#something about discipline and order and braiding hair...

[wasyago]

all things in order

#i dont know👍 #limited life spoilers #not really but like. just in case... honestly its too abstract to be a spoiler but whatever #something about discipline and order and braiding hair... #limited life #zombiecleo #geminitay #technically #my art #sketch

[darksxder]

do something about it

pairing: fem! avatar reader x avatar jake sully

summary: jake heard you were a forward woman but you never seemed to pick up on his hints. so he decided to make it a little more obvious and pray to god you were as possessive as they said.

warnings: sexual tension like such a ridiculous amount, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), spit play and dom!reader x sub/switch!jake, jealousy, possessive behaviour, description of war and injuries, talk of paralysis

word count: 2k

a.n: my first post after a year would be a jake sully smut coded drabble. its very fitting fr. also requests are open!! please send one besties all my ideas are too long lmao

sdt: @tarrynightss , @sunnybeewriting & more for inspiring me to write for Avatar! Ya’ll are so talented it is scary fr!!! special mention:  @belle82devart for supporting me always :) ilysm words cannot explain!

Jake never thought he would beg to be on his knees for a woman.

There was something about being a marine that bolsters this macho bravado habit where you crave to see a woman bend to your will. Sure the military was not all about 40 degree folded corners and standing up straight around a superior. It was all about strength, dominance and discipline and with  how deep that was ingrained-that translated to the bedroom.

You could take someone out of the marines but they never leave the mindset.

There was always an urge to pleasure a woman with this dominance, the rough hands and firm thrusts of course, but always in the promise of reciprocated bliss.

This was not that.

The second Jake saw your avatar he was done for.

He would have begged on his knees to just see your pussy right then and there if Grace wasn’t there and if he had been robbed of what little self-restraint he still possessed. He swore he drooled the second you pranced out behind Grace that first day. Your hair swishing in tandem with your lean hips as you moved to greet him. The woven nature of your top of beads drawing his eyes down. The adrenaline was still so high. It was just minutes after waking up in a new body- a full body. After he ran out of the facility to the field and training areas, everything was a blur of green and blue.  

He still was revelling in feeling his legs again.

In running and the feeling of the wind whipping past him, the smell of the earth and the way he could scrunch his toes in it, even the feel of a nice deep stretch in his calves. It was magnificent, but the feeling of being given back function of his legs also gave way to new sensations he had missed. And when he saw you nearly march besides Grace, a smile on your face, and sweet welcomes in his ears he felt his hands shake. Your hair in intricate braids and expertly weaved into many waves that fell down your back with your one braid resting along your spine shone like ink in the sun. The light igniting your full figure, sweta glistening on your skin. Your eyes are as bright as your smile. He could smell the fruit Grace hurled at him, smell all of the plants and something sweet. He could hear everything, even if he was tuning you all out as he took in the feeling.  

The sweet scent cut through it all. It made his mouth salivate. He knew it was coming from you.

Grace had noticed his stare that day, and cornered him the next before a link.

“You don’t have much of a chance, marine.” He only scoffed, ignoring the sharp twist of hurt in his gut at her chastising expression as she sat on the edge of the link pod, leaning down.

“How would you know?” He said, shifting in the green gel of the bed on his elbows, face heating.

She only laughed, pushing off the case before shoving his right shoulder down hard, driving his body into the green glue like substance around him. Her crows feet deep as she gave him a mocking smile, eclipsing the light in the bio lab, face not too unkind.

“You would. She’s a very forward one. She makes the first move.”

It felt like more of an order than a bit of well meant advice. But he did not mind. And as the words met his human ears he felt them burn hot. His heart raced as the metal cage-like thing locked him in place.

It took him a full eight minutes for his heart rate to slow down to a normal pace, and for his mind to calm.

Truly it took him more than that. Maybe even 20 minutes before the images of you- shoving him on his knees, lips swollen and bitten, eyes glossy and scent sweet as you straddled him-meant to start rocking against his face left him.

Since then he made it his mission to get you to break.

He first tried jealousy as you trained together in the forest with the People. He flirted with Neytiri every chance he could get, her even playing along after some time but you never bite.

Next step was showing you an obvious submission. This plan took the form of him as he dropped to his knees to tie the harness around your thighs one rainy day before riding. A mumbled ‘let me help you’ was the only thing accompanying the action as his legs met damp earth and his big blue hands smoothed up the back of your thighs to reach the clasps. He had heard your breath hitching, and he had smirked. Smile facing the ground, almost wide enough to break his face. His nose tingled as he had smelled you, taking in a deep inhale as his fingers crept up your inner thighs. He felt a slight brush against his ears. Felt the flutter of the still wind as you moved your hand.

He wanted you to pull his hair. Grab a handful of his braids and yank him up to your level or throw him to the floor like he was nothing. He would be hard even just at the touch he knew,  even if it was a rejection. Because he was hard now.

But he saw you got it, saw you understood the meaning of the getsure as he leaned back on his haunches beneath you, head tilted up, hands and nose buzzing with the memory of you. It was the look you gave him as he looked up. A deep purple settling against the highest points of your cheeks, to the tips of your pointed ears, hair pulled back in a braid, wisps framing your lovely face. This would be it,  he thought. He twitched at the idea.

But your jaw only clenched, anger overtaking your expression for a second until it dimmed to neutral. Indifferent,  and his heart dropped to his ass.

“Nice try, Marine.”

And he stepped to his feet, wobbling just slightly. But you were already moving out of his space, hands wringing as he watched your figure fall away to the long lively plants and trees surrounding both of you.

Hours of training with you and Neytiri in the village turned into months of trying again in between skills acquisitions.

You never broke, not once.

He wouldn't have it.

If Jake Sully was anything, it was not a quitter.

Your first official hunt was the biggest thing in your pathway to joining the Omaticaya people and you were to be ready by midday. The early chirps of wildlife roused you early after linking,  as you stepped from the avatar sleeping station, seeing Jake’s bed was empty. He must have stayed in the villages. And he did, as you saw him when you met the outskirts of the village. In the clearing there was a large group of would-be hunters, all marking themselves up with war paint. Your heart leapt at the sight, chest bubbling the excitement of it all. You rushed over, loincloth tangling in between your legs with your haste as you saw the rainbow of crushed dyes and pastes around the middle, perched on a fallen tree. You went to search for your signature colour, the deep colour that matched your ikran’s most vital colourings. Only to find it gone, its usual spot empty.

Heart sinking, you turned at the sound of Neytiri's laugh. “What, I look funny?” Jake called, one hand stained rusty orange red. His colour.

And the other… oh my god-.

Neytiri met your eyes, smiling harder than you have ever seen before. She knew the meaning. He didn’t. He couldn't have. She wouldn't have told him.

He was- OH MY GOD.

You didn't even remember rushing to them, eyes only locked on his full figure. His abs rippling and muscles strained as he aimed to reach behind his back, which was turned to you. Neytiri said something to the others with a kind hand to his shoulder. What she said you were not sure but they all filled out pretty quickly after it, looks ranging from mischief to alarm.  

Your heart raced as you watched this man. This beautiful stupid man smears the colour all over his face. Something deep within your gut pulled you forward, swooping hard enough to shock you all at the sight. Your hands stretched out as his ears twitched, a smile still on his face as he turned to you. All confusion in his eyes at the lack of people until he registered it was you. The smile swapped for his signature irritating smirk.

“That’s my colour.”

“Yeah. Gonna do something about it?”

Your stomach flipped, dipping low. A huff of air-all that was left in your lungs mixed with a shocked noise fell from your parted lips.

He was still smirking and you slid up to stand taller, shoulders back and head tilting-calculating. Beads in your hair clinking whispers in your twitching ears. Revelling in the flicker of his tail behind him. The shift in his eyes, from cocky to nervous, unsure.

