#this is all purely platonic

[milks-thoughts]

Futuer Leo with apprentice reader?

like reader was made his apprentice alongside Casey Jr and people keep comparing the two, how Casey was more mature, how he was stronger physically and emotionally

thankss

I warned y’all, i warned ya it was coming

(shout out to @yanteetle who makes me chuckle every time they react with my angst posts)

summary: Reader just wants to make him proud

TW: death, in detail character death, meaning the POV is dying, murder, reader runs away, reader has a breakdown, the dove is dead. why? cause I killed it, reader just wants to make him proud :(

It Was Not Your Fault But Mine

When Leonardo became the leader of the resistance he expected many things, war? mhm, death? absolutely. it came with the territory. being placed in charge of two preteens, to train them to be able to live in this brutal world? no, he was never expecting you to become his apprentice. He trained you both, but…he couldn’t help but see himself in you. the self he hated. his past, a cocky teenager that thought his older brother would carry everything for him.

You couldn’t help but resent Casey. Why did he get special treatment? You two were on the same patrol where you watched half the patrol get wiped out…and yet, you listened to your mentor, Leonardo, comfort Casey… why didn’t he also comfort you? His gruff voice broke through your thoughts “ You're okay, You're alright. I'll never, ever leave your side- “ you gripped your elbows as your buried your head in your knees “ -I will stay and I will fight. “ his humming filled the space he and Casey were sharing, you weren’t even supposed to be here “ With you, you're okay, you're alright. I'll stay here through the darkest night. All the way, I will fight….with you “ when you heard Leonardo start to leave the space, you quickly left the surrounding area. collapsing onto the floor and sighing, nothing but harsh memories being your company.

When you and Casey were allowed out on serious patrols, you were exploring a apartment building. You entered one door and recoiled at the dead person in the room, you backed up and knocked over a pot which caught the attention of a kraang dog nearby…which alterted its friends… which had them chasing after you and Casey. You both narrowly avoided them by closing yourselves in a apartment, you sheepishly grinned at Casey and he looked down at you with a unimpressed face. You two had waited two hours before Leonardo and a patrol could rescue you two, when he found out what happened…he sighed and walked off. You and Casey followed him back, being able to tell he was going to yell at you two when you got back. You dreaded it, you always ended up crying when Leonardo shouted at you, or, whenever anyone shouted at you.

You sniffled in your room, you didn’t miss how Leonardo’s frame was exhausted looking. He walked past your area and into Casey’s room. You suddenly shot up. “ I’ll make him proud of me. I’ll- I’ll do something impactful. I’ll bring back so much material that he can’t help but notice me! “ pushing out your room, grabbing a bottle of water and a nutrition bar, you left the resistance camp behind. Your eyes hard as you held your weapon tightly. You were going to force him to see you.

It was a horrible mistake. You were doing so good! Being stealthy! but a building crashed over top you, leaving a metal beam through your leg. You collar bones were broken as your weak arms tried to push off the large slab of concrete. realizing you couldn’t…tears started rolling down your face. you didn’t want to die alone…you didn’t want to die here. In the darkness your only companion was your emergency button, it’s blue color that it glowed was illuminating your face. You felt like a old dog, a dog that stopped being useful to your farmer. You whimpered and cried, whispering a small lullaby to yourself “ You're okay, You're alright. I'll never, ever leave your side- “ you gripped the concrete slab as you buried your head in the sand like floor behind you “ -I will stay and I will fight…. “ your humming filled the space, you weren’t even supposed to be here… “ With you, you're okay, you're alright. I'll stay here through the darkest night.- “ your sob echoed through the rubble “ -All the way, I will fight….with you… “ your body started hyperventilating to the best of its ability, the concrete slab feeling so..so heavy. You didn’t want to die alone with your thigh pinned down by a metal bar, by concrete holding down your chest…you wanted your mentor…you wanted…you…

Leonardo’s patrol finally got through the rubble, his hands scrapped and bleeding as he found you, a wail escaping him as he rushed forwards. Pushing the concrete slab you so clearly tried to push off, your scrapped and bleeding hands being a painful reminder how you both struggled with the rubble. He leaned his head down and sobbed when your chest never thudded with a heart beat. He pushed the hair out of your face so carefully and took in your tear streaked cheeks, still damp. Some may say that your death was your own fault. That you should’ve never left because you were jealous. But it was not your fault but his instead. He neglected you and he’ll defend your death and your name, and everything you stood for with his life, because he failed you, like he failed his brothers, like he failed New York…like he failed the world. He’s Icarus and he flew way too close to the sun.

[kookies2000]

As someone who grew up in a household where men were never allowed to show affection, let alone to another man, from fear of being seen as weak.............

These forehead touches between friends/bros are so healing to me. Please, we need more of this. Platonic affection between men is beautiful, and I wish I had grown up with it.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

[mitsuki91]

Okay but you know what could really destroy Snow?

Seeing Lucy Gray slowly starting to fall out of love with him. Lucy Gray knowing him so well she starts to be repulsed by him. The pain and disdain and the masks she has to wear (expecially if they are in the Capitol and she depends on him) in order to survive... With him because she has no other option. Lucy Gray, who put trust above everything, slowly starting to lie to his face, to hyde the fear and the pain behind fake smiles to make him happy with her.

And he will see this. He will see because, as always, as they are connected by the stars, as they are both performers, he can read her as she can read him. He can see her pulling back from their love story.

