#i like to call this session the valley of death

[sirenetica]

Session Six

#i like to call this session the valley of death #more symbolism than actual death count #but still a fun thing for me #life series #secret life #sl!scar #sl!grian #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #mcyt #mcytblr #cw: eyes #eyes #scopophobia #scopohobia tw #could be tagged as dsrt duo if one wanted #really REALLY enjoyed working on this #more to come! #hopefully

[glassrowboat]

I Grew Up

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFW part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she has done so many times before. (Y/n)’s antics just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that, the details of swirling clouds so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words just begging him to chase her around the small space, again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” (Y/n) held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as (Y/n) got closer to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. (Y/n) even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as (Y/n) tried to get the situation out, and understood, as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice becoming clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, (Y/n)’s master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize it was hard to tell, he could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter one's Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, (Y/n)’s shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now though? (Y/n) was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as (Y/n) huffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates (Y/n) bent down so she could properly look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots making a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything it's just a sign you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever (Y/n) was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat I should know what I'm going into, and master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so over confident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure (Y/n) could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The one's I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” (Y/n) clapped her hands together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us, Yuan.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when (Y/n) glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Are you sure about that, prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind (Y/n)’s ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke (Y/n) lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if (Y/n) had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, as (Y/n) whined at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade, of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his as (Y/n) told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out to leave a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

(Y/n) didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled (Y/n) into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. (Y/n) his lake he would willingly jump in even if it drowned him.

“Pr-prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Sure. She's so snarky even like this.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at again covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was (Y/n) who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Old nails clearly being the only things keeping the boxes together as he watched the cloud knights assigned to this mission just like she was.

Blue armor much like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, (Y/n) was. A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms despite the fact he wasn't going to be besides them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients (Y/n) never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. Miss (Y/n) of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew (Y/n) best was when she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

(Y/n) can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men that were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

Somehow the sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a Disney princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, general,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the amount of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it fades away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teasing over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

‘I love you.’

‘I'll be back in two years.’

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

‘Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we can try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.’

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

‘Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night to me was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years time when you are at the age I am now you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat, was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite you jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.

Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform. Green never was my color.

I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-’

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters so they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

‘I am sorry I grew up without you.’

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hoyoverse #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fem reader #x reader #steamy #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai sr x you

[severusskywalker]

I’m looking for some more podcasts to listen to.

I’ve recalling liked The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale, Malevolent, Wolf 359, and a couple others, and I’m looking for more. I like ones with overarching plots, if that makes sense? Any recommendations? Thanks!

Edit: A few more I have enjoyed/finished (including from the list below, as I listen to them!)

Archive 81

Auricle

The Deep Vault

The Scarab Archives

Vigil

The Technomacy Project

What Will Be Here

Re: Dracula

Stellar Firma

Out of Place

I Am In Eskew

Ars Paradoxica

The Antique Shop

And now the ever increasing recommendations, so they are all in one place… please feel free to keep recommending ones too, I love growing recs lists! (Now alphabetized!)

Aftershocks

Alice isn’t Dead

A Voice From Darkness

Camp Here and There

Captain Skyjacks

Case 66

Critical Role

Cryptids

Dames & Dragons/LegendLark

Darkest Night

Death by Dying

Derelict

Desert Skies

Desperado!

Deviser

Dimension 20

Don’t Mind Cruxmont

Dungeons & Daddies

Either

Ethics Town

Find Us Alive

From Caulk and Candles

Ghost Wax

Girl in Space

Greater Boston-the vignettes

Hello from the Hallowoods

Interstitial AP

Just Roll With It

Kakos Industries

Keep it Steady

Last Call at the Bluebell Cafe

Life With Althaar

Limetown

Mabel

Midnight Burger

Midst

Mirrors

Mission to Zyxx

Mockery Manor

Monstrous Agonies

Murray Mysteries

Neighborly

Newts!

Not Quite Dead

Old Gods of Appalachia

Oz 9

Paralyzed

Potterless

Red Valley

Revolution

Riley Hopkins and their Amazing Friends

Rusty Quill Gaming

Sayer

Second Star to the Left

Somewhere, Ohio

Spines

Spirit Box Radio

Spirits Podcast

Steal the Stars

S-town

Strange Case of Starship Iris

The Adventure Zone

The Amelia Project

The Black Tapes

The Bright Sessions

The Cellar Letters

The Deca Tapes

The Invictus Stream

The Left Right Game

The Liberty Podcast

The Milkman of St Gaff’s

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality

The Newest Olympian

The Night Post

The Pasitheaa Powder

The Penumbra Podcast

The Sheridan Tapes

The Silt Verses

The SPC Foundation Database

The Storage Papers

The White Vault

Time:Bomb

Unwell Podcast

Vast Horizon

We’re Alive

Within the Wires

Woe.begone

Wooden Overcoats

#the magnus archives #welcome to night vale #wtnv #malevolent #wolf 359 #podcasts #podcast #podcast recommendations #podcast recs

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 6: Patience

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (y'all like actually so much angst), hurt/comfort, mention of canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, banter, references to slavery & war, lil' bit of fluff, self-doubt, grief, sad Ani.

Summary: After spending hours in the Jedi Archives trying to catch up on the last ten years of galactic events, Anakin drags you away for an impromptu sparring session. However, in the throws of saber-to-saber combat, with Obi-Wan as witness, the troubled Jedi lets slip a concerning habit. One that you hope to guide him through.

Song Inspo: Valley of Pain — Bonnie Raitt

Words: 9.5k (I'm sorryyyy)

A/n: Okay, soooo I was thinking about splitting this into two parts, but then I was like ehhhh there's a lot of missing context if I do that. So here we are (I promise I will, like, write the shortest of short chapters for the next one XD). This one is super angst/emotion-heavy to help set up where we are so get ready. Also, please please please comment your thoughts because I got a little experimental with this chapter and would love to know what y'all liked/disliked :))

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet — Aristotle

Anakin leaned comfortably against one of many murky inner pillars, each carefully constructed to steady towering rows of azure-luminescent holobooks in the Jedi Archives. As he crossed his arms with a restive huff, the young Jedi was careful to navigate his right elbow so to avoid the large, rounded, and precariously placed head of Neti Jedi Master Ood Bnar. It was one of the many copper busts depicting legendary figures from The Order’s history that surrounded him. All of them thoughtfully gandered from short, gray pillars stationed at the end of every shelving chain up and down the Archives.

Regardless of his vigilant delicacy around such artifacts, Anakin’s primary attention centered on a point in the distance, just five stacks away.

The chestnut-haired man’s sights leveled on you and Ahsoka, comfortably sat on either side of a long hourglass table, part of the several two-seated structures that occupied each Archival study hall.

While he watched on, eyes poised to notice any hint of an end to the scholarly activities before him, he couldn’t help how the Archive’s careful silence infected him. The pin-drop quietude was accented by the intermittent flowing footsteps of a lingering Jedi or the occasional shuffle of a holobook being plucked from its resting place. It stretched the passing seconds like an endless hyperlane. And with each minute flick of sound, the deathly tranquility acted as a reminder.

That Anakin was waiting entirely too long for one of you to call it quits.

The passing hushes of quiet conversation and intermittent, echoing taps of fingers upon holobook screens had all grown tiresome for the impatient Jedi. Even the soft lumbers of elder Masters speaking in low intervals provided little entertainment while he continued to observe you both, hunched over an array of holobooks that marginally added to the yellow luminescence of the dimly lit stone-gray chairs, which engulfed your figures before the marble work surface.

Admittedly, though, Anakin had only entered a few moments ago.

He remembered last night, sharing a few plates of thrantcill pâté with Ahsoka at the far Temple refractory when, in their conversation, she revealed that you’d spent the entirety of yesterday’s afternoon in the Archives, scouring through endless texts regarding the last 10 years of galactic events and figures with her notes as a guide. From what he understood, the two of you had a nice little arrangement going. Ahsoka would study while you borrowed her notes and, in exchange, you would pause your research to quiz her on whatever she was learning these days.

But as a consequence, you had effectively been locked away in an academic prison, at least from Anakin’s perspective.

And he knew, that just wouldn’t do.

So he stopped by the Archives this morning, assuming he’d find you once again, pouring over a mountain of information with angled elbows and firm palms holding you up and awake by the cheekbones.

Despite spending the last decade of your life either studying within the confines of an old, abandoned ship or foraging for supplies in a desolate icescape, it seemed to Anakin that even with your newfound environment of possibility and connection, your engrossment in similar activities would continue in perpetuity.

That was, until he found it necessary to step in.

He pushed off the pillar with a gentle tick from the Force, choosing to saunter over when he began to notice your eyes in particular. Veined and faded red from staring at screens for hours on end.

Yup, time for a break, he decided inwardly.

His heels tapped with each resonant step, bouncing off the sonorously curved high ceilings before eventually leading him to be within reach of causing a mild disruption. As a playful muscle pulled at his lips, Anakin brightly slapped the table with both hands flat while swiftly leaning into your viewpoint.

The unexpected noise startled both you and Ahsoka from your holobooks, simultaneously drawing the eye of a few elder Masters. But that didn’t impede Anakin’s drive. In fact, your heedlessness regarding his presence only fueled his beliefs— that these many hours in the Archives had drained your senses enough, and that he alone would be the one to drag you away from it.

“Okay,” he announced rather loudly. “Enough is enough. You’re gonna turn into a holobook if you stay here for any longer.”

Anakin sucked in your miffed glare while Ahsoka tried to stifle a faint giggle out of the corner of his eye.

“You know I’m doing this, quite literally, to protect you,” you challenged quietly with a raised brow. “Can’t do much guarding without knowing what I’m guarding against.”

“You’re right,” he feigned admittance as he lowered his voice to your level, hopefully to discourage the subtly annoyed yet watchful eyes of a few librarians to his left by kneeling down and pitching in further.

“If this.” He glanced down at the closest holobook, grabbing it to lift into his vision as he read the title. “Holobook on intergalactic political alliances turns into a giant, being-eating Rancor, I know that I’ll be perfectly safe in your very capable, studious hands.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes before a barely perceptible twitch tugged at the corner of your mouth. You swiped the device from him, returning it to its rightful place on the table.

“Knock it off, Smarty,” you quipped as you tried to return to the holobook in hand.

But your subtle amusement was fuel to his teasing fire.

Anakin grinned. “Or you could quote the guidelines of the Coruscant Accords to a sharp-toothed Acklay looking to take a bite. I’m sure that would go over well.”

Anakin’s ears perked as you dropped the holobook you’d been analyzing to the table. Rather abruptly, you placed a hand on the workspace to twist toward the eager Jedi, slight frustration lining your features.

“And what would you suggest?” You asked expectantly.

The responsive Jedi opened his mouth to answer, but paused mid-vocalization as he tried to come up with a reasonable proposal.

Thankfully, the galaxy granted him a moment to think.

“Whatever it is, can you come up with it somewhere else?” Ahsoka piped up in a whisper. “I’m trying to study for my test.”

Anakin observed as your eyes softened toward his frustrated Padawan.

“Sorry, Ahsoka,” you offered earnestly before scooting out of the grunting, asperous seat below. You raised gracefully, leaning over the ornamented table to collect your many holobooks. “We’ll get out of your way.”

Anakin straightened while you grabbed the last text, watching you turn on your heel toward the Archives’ center circle as he followed at your side.

“Need a hand?” He offered while scanning the hazardously stacked pile of holobooks that leveled just below your inquisitive nose.

“No, not at all,” you spoke, dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t distract you from coming up with your grand idea on how I can be your perfect defender.”

An unimpressed frown flickered across his features briefly. That was, until a sudden lightbulb within him buzzed to life.

It was something to cure his boredom and it would meet your objectives, he excused inwardly.

“Well, if you can beat me in a duel, that would certainly prove your abilities,” he suggested casually.

He was hoping not to reveal the sudden wave of excitement that overcame him following these days of stark boredom. Anakin didn’t realize it until that moment, but what he really needed was a good, old-fashioned sparring session. Not with a drone, but with another Jedi. Something low stakes and disconnected from the war.

But the many developments since his arrival had not made that easy.

After Ahsoka had finished her essay that night when they first docked on Coruscant, Master Plo Koon decided to schedule a test covering the last few months of physical science studies from their tutoring sessions. So, with her hidden away in the Archives, Anakin wasn’t able to do much training or guidance as her new Master.

Not that he really had any idea how he was going to go about that anyway. It was all still so new.

He’d just wing it, he thought.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was stuck in back-to-back Council meetings about Maker knows what. Anakin imagined hours-long discussions on possible solutions to the communications system infiltration with Temple technicians by their side, offering tidbits of advice on deconstructing board matrices and tracking transmitter codes as the considerations continued. Tedious, but necessary, he considered.

Even R2-D2 was indisposed, having been temporarily assigned to one of the Temple’s system specialists before Anakin had even arrived at the Temple hangar, left to run diagnostics on the potentially compromised system for hours on end as they moved from sector to sector. Though, while he lost that unofficial race, he knew that the only reason Artoo reached Coruscant first with his handful of clones from the 501st was because of their short ‘diversion’ to Hoth.

So, with everyone busy, that left Anakin with meditation and training alone, neither of which he found particularly enjoyable at the moment. Or, at least, since his time a few months ago on Tatooine.

In the days following Anakin’s return from that arid, porous world, particularly in recent weeks, he found it difficult to be left alone with his mind. Images of his mother, weak and crumbling through his arms, the guttural cries of Tusken Raiders, and the scalding whip of Dooku’s crimson sword would invade his senses in mere moments of solitude. Even in the briefest of silent pauses or calming realities, he’d hear them all. Clawing at his senses. Yanking at his heavy chest.

The worry of that reality pervading indefinitely tapped at the young Jedi’s thoughts like a dark harbinger. Especially in the stillness of the Archives while he waited for you to finish. Before he couldn’t delay any longer.

He was desperate for a distraction to snap his thoughts away.

So, when he suddenly remembered that the time you were spending in the Archives was entirely voluntary, Anakin couldn’t help how his spirit felt a little more enlivened as he hopped up from his meditation, a tottering crisscrossed position between two orange flowering Saavas, to toe race his way to the Archives.