“Yes, I think I will.” And you were fully beside him, close enough to feel his heat.

He was so large. So broad, it startled you every time. Your hands grabbed the wooden bowl filled with the crushed-up herbs and berries of your signature colour. His face dropped, going to take a step back, to backtrack as if he had offended you. As if you had rejected him, his last advance.

But your hands just dipped into the cool slush, smoothing it out with the warmth of your body between fingertips and saddling up to him.

Eywa, he was perfect. Heart beating like a drum against your rib cage, your nose delighting in his signature musky warm scent-like pine and military grade soap.

You placed your hands on his chest. The muscle firm beneath your hands, flexing under your touch. Your lips tilted up, smiling and smirking in tandem as he watched you. His lips parted, double sets of canines poking out.

You wanted to lick them with the tip of your tongue. Prick it against the sharp pearls and bleed, smoothing the taste of metal inside his mouth as you kissed him deeply, marking him. That thought was enough for your knees to grow weak, body pressing your weight into your hands. Your breasts pressed against your arms, forearms bare against his lithe sternum. Eyes met his as you slowly dragged your hands down.

A gasp left his lips, his yellow-green eyes nearly rolling back in his head as your thin fingers trailed down from the clear formed handprints against his pecs, sliding down to his abdomen, the paint drying as you went.

His body involuntarily shuddered as he reached to grab at you. The next thing he knew your wet right hand was wrapped gently around his throat. Windpipe secure in your grip. You held his adam's apple in your hand and you wished to feel it bob. You wished to see him fall to his knees.

Wanted to see him lean in and kiss you. But you knew enough to know that he had placed the reins very firmly in your hands.

So you gripped just slightly, core fluttering at the slick noise the wet paint made as it spread and at his accompanied gasp. The warm forest air against your face burns hotter with your blush as you squeeze just a little harder. Moving him back to have his back against a tree.

You had a picture in your mind of spitting in his mouth then, of tugging his mouth open with your thumb, kicking his legs apart as you made yourself in between them, making him bend further to you, watching his pink tongue loll out in wait for any part of you.

The deep throb at the idea was almost painful with its force and you grimaced. Jake’s subsequent chuckle at your expression had your heartbeat racing as you pressed yoru chet to his, his other hand trapped in between you.

He just smiled.

“You wear my colour well. But I rather see your skin bare. You hear me?” And he nods. Hard, fast and his adam’s apple rubs against your palm. Thankfully a handful of the back of his braid and a quick tug stopped his coming laugh as his lips met yours in a crash. Warm, wet, and beautiful as his lips moved in sync with yours. You led him to lean halfway down with your grip on his throat, on his queue. You possessed all of him now. In this moment and all those next.

He knew it and so did you.

With a harsh tug of his head to the right his neck stretched towards you and you licked a hot line up his throat to his jaw, kissing and nipping hard as you went. His knees nearly collapsed as he gripped the oak behind him, nails digging into the barc, his eyes squeezed closed.

Your lips were petal soft, tickling his ear as you leaned in. “You’re mine. Say it.”

You pulled back just slightly to meet his eyeline, his pupils blown wide and half lidded, in a  haze and only you could put him there. He was still trapped against you and the tree, his throat hot in your hand as he met your look.

“I’m yours.”

He was breathless, truly breathless and pathetic. And you loved him at this moment. Him  struck dumb at your words, and the way you handled him.

“I'm all yours, baby.”

#Jake sully x reader #Jake sully fanfic #Jake slly #avatar:twow #avatar #Jake sully x reader smut #jake sully x fem!reader

[the-marshals-wife]

Fidelity (Crosshair x Reader)

A/N: I wrote myself into a corner and scrapped my initial ideas for part 2 of Shot Through The Heart. But fear not! For those who wanted more, this is a pseudo-sequel to that fic's premise, updated with all my Season 2 Cross angst. The pay off is worth it, babes.😌

Disclaimer: obviously Crosshair's character arc is still unfolding in Season 2. Writing this on 1/30/23, canon notwithstanding, this is my take on how Imperial S/O Reader and Crosshair would interact after the events of "The Solitary Clone."

Description: Crosshair x Fem!Reader ft. unspoken feelings revealed | Warnings: angst + arguing | Word count: 1,457

★ Bad Batch Tag List ★ @dantes-devil-huntress @sageislostinspring @sweetheart-bo (comment to be added!)

Gif credit: user leavingkamino

Imagine The Empire jeopardizing your relationship with Crosshair

Discipline. Order. Peace through sacrifice.

These are the principles you live by and swore to uphold no matter what. You made a pledge to The Empire, to the galaxy, to protect those principles until your last breath. Such a pledge leaves no room for doubt. You thought nothing could shake your faith in that. A lot can change in thirty-two rotations.

For better or worse, your former commander had been on your mind. You'd only spoken in person once since his rescue from Kamino, and that was while he was under medical watch in the hospital, understandably still ill from nearly dying. Then, you had to hear from another squad about your own being disbanded, news that was not accompanied by condolences. All this had challenged your morale, but no stripped rank or new assignment could erase the fact that you had a history with the clone sniper. It's not easy to forget someone who had your back when others did not. Yet between you being transferred to your new squad, being away on your own missions, and Crosshair not answering half of your comm attempts when you did have time to make contact, you hardly knew what had become of him.

Something made tonight different, however. He had reached out to you.

The sun had already set by the time you reached the agreed meeting place, a rooftop overlook near the Imperial Headquarters. You wondered why a conversation couldn't be had on base in either of your quarters, but perhaps it was for the best; you weren't overly enthused by several of your superiors presently. You lean on the railing and look out over the haze of the city lights against the deep purple sky. The breeze tousles the loose hair from your braid against your cheeks.

The sound of the lift doors opening behind you breaks your concentration. Crosshair steps out, clad in his familiar black armor, his rifle noticeably absent. It was strange to see him without it.

He removes his helmet and tucks it under his arm.

"Hey," you greet, trying to veil your concern, "I got your message. Are you alright?'

"Fine," he says, nodding slightly. A brief silence falls between you as he walks to stand by your side.

"You look well," he says, his eyes fixed far beyond the skyline. He retrieves a toothpick from his belt and places it between his lips.

"You're looking better too," you reply, glad to see most of the pallor was gone from his face.

Silence again. Starting a conversation with Crosshair was typically a challenge, but one you liked to rise to.

"I heard you were deployed to Desix," you offer, breeching the uncomfortable subject. The last time you'd spoken, Crosshair had been your commander.

"I was," he confirms, "The former leader there took an Imperial governor hostage, but it wasn't much of a fight. We reestablished order in the system."

"My squad just had a similar mission on Ansion. We encountered a lot of local resistance. Not everyone is on board with the Imperial plan." you remark with a sigh.

"So it would seem," he responds, his tone lower than usual, "They can't see that we do is for the greater good. They can't just run away from the truth."

With those last words, his demeanor had shifted. There was a shade of sorrow in his voice. It was conflict if nothing else, and you could no longer ignore it. Why had he brought you here?

"What's wrong, Crosshair? Why did you want to speak to me?"

He frowns, looking down over the railing, "You're still loyal."

Dread washes over you. "What do you mean?"

"Commander Cody went AWOL after our mission," he replies, offering little insight. He follows this reveal with a scoff, spitting the toothpick out into the abyss.

"Oh," is all you can say as your thoughts spin. You never met him, but most deployed on Coruscant like yourself knew the name and who he'd served under, "Maybe he got tired of being treated like a lesser solider," you observe.

Crosshair quickly turns you, pointing a finger, "Don't tell me you're questioning The Empire, too."

"I didn't say that. I just mean it's not exactly a secret that clones aren't treated the same anymore. Not like the conscripted soldiers and volunteer recruits," you reply, taken aback by his sudden anger, "Things have changed so much just since I was part of your squad. It's bad enough how they treat you, but then took that away on top of it."

