up his office during every free moment he gets.

He says this, yet when he comes by one mid-morning shortly after New Year’s, he looks so worn and drained and heavy on his feet that Sabo has mercy on him. 

Sabo stops what he’s doing to suck his lips together and presses both hands to Ace’s spine, guiding him towards the far side of the office space. Ace perks up and flails, confused at but fully willing to be led, and Sabo’s lips fall open when he can’t contain his giggles.

He reaches out with one foot to swing the desk chair their direction and then pushes Ace down onto it. “Stay,” he says for good measure, finger pointed to Ace when Ace twists his head back to look.

“And do what?” he asks, puzzled. His hands settle on the armrests so he can turn and sit properly. He ends up relaxing just a bit too far into the backing, unable to hide how weary he is when his shoulders droop in comfort.

“Go to sleep.”

Ace frowns, but his eyelids refuse to rise from half-mast. “I came here to help you.”

“You can help when you wake up, if you have time.” Sabo kicks the edge of the chair for good measure, sending Ace closer to the tall window where the warm sunlight is leaking through a small section of blinds. It’s about as much natural light as he gets in here at any point in the day, the architecture surrounding them preventing anything else most of the time. “I’ll feel bad if I have you doing some menial task while you look like you’re about to keel over.”

“Harsh,” Ace mumbles. But his head is already tipped back, shoes slipped off, and his eyes shut easily not long after.

Sabo moves away to go retrieve another stationary item from a box in the corner, but before he makes it, he glances back at Ace. Ace’s face has tilted to face the window more, and his features are softened by the sun’s faint glow. His breathing has already evened out, lips slightly parted. 

Sabo’s smile threatens to split his face in two. He rocks from heel to heel, resisting the urge to jump in place and settling for grabbing his wedding band tight in his other hand, squeezing down on his fingers. His smile breaks to reveal teeth, gritted in glee. 

Quietly, he pulls the door open and steps out into the hall. He shuts it the same way, leans back against the hard wood, and hikes his shoulders up to his ears while he buries his face in his hands.

A slow call of his name has him looking up in a hurry. Poire is a few steps away, rounding the bend that will take her to the reception area. She takes one look at his too-large grin and furrows her brows. “What?”

“I’m so in love,” he breathes out, unable to help himself.

Poire’s eyes narrow, but her mouth rounds out in something resembling a smile. “Gross,” she mutters, already turning away.