Yes, he did actually want to check in on you after days of study, but Anakin too seemed to have his own personal motivations.

Company is what the young Jedi sought, and he was entirely satisfied to keep it with you.

He considered this draw more deeply, pulling at the roots of his kindling connection with you.

Something shifted in Anakin that night in the Uscru District, legs dangling off the end of one of Coruscant’s largest garbage pits as decaying fumes encircled his ankles.

He hadn’t met a Gray Jedi before, but he wondered if they were all like you. Your kindness and softness when speaking the truth. The warmth of your voice.

It anchored him, to those moments of comfort and safety he felt many years ago, when encircled by his mother’s protective arms. It was especially true on those cold nights, after dark and dreary days, when she would tell him of the tale of the sun-dragon.

How his heart would be his strength, much like how she was his heart.

And he missed that feeling, so greatly that when faced with the sensation again, he fell back into old habits. He couldn’t help it. He’d always told his mother everything, and for a brief glimpse, your nature made him feel at home again.

And so he told you.

Something that he couldn’t even at first admit to Obi-Wan.

He told you his mother died.

But it was when he felt your cold hands in his clammy palms, that he could finally sense the signals swirling within your being that you betrayed on your face to him that night.

Indications you kept very well hidden away.

But the touch of two Jedi freed you to share what you felt for the doe-eyed man, intentionally or not.

And he shouldn’t have been so affected by what he sensed, Anakin argued. The blue-eyed Jedi knew you had trained to dedicate your life to him. Or, at least, to the Chosen One prophecy. But still, for a being he met only a week prior, he couldn’t help but be taken aback.

You exuded tenderness, care, and unwavering loyalty.

For the first time in years, Anakin felt truly perceived in that moment. And while he still grappled with the words spoken that night, overshadowed by unfading ghosts of the past, it finally solidified within his sun dragon heart one cogent decision.

Anakin knew that he could trust you.

“I suppose,” you admitted as you reached the central reference desk, pulling Anakin back into his current reality.

Eyeing the large rotunda in the Archive’s center, you dropped the stack of holobooks at the expansive counter for return with a slight clang. As you pivoted down the main hallway leading to the Archive’s exit, you continued. “But I’m supposed to meet with Master Yoda this afternoon, and I don’t know if he wants to duel with me. So we’ll need to keep it short.”

Anakin grinned victoriously as he nodded. “Sounds good to me!”

—

The jaunt to Training Room C was quick.

At least by Anakin’s standards.

Once again, as his mind drifted, the thoughtful Jedi gazed at the room’s beige-white flooring and textured walls, outlined into zoning squares by dark wooden panels and pillars that crossed with geometric balance. His observations since returning to the Temple were the primary factor influencing his temporary tachysensia. Predominantly, that if yesterday’s experience was any indication, he had every right to believe training room availability would be similarly limited today.

As you stretched your legs against the far wall beside one of the two sets of three-tiered mahogany viewing benches on either side of the dojo, Anakin stood by the room’s entrance, twirling the blue glow of his saber in leisurely circles while dipping further into his memories.

First, he recalled the horde of Jedi present at yesterday morning’s emergency meeting. Anakin couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that many Jedi in one room. Let alone the sum total, many thousands at least, present in the Temple since his arrival a few days ago.

The one outlier was, of course, the Battle of Geonosis, and the events that immediately followed. It was the first time Anakin realized the sheer power of The Order, fighting in tandem to protect peace in the galaxy against dividing forces.

The young Jedi was pleased by the Republic’s material victory that day. That was never in question. But any feeling of triumph was often overshadowed by the depth of another emotion that stretched and coiled along his bones like a growing mold.

Guilt.

It was clear, he thought. In that moment and in the weeks and months which followed.

He wasn’t strong enough to face Dooku that day.

And he nearly paid the ultimate price.

One glance down at his alloyed, dark steely arm with its thin crevices leading to an interior of gears and overlapping wiring was proof enough. Evidence that maybe if he’d trained a little harder as Obi-Wan’s Padawan, or followed his gut and joined Kenobi on his trek to Kamino, that things would have been different.

Maybe, just maybe, so many lives wouldn’t have been lost to such a stupid war.

A war he nearly prevented from happening in the first place during that battle, stained with Jedi blood.

Maybe, he would’ve been faster in countering Dooku’s rapidly twisting and thunderous blows.

And if he was swifter, maybe his mother would still be alive.

But no, Anakin’s power was no match for Dooku’s wielding.

At least, not yet, he thought.

His mind floated again, to the days and weeks following that deadly day. Scores of Padawans were knighted to feed the growing war effort, including himself. Generals were needed, and more knights were expected to take on Padawans to educate them on how to adapt their abilities to times of conflict.

It was necessary. He knew that. But still, the malformation of a pinnacle Jedi celebration, usually a grand and gradual affair, into rushed trial processes and fleeting bestowment ceremonies made him feel more like a piece of unrefined Duralium stumbling its way through a processing plant than a Jedi.

Though despite his new title, and greater set of responsibilities, Anakin considered himself just as equally removed from the planning affairs as he was when a Padawan.

Once all the Jedi were similarly recalled to the Temple after Geonosis, a flood of Council meetings followed in succession to determine The Order’s place in this war. They petitioned the attendance of many Masters, even giving Master Kenobi his own seat, as they negotiated the Jedi role of peacekeeper while trying to defend against the threat to one thousand years of peace.

And it never relented.

Emergency gatherings spiraled in succession, especially after the bombing of Cato Neimoidia.

He remembered it all well. The smoky remnants of a charred away district lost to the planet’s depths. The medical tents that gently swayed in eery silence, save for the intermittent groans of the few survivors. All of these images displayed in everlasting reels on the HoloNet News, shocking the galaxy into reality. The chaos that followed compelled many to realize that even overt neutrality would not keep worlds safe from this war.

But in these high-level meetings that addressed important events just like this, that strategized how to help these people, Knights or Padawans were never included.

They never included him.

So, instead, much like the past few days, Anakin would wander the Temple halls. Perhaps visit the gardens if he was feeling particularly meditative.

But that was just once. And only because Obi-Wan suggested it after catching him waiting opposite from Training Room R, sitting on the floor and leaning against a pillar with arms resting on each knee and a particularly glum look lining his face.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan inquired as he stopped momentarily, no doubt in a hurried dash to another urgent Council meeting, Anakin concluded.

It was a few days before his knighting ceremony, and only a week after his mechanical limb was installed. But he wasn’t feeling as cheerful as he once thought he would be when he was a youngling. He was supposed to feel excited to become a Jedi Knight.

Not lost.

“Waiting,” he huffed in a monotone.

The impatient Jedi watched Obi-Wan angle back to scan the training rooms that lined the rear wall. Anakin’s expression was unchanged as his Master returned toward him in a curious manner.

“Have you been waiting here all day?” He asked inquisitively.

That same flat tone escaped Anakin’s mouth in affirmation.

Obi-Wan hummed with a hint of satisfaction. “If you showed this much patience in your training sessions, you may have learned a lot more,” he mused.

The nearly former Padawan gazed up at him unimpressed when he noticed a lightbulb go off behind Master Kenobi’s brightened eyes.

“You know, this might be a wonderful time for you to meditate. And I know the perfect place!”

Anakin groaned.

It felt like it all happened years ago, Anakin considered. But in reality, it had only been a few months. War had warped his sense of reality, and maybe that was why he felt a strange sense of déjà vu when he returned to the same hall of training dojos the day before, only for each expanse to be occupied with beings like him, loitering by the entrances and against pillars for their turn by the hour.

But today was different for some reason. Many of the training rooms lay vacant and the halls were generally unoccupied, save a few Jedi using the surrounding walkways for travel.

Part of him wanted to investigate. To see if some Jedi were called off to a mission he didn’t know about. No comms meant that he was even less informed about the Temple’s goings-on. But that never stifled his curiosity.

Instead, it all only seemed to further stoke his kindling restlessness.

Then, he remembered. Master Kenobi had offered to spar with him later today. Maybe he’d get some answers then.

But then again, if history with The Council proved repeatable, probably not.

“Are you gonna twirl that thing all day or are we gonna spar?”

Your sonorous voice shocked the distracted Jedi out of his stupor. He spun toward you, recognizing your casual stance, saber unsheathed and dangling at your side in its luminescent gray as you gazed at him expectantly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled while approaching your figure.

“Watcha thinking about?” You asked once Anakin’s gate mollified.

“Oh,” he inflated with a cartoonish shrug. “Just about how this thing is gonna end before I’ve had the chance to build up a sweat,” he grinned while crouching into an attack stance.

You mirrored his pose, matching his outward repartee with striking, fiery orbs.

“You should have more confidence” you scolded in jest. “I’m sure you’ll get some blocks in.”

Anakin rolled his eyes at the wide beam that engulfed your face. He leaned into his knees, centering his connection with the tingling flow around him.

“What is it you said?” The young man challenged confidently. “May the best Jedi win?”

“That statement still stands,” you affirmed, not skipping a beat.

A smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth.

“Show me what you got…

…Chosen One”

Anakin took this as his cue, kicking off with a running start before pouncing at you from a few meters away with a hard strike toward your rib. He slowed his surroundings with the Force, observing you launch your blade upwards to block the powerful blow with both hands squeezed on the hilt, releasing a hiss from the impact.

You thrust his blade down with your own as he decided to swiftly use that momentum to his advantage. Quickly, he swung his saber back around to strike you down the center. Flinging your weapon up, you deterred the attack with the horizontal posture of the blade. Again, Anakin watched as you slid that blue glow with the hammering snap of your saber toward the floor.

But the blue-eyed man only viewed this as another opportunity.

He twirled on his heel to boldly strike at your other flank. Yet, despite his keenness, you managed to successfully snag this attack too, a straightforward inversion of your blade standing before his path.

The simplicity sparked a flicker of annoyance within the young Jedi. His greatest strength was using his opponent’s attacks against them. And you were making the employment of that particular strategy very difficult.

He continued his strikes with more fervor this time, hoping to break your reinforced wall of defense and coax you into launching your own, fissuring swings. But no matter how much he Force-energized each crack, no matter how rapidly he recovered from your nimble deflections, he couldn’t seem to break your stoic face or weaponized fortification.

“Are you gonna try to fight me at some point?” Anakin drew out as he bounced back from your diverting blade’s assertive whip against his saber, forcing him nearly fifteen meters away.

Like a dance, the two of you melted into a circling prowl, using the space to breathe. Each step enlivened Anakin’s impulse to continue the duel as he surveyed your mimicking movements to keep the eager Jedi a sufficient length away.

“I thought you wanted to work up a sweat?” You exhaled innocently while continuing your slinking annular shuffle.

Anakin felt an intense heat billow behind his eyes as his confident yet teasing nature began to splinter into a more soured tone. Usually, he was not so affected by such innocent pokes. In fact, he found these moments regularly enjoyable, adding a taste of lightheartedness to the typically tense beats of combat.

But his mind was swirling all day with images of the past.

Images of failure.

Of failing others. Of failing the world.

His mother.

And in this transient instance, for some unknown reason, it felt like more than he could presently handle.

But before he could respond to your directed quip, another voice echoed into the training room from the dojo’s double gray doors with L-shaped mustard accents, having whooshed open without him realizing in the last few minutes.

“Anakin doesn’t like it when opponents go easy on him,” Obi-Wan commented as he entered his peripheral.

The peeved Jedi noticed your eyebrows raise in contest across from him at the Master’s words.

“I’m not going easy on him,” you clarified while leaning into another step along the arbitrary sphere of distance you and Anakin delicately maintained.

“Then I take it this is going well?” Master Kenobi announced to no one in particular.

The curious, bearded Jedi strolled to the side for a better view of the duel in discoidal stasis, lowering his form to the edge of the nearest Mahogany viewing bench before crossing his legs in humming anticipation.

“Yes, it is,” Anakin gritted. “In fact, I was just about to find an opening.”

“No you weren’t,” you deadpanned.

Anakin huffed at the truth of your statement as his heart rate quickened. He was beginning to grow tired of your overconfident comments and steadfast defense. He had too much on his mind and didn’t need someone else pointing out his ineptitude.

“Sparring isn’t always about the offensive,” Obi-Wan remarked casually to the atmosphere. “Sometimes it means allowing others to take the initiative for the duel to progress.”

“Tell him that!” You exclaimed with a sigh. “I feel like I’ve been fighting a training droid for the last half an hour.”

Suddenly, something in Anakin snapped. His meticulously bubbling frustration and annoyance had whipped into a flash of pure, blistering anger.

He reacted quickly, propelling himself out of his steady march with a shout as he determinedly bolted toward your figure, most of his connection to his surroundings stripping away to pyre his vehemence.

The Chosen One’s eyes narrowed on one objective and one objective alone— securing an opening.

He neared your form within a second, blade aimed at your shoulder and vision pinpointed like a laser on the curved dark gray spot of your smoothed-over cloak. He could almost smell those memorable industrial fumes of the shop from which you both purchased it, hovering staunchly above the seams as he neared your form.

But as his saber split down with a low whine to claim final victory, your own weapon sprung to life, knocking the blade out of its path and down toward his feet in a buzzing blare.

Anakin heaved his plasma sword up, revving for another turbulent swing as he let out an indignant grunt. His eyes were still locked on the same shoulder when it suddenly spun from sight in a blink. Out of nowhere, an abrupt blazing heat graced his opposite cheek like a near brush with a welder.

Registering the sensation, Anakin whipped around, searching for your figure only to find you stood behind him, sheathing your saber before clipping it to your belt with a clink. You trekked toward the somewhat stunned Jedi, a conflicted stitch tweaking your brows as you finished your approach.

Once you reached him, Anakin felt you tenderly grab his open hand, pulling it free and flipping it over to unlatch his palm. The young Jedi observed you raise your other hand, wrapped in a loose fist, but not for long. It hovered about his hand for only a moment before releasing into his grasp a couple strands of chestnut hair, lightly soaked in your sweat that perspired from head to toe, and perceptibly singed black on one smoky vestige.