So. He may think that he want her to be caged, because so he can feel safe. But in reality he can not. In reality, he needs her to choose him. Everyday. They have to be a team. They have to be alone against the world (even if that means they have to perform to find a place in that world). He has to know, to feel sure, to feel warm about the fact that his Lucy Gray wanted him and wanted to be with him in the same way he wanted to be with her.

He has to be sure they truly love each others.

Or he is going to be insane. After all, he already did. One trace of doubt - he lost it. He lost it so bad.

But betrayal in a so giant way is a thing; a thing that set him in a rage, that make him spiraling without control and do despicable things in a matter or seconds.

Slowly see your only love slowly fade away? This is another type of pain who can drive one mad in a more subtle way, because he still had hope he can just fix things and surerly he will do it. Just a little time. Just a little patiente. He will do it. But in reality she fade. More and more far away. And panic arise, day by day.

So yeah, Coriolanus Snow was a boy in love, and as a boy in love (the first time I must add) wanted to cage her loved one, to control her. It's normal to feel this way when you love someone, because you want the other one to love you the same. But it's a passing thought, not a real one, because physical possesion doesn't mean owning someone's feelings, and he knew this. Deep down he knew. And he wants Lucy Gray's love above everything else.

Seeing her simply perform their love story to him will be too much.

[petriorchard]

a tribute to the yellow-green duos i became obsessed with at some point in my life

(that’s a lie—i’m still obsessed with all three)

[fatuismooches]

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬! ♡

#smooches talks - basically my tag for a bunch of rambling and talking to my anons!

#suggestive.content - the tag i use for stuff alluding to suggestive stuff!

#lovely writing <3 - reblogged writing from other creators that i adore!

#harbingers love notes <3 - short brainrots that include all the harbingers~

#pierro love notes <3 - short brainrots that include the director~

#capitano love notes <3 - short brainrots that include the captain~

#dottore love notes <3 - short brainrots that include the doctor~

#columbina love notes <3 - short brainrots that include damselette~

#arlecchino love notes <3 - short brainrots that include the knave~

#pulcinella love notes <3 - short brainrots that include the rooster~

#scaramouche love notes <3 - short brainrots that include the balladeer, wanderer, and kabukimono~

#sandrone love notes <3 - short brainrots that include marionette~

#signora love notes <3 - short brainrots that include the fair lady~

#pantalone love notes <3 - short brainrots that include regrator~

#childe love notes <3 - short brainrots that include tartaglia~

#zandy bb <3 - short brainrots that include dottore's child segment~

#harbinger birthdays <3 - short brainrots when it's their birthdays~

#fragile reader <3 - short brainrots (and also long fics are included) where reader is sickly~

#playable reader <3 - short brainrots where reader is a playable character~

[paperglader]

Jackie and Shauna are definitely winning at most fucked up canon wlw pairing at the moment... Just watched heavenly creatures for the first time and some things are clicking.

Once you realize that Jennifer's body and heavenly creatures set the tone for those two from the start everything sort of makes sense.

[grinchwrapsupreme]

getting into solar opposites post-valentines episode is so funny like you were all freaking out so much about the love plot i went into it thinking it would be your standard "they're best frienemies who have some tension that is only ever acknowledged as a joke" type of thing but no they literally share a bed, talk about making out and rimming each other in a way that makes it clear they Do That, kiss onscreen more than once, refer to themselves as husbands, get jealous of each others sexual exploits,

[citrine-elephant]

thinking about chris and leon, on their own, being grumpy and miserable

but when they're around each other it's that chaotic kind of friendship where you're up at ungodly hours cackling over the stupidest shit bcuz you're sleep deprived

and then they're yelled at to shut the fuck up cuz other people are trying to sleep-

[milks-thoughts]

is the request open? if saw! I want peepaw donnie with baby reader platonic request! I read your peepaw raph with baby child, And I went 'what about peepaw donnie' and i saw request is still open(or not) feel free to ignore this!

okay bet I pull up

what’s wrong? what do you MEAN you don’t like angst?

summary: Donnie’s child is sweet, too sweet, the world isn’t meant for sweet things anymore.

TW: death. only death. it’s just pain

Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

Donnatello was a man of science. He basked in it, he also considered himself a smart man. Someone who wouldn’t make brash decisions (that was Nardos job) so tell him why he found a yokai infant and immediately adopted it. It was a softshell turtle like him. “ An Apalone mutica “ is what he told his family when he brought the turtle infant home, Leo and Raph both showed worry to him having a child. Mikey was more than supportive. “ wait- what kind of turtle? “ asked April. He paused “ A smooth softshell turtle. It, “ he paused looking down at you “ They, are a smooth softshell turtle “. April smiled gently before Mikey jumped in “ AWWW! they’re soo cute! You’re gonna have to make ‘em a little baby battleshell! “ he still hadn’t lost his spunk to the apocalyptic downfall, even if his older brothers had. Raph struggled with everyone’s safety and health. Leo’s shoulders sagged with the responsibility of the resistance and the guilt of it all. Donnie was stressed with the tech he needs to make it work. He smiled when he walked off with you. Leaving his family behind him. He didn’t mean to leave them behind.