"I don't need your pity," he asserts, taking a step back from you.

"I don't pity you, Crosshair. I never have," you argue, feeling your throat begin to tighten. You hadn't been prepared for this kind of firefight. "I'm just sick of how The Empire is treating you. You were missing for over thirty rotations and no one would tell me where you'd even gone."

"Why do you care?" he replies coldly.

His words sting, but you can't hold back your answer. "Do you really not know?"

Recognition flashes in his eyes for a heartbeat, but his fist is still clenched at his side.

"We're soldiers, Y/N. We follow our orders, we complete our missions, we get it done. If we die, that's our lot."

"I know what I signed on for. I accept the sacrifices," you say, standing your ground, "But The Empire doesn't care if you live or die. You're just a number to them."

"How is that any different than The Republic?" he finally snaps, throwing his helmet down, "I am only doing what I have always done!"

You feel your hands start to shake as you go on the offensive, knowing what needs to be said, "The Jedi wouldn't have left you on that platform."

"The Jedi are traitors," he sneers, baring his teeth, "and what you're saying is starting to sound like treason."

"Do you hear yourself? Is that what you truly think of me, after what we've been through?" you exclaim, raising your arms at your sides, "Crosshair, I'm on your side!"

You'd made a precise hit, both of you feeling the impact. His rage froze over, and your eyes began to blur. You turn your back to him, fighting to regain your fracturing composure.

"The war destroyed my homeworld. I lost everything and everyone I ever cared about. The Empire gave me the opportunity to stand up and fight. To help keep that from happening to others across the galaxy. That means everything to me. I'm not about to throw that away," you say, looking back to see his stony expression had softened a bit, "But I also know that the cause we serve doesn't care at all about clones. It doesn't matter that you're the best at what you do. They're waiting for the day that they can drop you all. Kamino is proof of that."

He stares at you in the dim light, visibly weighing your words.

"You're too honorable to see that, but I won't stand by in silence," you declare, your resolve returning, "Yes, I am loyal to The Empire. But I'm also loyal to those have fought and bled by my side."

Walking over to his helmet and picking it up, you extend your arm and offer it to him. He reaches out and takes it, avoiding your gaze. Remorse covers his face, but he doesn't speak.

You had nothing to lose by taking one final shot.

"I don't care if the Imperials found you. I wouldn't have left you to start with."

All your rounds fired, you turn to leave. Instead, you feel a grip on your wrist.

"Wait," Crosshair murmurs, swiftly pulling you back toward him.

Before you can utter another word, you're face to face, and he's closing the distance. You close your eyes as he captures your lips in a heated kiss and circles his arm around your waist. Your heart races as you kiss him back, resting your hands on his chest as you surrender to the embrace.

At last he pulls away, and you're captive in his intense brown eyes.

"Thank you," he says, his voice hardly above a whisper.

He calmly releases his hold on you, putting his helmet on and walking away. As quickly as it'd began, the passionate moment was over. You watch him enter the lift and disappear out of sight, realizing not only that you'd been right about the feelings between you, but knowing also that your heartache had just increased tenfold.

Forget the blasters. This was no longer a training exercise. A detonator had just gone off, and you felt the shrapnel across every inch of your skin.

#crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #bad batch imagine #star wars imagine #bad batch fanfic #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #crosshair x you #my writing #i totally broke the fic by including handrails bc lord knows THOSE aren't canon in Star Wars #✨OSHA violations everywhere ✨ #bad batch x reader #imperial crosshair

[gemsofgreece]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMF3Gy5pj/

I think that's a misinformation video about women in Sparta. During marriage i believe they shaved their heads so that they were associated to male soldiers, unlike most women in Ancient Greece who styled their longer hair to appeal more to the beauty standards of that time, like depictions of Aphrodite.

So i don't think it had anything to do with sexuality, especially since back then they didn't have a word for that. It's was just a tradition they had that differed from the rest.

Man this is so stupid and it’s crazy how much it has spread once again. I did some research on it and I found that the source is “cracked.com” and it is based on a book where the author (called Dover or something) simply said that this idea “was worth pondering”. And now of course most everyone sucks it up like crazy.

I like how nobody has even a moment’s doubt that this suggests that apparently not a single man in Sparta has ever been anything other than gay or that apparently not a single woman in Sparta has ever been desired (unless it’s another girl I assume hehehe) and apparently men could close their eyes in front of boobs and vulva but they drew the line at long hair on a woman’s scalp. I mean, okay, I understand westerners are fascinated by the different views on romantic and sexual relationships in classical antiquity but they have blown this shit out of proportion to a ridiculous degree.

I like how they say women shaved their heads so that their husbands would feel like they were sleeping with men but it escapes them that:

Spartan men had long flowing hair or braids so women shaving their heads for their gay husbands kinda defeated the purpose

Lol

Spartan maidens and unmarried women had long hair and dressed lightly, almost provocatively in order to entice a suitor. Therefore they did not try to hide their femininity when actively looking for a husband. They also married at an older age (19) than women in other places in Greece, therefore they might as well have had more matured feminine figures in their early marriage than the average.

As to why they shaved their heads during the wedding and kept it short afterwards, I do not know and there is obviously no conclusive scientific answer to this but I can think of alternatives that are a little more realistic given Sparta’s peculiarities than this western sex obsession suggests.

There is one symbolism that is very widespread when a woman cuts her hair in old cultures, and it has survived until recently; that of a woman grieving. Of denying her female beauty and refusing the joys of youth and love. In Sparta, cutting off the hair might have symbolised that the rosy carefree era was over for the woman. It was time to leave her own family behind and dedicate herself to giving birth to strong boys (and get rid of the weaker ones) and making them even stronger, more hardened and very disciplined until it was time to start their military training in the ripe age of 7. Happy tender motherhood wasn’t what was expected from Spartan women. We know that Ancient Spartans interpreted childbirth and motherhood as the war destined for women. Women dying in childbirth were honoured as men fallen in battle. Therefore cutting the hair probably meant that the woman had transcended into a new state, a serious, solemn and grave one, with no room for frivolous vanities and other “womanly concerns”. Is this what you also meant by saying “they were associated with soldiers after marriage”? Of course on a more superficial level it could also be a sign that the woman was married, therefore she shouldn’t be courted by another man.

Anyway, I am no historian but I think my (our) theory is better than that nobody in Sparta could get it up at the sight of long hair (on a woman).

#Greece #Ancient Greece #Sparta #history #greek history #Laconia #lacedaemona #greek facts #anon #mail #opinion #women in antiquity

[munson-blurbs]

since u asked for angst reqs, can i pls request a fic based on this song lyrics? It’s ‘I don’t want to wait’ by Paula Cole.

I don't want to to wait for our lives to be over

I want to know right now what will it be

I don't want to wait for our lives to be over

Will it be yes or will it be sorry?

no pressure at all, if you don’t feel like writing it, that’s completely fine. I love ur writing btw!! And i hope you have a good day/night 🫶🏻

OMG my first request! Thank you! I had so much fun with this!

Warnings: smut (18+ only), angst, fluff, language, PTSD, alcoholism, pregnancy, Eddie in the military, Eddie is aged up (about 24-25 years old at the start)

WC: 2.9k

“I am so, so proud of you.”

You glance up at your boyfriend, clad in his army uniform. The camouflage print is a stark contrast from the frayed concert tees and ripped skinny jeans he wore when you met him in high school. He’s grown now, more confident; the military training has given him the structure and discipline he so badly needed growing up.

He’s had to cut his long curly locks, much to your dismay. You’ve loved running your fingers through his hair, clumsily braiding it while you curled up and watched movies on the sofa.