Anakin stared at the strands, embarrassment prickling each finger pad as he tried to keep his expression neutral.

That was, until your hands met his.

You closed his fingers into a gentle fist, encouraging him to clutch the locks as softly as their texture.

He gazed up at you, taking in your soothing silver eyes and worried smile as an aura of concern leaked from your being like a latched wire. Swimming like loose electricity from your palm, into his.

“We need to talk.”

—

As you gently led Anakin to one of the training room’s far corners with a soft hand on the back of his elbow, your being was steadily flooding with unsettling disquiet, permeating throughout your circulatory system.

You had noticed fairly quickly, how Anakin’s chagrined eyes subtly shifted at your troubled words toward his former Master, who discernibly observed the scene unfold before him with a knowing shake of his head. Skywalker still internalized Kenobi’s judgments, including the ones that accompanied a perennial frown, you realized. And from his unsurprised expression, it seemed that Obi-Wan had observed these same alarming habits at some point in his life as well.

It was evident that the Master’s cavalier comportment further confirmed your suspicions— that they had not been fully addressed.

At least, not in a way that Anakin may have fully understood.

You noticed it again today, just before the spar began. Anakin, trapped in his own little world within the confines of his expansive mind. Whirling his saber vacantly with muscle memory akin to twisting one’s hair to pass the time. Within those few moments, while internalizing the satisfying stretch of your hamstrings as you prepared for the duel, you couldn’t help but sense the waves of emotion that rolled off the open-hearted Jedi.

Amusement, annoyance, frustration, hopelessness.

And most notably, rage.

You could only guess what thoughts were running through his head. You’d probably only scratched the surface of his internal struggles when he revealed some of them to you a few nights ago. But with time to reflect, you now wondered if that grief clouded his mind too strongly. Shielding him from understanding your words, or even the guidance others may have bestowed upon him in the past regarding this very issue.

You welcomed theories to invade your mind, consume your thoughts, and give you a moment of escape.

Focusing on this small blip in his signature proved far more attractive, more manageable than the vacuum your mind produced in other activities, including your studies in the Temple Archives. Even that distraction manifested as inadequate as you tried to break from your inner affliction rooted in Qui-Gon’s death. You’d spent countless hours flipping through Ahsoka’s notes, shuffling through holobooks filled with complicated galactic developments, trade agreements, alliances, controversial political figures, but nothing seemed to center you.

Nothing seemed to stop his face from appearing when your eyes closed. Even momentarily.

Even when you blinked.

Nothing, well, except for this.

Except for doing what you were made for.

Focusing mind, body, and soul on The Chosen One.

So you dove into the murky waters of this puzzle, only hinted at in your short time together.

The connection drew your memory back to that frenzied escape from Hoth. When you, Anakin, and Obi-Wan stood unified in an Aegean sphere of incandescence against the monstrous Wampan threat. You remembered, the three of you exchanging teasing jabs as you slashed down each beast with agile grace.

But as you dug deeper into that moment, the inner turmoil you sensed from the Chosen One only moments ago now suddenly felt very familiar.

And very alive.

It was Obi-Wan’a quip at Anakin’s apparent lack of humility that struck a similar, irate chord within the young Jedi. And in his frustration to verbally defend himself, he took an easily preventable blow to the face.

Withdrawing from your mind, you glanced up at the healing reddish-brown cut that stretched across his upper cheekbone. You drank it in as you continued to lead him toward the training room’s far wall. While you lacked the time or center of mind to acknowledge it then, you felt it necessary to address now.

You felt for Anakin’s past struggles. You really did. And deep within your being, you fervently believed that the swirling emotions surrounding his mother’s passing and childhood enslavement were justified. Those were deep, crimson scars that would take many years to stitch together. To heal. You yourself had only just begun that journey of loss with your own Master. You were still unable to fully pull away from the initial shock and amplified emptiness felt from learning of his passing.

And by virtue of his history, Anakin’s heedless frustrations toward meaningless words and enduring circumstances made you wonder. Did this powerful Jedi even have the tools to digest your guidance from a few nights ago concerning these very situations? Did he hear you about the importance of acknowledging those moments in life, before letting them go?

It was much like the errant thoughts of forceless beings, which you were compelled to guide past all senses for your own mental survival a couple nights prior.

You continued to draw on the similarities of your circumstances, excavating each moment, before realizing one important factor. That you were only able to feel that relief, that suffocating weight lifted, because of the guidance of others.

Because Obi-Wan gave you a little push.

So, you decided to do the same.

At first, as the duel began, most of your vitality was captivated by efforts to sense any blips in the blue-eyed Jedi’s signature.

But that constrained you to a perpetual defense, focused only on thwarting each intrepid blow. It was necessary, to stray from the energy-siphoning movements required to launch an offense that could counter Anakin’s aggressive form, if you were to successfully carry out your own furtive objectives. His style was elegant, technique steadfast, and it took a considerable toll on you to keep your focus on both the fight and any indications that would barely leak into the Force.

But these actions had unintended consequences, revealing that sucking the bustle out of the duel would be as equally infecting as one of Obi-Wan’s elicit remarks.

So, you leaned into it.

Keeping a relentless guard meant less opportunity for Anakin to use one of your strikes against you. A telltale tactic of Djem So. And it generated a number of occasions for you to toss in a few comments to test the waters. So much so, that when you pointedly told a certain, teasing Jedi Master that you were, in fact, not going easy on him, you were telling the truth. Your defense remained physical, but your offense flourished verbally with quip after quip.

But in those moments, as you sensed his vexation reach its peak, your own heart felt darkened. Weighted down like the planet’s gravitational pull as you carried out this assessment of mental fortitude. It was another chip at your empathetic being, flying away like loose debris traveling through the vacuum of space. Another task in protecting The Chosen One further plunged your identity into utter uncertainty.

You were also not going very easy on yourself.

But it didn’t last long, as it appeared that comparing him to an inanimate Jedi training device seemed to do the trick.

In a way, his sudden dart toward your smaller frame hurt most of all. Not only because you had a hand in driving him to this level of rage, but because you had never seen him so easily reduced to this level of vulnerability. Having known him only a week, you already understood through those many late-night conversations on a thousand-year-old space bucket, in the Coruscant garbage pits, and during your exploration of the entertainment district— where he had the gall to suggest orange was not your color— that his absorbent heart and related impatience was, as of now, his greatest weakness.

One you were sure the Sith would use against him, as they had with other Jedi thousands of years prior.

In some manner, it scared you. The ease with which you pinpointed this fragility in the brief time of knowing him. It was true, you had an uncanny ability to connect with others. But not this easily.

Maybe it was because you saw too much of yourself within him.

Or maybe the two of you were connected far beyond the confines of a prophecy.

Maybe, even through the Force itself.

Yet he tossed his connection to the Force aside in his mad dash to win. The ferocious Jedi was so focused on a strike, a successful nearness of his blade to some part of you to claim victory, that he momentarily tossed away any and all perception of protecting himself.

And it pained you, cavernously, the ease with which you blocked and dodged his subsequent blows. They were unstable, sloppy, and fueled by frustration rather than grounded in his connection to the Galaxy.

It left his entire form accessible to a fatal blow.

So, you decided to make your point in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Swiping your saber rapidly across a loose lock of chestnut hair hanging centimeters from his cheek, you allowed it to fall upon your palm to present the suddenly bewildered Jedi, who was swiftly silenced after realizing the damage you could have done.

You allowed your mind to extrapolate any words from thoughts that continued to rush over you as you both slowed to a halt on the opposite side of the training room from Obi-Wan. Your attentive eyes trained on his uncomfortable expression with a gaze wandering indefinitely, much like a youngling who had been caught taking too many sweets from one of the refractories.

“Your anger is concerning,” you began in a hushed tone.

Maybe those weren’t the right words, and maybe this wasn’t the best setting, but you were hoping to get some real answers that weren’t colored by responses saved for his Master's presence. You had your own difficulty sharing internal struggles with your Master, and he was the only other person around. You wanted this to be different.

Anakin’s eyes suddenly shot at you, narrowing in confusion.

“You were the one who told me my anger was justified.”

“I told you, that it’s ok to be angry sometimes, especially when losing someone you care deeply about,” you began in a softer lull. “That is completely different from allowing a staunch rage to get the best of you from impatience and words.”

Anakin’s eyes softened as he began to absorb your observations while his head slightly dipped in discomfort.

“Hey,” you whispered, touching his wrist, hot from exertion, lifting his uncertain eyes back toward you. “I’m here to look out for you. And I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t say that you need to be more patient and not take what others say to heart. It’s gonna get you killed.”

Your exposition seemed to click within the troubled Jedi in a way far different from your midnight murmurings on the Uscru District garbage pit overhang. You watched as he glimpsed downward, following his line of vision to the metal arm whose fingers he flexed in creaking evaluation.

You wondered…

“Did you…?”

“Yes.”

And that was all the answers you needed, the rest you felt through the Force.

Regret, frustration, and something new—

Realization.

But despite this potential step forward, you found it strange that even losing an arm to impatience and anger didn’t lead him to these reflections earlier.

“It’s not that easy.”

Or maybe it did.

You raised your gaze back up toward Anakin, his dejected stare stuck to the steel limb as if he wasn’t looking at anything at all.

As if his vision was thrown into darkness.

“You’re right, it’s not,” you admitted as, once more, you were met with a flood of questions through his countenance alone.

“It’s a task. Of constantly reminding yourself that what I, or Obi-Wan, or the world says to you or about you doesn’t matter. I mean, who cares what everyone says? It doesn’t change who you are until you let it.”

You stilled, observing Anakin’s brows relax ever so slightly. Yet skepticism still colored his absentmindedly agape lips. Even without connecting physically, you could tell that despite your statement, he was riddled with doubts. You knew he’d heard your words, but he didn’t believe them.

So, you decided to tell him what you really believed.

“I’ll tell you right now. You, right now, are good. And you, at this very moment in time, are enough.”

Anakin’s mouth closed as he gazed up at you in anticipation, a galaxy of sentiments flaring behind his eyes.

You breathed. “No one is gonna change that. And I’m not just saying that to save face. I mean it.”

For the first time in what felt like a long, clouded while, a smile peeked out from his subtly solemn expression. An air of solace had begun to enter the Force.

It seemed like being heard was what Anakin needed. Someone to recognize what he was feeling. What he struggled with. What he continued to battle, inside and out.

And you were happy to be that person.

“And it won’t be remedied overnight. Remind yourself of that.”

You knew what it was like to struggle with these emotions, realizing that what fed them most was your utter isolation. In a sense, despite being in closer proximity to others than you ever had, Anakin still seemed just as alone as you in these conflicts.

And that dealt another sharp blow at your opened heart.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I pushed you too far.” His shoulders relaxed at the softness of your voice. “I just needed you to see what this frustration does to you. It leaves you exposed. And, honestly, if I was less skilled, your blindness may have done some real damage.

His eyes widened, “I would never…”

“I know,” you rested a comforting hand on his flushed arm as he relaxed. “You would never, intentionally,” you assured, though your phrasing still had unnerved the young man. “But you made a mistake, and I’m just hoping to show you why it’s important to learn from it.”

You watched as he nodded, drinking in your sympathetic and forgiving nature into his own being. The two of you breathed through the stillness, allowing both of your feelings to stabilize through the fine sting of sensitivities that traveled back and forth across your hand, tenderly fastened to his lower arm with the Force swimming in between.

“You know,” he began, as you felt the air around him lift delicately. “I know someone who’d really like you.”

You took this compliment as permission for a more upbeat response. So your eyes squinted teasingly.

“Sounds like they have great taste.”

“Silvey!”

You paused momentarily before turning to the exclamation, still getting used to the nickname as Obi-Wan entered your vision from his place on the lower left of the far viewing bench. “Don’t you need to meet with Master Yoda soon?”

Windu must have told him in one of their Council meetings you’d heard so much about from Ahsoka this morning. You glanced up to your left at the wall-mounted chronometer displaying the time in bright blue symbols before approaching the bearded Jedi, a gradually settling Anakin following close behind as you called back.

“I’ve got some time!”

Quieting your voice, you turned to Anakin with a lighthearted taunt as you both continued your leisurely pace.

“You know, I bet you could’ve beat me if you waited a little longer.”

Anakin grinned at your brighter tone as the last of his worries washed away into the Force. It was, again, much like the thoughts of those clubgoers a few nights ago as, he too, seemingly took your words to heart.

“Give me another chance and we’ll see,” he commented, underhandedly complimenting your skills.

You smiled, a weightlessness overcoming you.

“You’re on.”

—

Obi-Wan Kenobi had seen this before.

Too many times to count.

Anakin had a habit of becoming lost within himself, allowing emotions to take over in place of duty, and logic. But despite the occasional slip-ups, the Master believed that his former Padawan had matured greatly in the past decade. His connection to the Force had deepened while his ties to outward attachments withered with time. From the beginning, that was something he knew the Council was especially concerned about when he joined The Order at such an old age.

Yes, he still made a habit of acting before thinking, much to the bearded Jedi’s chagrin. But he always proved to get the job done.

Anakin never let him down.

However, in the last month, Obi-Wan had noticed a familiar turmoil affecting the young Jedi, beginning soon after the attempted assassination of Naboo Senator Padmé Amidala.

In the days that followed, when Anakin was tasked with protecting the Senator, before traveling to Tatooine and, then, becoming involved in the Battle of Geonosis, Obi-Wan sensed that inky substance Master Yoda felt years ago begin to foam up from the depths of his being once more.

“I sense much fear in you.”

And Master Kenobi was finally witness to how greatly his fear had grown that day on Geonosis. When Padmé was knocked out of the LAAT tasked with chasing after Count Dooku, it was the first time Obi-Wan saw Anakin consider negating his duty for a connection. He nearly leapt out of that transport without a second thought, about to blindly storm after his feelings instead of pursuing Dooku to possibly put an end to this war before it even started.

It was a connection that worried him. That concerned Master Yoda as well. So much so that in those days following Anakin’s recovery after losing his arm, Obi-Wan pleaded with Padmé herself to end whatever bonds were forming between the two.