Despite the constant crying, he was more then patient with you. You weren’t exactly an easy baby, always whining whenever Donnie tried leaving you. Y’know how sometimes parents have those nightmares about their kids dying? he had more then his fair share of them. Every time he fell asleep he gets these dreams that seem more prophetic then anything. It’s of you, you’re older, probably in your early teens and he watches you die two ways. Being crushed by a falling building and..drowning. Donnie always pulls you out of the water, he always tries to bring you back but then not even a shaky breath and you go limp in his arms. Donnie always remembers seeing his younger twin talking to him, trying to bring him back to attention but…all he can hear is ringing. He always wakes up from those dreams with a loud gasp and heaving breaths before sobbing, finding his way to your makeshift crib and just watching you breathe. It fills Donnie with relief every damn time. He always mumbles your favorite lullaby when he watches you “ …please don’t take, my sunshine away… “

It’s funny how quickly people age, you went from an infant with a army of sponges tied to your shell to having your own battle shell made for you. Because of Donnie’s horrific dreams when you were just a baby he’s adding a float to it but…he can’t really combat a whole building. You usually hung out with April or Draxum much to your fathers and Tío Leo’s contempt. When you had gotten your shell, you immediately signed onto a patrol. It was supposedly an easy one, that was a lie. The kraang attacked the patrol. The robots crushing or decimating the crowd with its laser. You didn’t have a change to escape before a pole crushed your arm, panic rising in your chest as you kicked at the hard metal, the kraang bots laser getting closer. And eventually? It found you.

When Donnie caught wind of the attacked patrol he was expecting his daughter to be driving him up a all with all her questions but…she wasn’t there. Weird. Tuning, he saw you, your arm impaled and blood leaking from your ears. Your plastron caved in and shell ripped up. He rushed forward, falling to his knees and pulling the pole out of your arm and pulling you into his lap. You weren’t dead. You were holding on by a thread, shallow gasps filling your lungs as he shushed you and shaky sung “ You are my sunshine…my only sunshine, you make me happy, when sky’s are grey- you’ll never know dear, how much I love you…please don’t take my sunshine away.. “ Donnie seemed like he was speaking past you, to someone he thought must’ve been there….he’s never sobbed that hard, not even when his older brother died. He swore his lungs would collapse from the pressure of his screams, no one could pull him from you. His child. His Star. It took him till sunset to calm down. A hushed shaky sob leaving him as he held you again, swearing that he would be more careful. For himself, and for others.

[tennessoui]

wherein anakin leaves the order

for @kana7o who requested anakin leaving the order when he’s 14 or so and obi-wan leaving with him which catches anakin completely by surprise. 

(2.7k)

It’s the balino pasta that does it. 

Sort of.

Well, okay, it’s a lot of things if Anakin is being honest.

But it’s the balino pasta that really, actually, finally does it.

Anakin stares down at the bowl in front of him, feeling the excitement curdling in his chest as Briyel digs her fork into a red noodle and raises it to her mouth with alacrity. 

“Oh stars,” Vun says from beside him, breaking a chunk of bread and dipping it into the still-bubbling yellow sauce. “Oh stars, thank the Force Master Renwal let us go early for lunch.”

“They put souan bird in it!” Lana reports, sounding so kriffing excited.

“Oh that’s bantha shit then,” Rangok says, pushing the bowl away. “Souan’s the worst.”

Anakin can’t tear his eyes away from the pasta in his bowl the same way he can’t escape the sinking feeling in his gut, the one that tells him what he already knows:

He doesn’t belong here.

Just from the smell, he can tell it’s bland, that even though the colors in his bowl are reminiscent of fire, it will taste like nothing when it slides down his throat.

“Chin up, Skywalker,” Briyel nudges at him underneath the table with her fin. “I thought you liked Souan bird.”

“I do,” Anakin says and forces a smile onto his face. “Yeah definitely.”

He reaches for the excitement that he’d felt two hours ago when the first whispers of the lunch menu circulated through his age mates. Balino pasta.

He hadn’t known what it was, but he’s gotten very good at pretending he does with this sort of thing. He’s found it’s much easier to fake excitement than it is to face his peers’ incredulity when they remember again and again that he is different from the rest of them, raised speaking a different language, on a different planet, with a different understanding of—of everything.

Even something as simple as food. 

“Yeah, it’s good,” Anakin nods and tries to make it look happy, spearing a noodle on his fork and lifting it to his mouth. “Oh, wow,” he says. “That’s wizard.”

“Oh, what?” Vun looks up from his fourth forkful. “Wait, do you actually like balino pasta?” 

Anakin freezes mid-chew. The question feels like a trap, but he can’t understand how. They’re all eating it, they were all so excited about it. Surely that means they like it. And surely that means that Anakin should as well. 

“Yeah,” he swallows. Frankly, he thinks, the ration bars he ate with his master while they took cover under a shipwreck tasted better than this. Kark, if Anakin’s being honest, the bugs he’d eaten roasted over the smallest fire imaginable on Tatooine tasted better than this.

But just a few months ago, he’d overheard his master talking with Master Vos in their quarters. Anakin was meant to be asleep, but he’d been so thirsty, still recovering from a sickness that had left him bedridden for two weeks. He’d just needed water, but then his master had been talking to Vos and it had taken Anakin all of two seconds to realize he was talking about him.

So of course he’d stayed. Of course he’d crouched in the shadows of the hallway leading to the living area and listened to his master’s words.

“It is like he does not want to be accepted by his age mates,” Obi-Wan had muttered, and Anakin could see the way he scrubbed his hand over his face. “Like he does not care nor desire the community they can bring him. That the Jedi can bring him.”

“From where I’m sitting, he wants to be accepted by you,” Quinlan Vos had replied, and Anakin had felt mortification deep down to his bones. “Maybe he doesn’t need agemates if he has you.”