“It’ll grow back, love,” he’d murmured into your lips.

Now he was being deployed for the next six months. Six long months without his bear hugs, without the kisses pressed to the back of your neck to gently wake you in the morning, without him singing and playing air guitar while he cooked dinner.

You were shocked when Eddie first talked about joining the military. So shocked that you laughed, thinking it was a joke, but he was dead serious.

“Baby, I graduated high school by the skin of my teeth on the third try,” he’d reminded you. He’d put his hand on your trembling knee. “I love you. I want to build a future with you. And this is how I can do it.”

“I’m going to be a certified teacher soon,” you said. “I’ll get a full-time job, with benefits, summers off…”

“I know, I know. But this is…this is something I need to do. And I need your support.”

You’ve reluctantly come around, but basic training went by too fast. Now he was going off to war. It was time to say goodbye.

He pulls you in for a tight hug. “Hold on to it; it’s gotta last six months,” he whispers. He’s crying, you’re crying, and even though you’re surrounded by other sobbing families, you feel like you’re the only two people in the room.

“I gotta go now, okay?” But it’s not okay. Nothing is okay. You can’t let him know that, so you give a halfhearted smile and squeeze him back, planting a tender kiss on his lips.

The walk back to the car is the longest walk of your life. You throw a Metallica cassette in the player. Metal was definitely more Eddie’s thing than yours, but you need to feel him here, singing along. Tears stream down your face; you probably shouldn’t be driving, but you can’t think about that.

You get back to your apartment; a little one-bedroom that seems way too big now. It’s a Friday; you and Eddie normally order pizza tonight, but you have no appetite. 

You take a deep breath and repeat: “You can do this. You can get through this.”

~

Six months crawls by. It got a little easier; Nancy, Robin, Steve, and the kids (who were no longer kids, really, but they would always be little to you guys) kept you busy. Dustin had even attempted to teach you to play D&D, to no avail. But every movie night, every dinner party, the space where Eddie should be felt suffocating. When he was here, you’d stay out until you could barely keep your eyes open, but now you left as soon as you could.

But he was coming home! You wait impatiently as the soldiers file into the room to reunite with their loved ones. After what felt like an eternity, you see him. His electric grin lights up the room as he runs, bumping into people and not even caring.

“Oh my God, babe,” he breathes into you. “I missed you so fuckin’ much.” He envelops you in a hug, lifting you off the crowd. You wrap your arms around his neck and swear you’ll never let go. 

“I missed you more,” you finally reply. Your world feels complete again.

“Not possible.” He kisses you deeply and you grab his face lovingly. “Catch me up on everything that’s happened while I’ve been gone?”

You walk with his arm slung around you, listening intently as you tell him about life in Hawkins. Steve’s met “the one” about three times, Nancy got promoted to junior editor at the Hawkins Post, Robin’s going to grad school for her MBA.

“And how’s my girl?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“So much better now,” you admit. “I have good news, too.” Eddie raises an eyebrow and you continue. “I got my teaching placement! You’re looking at Hawkins High’s newest English teacher.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle with pride. “Baby, that’s incredible. You’re gonna kick ass.” He takes your hand and holds it tight, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. “I’m gonna have to play ‘Hot for Teacher’ every night.”

You swat at his chest playfully and he smiles. “So, tonight,” you start, “everyone wanted to throw you a party, but I wanted you all to myself until tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“That sounds wonderful. I just need to be with you, beautiful. It’s been way too long.” A shiver runs down your spine as Eddie runs his forefinger down your profile.

~

You’re barely through the door of the apartment when Eddie starts undressing you, lifting your dress over your head and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. There’s no sense in protesting; you’ve missed him too much and you’re busy with the buttons on his uniform. He pulls you into the bedroom and positions you on top of him, straddling his waist. He lets out a whimper as you kiss his jaw, trailing down his neck and his chest as you grind against him. His finger presses against your clit through your panties, rubbing small circles while you wail.

“Mm, Y/N,” he moans. He bucks his hips involuntarily and you let out a sigh. 

“Eddie. Eddie, I-I need you,” you cry out. There’s no time for formal foreplay, and you don’t need it. You slide your underwear down your legs as he palms himself through his boxers.

He throws his head back as he sees you naked in front of him. It reminds me of the first time you two had had sex. Senior year of high school: you’d been dating for three months, and he had just finished an epic D&D campaign, which called for a celebration. He suggested ice cream, but you had something else in mind. 

You’d had ice cream after, though.

“Missed this view,” he says now, rock hard underneath you. He pulls out his cock and slips it in you. It’s like finding a missing piece that completes the puzzle. You could come right then and there.

He takes it slow, letting himself feel you clench around him, feel your slick on him. 

“N-need it faster, Eds,” you mumble, and he nods as he speeds up, and you both finish together.

Sex usually ends with cuddling, but Eddie is all over you today, much moreso than usual. He doesn’t stop kissing you until he falls asleep, and you do the same, passing out on his chest.

You wake up too tired to cook. Besides, cooking would take time away from cuddling with Eddie, so you roll over and say, “I’m ordering pizza. What do you want on it?”

You’re expecting one of his usual answers, extra cheese or pepperoni, but his response shocks you.

“I want you to marry me.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow. “What?” You couldn’t have heard that correctly. He was probably just dreaming, or maybe you were. A pinch to your skin confirms that you are, in fact, very much awake.

“The whole time I was deployed, I couldn’t stop thinking about starting our lives together. And…I don’t want to wait anymore. We can get a ring tomorrow, before we see our friends. And then I want to marry you. At the courthouse. I want to get married as soon as possible.”

A courthouse wedding isn’t something you’d ever really considered, but you also aren’t a fan of big, over-the-top weddings. You realize Eddie is still waiting for an answer.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie!” you respond breathlessly. He takes your face in both his hands and kisses it one hundred times. “Can we…maybe do something a little fancier than the courthouse? Nothing extravagant, but something special with family and friends?”

He nods, smiling from ear to ear. “Whatever you want. As long as I get to be your husband.”

~

The next few weeks should be filled with the normal excitement of wedding planning, but something takes precedence over the bridal magazines and dress fittings. There’s something wrong with Eddie. He has horrible nightmares where he wakes up sweating and hyperventilating, sometimes even crying. You can’t touch him until he comes back to Earth, and sometimes it takes hours. When he wakes you up in the morning, his morning breath is tinged with vodka and his words are slurred.

One day, you get home from work with a pile of papers to grade. As soon as you walk in the door, a cloud of thick gray smoke hits you. A small fire has broken out on the stove where Eddie was trying to cook something, but he’s passed out on the couch with empty beer cans strewn around him. The fire is still small enough to be contained, so you flick off the burner and throw a dish towel over it, screaming Eddie’s name.

“EDDIE! EDDIE, GET UP!” Your voice is a mixture of worry and anger. You twist your engagement ring around your finger, a small diamond on a silver band. You know what you have to say, what you have to do.

“Wha-what?” Eddie wakes with a startle, and he doesn’t even notice the smoke at first. “What the fuck happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me? I walked in and you were about to burn the place down.”

“Shit, Y/N, I must’ve fell asleep.” He can’t make eye contact; you both know that he’s lying.

“No, Eddie. You didn’t fall asleep. You passed out from drinking too much.” You force yourself to look at him, so different than when he first arrived home. “Eds, you…you need help. Help that I can’t give you. You need to talk to a professional about the nightmares and the drinking. You need serious help.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Can’t a man just be tired?”

You choke back tears. “I love you so much. I want to be your wife more than anything in the world, but–”

“But nothing! Let’s just get married, like I said! C’mon, babe. Just you and me.”

“No. I can’t. Not with you like this,” you take a deep breath, your voice trembling. “Eddie, if you don’t get help, I-I can’t marry you. I can’t be with you. I can support you while you get help, but I can’t fix you. I wish I could. I wish I could take away all your pain, b-but I can’t. Please, please get help.”