She reluctantly agreed, and though he trusted the word of the former Queen, Kenobi was still bothered by those moments of them together. Like the glances stolen during the holocomm data transfer following their escape from the Trade Federation home world, or the subtle moments shared out of earshot of both him and the clones during their brief medical supply pickup on Naboo last week.

It was instances like these when the Master Jedi wondered if maybe time would be the greatest teacher. Maybe confronting Padmé changed the nature of their bond. Strengthened it, even. Then, it was quite possible that further interference would have just made the situation worse.

He did finally convince Anakin to stay with him on that LAAT before they reached Count Dooku, who was attempting an escape through a dark, underground hangar. But despite Master Kenobi’s best efforts, those bubbling feelings of anger and hate pushed the young Jedi’s agitation over the edge.

Obi-Wan told him to wait. That they would only defeat Dooku if they faced him together. As a team.

As brothers.

But he didn’t listen.

They were unmatched fighting alone, handing Dooku off like some rabid animal bouncing between prey as Anakin tried to recover from his premature mistake.

And it nearly killed Obi-Wan.

But Anakin’s heart was too ferocious to let that happen.

Rage guided his hand, and his hand he lost.

In the weeks that followed, when Anakin was knighted and while the bombing of Cato Neimoidia temporarily threw them apart, Master Kenobi truly believed that this near-death experience at the hands of a Sith Lord had finally proved sobering to his stubborn friend.

But this moment… In his duel with his defender…

Maybe the Master Jedi was wrong.

Obi-Wan knew Anakin blamed himself every day for not ending the war before it started that day on Geonosis. Yet he worried that no matter the damage that came to Anakin from his own choices, he would never learn.

Deep down, Obi-Wan believed that Anakin never grasped the gravity of his actions because he thought he deserved the grave consequences he faced for each and every one of them. By some strange logic, losing an arm was his punishment for not stopping a war, and it excused him from doing differently.

And much like a flagellant, he dealt his own punishment by continuing to march down this path of self-destruction.

But he thought he had it under control. That he had finally taken his Master's teachings to heart and found solace in connecting with the Force, using the flow to wash away his troubles. At least he did when Anakin was given his own battalion. When he was assigned his own Padawan.

When he was distracted by the unstoppable toil of war.

Obi-Wan thought that his young friend had finally pulled himself together to lead like the great Jedi he knew he could be.

But now, with an indefinite pause as the communications system is evaluated, Obi-Wan sensed Anakin slip back into bad habits.

However, Master Kenobi, always the optimist, thought it would pass. That these cursory moments were just flukes, temporary setbacks that could happen to anyone in moments of peace.

But as his own eyes lay open to that rage take hold all over again in his battle with you, it felt like he was staring through a mirror of time, back when Anakin was first dealing with his feelings of the past as that youngling on Tatooine.

This instant seemed like more than a fluke, Obi-Wan thought. Maybe the new memories made old ones stronger.

So, while he watched you and Anakin re-approach the training room’s center sparring square, despite the new calm he sensed radiating off the duo, Kenobi kept his reservations about the consequences of incensing Anakin too vigorously in one session.

Thus, he did what any good arbitrator would do.

He deflected

“You may want to take a break,” he remarked toward your figure as it stalled, allowing Anakin to settle across from you. “You won’t have the energy you need to spar with Master Yoda should he request it.”

But, instead of acknowledging the inherent truth of his statement, you took the more ‘Anakin’ approach.

“Just wait,” you smirked smugly, turning to face the dark-robbed Jedi in a readied stance as you withdrew your saber from your carefully hidden belt with a click. “I plan to end this fight quickly.”

His head whipped to Anakin as unease tugged at creasing lips. Obi-Wan knew what Anakin was like if someone pushed him too far. And he was worried, for both of you, that you had done just that.

As he heard the faint activation of your gray luminance with a whirl and a fading hiss, his eyes settled on his former Padawan, expecting at best a rumble in his life force, a pointed stare, an annoyed huff.

But what he was met with, was most unexpected.

Anakin’s eyes creased mirthfully as he chuckled. The suddenly grinning Jedi popped you a grateful glance that spoke unknown tales as he unsheathed his own weapon with a bright flash, allowing its blue glow to complete the mirror.

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to furrow his brows in confusion. Perplexity surrounding this sudden change turned into intrigue as he stationed an elbow on each of his unfolded knees, leaning into the scene to further analyze this development. As the two of you bent at the ready five meters apart, a gentle smile shared on each face with mysterious calm and collection, peace seemed to be the space’s only purveyor.

Seconds passed, minutes wallowed, and still, that stark rush of power Kenobi always recognized in a duel with Anakin never came. The two of you stood in utter stillness, the gently muffled footfalls of passing Jedi in the outer hall accenting the echo of the wider Temple’s exterior.

That was, until you broke the hush.

“Aren’t you gonna come get me?” You asked in a challenging voice.

Anakin raised a brow intuitively. “You’re kidding, right?”

And just as rapidly sweeping as the pause that followed, Obi-Wan noticed a proud grin flash across your face before your legs propelled forward like lightning, meeting Anakin’s swiftly diverting blade with a slate clash. Master Kenobi observed as you spun with your saber stark behind you to block his first blow after flinging your sword into a whirl.

It wasn’t long after you vaulted over the young Jedi to reach his rear side when the Master noticed you return to old habits, sticking to a well-built guard as you blocked and parried blow after blow from your eerily calm opponent. The persistent offensive and defensive divide split you both into equal parts, like either side of a credit. It was a perfect balance that Obi-Wan knew drove Anakin to madness like nothing else in their own training sessions. Yet, the young Jedi seemed unaffected by this stasis.

In fact, he appeared pleased.

But even this did not fully convince the Master Jedi of any statistically significant change. He was an evidence man at heart, after all. And a few smiles and certainly odd behavior was not going to be enough to encourage him to consider this strange development fully. Obi-Wan would let these thoughts wash away without the proof to fully consider them.

That was, of course, before what happened next.

It was in those moments that followed, that Master Kenobi finally asked himself— how?

What he’d spent years trying to teach Anakin about patience, through connecting with the Force, breaking past bonds, and accepting the ways of the Jedi Order— if not to at least teach him the merits of flow and faith— you seemed to do in just the matter of a morning.

Sensibly, as he recovered from the initial surprise of the next instances, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was not a changed man. But it did certainly feel like it when he observed this unexpected breakthrough take place before his eyes. It usually took weeks, or even months for Anakin to understand Obi-Wan’s teachings when he was his Padawan.

And he couldn’t deny that it was still like that now.

Yet here he was, demonstrating the equivalent of months of meditative progress after a short, albeit evidently salient, conversation with you.

And oh how Obi-Wan desired to know what you said to him. The words you used, the phrasing, the voice.

What was it about you that finally got one of his teachings through to Anakin?

More than ever before, as Obi-Wan’s eyes locked intently with your figure, he wanted to understand you, deeply. Not just due to your connection to Qui-Gon, but because of your mystery. Your past was an enigma, known only by his late Master, a barren ice planet, and the Force itself. Your notable intelligence, pervasive empathy, and skilled abilities had to come from somewhere. From some experience. Some reality.

The General surmised that, in that short moment, Anakin’s eyes must have been unveiled due to a conversation entrenched in those very qualities that he too began to have a swelling affinity for.

He needed, no, was compelled to know about your past, who you truly were, and how you became the skilled Jedi presented before him.

All of these thoughts and intrigues flowered throughout Obi-Wan’s mind as he observed nearly a half an hour into the fight the subtle mistake in your lunged footing. Anakin redirected your block to the ground before tripping your errant leg out from under you with a quick flick of his own, plunging you back first to the milky wooden-lined tile below.

As the blue incandescents of his blade swiveled inches from your throat, Obi-Wan’s slightly widened eyes were further coaxed by the sudden breathy chuckle that escaped from your lips.

A gentle smile inched across Anakin’s countenance as he held his blade firm. To anyone else, his expression would have easily been excused for simple sportsmanship. A manner that aired accolades of ‘you fought well’ to the opponent.

But Obi-Wan knew him better than that. He knew that tempered grin. He’d seen it before, albeit rarely. The first time being at the Temple ten years ago, during one of their first training sessions. Anakin told him he had said the same to Qui-Gon, but his confidence and fortitude drove him to tell his new Master as well.

“I had a dream I was a Jedi. I went to Tatooine and freed all the slaves.”

And despite the following discussions on attachments, and the importance of letting them go, that smile remained. Primitively, Obi-Wan thought it was just Anakin’s version of a dreamy expression, or childlike wonder. But he learned after years of becoming his friend, that it meant nothing of the sort.

It was hope, he concluded. Hope in himself. Hope in doing the right thing.

And now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen that look in years.

But before he could dive further into what all this meant, you finally spoke up.

Following a few stabilizing coughs with elbows planted for support, you gazed at The Chosen One earnestly as your voice softly flowed from you.

“Now that’s a Jedi I’m proud to defend.”

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

#anakin x reader #angst #fluff #obi wan and anakin #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #obi wan my beloved #obi wan x oc #obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x anakin #anakin and obi wan #obi wan #obi wan star wars #anakin skywalker #sw prequels #obiwan kenobi #anakin and ahsoka #star wars ahsoka #ahsoka #sw ahsoka #star wars anakin #prequel trilogy #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #r2d2 #sw tcw #tcw #star wars tcw #tcw ahsoka

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Welcome (*・∀・*)ノ

My name is Yomogi- this is my tumblr for all of my ao3 writings. Rn I'm obsessed with Twisted Wonderland, but I'd like to write for fandoms like Genshin Impact, hypmic, etc. Lots of angst (*・∀-)ｂ

My special interests are in Art History and Literature so I take a lot of inspiration from that ♡

Currently not taking requests perse, but I'm willing to take any commentary or ideas to incorporate into my writing! Commentary always appreciated. I love hearing people's thoughts :)

☆ They/Them ; Queer ; Autistic ☆

Jap 日本語 / Eng OK!

よろしくお願いしゃーす～(っ´▽｀)っ

——————————————————

AO3 Account is Here.

✦·.⋆ Masterlist ⋆.·✦

Twisted Wonderland:

All GN MC!!!

Beloved Thy Name

Sequel (Beloved Gift) (AO3 Link)

Pairing: Lilia x Dullahan MC

Genre: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Oneshot

Summary: Triumphing over your siblings on the human farm situated in the far corners of Briar Valley, you are implanted with the essence of the Tree of Eternity, gaining unmatched abilities in regeneration. When your Warden finds that the experiment is a success, you are promptly sold to the fae army as a weapon of destruction‒ a position you answer to with animal violence, much to the content of your handlers and the fae army, who name you Dullahan, after the myth of the headless reaper. When you come across the infamous Lord Lilia, great commander of the Fae army‒ he takes you under his wing, gifting you morsels of peace even with death on the horizon. You are simply taken with the sweet songs and sugary words which fall from his mouth‒ echoing them in the heart in your chest that did not feel like yours.

MC based off of Dullahan myth (Celtic headless omen of death)

AO3 LINK

Spolia

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 (COMPLETE)

Pairing: Malleus x Light Fae MC ; Parental Mozus Trein x MC

Genre: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Slow Burn

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings

MC based off of changelings

AO3 LINK

Pygmalion

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 (COMPLETE)

Pairing: Rook x Pygmalion MC ; Platonic Idia x MC ; Platonic Ortho x MC

Genre: Angst with Happy Ending, Slight Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary: You were frequently told that your career as a renowned sculptor did not match your dull and less than colorful personality. With your cybernetic hands, you carve the lives and deaths of those long gone‒ producing pieces which have been held in both technical and emotional high regard, dubbing you with the title “Pygm.AI.lion” despite your human heart and brain. When you accidentally still the usually flamboyant archer into silence after he comes across you working in your atelier‒ you find that you’ve become a victim to one of his ceaseless stalkings. Though, you’ve been prey long enough to know how hunt the huntsman himself.

MC based off of Pygmalion myth

AO3 LINK

Lasting Spring

Pairing: Vil x Orpheus MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Childhood best friends, pining, angst with happy ending

Summary: Great expectations are placed on you, coming from a line of extraordinary poets, bards, and musicians. You fulfill these expectations with ease‒ the lightness of your voice illuminating any room with divine merriment through a swift dance of your fingers on your lyre. Your fame is equally matched with the curse swimming through your family’s blood‒ one which announces death and tragedy to your lovers, unless they are your true love‒ your soulmate. However there is no assurance that soulmates truly exist, only the madness that comes as an endless thirst for it. So you extinguish that thirst, settling for quick, messy flings‒ much to the dismay of your childhood friend, Vil Scoenheit. You lament your own tragedy through woeful verses, masked in the sweltering felicity of your music. Vil always trails that sorrow back to you, wishing to embrace you in his warmth to take it away, even for a moment. But the members of your family who had found love unobstructed by the gods were great lovers to heroes, kings, queens, and warriors‒ who was he, seen by most as a villain, to taint that possibility for you?

MC based off of Orpheus myth

AO3 LINK

Ineffable Bloom

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x Siren Mute MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Maternal angst/Mother wound, childhood friends to lovers, angst with happy ending

Summary: Despite your status as siren, there are not many words that reach those around you anymore, voice now muted and marred from the surgeries you have endured to remove the carnations that once suffocated your throat. But you don't mind it, serving quietly as the gardener of Night Raven College, making do with a notepad and pen when necessary. You are pleased to find your childhood friend, Azul, now attends the school, who spontaneously hires you for the flower arrangements he decides to decorate in his lounge with. There's little hope you bear with the silent poetry you weave with each meticulously placed flower, only an ache which tumbles over you like the ceaseless seas. However, Azul is not deaf to this song you have sealed in your bouquets, having cherished the morsels of sweetness in your childhoods where you shared the silent language of each flower.