“He won’t always have me,” Obi-Wan had said. “Not to mention that that way of thinking leads to dangerous attachment. He needs—kriff, Quinlan, I want him to feel as if he belongs here at the Temple, but he—he never wants to attend activities with his agemates, he never wakes in time for morning meditation, he hid the fact that he was sick until he almost collapsed in Mid Rim Contextual Histories class! I don’t know if—if he truly does not need the connection with his peers or if he doesn’t want to try or if he still does not trust the Jedi enough to seek his agemates out, but—” his master had cut himself off with a frustrated groan and gone quiet.

His friend hadn’t. “Obi-Wan, you’ve been given a difficult task, one that’s not been done in living memory for very good reason. Your padawan’s rough adjustment to Temple life is not a reflection of you as a master, nor of how much you care for the boy.”

“How could it not be?” Anakin’s master had said, and Anakin had gone back to his bed with a dry throat and a pit in his stomach which solidified into a resolution overnight: he would try. For that wavering note of dismay in his master’s voice, he would try harder than ever before to belong here in the Temple.

But then—but now—-

“I’ve never met someone who likes the balino pasta,” Vun says.

Anakin looks to Briyel, because nothing makes sense, but she’s smiling slightly too.

“But then—” he stutters out, setting down his fork in his still full bowl of food. “I don’t—”

Lana takes pity on him. “Everyone in the entire Temple thinks balino pasta is disgusting,” she tells him after she swallows her mouthful. “And so the cooks always give us the best dessert after to make up for it. Balino pasta means Bavaugan cream puffs, and if you eat really fast, Chef Faj gives you extra cream puffs.”

“Since you like the pasta so much, can I have your cream puffs?” Rangok asks, and Anakin’s chest feels tight, like all the pasta he’s just forced himself to swallow has gummed up his lungs.

He stands and walks out of the refectory without another word.

—----------

So it’s a lot of things, but it’s the balino pasta that really does it, really makes him understand that he can learn the rules and he can play nice as anything, he can join the outings his agemates schedule and he can stay silent during morning meditation, but he doesn’t belong. He doesn’t know how to, will never be able to learn every hidden rule and tacit understanding that binds the Jedi together.

He can recite the Code in four different languages, but he’ll never know about the balino pastas of the Jedi Temple, the silent rituals that bind all Jedi together.

And he can’t think of one reason why he should keep trying. 

—------------

Anakin wouldn’t say he’s an expert at leaving homes behind, but he’s done it once already, so he understands the basics.

He understands that it’s important to go fast and to not look back. He has a bit of credits, a lot more than any fourteen year old should have. He has a bit of credits and a loose plan. He’s going to leave the Jedi Order one night, and he’s not going to come back. He won all the credits he has by podracing in the lower levels, so he’ll go there first, bet on himself under a fake name, and collect his winnings. Then he’ll get off of Coruscant for good.

Out of necessity, he waits one week between the day balino pasta was served in the refectory and the night he leaves. He tells himself it’s because of the podracing schedule, but he knows it’s not.

His master is gone. He’d been sent on a solo mission a few weeks ago, and Anakin wants to say goodbye to him. He doesn’t want to just leave.

But Obi-Wan is nowhere to be found, even when Anakin thinks he should be back, and Anakin can feel the resolve in his stomach wavering.

More importantly, he can feel his disquiet slowly harden into resentment—of his agemates, of the Order, of his master.

He doesn’t want to hate anything, especially not the Jedi. Especially not his master.

So when the night of his self-imposed departure rolls around, Anakin walks to his master’s room. It’s empty still, the bed carefully made and every surface clean and devoid of personality.

He leaves his padawan braid on the blanket. His master should have that at least. It’s always been his more than it’s been Anakin’s.

It’s incredibly difficult not to linger as he walks through their quarters. He spent five years of his life here. There, the third caf table that Master had had to request because Anakin had destroyed the first two. The kitchen where Master had taught him how to make an omelet.

It doesn’t get any easier as he moves through the Jedi Temple, quiet as a mouse-droid and leaving half-hearted goodbyes in his wake even as he tries not to linger.

He knows what he should do because this is not his first time leaving a home.

But he doesn’t think he can do it, leave and not look back. He isn’t sure he has it in him.

It tears at his heart, standing in the hangar bay, hugging the shadows of the room as he waits for the last worker to leave.

He wonders when his bond with his master will fade, when his master will get another padawan. He thinks about some strange boy sleeping in his bed, and his heart falters. Maybe he can try harder. Maybe there’s still time to turn back, run back to their quarters, and unpack his bag.

He can explain away the shorn padawan braid as a training accident, he can—he can stuff this hurt deep down into his chest and try to be the padawan his master deserves. The Jedi Order can be his family, they can, he can just—he just has to pretend a little more and then he—

A hand, rough and familiar, falls onto his shoulder and it’s only when Anakin raises his head to blink tear-filled eyes at his master that he realizes he’s sunk down against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest as his mind tears into his heart.

“Hello there,” his master murmurs, kneeling in front of him. “What are you doing on the floor, padawan?”

Anakin promptly bursts into tears.

When his master sucks in a startled breath and guides him into his chest, Anakin feels rotten. He’s leaving but his master is still being so nice to him. And in a few years—a few months—his master will find a new padawan, and he won’t be his master anymore and this is what Anakin wants because he doesn’t belong at the Temple, this is what he needs. 