“I don’t need help. I’m fine, and if you can’t accept that, then maybe we shouldn’t be together anyway.” 

“I think you should stay with Wayne,” you say, twisting the ring off of your finger. You place it in his hand. “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“No, you don’t. If you loved me, you wouldn’t be doing this.” He shoves the ring in his pocket and heads into the bedroom. “I’ll pack my bags.”

“I can…I can call Wayne. You can’t drive like this,” you say softly, but he doesn’t answer.

Wayne comes by as Eddie finishes throwing his clothes into a suitcase. The old man stands at your door wordlessly, and you cry as Eddie leaves. He turns around, and for a second you’re filled with hope that he’ll change his mind and get help. Instead he says cruelly, “Don’t cry. This was your choice. Live with it.” Wayne mouths a silent I’m sorry as he ushers his nephew to the car.

You know you did the right thing. He’s going to die if he doesn’t get help, and you can’t enable him. You won’t. Still, it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

~

You get a call ten days later, and you recognize Wayne’s gruff voice as soon as you hear it.

“He went to rehab. Gonna cost us a pretty penny, but he went yesterday.”

Relief floods through your veins. You don’t know what this means for your relationship, but Eddie is trying to get better, and that’s what matters.

“When can we visit?” 

“They said thirty days. I can take you with me if you want.”

You nod before realizing that he can’t see you. “That would be great, Wayne. Thank you so much.”

“No, Y/N, thank you,” he clears his throat. “If you didn’t say anything, he’d still be drinking himself into an early grave. He’s doing this for him, but he’s also doing this for you. He wouldn’t stop crying about losing you.”

“I love him, Wayne,” is all you can manage. “I’d do anything for him.”

~

The rehab center is quaint and quiet. You’re fidgeting as you wait for Eddie, a much different feeling than when you waited for him to come home a few months ago. You and Wayne sit on the couch when Eddie comes out. His eyes light up when he sees you and his uncle. You’re unsure whether or not to hug him, but he makes the choice for you, pulling you up and holding you.

“I am so, so sorry. I was horrible to you, and you didn’t deserve any of it. You’re the reason I’m alive, Y/N.” He leans in to kiss you, but you pull away.

“Say hi to Wayne,” you practically whisper, and he does, but there’s a confused look on his face.

“I’ll give you two some time,” Wayne offers as he steps out to give you privacy.

“Eddie,” you begin, “I’m so proud of you for getting help. I love seeing you healthy, but…you need to stay healthy. You have to stay sober, and you have to keep talking to someone about the nightmares.”

Eddie swallows. “It’s called PTSD. Add it to the list of reasons why Eddie Munson is fucked up,” he jokes lamely, but it earns him a small smile. “And I know. After this 90 days, I’m going to outpatient therapy, and I’ll go to AA and get a sponsor and everything. I want to get better and stay better.”

He shuffles his feet and reaches into his pocket. “Will you…will you wear your ring again? If I break my promise, you can take it off. But I’m committed to you, and committed to treatment. I’m going to do my best, I swear.”

You consider his sincerity, the pleading in his eyes, your history together. “As long as you take care of yourself, just like you are now, then, yes. Yes, we can get re-engaged.” You let him slip the ring on your finger and kiss him, arms wrapped around his waist. “But I think we should have a longer engagement. I know you don’t want to wait, but I want to make sure…”

Eddie takes your hands. “Y/N, whatever I need to do to earn your trust again, I’ll do it. I’ll wait a million years, if that’s what it takes.”

You laugh again, more genuinely this time. “It better not take that long, Munson. I don’t wanna be all old and wrinkly in my wedding dress.”

~

With three years of sobriety under his belt, Eddie once again is faced with the heartbreaking task of deployment. This time, things are different. For starters, you’re now his wife, and have been for almost a year. He also knows that he’s going to attend an AA meeting the day he gets home. He’s packed a journal so he can write down how he feels and note any major changes in mood. He doesn’t want to hurt himself or you or Wayne anymore.

You and Wayne drop him off at the airport. He gives you each a hug, holding you tight against his body. “I’m gonna miss you both so damn much,” he says. “I love you guys.”

“Six months will fly by, son, and you’ll be home before you know it,” Wayne comforts him, placing a hand on his back.

“I’ll be counting down the days till I’m back with you two,” Eddie replies.

“You mean, us three,” you say softly.

“Three?” Eddie furrows his brows, confused. “You, Wayne, and…”

“Baby Munson,” you tell him, placing his hands on your stomach. There’s no bump yet, but something flutters as he touches you.

“Are you…are you serious?” Eddie kisses your smiling lips before you can reply. “How far along are you?”

“Only about a month. The doctor confirmed it yesterday.” Eddie’s beaming, and you can see Wayne smiling the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from the stoic man.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Eddie says incredulously. “That’s my little baby in there.” He points at your stomach.

“Baby’s gonna be a whole lot bigger the next time you see me,” you tease. “I’ll be seven months pregnant, and then we’ll only have two months until we get to meet him or her.”

Eddie nuzzles your neck lovingly. “My beautiful wife, pregnant with my beautiful baby.” He crouches down and speaks directly to your tummy.

“Hi, baby. I can’t get home soon enough. I don’t want to wait to meet you.”

#request #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie munson #fanfic #stranger things #requests

[astridsmania]

consequences -- jake sully smut ((PART 1))

warnings -- daddy issues, humping, angst, hairpulling, weapon.

Growing up with such careless parents hadn't always been easy, at times you felt the sense of need for discipline -- rules. 

Though you knew you soon had to change your ways. You were 19, meaning you soon had to find a mate. Your mother was a dedicated healer and your father a hunter. Your parents had been nagging you nonstop about a mate, though that was very little as they spent most of their time working, sleeping or off eating exotic plants Eywa had gifted to them. 

So, as a child, and even now, you had no reigns. You were careless and didn't care about the repercussions for your actions.

That being said, when you had bad-mouthed a man during your fight training, you hadn't expected to get consequenced with Toruk Makto's heavy and relentless training. 

Your muscles burned with hot pain every time you moved, though Jake payed no attention to that. It hadn't helped that your trainer happened to be a very hot man, who's abs and arm muscles flexed every few seconds. 

" Again. " Jake ordered, standing still as he waited your next movements. 

You whined, using the back of your hand to wipe the sweat falling off your forehead. " Can I just have a second? " 

Jake made a tsk sound as he shook his head. " You should have thought about that before being a brat earlier -- now, I'm stuck here training you because others can't seem to get through you thick skull. " His abs tensed once again, and you quickly had to divert your eyes to the ground as to not stare.

 Luckly, he hadn't caught onto that.

 But you couldn't get the feeling out of your stomach. It soon crept down to your cunt, which caused your walls to clench around nothing. 

Your neck strained as you moved your head up to face the sky, you couldn't help but back talk to the man. " Yeah, and you will? " You were playing at a dangerous angle. 

Your witty reply caused his eyes to squint, and once again, his abs flexed. Damn, you thought, you had definitely made a mental note to make more witty replies -- just for the way his abs would move with his annoyance and anger.

 " Don't start with me, girl -- you aren't gonna' win that game. " He warned as he stepped closer, his tail swishing in the air behind him as he stepped closer again. " Now fight. " 

You two were close now, now close enough to be able to swing your arm out and hit him, but enough to make you nervous. 

You couldn't help it, he was just so hot -- everything he did managed to send waves on energy to your cunt. He was simply wrapping bandages around his hand. Hot. Moving the hair out of his face? Hot. Everything he did, was just so hot. 