MC based off of siren

AO3 LINK

Merciful Crusade

Pairing: Jamil x Shikigami MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, healing, slight enemies to lovers

Summary: The life of a shikigami, or a ceremonial servant spirit was a threadbare one. The small world you scarcely lived consisted of hard, earth‒packed walls framed tightly against a small cedar cell, illuminated only by the lonely starlight during your sleepless nights. Despite your human body, you’re almost certain you’ve never felt the blood move and warm your body in such a way that would indicate that there had ever been a human heart‒ having spent too much time gilded with a hardened iron face to even feel it if it had been there. Jamil‒ who untethers you from the spell that binds you to your onmiyoji master‒ becomes a peculiar mirror in your new life that reflects your choked breaths and measured footsteps. It never bothered you when your own body smothered what was left of your vitality‒ but when you watch Jamil from a distance, knowing the way he classifies each movement, the strangle of his muscles‒ something inside you aches. You don’t know why.

MC based off of Shikigami

AO3 LINK

Honey Lemon Crescendo

Pairing: Trey Clover x Vampire MC

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, healing, friends to lovers

Summary: The gods should have made you better, so that they could love you.  The days you pray for the abolishment of your abhorrent form are rare in the centuries you have lived since your family's death, and your turning. Sharpened claws and teeth, the hellfire of your gaze are concealed for your own convenience, you tell yourself, especially as you enroll into NRC. The tonic of human affairs rarely interested you, yet when you find the truly curious case of Trey Clover, someone who is made only of that plain sort, you cannot help but to promise yourself one conversation, some several hours of the thousand thousand you have lived to taste what it is like to be treated, and be human again. But you're a fool, and a hypocrite‒ you find yourself breaking that promise over, and over, and over. Your fragile resolve frays at every sunbeam smile, every ringing laughter of his. 

MC Based off of Vampires

AO3 Link

#masterlist #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland angst #twisted wonderland x reader #ao3 fanfic #malleus draconia #mozus trein #rook hunt #twisted wonderland malleus #lilia vanrouge #twisted oc #vil shoenheit #twisted wonderland rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland masterlist #twst malleus #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #twst lilia #ortho shroud #divus crewel #twisted wonderland fan fiction #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #flyod leech #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi

[gubes-sweaters]

Fire on Fire

Summary: Spencer’s post-prison therapy session doesn’t go quite as planned. While discussing the ghosts of his past he becomes spacy, thoughts lingering on what could’ve been.

Content Warning(s): Talks of Spencer’s trauma, addiction, allusions to what cat did to spencer, brief mentions of Maeve’s death, a brief mention of what happened to the unsub from season 5 episode 12 ‘uncanny valley’ aka the living dolls episode. (I think that’s all but if there’s any more let me know) !ALSO ANYTHING THAT THE ‘THERAPIST’ SAYS IN HERE IS NOT ANY SORT OF SOUND ADVICE, IT JUST USED AS A PLOT POINT!

Word Count: 1.7k

Chapter 1: Maybe it’s all That i’ve Been Through

“Now Spencer, have you made any attempts to contact any of the people you’d like to reconcile with? At least the ones we wrote down last session,” the woman asks as she closes his patient file. She pushes her wide glasses up her nose with her nimble fingers, shifting in her seat before looking up at him.

“Yes, I um, actually got to everyone, except for one, but I don’t think I’m going to reach out to the one I scribbled off,” he says, trying not to fidget much in his seat. 

Despite the relaxing room equipped with a white noise machine, dim lights, along with the comforting smell and crackling sound of a candle, Spencer found it nearly impossible to do just that. It may be because these therapist seasons were the last step before he could fully return to the BAU. His anxiousness to bury himself in his work once again was clawing at him. 

He’s not used to having the watchful eye of a professional to pick apart his behavior at all times, at least while he’s in this room with her. He feels intimidated and paranoid, but those feelings aren’t as strong as they were while he was in prison. Which is the whole reason why he’s stuck in this room right now.

“Why was that?” The older woman inquired as she stares at him, her head cocks to the side as her wavy gray hair that frames her face shifts with her.

“I didn’t realize how many people there were that I wanted to connect with,” he says, looking out the window thinking of the difficult dinner he had just last night. They were the second to last on the dreaded list. As if she can hear his thoughts his therapist pipes up.

“Now I know you had a few people you wanted to speak to. There was a distant relative of a man named Tobias Hankle who was…” she trails off to let Spencer fill in the gaps.

“An unidentified suspect, an unsub. It’s what we call the people in our criminal investigations.” Spencer says.

“Right, and he was the reason for your addiction. Correct?” She asks in an attempt to keep him engaged in the conversation.

“Mhm,” is all Spencer musters up.

He looks out at the view from the therapist's office. There’s a park right across the road with large willow trees, casting shadows down at a happy family. ‘That could've been him,’ he thinks to himself. A dad playing with the older child. The kid bopping along happily in the lush grass. A woman sat at a park bench, not too far from the other two, with a baby happily gurgling on her lap, clapping along to the antics of the two in from of them. It pains him to know he has no memories of his own like that. Not from his own childhood and none from a family of his own.

“Spencer?’ The woman sitting across the mahogany coffee table asks him.

“Yes?” he responds, not even realizing she was still speaking to him.

“I asked you about the others on the list. Both of your parents, Derek Morgan, Stephen Gideon, Elle Greenaway, Mary and Joe Donovan, and one last one that’s scribbled over. Who’ve you reached out to?”

“Um, I sent Tobias Hankle’s cousin and letter, then I talked to my mom, but there’s not a lot to talk about with her. She hardly knows who I am anymore. I sent my dad an email and he sent one back, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to read it quite yet. I talked to Morgan. I actually had dinner at his house with his family and it was nice. Stephen Gideon didn’t pick up any of my calls and he didn’t email me back. Elle called me back, it was nice to hear her again,” he says before he cuts himself off. The last two, Maeve’s parents, that was the terrible dinner he had the night prior.

The memories were still so fresh and it hurt to think about for too long. The actual memories themselves were not terrible, they were content and happy, but something about seeing that Maeve came from such a happy family hurt even more. She was pure sunshine and now he knows where she got it from. 

“And?” She pushes.

“I talked to my ex-girlfriend's parents last night. After everything they’re been through I didn’t think they would’ve wanted to talk to me, but they did. They welcomed me into their own home. I think hearing them talk about everything made me blame myself a lot less,” he says trying to choke back tears. The lump in his throat seemed to swell.

He thinks about the tight hug her mom gave him. How she commented about how tired he looked as she dished out food for him. It was the first really good home cooked meal he enjoyed since before prison, other than at Morgan’s house the week prior. He thought about Maeve’s dad talking about Maeve when she was younger. It made his empty heart clench, sitting there imaging Maeve sitting next to him at the table, giggling along to her fathers stories. A shiny diamond ring on her finger, that catches the light from the delicate chandelier that hung over her parents' dinner table, as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips. The thought of that never happening made Spencer’s loneliness all the more soul crushing. He longed for that feeling of domesticity.

“That was progress. We talked about you alleviating the blame that you pile on yourself. Now, I would like to know who this is on the bottom you scribbled off?” she asks, pointing her pen to the writing at the bottom of a notebook. 

“I’m not too particularly keen on reaching out to her.”

“Why is that, are you afraid of rejection from this mystery person,” she inquires.

“No, everything with Cat Adams was very recent, and I know the investigation just stirred up her life. At least that’s what I heard from my team. I’m not sure if I want to do that again,” Spencer replies with a shrug of his shoulder before chewing on the inside of his lip. He knew he was partially making excuses.

“Well, this is your time to be a little selfish when it comes to your healing. We’re also supposed to be growing some more empathy for people like Tobias Hankle and Cat Adams. We’re not washing them of any wrong doings but,” is all she gets out before Spencer cuts in.

“I know, the bureau wants me to still feel bad for unsubs and in a lot of cases I do. Samantha Malcom is one that sticks out, sure she kidnapped women and basically turned them into living dolls, two of them she even accidentally killed, but she had also been physically, sexually, emotionally, and mentally abused by her father her entire childhood. Part of my heart hurts for her. There’s too many to count in all honesty. I look at them and it’s like looking in the mirror,” He says quickly.

“Spencer, I know you have a good heart, but after all you’ve been through in prison and your wrongful conviction I think it’d be best to speak with someone who knew Cat Adams and was going through similar things to her in order to not look at this all so… clinically. We can look at these peoples actions as monstrous, but we can’t paint everyone incapable of changing their lives. Abuse victims aren’t a monolith and if you think of what Cat has been through and think that her way out is justified, or any person's way out was justified, then we can’t have you working in the field with that mentality, given everything you’ve been through,” she says, trying to give him the softest, empathetic smile.

“I didn’t say that people seek vigilante justice or everyone reaches a tipping point. I never said those things were a healthy reaction either. I just,” this time it was the older woman's turn to interrupt him.

“You just poisoned men while in prison in the name of vigilante justice, or framed a man for assault, or told your unit chief Emily Prentiss that you would’ve had no problem murdering Peter Lewis a.k.a. Mr. Scratch. Spencer I know how your brain has been scrambled by being put in such a dog eat dog environment like that prison is. I just want you to exercise empathy by reaching out to her. I’m not asking you to ever justify any of Cat Adams’ behavior and I’m never going to ask you to forgive her for anything. You have a right to feel hurt, violated, and angry. I just want you to look at Cat Adams and see where her life went when she was hellbent on revenge. Then look at this family member of hers and see how she’s healed. At least I presume they’re a family member.”

“It’s her half sister. On her dad’s side.” he says shortly, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded by a parent. He knows she’s right in the effects of how it could help with healing, but a part of his heart that holds that hatred and content for Cat wants to project that onto her.

“Great, when you’re comfortable, reach out to her and simply ask to talk in a location that has brought you comfortability in your life other than your house. So you can feel a bit more relaxed and ready to open up. All of this is about doing what you can to improve your quality of life and your mental health. I care about you Spencer, I really do,” when she finishes her statement offers up another soft simple before opening his patient file backup once more.

“Alright.” he says with a gentle sigh.

“Well, that’s all for this week. Unless there’s something else you’d like to talk about. If not I’ll see you in two weeks,” she says, preparing to stand up.

When Spencer shakes his head no, they both wordlessly standup as he exits the room. He knew he already had the next appointment booked so he leaves with a polite wave and a tight lipped smile. Once he reaches his car, he takes a deep breath before cranking up his car. The warm August air causes him to shed his cardigan before pulling out his phone. He hovers over a number Penelope gave him. Dread fills his stomach once he hits the button to call her. Spencer once again looks at the happy family, now packing up their stuff as the line picks up.

“Hello?”

A/N: AHHHH! So I fell in love with writing again. Part of my burnout was caused by not wanting to pick up my series “unexpected turns” again because I didn’t plan it all out ahead of time, which was the worlds biggest mistake, but I digress because in my free time I’m going to rework that series while I put out this one. This one is already fully planned out and all of the rough drafts are done for it. So, the only thing I have left to do is polish this series, while reworking the other one. Any who I hope you enjoy the start to this series, if you do please like, comment, and reblog my work. Any engagement is much appreciated!

Taglist: @striving4averagegirl @measure-in-pain @tvandfanfic @haylaansmi @rexorangecouny @sophiario

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x fem reader #Spencer reid x fem!reader #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminalminds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler #mgg

[oneinathousand]

Every once in a while the subject of digital necromancy and bad biopics will pop up and create a lot of discussion, and when it happens, a lot of the same subjects will be brought up repeatedly. However, there's one movie I came upon several months ago that combines "bringing dead actors back to life" and the disrespectful biopic in a completely unhinged way that I've never seen done elsewhere, but I never hear anybody on English-speaking parts of the internet bring it up because it's virtually unknown outside of Russian-speaking areas. Let me introduce you to a little movie called Vysotsky: Thank You for Being Alive.

First, some context on who the subject of this biopic is: Vladimir Vysotsky was a Russian singer/songwriter/poet/actor who was incredibly popular among much of the Soviet Union; you could consider him the Russian equivalent to John Lennon or Edith Piaf, all being artists, who - because they died relatively young - were elevated after their deaths to becoming cultural icons of almost mythical status.

So, in 2011, this movie was released, based on a screenplay and partially produced by Vysotsky's son, Nikita Vysotsky, and it tells a story about Vysotsky having a near-death experience while on tour in Uzbekistan in 1979 as KGB agents are spying on him. The producers apparently wanted viewers to see the "real" Vladimir Vysotsky, and to do that, they took a very... unique approach to his portrayal in the movie.

They had the actor who played Vysotsky go through six hours of makeup every day, then used CG on top of that (to what extent, I don't know, maybe it was just a general digital airbrushing, though I also heard some shots might have his face be entirely CG, but I can't confirm since there's not a lot of info about this movie in English), and then had Nikita Vysotsky dub the voice.

So far, not so unusual, other than the filmmakers being incredibly obsessive about making the actor look exactly like Vysotsky because they didn't think audiences would accept anything else.

Here's the batshit part: They didn't credit the actor, Sergey Bezrukov, upon release. They kept his involvement a secret. Instead, they credited Vladimir Vysotsky as playing himself.

It wasn't until the next year when Sergey Bezrukov admitted to playing Vysotsky, and apparently for a 2013 TV version they finally credited him. Also, this review from before the confession indicates that many people managed to figure out it was him all along. Still, that just goes to show that keeping it a secret was a pointless endeavor.

Maybe this movie is actually really good and tells this episode of Vysotsky's life in a factual, even-handed way, but I wouldn't be able to tell you since, again, not a lot of super-detailed info on Vysotsky in English that's easy to find. What I CAN say is that regardless of its quality, all those efforts pretty much go down the drain by the producers deciding not to credit the actual actor for a time. Pretending Vysotsky played himself feels like putting words in his mouth postmortem, it would be kinda like if I made a biopic about somebody and then at the end of the movie I put up a disclaimer being like "We held an Ouija board session and communicated with our subject's ghost who TOTALLY gave us the stamp of approval."

I haven't seen the whole film but from what I have seen, the use of all that makeup, CG, and dubbing plants the performance pretty firmly in the uncanny valley, and if I were a Russian who had grown up listening to Vysotsky's music and watching his acting roles, then saw this movie in a theater or on TV, I'd be creeped out and insulted at the notion that this is as good as the real deal.