But it hurts. It hurts so much.

“Hush, padawan,” his master murmurs, and Anakin buries his face in the tunic of Obi-Wan’s robe.

“Not your padawan,” he mumbles, gripping tighter to the fabric. “‘M leaving.”

Obi-Wan huffs something that could be a laugh or could be scoff. “Oh, Anakin,” he says, free hand rubbing his back. “I know. But you must give me a few weeks to get used to the idea. You have been my padawan for five years. I’ll probably slip up and call you so for five more.”

Anakin sniffles and pulls back, wiping at his eyes. “You mean you’re not mad?” he asks, far more timidly than he means to. “You’re still going to want to talk to me even though I’m not gonna be a Jedi? And probably do a lot of illegal things to make a living?”

His master’s eyes are twinkling. “I hope we can meet in the middle when it comes to those criminal tendencies,” he says. “But as for talking to you…as your legal guardian in the eyes of the Coruscanti and Stewjoni governments, I would like to see you try to ignore me until you come of age.”

“What?”

“Ah, but please do not take that as a challenge, dear one. I imagine your teenage years will be hard enough as it is.”

“What?”

“Not to say that I’m dreading them,” his master says distractedly. “Though I suppose the accommodations I secured for us on Stewjon are modest compared to having a whole Temple that you can put between us when you’re feeling stroppy. But dreading feels much too harsh, even though I can already hear the doors slamming hard enough to shake the walls—”

“Master, what!” Anakin pushes himself fully away from Obi-Wan’s arms, frowning at his master’s face. “What are you talking about?”

Obi-Wan looks at him for a moment, as if debating something very serious before he sighs and stands, offering a hand to Anakin who takes it automatically.

“Anakin, when you stopped attending your classes a week ago, your masters let me know. It didn’t come as a shock, not to any of us, and I had several long talks with Master Yoda and the Jedi Council. We…decided that if you were to indicate that you believed you wanted to leave the Order, my resignation would be effective immediately as well.

“What they didn’t quite understand and I knew intrinsically is that you would never indicate your intentions. You would simply act upon them. Master Yoda agreed to allow me a sort of…soft exit from the Jedi Order. Enough time to find lodgings for us, to complete the paperwork necessary to make me your legal guardian so that I may take you off-world, to say my own goodbyes.”

Anakin doesn’t know when he starts shaking his head, but he can’t seem to stop. “Master, no, you’re a Jedi, you can’t just leave for me—”

“Nonsense,” his master says. “The Jedi Order is not a prison, nor is it a cult. I can leave whenever I want for whatever reason I choose. And besides, I’ve already found myself a rather good entry-level job near our lodgings in Stewjon. I’m quite excited, if I’m being honest. I’ve never paid taxes before.”

Anakin blinks and tries once more with a furious shake of his head. “I don’t—master, I never asked for this—I can do it myself, I don’t need you to—”

“Yes, I wager you probably could find your own way,” Obi-Wan nods thoughtfully. “And I know you’ve never asked this of me and that you probably never even thought to. But the truth of the matter is this, dear one: you never had to.”

Tears bead at Anakin’s eyes again as fear and guilt and relief war within him. “Master,” he mutters.

Obi-Wan’s hand lands on his head in a friendly pat before his fingers slide down to rub at the shorn end of his hair where his braid used to be. “I believe you can call me Obi-Wan, Anakin. I’m hardly your master anymore.”

Anakin sucks in a breath and lets the relief win out and flood his chest. “Obi-Wan,” he murmurs, testing the syllables on his tongue. Just Obi-Wan. His face breaks out into a smile at the way they sound, the gentle hold Obi-Wan has on his shoulder. “Obi-Wan,” he says again, and Obi-Wan laughs.

“I have a ship fueled,” Obi-Wan tells him, and Anakin looks at him in wonder.

He could have done this all alone. He knows that. But it’s an amazing feeling, knowing that he doesn’t have to, that he has someone with him to think about the little things like fueling the ship and paying taxes.

He probably has a dozen ration bars tucked away in his bag as well.

“Unless you would rather walk to Stewjon,” Obi-Wan’s eyebrow raises in an expression that’s painfully and giddly familiar. “Which would be rather hard to do as it’s several planets away.”

Anakin doesn’t say that right now he feels as if he could do it, could walk all the way to Stewjon and back. He doesn’t think he has to. It feels written all over his face.

“No, Obi-Wan,” he says instead, the same way he used to say master. But it feels better somehow.

Even more perfect now that they’re not master and padawan anymore, that they’re just Obi-Wan and Anakin and the galaxy is spread out before them.

[make-it-one-piece]

I hope you've listened to "Tu falta de querer" by Mon bc it's important for this headcanon.

If Ace had found out about Sabo before Sabo remembered anything, I think he wouldn't say anything, or try to aproach.

Bc he has self worth issues and just being forgotten like that really got to him. Like in the song "How did you stop loving me?"

He remembered every detail about sabo, but he had forgotten absolutely everything about him.

But he would not be able to stop loving him.

"I still love you, and I think that even more than yesterday"

He would dream about meeting again, sharing that damned cup of sake and returning to the old times, but at the same time he wanted to beat him up, to scream in his face how could he do that to him.