Your gut was in knots at the close proximity, and your skin yearned for his touch, so you went for it. You realized he usually caught your arm whenever you sent a punch, and moved with the kick -- he was obviously keeping it the same so you could learn, and boy did you. 

Your right arm went for a swing, and just as he was about to grab it you moved lower and caught his wrist. Your other hand made its way to his large bicep, and you squeezed it as you pulled yourself behind him, quickly grabbing a knife attached to your waist. 

Your foot kicked the back of his knee as he knelt down, you held the knife to his throat. Your other hand gripped the long braid flowing down his back, and you gave it a good tug, so his eyes met yours. " You were saying? " 

You snarked, ignoring the way his eyes bore into yours. Usually, his eyes held some sort of annoyance, or anger -- but now they were mixed with something that was unidentifiable to you, you were guessing lust. 

And boy, did that make your stomach churn. 

You both held the eye contact, nobody looking away and nobody talking. It was silent, except for the breaths each of you took. 

Suddenly, his head jerked back as he ducked under the knife, standing quickly and grabbing your wrist off his queue. 

He held your arm, locking eyes with you dangerously. Your confident expression hadn't faltered, as you tilted your head as a challenge. You tugged your arm and moved to elbow him in the gut, but he simply grabbed the back of your hair as he took a step away. 

He knelt down with his hand entangled in your hair, making you fall to your knees as well. He grabbed the knife that had fallen to the floor, and he held it up to your neck just like you had done. You scoffed, shaking your head slightly. 

You were tilted back, your knees parting as your back almost hit the floor. You were about to take a gamble, and you hoped it didn't end with a cutthroat. 

You moved your feet up, and you pounced, gripping Jake's hips with your thighs as your hand worked at his hand holding the knife.

 You managed to grab it, and now you sat in his lap, his hand tangled in your hair still. Though once again you now held the knife to his throat. 

Your back arched as he tugged your hair back, though not enough to surrender the knife on his neck. Your thighs squeezed his hips, and you swore, for almost a split second -- you heard him groan.

 Whether it was in pleasure or plain confused you, so, you did it again. Your thighs squeezed tighter this time, and you angled your hips so the arch on your back was more comfortable. 

His groan was more evident, and what was more noticeable was that it was one of pleasure, like you'd thought. 

" Oh, " You mocked as you replayed the act once more, his groan filling the empty forest. " You like that? " 

Jake shook his head with squinted eyes. " Don't. "

 " I think I just might. "

 You squeezed your thighs as tight as you possibly could as your hips moved back, your upper back that hadn't been arched meeting his knees that he had arched up. Jake threw his head back with a groan, the grip on your hair fading as he simply cupped your head instead. 

You smirked as you leaned forward with your hips, your faces inches apart. " Are you . . . turned on? " 

You could feel something hard below your cunt, and you swore you could feel a heartbeat pulsing down there. You were silent for a moment, studying his closed eyes as he panted, trying is best to calm himself down.

 You had the exact opposite thoughts as your hips gently rocked backwards, then forwards on his rock-hard clothed cock. His groans filled the area as his free hand that wasn't needed with stabilizing you two quickly moved to your hip, moving it up and down his pulsing dick. 

You smirked as you moved your hand from his shoulder, placing it into his hair before giving it a hard tug. He groaned once more, his fingers bearing into your hip harder with each movement. You tugged his head forward to meet yours. 

" Hm, what happened to the Jake that was so confident earlier? Hm? " You teased as you lowered yourself more, adding more pressure to your sways on his dick. 

His eyes snapped open, though he licked his lip with what he was met with. You, smirking, knife to his throat and the other entangled roughly in his hair. He moved his gaze down, and how your hips rocked delicately on his pulsing dick. 

He moved back up, his eyes squinting with everlasting lust. He quickly took the knife from his throat, throwing it off to the side as his hand moved from your hip, and up to your back.

 He pushed off the ground as his other hand moved to your hip, making sure you fell to the ground without much pain.

Your legs were still wrapped around his waist as he grabbed your arms and held them above your head with only one hand. 

" You were saying? " He teased you back, leaning into you. 

You stifled your breath as his hard cock budged against your wetting cunt. 

He noticed, and his smirk grew as he looked down your body, his eyes taking note of every freckle, every dip, every inch of your skin. 

" C'mon, just stop eye fucking me and get on with it. " You groaned.

#jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x you #avatar #na'vi avatar #x reader

[mariacallous]

My daughter Ruby was proud of her hair. Growing up as a mixed-race girl, she loved her natural texture, but that wasn’t always a straightforward journey. As a teenager, after years of using heat to make her hair straighter – and smaller – she embraced wearing her afro as an expression of who she was. That fragile self-acceptance was shattered when her hair started being policed at school.

“Your hair’s getting too big, you’re going to have to do something about that,” one teacher told her of her natural afro, the hair she was born with. “Why don’t you try chemical relaxer?” they asked my child, suggesting she use potent and damaging chemicals to strip her hair of its natural texture. Ruby was confused, hurt and humiliated. In a classroom of teenagers with dyed and shaved styles, it was her hair that was deemed so inappropriate that she was suspended from school: “I don’t care if it’s bright blue, just make it smaller,” one teacher told her of the size of her natural afro. The school claimed Ruby’s hair was in breach of their appearance policies, which stated that “afro style hair must be of reasonable size and length”. But on the day she was first sent home, Ruby’s hair was too short to be tied back, leaving her with no choice but to braid it or use chemical relaxer on her hair in order to conform to the policy.

Hair should never be a reason for a child’s education to be withdrawn, and Ruby’s case shows how damaging blanket appearance policies can be when they miss important cultural or practical understanding of different hair textures. Being disciplined for her hair completely changed her relationship with school. Previously, she had been happy and thriving. After being suspended (which she would be several times again after that first time) she became anxious and depressed, and felt victimised. As her mother, I still find these memories deeply painful.

At first, we considered having her hair braided. But our family’s anger stopped us going through with it. Why should any child be forced to change the hair they were born with? Instead, we decided to fight – and we found that the law is on our side. We were able to challenge the school in court, and came to a settlement. On Thursday, in a huge milestone, the Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC) issued new guidance to schools to warn them that appearance policies that ban certain hairstyles, including “natural Afro hairstyles, braids, cornrows, plaits and head coverings, amongst other styles”, without allowing for exceptions on racial and religious grounds are likely to be unlawful.

It should not have come to this, however. Ruby’s was one of several high-profile cases in recent years that should have caused schools to stop and think about their hair policies.

Families should feel confident that their children have the right to wear the hair they were born with, and are able to defend themselves against any institution that tells them otherwise. There is also support available for families who need it – the EHRC has an open legal support scheme, and my family leads a parent support group, in association with World Afro Day.

I don’t believe that any school intentionally sets out to discriminate against Black or mixed-race pupils due to the way their hair grows, or how they choose to style or maintain their hair. But it’s vital that educators take an active role in understanding that some hair policies can lead to these pupils being unfairly treated. As Ruby’s white parent, my education is an ongoing process, too, and it’s vital that white parents of mixed-race children are allies.

My daughter is a survivor, but she shouldn’t have to be; hair discrimination has no place in our schools or workplaces. Every step in that direction is vindication for Ruby and the countless other children who continue to be affected by this injustice.

[succubus-interactivefiction]

I was wondering if we could get some fun facts about the RO's in Time Warden please? I'm can't wait to meet Haruto

Annabelle: Despite all her best attempts she can not sing, like at all. Whenever she tries some of the other prisoners and guards have commented on it sounding something like a crow caught in a woodchipper, and that is on a good day.

Her need to sing stems from her early life and her infatuation with movies where the main character would sing to their beloved. This resulted in her firm belief that in order to successfully romance the Warden she will need to be able to sing a heart wrenching song about her love.