The effect looks fine in some angles and lighting conditions, but otherwise it's generally weird-looking. The face is overly smooth, Bezrukov clearly couldn't emote much underneath all that makeup, and the dubbed voice doesn't always match the facial expressions, or lack thereof. It doesn't help that this movie is REALLY brightly lit and saturated as if it was shot by a 2000's video game developer who just figured out how to do bloom effects, so there's really not much the film could do to obscure the face. The creepiness is something you have to see in motion to feel, just posting pictures wouldn't get across what I mean, so if you do want to see it, the movie has been uploaded here.

#vladimir vysotsky #Влади́мир Высо́цкий #biopic #i wouldn't have found out about this movie or vysotsky in general if it weren't for Treasure Island 1988 #cause I watched the meeting place cannot be changed based on commenter's recommendations

[beardedmrbean]

SACRAMENTO — Jewish lawmakers in California whose legislative session was shut down by a cease-fire demonstration this week say this is an unprecedented moment in American political life where the far-right and far-left are aligned in dangerous, antisemitic beliefs about Jews.

Wednesday’s protest in the California statehouse, where singing and chanting brought the Assembly floor session to a halt, was the latest in a series of disruptions to Democratic events in Sacramento, San Francisco, Washington, D.C. and elsewhere over the Israel-Hamas war in an increasingly tense fight within the party. A number of Jewish organizations were behind Wednesday’s demonstration, including Jewish Voice for Peace, an anti-Zionist group.

The activism following the Oct. 7 Hamas attack and Israeli counteroffensive has put many Jewish lawmakers in an impossible position — trapped, as Assemblymember Jesse Gabriel described it, between political extremes and worried about their personal safety.

They say the dual attacks are unlike anything they’ve faced in decades.

“The one thing that they seem to agree on is that Jews are uniquely evil, and that we are responsible for the world's problems,” Gabriel, 42, said of the opposing groups.

Protesters have called for a halt to Israel attacks that have resulted in thousands of civilian deaths in Gaza. But Gabriel, and many American Jews, feel that demonstrators have largely ignored what sparked the war: The attack by Hamas militants on southern Israel that left 1,200 people dead, mostly civilians, in a horrific display of violence.

Rather than waiting for the temperature to drop, California's Legislative Jewish Caucus has decided to lean into the fallout, with bills aimed at stopping antisemitism in public schools and college campuses — policy debates that are likely to spur more protests at the statehouse.

Gabriel, a Democrat who represents parts of the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles, is the caucus' co-chair. He sat down with POLITICO to speak about the urgent need to crack down on antisemitism, and the caucus’ legislative game plan in 2024.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

What was your first reaction when you heard the protestors in the Assembly on Wednesday?

I had a sense that it was coming when we walked over to the building and saw a bunch of folks, and it was much more crowded than usual and a lot of people in masks and everything else. We had a sense that potentially there would be some protest activity. And I thought that it might be on this. This is obviously a very contentious topic of conversation right now.

There were complaints about interrupting the democratic process, but how do you balance that with the right to free speech? 

The way I think about it is you have thousands of groups and Californians who come up to Sacramento every year who have passionately-held beliefs on a whole range of issues, and the overwhelming majority of them manage to express those beliefs without interrupting the democratic process.

So it can’t just be that some folks get to interrupt the democratic process and everybody else has to play by the rules.

What do you know about the protesters? They identified as Jewish groups, but it’s also clear that some of the Jewish caucus felt intimidated by what they were doing. 

I don’t know that I would say that we felt intimidated by it. I certainly didn't. I think it was upsetting for some folks and members of our caucus, but I don’t think anybody felt intimidated.

Let me say that some of these groups I know, I’ve heard of — others I know less about — it has sometimes rubbed me the wrong way that they describe themselves as Jews and quote unquote ‘allies,’ because I think many of the folks in these groups are not Jewish, and purporting to speak on behalf of the Jewish community.

While they are speaking on behalf of themselves, I would argue very strongly that they’re not speaking on behalf of the Jewish community.

I think the overwhelming majority of folks in the community feel a very, very strong emotional connection to Israel. Many of us have friends and family over there, people that we love, that we care about, that we are connected to. So a lot of this is not a theoretical war for us. This is something that we are experiencing through phone calls and emails and text messages with loved ones who are sitting in bomb shelters who are worried about the safety of their kids.

For us, it is a deeply personal issue. And that is both separate and very much intricately linked to this explosion in domestic antisemitism that we have experienced that, for reasons that I don't fully understand, seems to be going below the radar.

When you think about it, if there were 225 Black churches that have gotten bomb threats in the last week, I think we’d be reading about it all over the news.

There is an incredible sense of vulnerability in the community right now. Some of the rhetoric around this has been very dehumanizing of Jews. There seems to be this sense that we should believe victims of sexual assault, and yet there was so much pushback and continues to be so much pushback on the notion that Hamas committed mass rape and mass sexual violence on Oct. 7.

I think a lot of folks are able to hear opinions that we disagree with. And that’s OK. That’s part of democracy, that’s part of education, that’s part of the world we live in. But some of this rhetoric gets into a place where it becomes about longstanding stereotypes about our community, about dehumanizing Jews, that we have a long history, that our history teaches us this rhetoric leads to violence.

And we now find ourselves in this incredible situation, where we are trapped between the far-right and the far-left. Those two groups hate each other, see each other as a threat to everything that they love and believe is holy, and the one thing that they seem to agree on is that Jews are uniquely evil, and that we are responsible for the world's problems.

We know that in recent years, we know there’s a trend where the far-right and far-left are growing. Those are two segments of our society in the United States and around the world that are growing. And if one of the core ideologies that’s made its way into both of those groups is that Jews are bad and Jews are oppressors and Jews are evil, that’s a very problematic and scary thing for us, given how we’ve seen this unfold in history over and over again.

The Jewish caucus this week released a letter specifically lamenting a lack of support from labor and advocacy allies. Who does that refer to? 

I think part of the challenge is that there are people here who are not particularly well-informed about everything that is going on, that the challenges and the trauma that the Jewish community is experiencing are somewhat invisible to them.

That's part of what that letter was doing, is letting them understand how our community is feeling at this moment. And that we, frankly, would expect more of them and hope that they'll engage with us and take the time to learn.

What has been so interesting to me about recent weeks is a lot of Jews that I know that are very far-left, that are very critical of the Israeli government, are also deeply, deeply feeling the antisemitism in society right now, and have expressed that to me and to members of the caucus, in really emotional and evocative terms.

And the same thing is true of Jews on the right, and Jews in the middle and Jews whose politics I don't know, and Jews who are religious and walk around in ways that they're easily identifiable as being Jewish, and Jews who are not particularly observant.

So we're getting this feedback from all corners of our community: That people are feeling this in a way that they haven't felt. And I will tell you, I am feeling differently than I have felt at any moment in my life.

What would you like support from those groups to look like? 

Many and, maybe most, people in the Sacramento ecosystem have been incredible.

But we have also seen a number of folks who have put out some really reprehensible statements, and then others who just seem to be blind to facts and to Jewish suffering. I don’t have problems with people expressing sincerely-held beliefs. But they ought to think about, if you were silent on Oct. 7 and Oct. 8, if you had nothing to say about this, really unspeakable, act of brutality, and then you’re going to say things in a really one-sided way that doesn’t acknowledge Jewish pain, that doesn’t acknowledge the suffering that’s going on, that feels pretty rough.

Are there going to be consequences for that inaction or some of those statements, as far as damaging relationships? 

One hundred percent. And I’ll just say I’m always eager to have conversations with people and to learn from them and hopefully to have them learn from me.

Have you been specifically targeted at all? 

Not in a way that’s made me feel particularly threatened. My wife was freaking out [Wednesday] when everything was going on at the Capitol, and I was trying to calm her down.

Members of our caucus have been targeted, a number of them have not wanted to share that publicly, and this is something we’ve struggled with.

There are a number of members of our caucus that have been targeted in the most despicable personal terms at their homes, at their work. I think we have received stuff at the office and other things, and I think most Jews in elected office in publicly visible places right now have been targeted.

As a state lawmaker in this moment, do you bring the temperature down or stand up and call attention to the problem — knowing that it could continue to escalate these tensions?

I think there's been a lot of conversation as we've seen little incidents of antisemitism over the past number of years. How widespread is this belief? Is this just some misinformed person? Is that some crazy person that really doesn't understand this? Can we go have a conversation with them? Can we deescalate?

There's a sense now in the community that, given what we have seen in recent months, that we have to assert ourselves and we have to pull the fire alarm, because this is a moment that feels different than any other moment in our lifetimes.

#nunyas news

[subliminalbo]

One Shot #3: The Watcher

Around the time her father died, Jacqueline couldn't escape the feeling that she was being watched. When she awoke in the morning she could feel those invisible eyes beating down upon her. It was a feeling so real to her soul that she would wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding. Something had gotten in, she was certain, and it refused to leave. But Jacqueline had searched her condo a dozen times and she never found anything out of place.

"You let go of the housekeeper?" her therapist asked during one session.

"Of course," Jacqueline replied. "I thought she may have set up a camera or..."

"Do you have any idea why someone would do that, Jacqueline?"

"I represent many people at my firm. People with secrets."

Jacqueline's therapist was concerned, but not convinced of any grand conspiracy to spy on one of Silicon Valley's premier corporate lawyers. Espionage was common in her line of work, certainly, but rarely did it involve bugging a lawyer's condo.

"You lost your father recently," her therapist noted.

"Yes," Jacqueline replied.

"And you haven't been feeling yourself?"

It was easy to wave away Jacqueline's feelings as simple grief. Even she had tried to do that at first. With the first wave of Jacqueline's paranoia had also come an intense loss of interest in any of her old passions. The things that had once kept Jacqueline motivated had evaporated over the course of a single night. She'd begone forwarding calls at work to her secretary, operating most days on autopilot. She skipped out on her weekly reunions with her old Beta Phi Alpha girls in favor of Friday nights in bed. And the dream she'd once had of running her law firm was a distant priority. Her therapist pointed to her father's death as the mist likely reason. It was the easiest to accept, but in her heart Jacqueline knew that it had begun with the watcher.

What scared Jacqueline most of all about the watcher was that it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Uneasy, certainly, but there was something about its presence that comforted her. Jacqueline would unconsciously leave her door unlocked in invitation, and when she couldn't sense its studious eyes upon her, she even felt a little sad. The watcher was, in some way, the one constant left in her life. The only thing that she could count on to return to her.

"Fuck..." Jacqueline whispered alone in her bed as her hand slid under the elastic of her panties. While the vibrator penetrated her pussy, she imagined that it was more than a cheap sex toy. It was an instrument of the watcher's power, pulling her under its sway, into its thrall.

"Mark me..." she begged. "Fucking...take me...own me! Fuck me!" Jacqueline's body shook in devotion to her Master.

The slick vibrator discarded absently in the sheets, Jacqueline knew in the silence of the night that she belonged to the watcher.

"Wonderful show, Jacqueline."

Jacqueline sat up with a start, though she wasn't surprised to find the dark stranger standing at the open window.

"I knew it..." she said, still catching her breath. "I knew you were real."

The stranger was tall, and despite his handsomely dark features, his skin was as pale as death. As he floated toward her bed he said, "I marked you several years ago, Jacqueline. A rare breed."

The man placed a cold hand beneath Jacqueline's chin. She looked up into his glowing orange eyes and she knew that she had seen these eyes before. Somewhere, sometime, she'd lost herself in those eyes. The world had faded away around her and she pledged her soul to this dark, handsome, and terrifying stranger.

"A perfect match for my beloved," the stranger said. "But your ties to this world were yet too strong. I do not take my beloved by force. She must surrender to me on her own accord. I offer only the push."

Jacqueline's glassy eyes shined in a moment of understanding. Her thoughtless brow began to twist in confusion as she said, "You killed my father?"

"He sacrificed himself for our future."

"I have nothing left," Jacqueline whispered. "Nothing to tie me to this world."

"And no reason not to serve me," the stranger smiled. He sat down on the bed next to Jacqueline, resting his hand now on her cheek.

It was true that Jacqueline had loved her father, but in that moment she loved this stranger more. She opened the lace of her nightgown in invitation. "Mark me!" she cried as he sank his fangs into her breast.

#mind control #controlled #hypnotized #brainwashed #series: one shots #hypnokink #hypno story

[ausetkmt]

Published Sept. 29, 2022Updated Sept. 30, 2022

It started in 1995 in a home in Los Angeles’ Hollywood Hills, where two roommates — a music producer and a D.J. — used to compete over who could find the best sample from their record collections.

One day, Paul Stewart, the D.J., conceded that his roommate, the producer Doug Rasheed, had bested him when Rasheed put on a vinyl copy of Stevie Wonder’s 1976 album “Songs in the Key of Life.”

The track that Rasheed played, “Pastime Paradise,” opened with a mournful synth loop that replicated the sound of a string section. The song that it inspired, “Gangsta’s Paradise,” would change both of their lives and catapult an up-and-coming West Coast rapper named Coolio to global stardom.

Coolio, born Artis Leon Ivey Jr., died on Wednesday in Los Angeles at age 59; the cause has not been disclosed. The rapper had a handful of hits before and after “Gangsta’s Paradise,” but nothing in his career would top the popularity and cultural influence of that track, which was featured in the 1995 movie “Dangerous Minds” and went on both to win a Grammy and inspire a Weird Al Yankovic parody.

In recent years, Coolio had commented on the legacy of the song and its long shadow over the rest of his career, calling it, in one interview, both a blessing and curse (“More of a blessing than a curse,” he noted).

“That record: It took him over the top,” Rasheed, the song’s composer and producer, said in an interview on Thursday. “It made him a household name worldwide.”

Coolio’s opening words, which are based on Psalm 23, became one of the most widely remembered verses in ’90s rap: “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I take a look at my life and realize there’s nothin’ left.”

The singer L.V. (born Larry Sanders), who features on the song, had already started collaborating with Rasheed on the track, he said in an interview, when Coolio wrote those lyrics. Listening to the Wonder song in that Hollywood Hills home, it had been L.V.’s idea to turn “Pastime Paradise” into “Gangsta’s Paradise.”