"Come, and tell me the truth. Have mercy"

[xenon-demon]

I... have no idea what this is. No that's a lie I know exactly what this is, it's 2.6k of a Frozen AU with Steve as Elsa and Robin as Anna that I wrote in a fugue state after seeing a friend's production of Frozen: The Musical tonight. I have several WIPs I'm supposed to be working on and this is exactly none of them. Bone apple teeth. (Also I'm genuinely unsure if my usual crew of beloved enablers would even WANT to be tagged in this so... for now I'm not doing a taglist, and if I write any more of this AU I'll do one next time 😂)

“Steve!”

At the sound of his name, the Prince — now King, and boy is Robin going to take a while to get used to that — turns his head towards her. Seeing it's Robin, Steve gives his apologies to whatever noble he was talking to and steps away from their conversation. He makes his way over to Robin in just a few short strides, but his eyes flick back and forth between Robin and her new... well. She doesn't really want to think about what Eddie now is to her. In any case, she can already see a questioning frown start to brew on Steve's face, meaning this will be a much harder sell than she expected.

“Robin!” Steve exclaims, his gaze almost immediately sliding over to Eddie and giving him a once-over. He sounds markedly more subdued when he continues, “I see you've... made a friend.”

“Well, I wouldn't say a friend exactly!” Robin laughs, shrill and stilted, and gives Eddie's arm a pointed squeeze when he doesn't immediately join in. Getting the hint, Eddie finally starts laughing along. Hopefully Steve didn't notice her hinting, since she's had her arm wrapped around Eddie's since before she even called him over.

Steve raises an eyebrow at her, and shit does she need to keep this moving.

“This,” Robin announces, using the hand that's not around Eddie's arm to do a quick flourish in the direction of his face, “is Prince Edward of the Kingdom of Forest-Upon-Hills. We met at the ball tonight.”

“It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” says Eddie, trying his best to show the proper respect and bow as he does so. Robin's death grip on his arm prevents him from getting very far.

“Likewise,” Steve replies, sounding incredibly skeptical of this whole conversation. He then shoots Robin a look, which, rude, but also entirely warranted given what she's about to ask him.

Steeling herself, Robin begins to say, “Prince Edward and I-”

“Just Eddie is fine,” Eddie interrupts her, leaning in a little bit closer to her as he whispers. He's got terrible volume control, however, so she wouldn't know it was meant to be a whisper if she hadn't spent the past two hours talking to him.

“Not one for formalities, Prince Eddie?” Steve asks, the weight of his gaze finally leaving Robin's shoulders for a moment. God, she often wishes her brother was easier to read, but never as strongly as she does right now.

Eddie, meanwhile, straightens up so quickly it's like he's been electrocuted.

“Uh, not particularly, no. They grate on me,” Eddie says. He pauses for a moment, and Robin can see the deliberation on his face before he adds, “Your Majesty.”

“I'm not one for formalities either, Prince Eddie,” Steve says. His mouth twitches into a very small smile. “I prefer Steve.”

There's a pause, then, where Steve and Eddie are locked into some strange stare-down, while Robin looks on in vague exasperation. She's pretty sure she could strip naked and swing from the chandelier in the center of the ballroom and neither of them would take any notice of her. She's about to intervene, actually, because they really do not have time for whatever this is, when Eddie miraculously breaks the spell himself. He blinks a bit, looking away from Steve and back to Robin, face significantly more flushed than it was a minute ago.

“I believe you were saying something to K- to Steve, Princess?” Eddie asks, just about tripping over Steve's new title on instinct before catching himself.

Robin just barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes. She really is the bravest, most long-suffering warrior in all of Hawkins.

Putting her brave face back on, Robin turns to her brother and says, “Yes I was, thank you Eddie, I was saying that Prince Eddie and I-” and here she falters, because Steve looks back at her and meets her gaze. She swallows, trying to be subtle, and looks very pointedly at Steve's forehead instead of his eyes. She can't do this if she's looking him in the eye.

She takes another half second to compose herself, then rips the band-aid off.

“Prince Eddie and I seek your blessing for our marriage.”

“Excuse me?” Steve says, more like demands, almost choking on nothing. Robin's never seen her brother this off-kilter in her life. He doesn't even try to compose himself at  all before he says, “Robin, can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?”

Robin swallows guiltily, knowing he'll see straight through her if she agrees.

“No. Anything you want to say to me, you can say to both of us,” Robin says, and how her voice stays steady, she doesn't even know. It probably helps that she's still not looking Steve in the eye.

“Robin- I don't-” Steve interrupts himself to run his gloved hands down his face. He pauses for a moment, face completely covered by his hands, and takes a deep sigh. When he removes his hands and starts speaking again, his voice is measured. Calm. Deadly.

“Rob, you can't marry a man you just met,” Steve states. The word man falls heavy off his tongue, and Robin knew she would regret coming out as a lesbian, she just didn't think it would be like this. Squaring herself up for the best performance of her life, Robin begins her improvised speech full of bullshit to convince her brother to let her do this.

Before she can, however, Eddie chimes in with, "You can if it's true love." Steve doesn't even spare Eddie a glance, but his frown does deepen significantly. Shit.

“Steve,” Robin begins, trying very hard to stay calm, “Eddie and I have a connection unlike any I've ever felt before. I lo-love him”—shit, she could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat saying that, and judging by the almost-imperceptible twitch in Steve's eye, he knows too—“and I think it's time I start giving back to the Kingdom of Hawkins.”

“Giving back?” Steve asks, and fuck he's folding his arms across his chest now. “How exactly is this giving back to the kingdom? What you're doing is running headfirst into the first bad decision you can find.”