Haruto: He will never admit it out loud, and certainly never to anyone he does not consider family. But Haruto is an expert Biwa player. He has an instinct that allowed him to play nearly perfectly from the moment he picked one up for the first time.

One of the reasons he dislikes revealing this is because while he had a natural talent for the instrument, his adopted siblings struggled in his wake. This obviously led to many fights between him and his three sisters and older brother, who would taunt him about being adopted.

Fumiko: The chances of Fumiko ever discussing this are slim, or not at all if Daichi is nearby. When she was a child around her son's age she was exactly like him. She was always skipping out on chores and running off in search of adventure, much to her families chagrin. It got so bad that her family believed marrying her off would settle her down, so she was married at fourteen, Daichi was born a year later.

Her resentment over her families actions is why she has such a hard time disciplining her son when all he is doing is being like his mother, even if he does not realize it. Her daydreaming and need for adventure never really left her, which is why she has such an easy time accepting the Warden.

Lani: The braid Lani wears their hair in takes them nearly an hour to fashion every morning. The reason for this is a innate need for everything to be perfect, which had been drilled into them by their family at an early age. Despite growing out of many of the habits their family had forced on them, the need for perfection in regards to their hair has remained.

Now it's not that it takes the entire hour to braid their hair, it's simply a matter of starting over several times in a row is so much as a hair is out of place. Once they have it braided and get on with their day they are no longer bothered if their hair is less then perfect, but during the process of getting it there everything must be just so.

Kai: Even though Kai holds firm to her planets belief in limiting gene modding to only the most extreme needs, she resents being raised in that belief system. When she was first joining the Wardens not a day went by when someone told her to just get some gene mods to help her career, and there were somedays when she nearly gave in. Once she met the MC however those needs left her.

She felt an immediate bond with the Warden who actively encouraged her to do better within her own limits, not those set by other people. She has pushed herself harder then anyone around her realizes to get where she is. However that resentment over her upbringing has never left, and at the time of the incident sending her back in time she had not spoken with her parents if seven years, despite them trying to reach out to her.

So there you go, just some interesting tidbits about the main characters. Can't say if they are fun or not.

#interactive fiction #sci fi #tidbits

[magisteramentia]

Honor Students - Edith's live sessions

When Edith began her senior high school year - for the second time - she wasn’t what anyone would call an honor student.

But just weeks away from finals, Edith seemed to had turned around, getting the highest scores in every test. Even now, after her 20th birthday, she was leading live study sessions for everyone in her class.

Mr. Brown, her teacher, told her parents that all she needed was a bit of discipline and someone who knew what she really wanted.

All of his pupils in the “troubled” class seemed to have changed since he arrived at the school.

Edith closed the door of her room. After a day of arduous hours of study she deserved some time of her own, her little rewards, Mr. Brown called them.

She turned on the laptop.

Edith walked to her wardrobe and chose a cute “schoolgirl” outfit, her old pink plaid skirt. A blacktop that hugged her body so tightly she might as well not wear a thing, her nipples were indiscreetly outlined by the fabric. She made a little twirl in the mirror. Something was missing.

She pulled high kneesocks over her legs and pink heels, fixed her twin braids and smiled.

Edith climbed on top of the bed and logged in.

Everyone was already waiting for her. A private study chat for all the students in Mr. Brown’s class that finished their work on time.

Edith might be the smartest kid in the school now, but she never stopped being the sluttiest.

---

Edith had an exhibitionist fetish since before she met her Master. It was just that Mr. Brown knew how to harness her desire for exposure for good.

Weeks before classes began again, Edith was already doing cam shows and going on walks wearing a blonde wig, a facemask, and short skirts without panties or bra.

It was during one of those walks that Mr. Brown recognized her.

“Edith?” He called when she bumped into him. Her blonde wig fell off, and he noticed her brown hair and bright eyes. She tried to run, but she tripped, letting Mr. Brow get a very intimate show of her freshly shaven pussy.

He smiled

“Edith, I think you should come with me.” He said and led her to a nearby cafe.

He opened the door for her and pulled a chair for her to sit. He ordered for her and himself.

People stared at them like it was the weirdest date. He dressed soberly in a scholarly dark jacket and red tie. He was young, not older than 30, but contrasted with the way Edith was dressed...

Behind them, Edith could hear someone whisper “whore” and she knew they were talking about her.

Edith turned completely red and wholly wet.

She didn’t know if she wanted to run or touch herself in the middle of the cafe.

*snap*snap*

Edith looked up to Mr. Brown, snapping his fingers in her face.

“Did you hear anything I said?” He didn’t look angry. He showed her a kind smile.

Edith shook her head.

“I said I am going to have you in my class again next year, and I finally figured how to help you,” He sipped his coffee, “If you allow me.”

He pushed a cup towards her.

It smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg.

Edith finally found the courage to speak.

“Are you blackmailing me?”

Mr. Brown looked shocked.

“Blackmailing you?” he shook his head and hands. “No, no, no. Quite the opposite, Edith,” He placed his shoulders on the table, leaning in he looked into her bright brown eyes, “I want to enable you.”

Edith stared into his eyes. It felt like they were drawing her in.

“And call me Sir, Edith.” He said with a soft basso voice.

Edith shivered, she got lost in the wicked twinkle in his eyes.

---

Edith watched the boys in her class join the “study session”. All of them were like her, seniors that were held back.

All of them were watching her, hard cocks in hand. She mounted her pillow and began grinding her naked pussy.

Edith could almost smell and taste their cocks.

She saw Molly too; she used to be her partner in crime, now she was the best in math and science. And she was pushing a thick dildo up her bushy blonde pussy. She panted while watching Edith hump and moan.

Edith already wanted to taste their cum, Molly’s lips, feel them deep inside her. She wanted to be an active slut once again.

She could barely wait for the graduation party and the after-party.

Her unfocused mind drifted off for what Mr. Brown, her Master, had planned.

----

Years before, Edith had a hard time trying to remember the dates in history lessons. That was no longer a problem.

The first week, Mr. Brown explained the basis of his training.

She placed her phone on the counter, a little timer, and played a recording of Mr. Brown’s soft monotone basso voice.

Last year, Edith fell asleep in all of his classes.

This year, Edith kept her hands between her legs, intently listening to the recordings. There was no need to study, he repeated most of his lesson, but he guided her motions, he told her what to do with her hands, what to write, what to repeat out loud.

On the day before the first test, Mr. Brown handed her a small remote vibrator. He told her she had to wear it in class.

Edith nodded and did as he told her.

Sitting at his desk, Mr. Brown controlled the intensity. Subconsciously, and absolutely pleasantly, Edith knew the answer to all the questions.

When she handed the test, Mr. Brown nodded and smiled. Edith clenched her legs together and excused herself to the bathroom.

She tried to run, but Mr. Brown pushed the vibrator’s intensity to the max.

She dropped on her knees the moment she crossed through the door.

Everyone in the class was amazed to find she had a perfect score on the test. They asked her if Mr. Brown finally gave in to her; they asked her if she sucked his cock for the grade.

“It was only study and effort,” Edith said without an ounce of indignation. She was still a slut. But now she was his slut, even if he wouldn’t touch her.

She followed with the plan her Master had devised for the class.

“Say, if you want…” Edith licked her lips, “we can have a study session after class, I can show you everything I’ve learned.”

Most of them were skeptical, and a few joined in her suggestion.

She tutored a couple of students at first, when they were done she handed them a code for a zoom meeting.

“I am tired,” She said stretching, her tight pink blouse barely containing her tits, “Why don’t we keep this up tonight?”

Just Tommy joined her that night. She watched her hump and cum over her pillow.

With a pleasure-filled face and sultry voice she approached the mic and said, “If you get a perfect score on the next test, you can join me next week,” She sent him a kiss through the cam and logged off. He became a devoted student since that day.