L.V. recorded multiple vocal tracks that Rasheed combined to sound like a large choir singing a haunting refrain, as well as the chorus: “Been spending most their lives living in a gangsta’s paradise.”

Sign up for the Louder Newsletter  Stay on top of the latest in pop and jazz with reviews, interviews, podcasts and more from The New York Times music critics.

The tale of how Coolio first heard the track differs depending on who is telling it. In L.V.’s version, L.V. brought the song, with his recorded vocals, to Coolio on a cassette tape, hoping to persuade him to collaborate on it after another rapper had turned him down. In Coolio’s account, according to a Rolling Stone oral history of the song from 2015, the rapper was visiting the Hollywood Hills home to pick up a check from Stewart, who was his manager, when he heard the track.

“I walked into the studio, and asked Doug, ‘Wow, whose track is that?’” Coolio told Rolling Stone. “Doug said, ‘Oh, it’s something I’m working on.’ I said, ‘Well, it’s mine!’”

Coolio recalled writing his verses in one session, rapping about chasing his dreams and the uncertainty of whether he would live to 24 years old. (He was in his early 30s at the time, but 24 rhymed better, he said in a 2015 radio interview.)

The reinterpreted song still needed to get a green light from Wonder’s camp. But, Rasheed recalled, Wonder was turned off by the profanity and violence expressed in the lyrics. The producer asked Coolio for a rewrite, and the rapper agreed. The other catch: Wonder’s music publishing company would receive three-quarters of the publishing proceeds.

“The terms were a little harsh, but without them approving it there’s no hit,” Stewart, who managed both Coolio and L.V. at the time, said in an interview on Thursday.

Stewart shopped the song around and found a very interested party in MCA Records, which was producing the soundtrack for “Dangerous Minds,” starring Michelle Pfeiffer as a former Marine who becomes a teacher at an underfunded Bay Area high school. (The movie received mixed reviews, with The Los Angeles Times film critic Kenneth Turan calling it “stereotypical, predictable and simplified to the point of meaninglessness.”)

The music video, directed by Antoine Fuqua and featuring a severe-looking Pfeiffer staring down Coolio, initially received a pass from MTV, Stewart recalled, until MCA arranged to advertise the video on the channel, generating interest from viewers.

MTV picked it up, and “it was the most phenomenal takeoff of a record that I’ve ever seen,” Stewart said. “Gangsta’s Paradise” spent three weeks atop Billboard’s Hot 100 and was named the chart’s No. 1 song at the end of the year. It won the Grammy for best rap solo performance in 1996.

Then came Weird Al.

The musical parody artist and his team approached Coolio to get his blessing to make their own version of the song — “Amish Paradise” — Rasheed said, but the rapper refused. Knowing that legally speaking, Weird Al didn’t need their green light, Rasheed gave them his approval, despite Coolio’s skepticism.

“I think he just didn’t want to be made light of,” Rasheed said. To Coolio, his collaborators explained, “Gangsta’s Paradise” spoke to the real hardships and fears around street life in a way that seemed to resonate with people from different walks of life.

“A lot of people say it saved them from whatever demons they were dealing with, that they listened to the song and it helped them carry on,” Coolio said in the Rolling Stone oral history.

The “Amish Paradise” music video from 1996 opened with Yankovic in a broad-brimmed hat and a thick beard rapping, “As I walk through the valley where I harvest my grain.” In place of Coolio’s references to being “raised by the state” and finding protection in “the hood team,” Yankovic rapped about “milkin’ cows” and partying “like it’s 1699.”

Rasheed said that over time, he saw Coolio soften to the parody, viewing it as more homage than mockery. And in later interviews, the rapper said that he had changed his perspective on Yankovic’s song.

“I let that go so long ago,” Coolio told Vice in 2014. “Let me say this: I apologized to Weird Al a long time ago and I was wrong.” He added, “I listened to it a couple years after that and it’s actually funny,” adding an expletive.

In an interview with Newsweek a few months later, Yankovic said he was relieved. “I’m not the kind of guy that has beef with people, because I go out of my way to make sure that people are fine with what I do,” he said. “That was the one little moment in my whole history where there was a problem,” he noted, saying it was “very sweet” of Coolio to have told Vice he had made amends.

While “Amish Paradise” gave Coolio’s song a boost, the track was a smash on its own. L.V. remembered Coolio and his crew touring the world — Japan, France, Australia — and feeling like they were drawing “Michael Jackson-level” crowds that recited the lyrics along with them. Earlier this year, Coolio celebrated the song reaching a billion streams on YouTube.

“He put some magic on that track,” Rasheed said. “His voice, his delivery his cadence — it was something really special.”

#Coolio #The Story of ‘Gangsta’s Paradise #’ Coolio’s Biggest Hit #LV #Artis Leon Ivey Jr

[thesnailkiwi]

i wanna hear more about your weird vivid 3rd life dreams /not forced

Mkay mkay I really want to talk about this

First time it happened, or as I call it "first session". (Side note, everyone looked like their characters but realistic.)

Started out (normal?) And collected stuff. The usual. I didn't know anyone at all and it was weird. Everyone felt so familiar, yet I couldn't place who they were. I met Martyn pretty early on. We talked, and he threw seeds at me and ran off. I settled in the roots of a tree the first night (the rain was unpleasant to say the least). Eventually I dug out the area around the upturned tree and put a roof so it was kind of like a burrow. Boy, how I envied Dogwarts at the time.

I met Joel next. He... was something, alright. He insulted me half the time and actually does swear a lot. Oh, and he was like 5'6 so that made it even funnier. He was annoying, though. He kinda just broke into my house tbh.

After that, I heard about Tango’s game but thought it was too risky. I was also afraid because of Scar since I didn't know him and from the stories I had heard he was cruel and merciless. In my defense, he was a red.

I met Jimmy after his first death. He's such a nice dude omg. He's also easy af to fluster. I complimented him and he turned bright red. He, seeing my pathetic house, invited me back to the flower valley for the night. Scott was offended that he brought home someone other than him lmao. At first Scott was defensive but after Jimmy convinced him I was fine then he loosened up. I felt like a third wheel the whole time. Jeez Louise the sheer amount of affection between those two.

Ahaha the next day I wasnt too lucky. I got caught in a TNT trap someone set (I think it was the Crastle, but I'm still unsure) and exploded. Not fun, exploding. Let me tell you. At least it was quick ig.

Bdubs was grumpy about that since it wasn't meant for me. Sir, how am I supposed to know that when you set it near MY HOUSE?

This is where things started going downhill.

Dogwarts was starting to rise. I was allies with the flower valley so I quickly was introduced to the desert duo. I felt kinda bad for Grian since he couldn't use his wings, but realistic harpy things are weird looking. Scar was terrifying. My dude is like 6 feet tall, grey, and littered with scars. Jimmy was red and he still wasn't scary! Wtf!

Ah yes. The burning of the banner. How could I forget? I wasn't there for it, but Scott sounded scared when I visited them next.

I had seen Ren from a distance, and I was so, so angry at Martyn for becoming the monster he did. Oh yeah, and the two of them kept beating around the bush in their relationship and that was annoying as well. Like, dude, just tell him already.

I never really met the Crastle. But I did meet Martyn again and blow up on him about being part of Red Winter.

And here we are! The bunker battle.

I don't really remember much about this part. Pure adrenaline took over. But I did die to being shot by an arrow and falling into the lava moat. I ran back as fast as I could with literal leather armor. Jimmy was dead by then, and when Scott realized, oh jeebus bleebus.

Anger, sorrow, revenge. He definitely was NOT thinking clearly. Since I was closest to Jimmy in the battle, he blamed me for his death. He attacked me and killed me with his sword. Very uncomfortable way to die.

Session two.

Started out on bad terms. I killed a few of the villagers Grian saved and he definitely was NOT happy. I swear he meant the creeper for me and it agro-ed on scar instead. But we'll never know ig.

The Crastle became my home this time. Cleo was recruiting so I signed up.

It went how you think it would. Except this time I played Tango’s game. I failed and died.

Then Dogwarts invaded the Crastle. The others except Impulse got away, but then I realized he was a traitor. I got sacrificed on the altar. Dude the Red Winter axe is a huge ceremonial battle axe. Ren laughing is extremely eerie.

Then during the final siege, Martyn took my last life. Pretty anticlimactic if I say so myself.

Anyway, any questions? I can talk for hours.

I swear every time you send an ask, it turns into a whole essay lmao /pos

[a-m-w-harris]

Ghosts in Encanto AU

Ok, so a little while back I came across a post about the BBC ghosts being in the Encanto universe. I really liked the idea and wanted to expand upon it.

I included both the BBC ghosts and the CBS Ghosts because I like both versions a lot. Some of the minor ghosts don't have powers yet because they are kinda hard to write for. We don't really know much about them.

First off, instead of Casita and being set in Columbia, these folks are given their miracle by The Valley of Ages, located in the countryside of England. The Encanto and the Madrigals still do exist, and it is possible that there is a connection between the miracle of the Encanto and the miracle of the Valley.

The Valley of Ages is an ancient valley that is sentient and has deep ties to nature. It has the power to call out to those it deems worthy in order to become Guardians. Eventually, it created Button House, after creating several cottages and such for several people. Button House was made at the request of Lady Button in order to house all of the Guardians in the Valley. 

All who become Guardians gain a unique gift and immortality. Some possess gifts meant to educate or help the valley flourish. Others have gifts intended to ward off threats to the valley. The main thing about their immortality is that it only works while they are in the Valley, something they found out the hard way, unfortunately.

The Guardians of the Valley (in order of arrival)

Robin 

Has powerful electrokinetic abilities

The first to be called by the Valley, having been alone there for millions of years. He was a Cromagnin caveman who worshiped the moon. He was called to the Valley to be its first protector. 

Thorfinn

He can bring about powerful storms. 

Was a Viking who was struck by lightning while in the Valley. Was nursed back to health by Robin. 

Sasappis

Can project images and illusions via storytelling. 

Was a member of the Lenape Tribe who fled his lands in embarrassment after being unable to go to his first storytelling session. Was called by the Valley and sailed across the sea to ancient Europe. 

Jemima

She can cause a magical fear in others when she sings.

Plague Victim escaping certain death. She was twelve years old when she arrived at the valley.

Mick

Has the ability to teleport great distances. 

Plague Victim escaping certain death

The Other Plague Victims (No clue what their gifts would be)

Nicholas, Jeff, John, Walter, Molly, & Lucy

Mary

Has pyrokinetic abilities but cannot control them properly.

Was accused of witchcraft and had to flee. 

Annie

Possessed the ability to produce a powerful scream many times louder than any natural sound. 

Was drawn to the Valley shortly after Mary. during an excursion to gather supplies from outside the Valley; Annie, Mary, and Thorfinn were attacked by a group of bandits. Annie prepared to unleash her gift on them but was stabbed. She was killed instantly despite the Valley sending Mick to bring them back. 

Sir Humphry Bone

 Has the ability to displace his head and limbs. 

After assisting his wife in her escape, he escaped and was drawn to the valley. 

Thomas Thorne

 Has the ability to breathe underwater. 

Was a poet who after being spurned by his cousin who sabotaged his chances at his love, left to travel the countryside. The valley embraced him. He is the one who found Trevor in the lake. 

Kitty

Can communicate with animals

Was poisoned in an attempt on her life by her sister. The valley sensed it and had Mick teleport to her so she could be nursed back to health in Button House. 

Fanny Button

Has the ability to phase through solid objects. 

Was called to the Valley after leaving her husband after the discovery of his true proclivities. Requested the building of Button House of the valley, so that all of the guardians of the Valley would have a single roof to be under. 

Nigel Chassum

 Can sense when others lie

Escaped the revolutionary war with his two companions and lover Isaac. All four heard the call. 

Baxter

 Possesses the ability to cause small earthquakes on command. 

Escaped the revolutionary war with Nigel, Isaac, and Jenkins. All four heard the call. 

Jenkins

Can cause plant life to grow by playing his flute.

Escaped the revolutionary war with Nigel, Isaac, and Baxter. All four heard the call. 

Isaac Higgintoot

 Has the ability to create a noxious gas that can put others to sleep or make them sick. 

Escaped the revolutionary war with his two companions and lover Nigel. All four heard the call.

The cholera Victims (Again, I don't know what their abilities would be. Sorry.)

Stuart, Dirk, Cody, Nick, Catherine, & Nancy

Hetty Woodstone

Has prophetic visions and will often get visions directly from the valley itself on future residents. 

Heard the call after her abusive husband’s disappearance. Placed all of her money in a savings account which she still has access to. 

Captain

Gained the abilities of a ‘super soldier’. This includes enhanced speed, strength, and endurance. 

Retired to Button House after the war. Has not quite come to terms with being gay. 

Alberta Haynes

 Can heal illnesses and even remedies poisons with her songs.

A jazz singer escaping a racist lynching. Heard the call after being poisoned. Was brought to the valley by Mick similar to Kitty. 

Flower

Can place others in a calming trance

A hippie from the 60s who had a change of heart after a bank robbery. 

Pete Martino

 Has the ability to survive absolutely anywhere. (Can sense North, can always start a fire, is a perfect hunter, etc.)

Was a boy scout troupe leader in Maine when he heard the call. His wife’s cheating was revealed to him and he decided to leave. 

Patrick ‘Pat’ Butcher

 Has the ability to heal any injury given enough time. 

Was a boy scout troupe leader in England when he heard the call. After learning that his wife was in love with his best friend, he simply decided to leave and enter the Valley. 

Stephanie

Can dream walk but generally sleeps for all but a few weeks a year. 

She was sixteen when she was called to the valley. Mick was sent to rescue her from a psychopath who murdered her boyfriend. 

Julian Fawcett

Has a limited form of telekinesis

Drawn to the mansion after having an epiphany about needing to change his life. 

Crash

Has limited technopathic abilities and a mental connection to his bike. 

Was a biker touring the countryside of Europe when the valley called to him. 

Trevor Lefkowitz

Possesses a form of Empathy

Was almost killed by his ‘friends’ after having a drug overdose and being dumped in the lake in the valley. The valley aided him and the others nursed him back to health. 

Alison Cooper

Her gift is unknown.