”I'm a bad decision?” Eddie asks. Both Robin and Steve ignore him.

“No, Steve, I'm giving back by giving the kingdom a new celebration to look forward to after your coronation,” Robin hisses. “A royal wedding is another opportunity to open the castle gates and bring the kingdom together-”

“Absolutely not,” Steve snaps, interrupting her. “We are not opening up the castle gates again for a long time.”

“Why not, Steve?” Robin snaps back. “Tonight's been great for the kingdom's morale, it's been great for you to see people and actually socialize-”

“You have no idea what's good for me, Robin,” Steve says, making her stop dead. It hurts, hearing Steve say that like it's obvious and she's stupid for not knowing it already. What hurts more is that it’s true.

Once it's clear Robin won't keep talking, Steve continues, “You asked for my blessing, and I do not give it. I don't approve of this, and if you're doing this in some misguided attempt to make me happy- quite frankly you've gone insane if you think this would make me happy.”

With that, he turns to walk away.

Okay, sure, she has no idea what Steve's whole deal is or why he's always shutting her out, but Robin is sure she knows what will help.

Sure, part of this crazy scheme is the vague idea that if Robin has a picture-perfect capable-of-bearing-children partnership, then Steve will be under less pressure himself to marry someone who can produce an heir. Maybe, with less scrutiny on his personal choices, he'll learn to relax and open up more over time. That idea falls apart pretty quickly, however, as the thought of producing an heir with a man - even one as fun to talk to as Eddie - makes her want to gouge her own eyes out. No, the real reasoning behind Robin's (admittedly insane) plan to marry someone she met two hours ago at her brother's coronation is so she has an ironclad reason for Steve to open the gates again. Sure, ideally it would've been a woman who caught her eye tonight, but she can't be picky. Robin doesn't meet anyone, especially with the castle locked up like it always is, and she has yet to think of something other than a wedding that would convince Steve to open the gates. Then Eddie came along, laughing and flirting (she thinks, at least; Robin's tried to black that part out) and professing his undying true love to her, and this was the best opportunity she was ever going to get.

And she has to convince her brother to open the gates again. Steve's been thriving tonight. He clearly loves the thrum of people, all of them dancing and laughing and enjoying themselves, and he's slowly coming out of his shell with every conversation he has with their subjects. Robin's spent more time talking to her brother tonight than she has in a long, long time. Too long for her to try to quantify it without crying.

Watching her brother turn away from her, the promise of a relationship with him going forward about to slip through her fingers, she knows she has to do something.

“Steve, wait-” Robin says, reaching out for Steve. She grabs him by the hand, feeling the soft cotton of the white gloves he always, always wears.

“Enough, Robin,” Steve says, not even looking back as he yanks his hand out of her grip. She's trying to hold on, though, so she's left holding his glove as Steve pulls his now-bare hand away from her. God, how upsetting is it that it's been years since she saw the back of her own brother's hands?

Steve swears, then, under his breath. Robin almost doesn't hear it; almost.

“Robin, give me my glove.” Steve's not asking; he's demanding. Robin can work with this.

“Not unless you talk to me about why you won't open the gates. Look at how tonight went, it's been so good for you-”

“This isn't up for debate, Robin, give me my glove,” and Steve reaches for it then, but Robin quickly holds the glove up high above her head before he can grab it.

“Why isn't it up for debate? Why do you isolate yourself all the time?” Robin's almost dancing now, twisting and turning as she tries to keep the glove away from Steve's grabbing hands. It doesn't help that he's taller than her, but she's more agile than people think, especially since Steve's in full coronation regalia right now. The material's stiff as a board at the best of times.

“You wouldn't understand, just give me the- ugh!” Steve's stopped trying to grab the glove, instead trying to restrain her and make it easier to grab.

“Maybe I would understand if you'd talk to me instead of shutting me out all the time-” Steve's almost got her in a headlock, but Robin ducks out from underneath it and quickly steps away and out of Steve's reach.

“Robin, that's enough!” Steve shouts, and then several things happen consecutively.

Steve reaches out towards Robin with his right hand, the one missing the glove.

Robin thinks she's going crazy, but- what look like snowflakes shoot out from Steve's hand where he's reached for her.

The crowd, most of whom had turned to look at Steve's shout, gasp, almost in unison.

“I- Steve-” Robin says, not quite sure where to start with the -- actually quite sizable -- pile of snow now on the ballroom floor.

“No,” Steve gasps, and Robin's never heard her brother so distraught. It makes something keen inside her, the sheer anguish in his voice. “No, no no no, this can't be happening, this can't-” Steve reaches up to pull at this hair, but more snow and ice shoots out from his hand as soon as it's pointing towards the ceiling. He flinches away from his own hand, sheer terror on his face, but with every movement Steve makes more and more snow and ice surrounds him. Within a few seconds, there's a wind picking up as well, and it's like a snowstorm is starting to form right there in the castle dining room.

The crowd, originally shocked into silence, starts to move again. Robin hears screaming, people running, shouting from the guards about an evacuation plan, but it's all faint and distorted like she's underwater. All she can focus on right now is Steve, the way his terror is only worsening by the moment.

“Steve, let me help you,” Robin calls over the roar of the crowd and the storm, taking a few steps towards him. She needs to get his attention before getting closer, the last thing she wants to do right now is startle him.

“Stay away from me!” Steve yells, holding up his hands in an instinctive 'stay back' gesture. Yet more ice shoots out towards Robin as he does so. “I’m not safe!”

“I don't care! You're my brother!” Robin shouts back, but Steve doesn't seem to hear her. He's looking down at his hands in horror, then at the waist-high line of ice between the two of them.

Robin somehow knows what he's going to do the moment before he does it.

“Steve!” Robin screams, breaking into a run. Steve's faster than her, always has been, so he makes it to the doors of the ballroom well before she can catch him. It also helps that people, even the guards posted at the doors, part to make room for him whenever he draws near. Seeing Steve push open the ballroom doors just enough to slip through them, Robin yells again, “Steve! Stop!”

“Princess Robin!” Someone crashes into Robin then, nearly sending the two of them flying. (Robin mentally thanks whatever God there may be that she wore pants and not a dress.) After regaining her footing, Robin looks at her assailant to find- oh, it's that guy. The Duke of one of their main trading partners, Tommy something. Haggard? Halfwit? Yeah, something like that.

“Princess Robin,” Tommy Hapless says, bending over with one hand on his knees and the other holding Robin's elbow as he catches his breath. God, Robin does not have time for this. “Princess, you can't- we need guidance. We need someone to... to lead us while the King is... indisposed.”

“I really don't have time for this,” Robin snaps, brushing his hand off her elbow. “Steve's my brother, I have to find him before he gets hurt!”

“I don't think... he's the one who'll be getting hurt,” Tommy Hanger-On says between gasps, quietly, but not so quiet Robin doesn't hear. She makes a point to stomp on his toes as she stalks off towards Eddie, who is doing his best to help people follow the evacuation advice. He looks faintly queasy, and very much like he would rather be literally anywhere else, but he's actually doing a pretty good job of guiding people where the guards want them.

Eddie doesn't notice her coming, so he jumps when Robin grabs him by the shoulder. She turns him around to face her, then grabs him by the other shoulder as well so she's looking him right in the eyes.

“I need to find Steve,” Robin says, not waiting for Eddie to finish whatever question he's opened his mouth to ask before continuing, “Can you take care of the kingdom until we get back?”

Eddie goes pale instantly. “What? I can't-”

“You're a prince, right? I know Forest-Upon-Hills is a pretty small kingdom, but how different can Hawkins really be?” Eddie doesn't look reassured, but Robin cares very little about that right now. She claps him on both shoulders in what she hopes is an encouraging gesture.

She grabs Eddie's hand and thrusts it up into the air, shouting, “Prince Eddie is in charge until I return!”

She then drops his hand before turning and running out into the night, ignoring the chaos behind her and the faint sounds of Eddie's confused protests.

Nothing matters to her now except for finding Steve.

[sophiethewitch1]

Spoiler? Yes,please. 👀👀👀💕

Wasn't sure what you guys wanted, so here's like a small snippet of chapter 2. If you have want like,,, important spoilers or something just lemme know. I will happily reveal the plot of this entire stupid thing because I'm very in love with it. Girl failure reader versus the world

[last-of-the-jaded]

Who in NCT Dream is your best bet at surviving a horror movie scenario?

Jisung: Unless it’s something to do with running that man is dead. The second that you reach a puzzle it’s goodnight Sweet Prince.

Chenle: I feel like our horror movie fanatic would be so into it, and turn into an amused critic, that he’d end up getting everyone around him killed.

Jaemin: Roll of a coin with this one. Depending on his mood he will either get you out of there no issue or sit back and let death take him like angel’s wings.

Mark: Beautiful emotional rock of a man would make you hard carry the gore and heights and jump scares and psycho killers. It’s not fair, but if you’ve got the will…

Renjun: He would leap to assist the group with anything, even as he overthinks the same puzzle for over an hour, and jumps at the slightest noise. It’s teamwork, even if the chances of survival are slim.

Haechan: Mind like a saw-trap going a thousand miles a minute. If you don’t get in his way or slow him down I feel like it’s a good bet.

Jeno: A physically-force-it type of problem solver, who would live a long time, but most likely get caught due to following a shoddy order or idea because he’s too loyal to question motives.

[zeb-z]

ok listen. you're badboyhalo and having the worst week of your life. you're willing and wanting to give anything, anything, to get your kids back. forever, your crush/enemy/friend/date partner?/ president sits you down and asks you to marry him. he's on a drug that makes him manically happy and has an extreme level of brainwashing for federation purposes.

you consider for the briefest moment saying yes, because you're drowning in your grief and hard in bargaining, but it won't do anything to help bring the eggs back, forever doesn't know anything. forever wants the eggs back as much as you do, the real one at least, you know this.

you're surrounded by roses. you ask him what you can do to help him, what he needs, asking the forever that you know is in there somewhere. any other personal feelings aside, he's your friend and he clearly needs help. he asks you to marry him again. he tells you to stop making some noise that he's clearly hearing through auditory hallucination. you just want your kids back, you keep telling him this, until he snaps and starts shooting mines under both of you.

forever is still out of his mind. your kids are still missing. the roses are burning.

bad said no to the proposal, of course he did. that's not forever, the kids are gone, this is no time or place for such a thing even if forever was himself. but I don't think forever asked because he feels "opposite than what he usually feels" under the pills. he's manic and under the influence and half brainwashed - he wants every day to be the best day.

and how heartbreaking is that? that bad is only being proposed to while forever is out of his mind. that forever wants bad to say yes because that would make the day the best day ever for him. that under any other circumstances, on that bench with the roses all around them, it might have been something good?