Was called at the same time as the Arondekars. She and Samantha are said to be the most powerful protectors of the Valley to date. However, they have not discovered their gifts as of yet.

Mike Cooper

His gift is unknown.

Was called at the same time as the Arondekars. He has not discovered his gift yet but thinks it might have something to do with the physical.

Samantha Arondekar

 Her gift is unknown.

Was called at the same time as the Coopers. She and Alison are said to be the most powerful protectors of the Valley to date. However, they have not discovered their gifts as of yet.

Jay Arondekar

Can sense exactly what food would bring comfort to someone and eating his food can soothe anxieties. 

Was called at the same time as the Coopers. He is an accomplished cook and is very invested in renewing Button House. 

Ok! I think that's all of them. Let me know what you think!

#ghosts bbc #ghosts cbs #lgbt fiction #spooky #haunted house #halloween #encanto #encanto au #fanfic #fandom #long post

[pgoeltz]

David Crosby has died. This one is tough for me. David was a part of my life since my high school days, when I was a huge fan of The Byrds. The first time I met David, was in RCA Studios in LA. It was 1968, I had taken my first ride on an airplane with Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady, from Jefferson Airplane,( I know, I know!) flying from San Francisco, on PSA Airlines, with stewardesses who were all beautiful, and in tight pink miniskirts! Jefferson Airplane were actually considering me as a drummer! Buddy Miles was also on the flight. It was memorable trip for several reasons. First, I was staying with Jorma and he had a bunch of visitors during the day. (Recording sessions, were at night, of course) A couple of notable visitors were Jim Morrison, and Eric Clapton who had brought a cassette of a band he was super exited about. They were called "The Band". We went to the studio and I was just hanging out, with you know, Jefferson Airplane! And after awhile David Crosby walks in the studio wearing the famous green cape, and carrying a guitar. The band finished what they were working on and David breaks out his guitar, and they gather around him as he presents them with a song, called "Triad", that The Byrds didn't want to touch, because of the provocative lyrics; "Why can't we be three?" It was beautiful, haunting, and done in what was turning into the modal tune that would turn out to be a big part of David's sound. It was a heady trip for a teenager. I never made it into the Airplane, but to this day, remain friends with Jorma and Jack. And not too much time later, I was in Santana. All good!

I think it was 1970 I bought my first home in Mill Valley. I believe the price was $62,000! Croz was one of the few LA musicians that was hanging out in Marin County with the Dead, and on Fulton St. in SF with the Airplane. David was living on a houseboat in Sausalito. He loved boats. We ran into each other a few times, and we really connected. We took a liking to each other. We both had an affinity, actually, a passion, for the Welsh Poet, Dylan Thomas. We would read him out loud to each other. "Under Milkwood"..."the sloeback, crowblack, fishing boat bobbing sea". One day I was in Wally Heider Studios in SF, recording "Abraxas" with Santana. Creedence Clearwater was recording there as well. David had booked the big room downstairs, and word was going around how these sessions were becoming rather epic. Neil Young, Jack Casady, Jorma, Grace Slick, Jerry Garcia and other members of the Dead, and oh, Joni Mitchell.

At some point Croz learned we were recording upstairs and came upstairs and asked myself and Gregg Rolie to come downstairs and play. We went down and entered the room, and the strong and pungent smell of really good pot, and incense, combined with the red, dimmed lighting, and Indian fabrics, letting you know that you were in a high class hippy vibe recording room. We played and it was such a different vibe than Santana, of course. It really felt like hippy music to me. It was so open, and cozy, so floaty! It felt strange, to be honest. It was an honor to be playing with these folks, of course. Garcia was always a welcome, uplifting presence.

Later in life, David had a realistic approach to life, knowing that he had escaped death more than several times, and he made the most of, recording some of his best material in his late 70's. He squeezed the most out his artistic life and, just two weeks ago was talking about going back on the road. I saw some of those shows, and the shows with Graham Nash They were all magnificent. Here's to you, my friend, my brother. I'm going smoke a big fat one now in honor of you, while listening to your music.

"DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT.

OLD AGE SHOULD BURN AND RAVE AT CLOSE OF DAY;

RAGE, RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT.

THOUGH WISE MEN AT THEIR END KNOW DARK IS RIGHT

BECAUSE THEIR WORDS HAD FORKED NO LIGHTENING, THEY

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT.

[whileiamdying]

The Story of ‘Gangsta’s Paradise,’ Coolio’s Biggest Hit

The 1995 song changed the rapper’s life, bringing a rush of stardom — along with a new level of success that he was unable to match again.

Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise,” built off Stevie Wonder’s “Pastime Paradise,” held No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 for three weeks in 1995.Credit...Paul Bergen/Redferns, via Getty Images

By Julia Jacobs Sept. 29, 2022

It started in 1995 in a home in Los Angeles’ Hollywood Hills, where two roommates — a music producer and a D.J. — used to compete over who could find the best sample from their record collections.

One day, Paul Stewart, the D.J., conceded that his roommate, the producer Doug Rasheed, had bested him when Rasheed put on a vinyl copy of Stevie Wonder’s 1976 album “Songs in the Key of Life.”

The track that Rasheed played, “Pastime Paradise,” opened with a mournful synth loop that replicated the sound of a string section. The song that it inspired, “Gangsta’s Paradise,” would change both of their lives and catapult an up-and-coming West Coast rapper named Coolio to global stardom.

Coolio, born Artis Leon Ivey Jr., died on Wednesday in Los Angeles at age 59; the cause has not been disclosed. The rapper had a handful of hits before and after “Gangsta’s Paradise,” but nothing in his career would top the popularity and cultural influence of that track, which was featured in the 1995 movie “Dangerous Minds” and went on both to win a Grammy and inspire a Weird Al Yankovic parody.

In recent years, Coolio had commented on the legacy of the song and its long shadow over the rest of his career, calling it, in one interview, both a blessing and curse (“More of a blessing than a curse,” he noted).

“That record: It took him over the top,” Rasheed, the song’s composer and producer, said in an interview on Thursday. “It made him a household name worldwide.”

Coolio’s opening words, which are based on Psalm 23, became one of the most widely remembered verses in ’90s rap: “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I take a look at my life and realize there’s nothin’ left.”

The singer L.V. (born Larry Sanders), who features on the song, had already started collaborating with Rasheed on the track, he said in an interview, when Coolio wrote those lyrics. Listening to the Wonder song in that Hollywood Hills home, it had been L.V.’s idea to turn “Pastime Paradise” into “Gangsta’s Paradise.”

L.V. recorded multiple vocal tracks that Rasheed combined to sound like a large choir singing a haunting refrain, as well as the chorus: “Been spending most their lives living in a gangsta’s paradise.”

The tale of how Coolio first heard the track differs depending on who is telling it. In L.V.’s version, L.V. brought the song, with his recorded vocals, to Coolio on a cassette tape, hoping to persuade him to collaborate on it after another rapper had turned him down. In Coolio’s account, according to a Rolling Stone oral history of the song from 2015, the rapper was visiting the Hollywood Hills home to pick up a check from Stewart, who was his manager, when he heard the track.

“I walked into the studio, and asked Doug, ‘Wow, whose track is that?’” Coolio told Rolling Stone. “Doug said, ‘Oh, it’s something I’m working on.’ I said, ‘Well, it’s mine!’”

Coolio recalled writing his verses in one session, rapping about chasing his dreams and the uncertainty of whether he would live to 24 years old. (He was in his early 30s at the time, but 24 rhymed better, he said in a 2015 radio interview.)

The reinterpreted song still needed to get a green light from Wonder’s camp. But, Rasheed recalled, Wonder was turned off by the profanity and violence expressed in the lyrics. The producer asked Coolio for a rewrite, and the rapper agreed. The other catch: Wonder’s music publishing company would receive three-quarters of the publishing proceeds.

“The terms were a little harsh, but without them approving it there’s no hit,” Stewart, who managed both Coolio and L.V. at the time, said in an interview on Thursday.

Stewart shopped the song around and found a very interested party in MCA Records, which was producing the soundtrack for “Dangerous Minds,” starring Michelle Pfeiffer as a former Marine who becomes a teacher at an underfunded Bay Area high school. (The movie received mixed reviews, with The Los Angeles Times film critic Kenneth Turan calling it “stereotypical, predictable and simplified to the point of meaninglessness.”)

The music video, directed by Antoine Fuqua and featuring a severe-looking Pfeiffer staring down Coolio, initially received a pass from MTV, Stewart recalled, until MCA arranged to advertise the video on the channel, generating interest from viewers.

MTV picked it up, and “it was the most phenomenal takeoff of a record that I’ve ever seen,” Stewart said. “Gangsta’s Paradise” spent three weeks atop Billboard’s Hot 100 and was named the chart’s No. 1 song at the end of the year. It won the Grammy for best rap solo performance in 1996.

Then came Weird Al.

The musical parody artist and his team approached Coolio to get his blessing to make their own version of the song — “Amish Paradise” — Rasheed said, but the rapper refused. Knowing that legally speaking, Weird Al didn’t need their green light, Rasheed gave them his approval, despite Coolio’s skepticism.

“I think he just didn’t want to be made light of,” Rasheed said. To Coolio, his collaborators explained, “Gangsta’s Paradise” spoke to the real hardships and fears around street life in a way that seemed to resonate with people from different walks of life.

“A lot of people say it saved them from whatever demons they were dealing with, that they listened to the song and it helped them carry on,” Coolio said in the Rolling Stone oral history.

The “Amish Paradise” music video from 1996 opened with Yankovic in a broad-brimmed hat and a thick beard rapping, “As I walk through the valley where I harvest my grain.” In place of Coolio’s references to being “raised by the state” and finding protection in “the hood team,” Yankovic rapped about “milkin’ cows” and partying “like it’s 1699.”

Rasheed said that over time, he saw Coolio soften to the parody, viewing it as more homage than mockery. And in later interviews, the rapper said that he had changed his perspective on Yankovic’s song.

“I let that go so long ago,” Coolio told Vice in 2014. “Let me say this: I apologized to Weird Al a long time ago and I was wrong.” He added, “I listened to it a couple years after that and it’s actually funny,” adding an expletive.

In an interview with Newsweek a few months later, Yankovic said he was relieved. “I’m not the kind of guy that has beef with people, because I go out of my way to make sure that people are fine with what I do,” he said. “That was the one little moment in my whole history where there was a problem,” he noted, saying it was “very sweet” of Coolio to have told Vice he had made amends.

While “Amish Paradise” gave Coolio’s song a boost, the track was a smash on its own. L.V. remembered Coolio and his crew touring the world — Japan, France, Australia — and feeling like they were drawing “Michael Jackson-level” crowds that recited the lyrics along with them. Earlier this year, Coolio celebrated the song reaching a billion streams on YouTube.

“He put some magic on that track,” Rasheed said. “His voice, his delivery his cadence — it was something really special.”

#gangsta's paradise #coolio #amish paradise #weird al yankovic #the new york times #michelle pfeiffer #grammy #dangerous minds #artis leon ivey jr. #Youtube

[india-times]

Amit Shah To Speak Today, No-Trust Motion Debate Enters Day 2

No-Trust Debate: The Opposition, which has brought the No-Confidence Motion despite lacking in numbers, admitted that it was a method to compel the Prime Minister to speak on Manipur.

New Delhi: Home Minister Amit Shah are likely to speak in parliament today as the debate on the No-Confidence Motion — moved by the Congress against the BJP-led Central government — entered Day 2.

Here are the top 10 updates on this big story

The Opposition, which has brought the No-Confidence Motion despite lacking in numbers, admitted that it was a method to compel Prime Minister Narendra Modi to speak on Manipur, which has dominated the monsoon session of parliament.

Rahul Gandhi, who was reinstated in parliament yesterday, is addressing parliament. Earlier, reports had claimed that the senior Congress leader would start the debate on the no-confidence motion backed by the Opposition bloc INDIA. But when the House met, it was Congress MP Gaurav Gogoi who initiated the debate.

Union Ministers — Amit Shah, Nirmala Sitharaman, Smriti Irani and Jyotiraditya Scindia are expected to speak in Lok Sabha today. Kiren Rijiju, who participated in the debate yesterday, said the Opposition will regret bringing the No-Confidence Motion because it comes at the “wrong time and the wrong manner”, given India’s current stature in the world.

The Prime Minister will reply to the debate on Thursday. He chaired the BJP’s Parliamentary Party meeting yesterday ahead of the big vote. Taking a swipe at the INDIA alliance, the Prime Minister reportedly said that this is not a vote to express distrust in the government, but to see who can trust whom in the opposition. “It’s a test of their own internal trust,” he reportedly said.

In recent weeks, PM Modi has frequently attacked the opposition bloc for calling itself INDIA, accusing the parties, particularly the Congress, of attempting a rebranding to whitewash their past record as the former UPA or United Progressive Alliance.

Gaurav Gogoi said ‘INDIA’ was forced to bring the No-Confidence Motion against the government to break Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s “vow of silence” on Manipur. He alleged that a government which talks about “one India” has created “two Manipurs — one living in the hills and the other in the valley”.

Home Minister Amit Shah, during a discussion on the Delhi Services bill on Monday, accused the Opposition of running away from a debate on Manipur. “The question is Manipur situation and what steps the government is taking there, not a show of strength by voting. If you want voting, I dare you to make this bill fall through voting,” Mr Shah said.

The session, which started on July 20, has been continually disrupted by Opposition protests. The opposition contends that in view of the 170-plus deaths, injuries and displacements of thousands of people since the ethnic violence broke out in May, there is nothing more urgent that can demand the Prime Minister’s attention.

The government has argued that after major violence took place in Manipur in 1993 and 1997, no statement was made in the Parliament in one case and in the other, the junior home minister had given a statement.

The Lok Sabha currently has 539 members who will vote in the motion, of which the majority mark will be 270. The BJP alone has 301, while its allies have had 31 more votes. The opposition INDIA alliance has 143 while parties like KCR’s BRS, YS Jagan Reddy’s YSRCP, and Naveen Patnaik’s BJD have a combined strength of 70. YSRCP (22) and BJD (12) are also expected to back the government.

#Amit Shah #parliament