----

Mr. Brown kept giving her daily private lessons, but after her second partial she could no longer cum after the recordings finished.

She confronted her Master about it.

“You scored 90 in your previous test” He said while grading the other members of the class without lifting his eyes.

“But-“

“But nothing, I can’t have you earning a reward for not doing your best.” He said. “From now on you will keep going as is, earn your orgasms with good grades.” He said and made a dismissive motion for her to leave.

Edith walked out and slammed the door on her way out.

“At least I still got the study sessions with everyone,” She said to herself and walked to the library. When she saw Molly joined her group. She smiled.

She tutored everyone in the group, paying special attention to Molly.

She knew Molly was like her, and she could use some of her special help.

After everyone left home, Edith invited Molly to her place where she played the first recording for Molly and knelt between her friend’s legs.

She heard the voice of her Master; she felt Molly’s breathing relax and tasted her melting pussy.

Molly came over and over again as knowledge flooded her mind.

And yet.

Edith’s arousal kept growing, but her hands drifted away from her own pussy.

Molly woke up from her trance panting.

“Let me do it for you too.” Molly said, ecstasy on her face, she reached for Edith’s face but she batted her hand away

Edith stood up and open the door with a frustrated smile.

“Maybe next time,” Edith said, flustered and gasping, “I have to study tonight!”

Molly understood and left Edith alone.

Edith climbed on her bed, placing a textbook in front of her and a pillow between her legs. She began reading and humping. Unable to reach an orgasm.

---

“Please, please, please” Edith begged on her knees in front of Mr. Brown.

“Edith, Stand up.” He ordered sternly.

Edith did as she was told. Her hands were fidgeting over her skirt; she felt the need burning inside her. She was wet and horny all the time. But she was also at the top of her class.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Mr. Brown said and led the way. Edith walked steps behind him, clutching books over her chest. While her school outfit was more somber now, underneath her skirt she was wearing a buttplug and was desperate to use any other stimulation that would make her reach orgasm, but she needed her Master’s permission to do so.

“Edith,” Mr. Brown said as they walked out of the school, she rushed to catch up with him, he continued, “we are almost at the end of the school year, you need to hold on a little longer.”

“But, Master-“ Mr. Brown gave her a fulminating frown “I mean, Mr. Brown-“

He sighed, and Edith stopped.

“Edith, let me make you a new proposal, just like I did when we began,” Mr. Brown paced ahead, “if you are the top student by the end of the year,”

He stopped and gave her a once-over. A wicked grin formed on his lips. He approached and whispered into her ear so no one around would hear.

“-and after that, when you graduate, I will finally make you mine.”

Edith stood clutching her books. She was breathing fast, she could feel her heart beating fast.

----

“Next week are finals,” Edith panted onto the scream, she was sweating from the effort of rubbing herself to orgasm on her pillow. Her voice was pure desire, “the ones that ace their exam will get a ticket. And we will meet for a special celebration” She said and sent a kiss over the camera, accompanying it with a little wiggle of her chest before she cut the stream.

-------

Edith wore a vibrator to her final test. She kept her cool the entire time on the max setting, and everyone in the classroom could hear the sound and knew where it was coming from. The smell of her musk filled the enclosed space.

Everyone was particularly tense, not because of the test but because of the sexual frustration they had accumulated.

Edith told them to keep themselves from cumming this last week. It had come to a point that she cared more about getting the most of her party than the finals.

She slammed her test on Mr. Brown’s desk with a satisfied smile and waltzed out of the classroom swinging her hips. She was wearing the same pink plaid skirt she wore in their last week’s study session.

Before closing the door, she blew a salacious kiss to the classroom.

Everyone immediately became more focused on their respective tests.

When Edith arrived to her locker, she pulled out the vibrator in the middle of the hall, not caring if anyone saw. Everyone that mattered was occupied with the test. As she opened the door, she found a gift box with a pink ribbon waiting for her.

“Congratulations” It wasn’t signed, but she knew who it was from.

----

Edith graduated top of her class. When she got to pick up her diploma, she wore her Master’s gift around her neck, a black choker with a small tag with her name on it. Her classmates whistled and hollered as she shook hands with Mr. Brown.

At night everyone waited for Edith to appear for the graduation party, but she was nowhere to be seen.

After a while, they noticed Molly was missing too.

Music was blaring, and the dance floor was full with everyone but Mr. Brown’s class. Suddenly one by one they left the party.

A message began circulating from one member of the class to the next.

It was their after party ticket with a specific address.

Condoms were non-optional, the invitation said.

They arrived to an old house on the other side of town. No one would recognize them there.

The doors opened and Mr. Brown made them wait in the foyer until everyone arrived.

After the last kid closed the doors, Mr. Brown allowed them to walk in.

Molly and Edith were waiting in the middle of an empty room. They were wearing their graduation robes and the chokers, no, the collars Mr. Brown made them wear.

“Have fun everyone, be responsible.” Mr. Brown said and walked out of the house.

Edith and Molly pulled off their robes. Edith was wearing a white garter and stockings with a transparent demibra, while Molly wore a matching “outfit” in black.

They walked ahead and met their classmates, “You made us” they looked at each other, “And our Master, very proud.”

Edith and Molly knelt on the floor and helped the closest guys off their pants.

“It’s time to give everyone their reward,” Edith said and pulled a cock into her mouth.

There were 16 people in Mr. Brown’s class between men and women, not including Molly and Edith. All of them aced their final exams.

Edith wanted to taste all of them through the night. But despite their expertise, she could only please so many at the same time.

By the time she was done getting her second dose of cum out of Billy, the rest of her classmates had already paired off.

Some men didn’t shy away from coming out that very night, George and Oliver were making out while Wesley sucked their cocks.

Molly was bi, and was enjoying the lips of Evelyn, the lesbian of the class, while getting Tommy from behind.

Edith saw Sandra on her knees between two guys, and she was supposed to be the catholic virgin.

“Move, slut” Edith pushed Sanda aside and grabbed one guy by the balls, taking him for herself. She stood against the wall and settled his cock against her pussy.

She didn’t even remember his name, but she had waited for this long enough. She didn’t care as long as they were hard and full of cum.

He banged her against the wall until Tommy, little Tommy, her first tutoring partner approached. Edith looked down and saw his rigid cock. He wasn’t so little.

Edith fixed her hair and bent at the waist. She let the other guy keep fucking her with an irregular cadence that was distracting but quite pleasant.

Tommy handed her a condom, she opened it and placed it in her mouth, with a slow motion, and the rhythm the man fucking her allowed, she slid the condom up his cock using her lips.

The guy behind her emptied his balls inside the condom. He pulled out and Edith grabbed him by the balls again. “Wait,” She said, taking Tommy out of her mouth.

Edith sat Tommy down and slid herself on his rod. She moaned so pleasantly that the guy she was grabbing by the balls twitched and began getting hard again. She pulled off the condom with her mouth and dumped the thick cum on her tongue. Edith winked at him and moaned harder as Tommy pushed deeper than anyone before.

The guy walked back to Sandra, who was fucking someone else already. He kissed before he pushed his cock into her mouth.

Edith arched her back as she rode Tommy. She panted and screamed as she neared her orgasm. Tommy grabbed her by the hips and bit her nipples, making her shriek and clench his cock as he came inside her. Gasping, she fell on top of him. The two of them exhausted and covered in sweat.

Oliver walked by drinking a bottle of water and watched the two of them panting on the floor. He approached Edith from behind and caressed her ass; she made a soft sound of approval. Spreading her cheeks, he placed a new condom on his cock and pushed inside her ass.

Edith yelled with pain and pleasure. Tommy was still half erect inside her. She never pushed anything bigger than her buttplug up her anal cavity. And now she had two cocks filling her at the same time. She grabbed Tommy’s shoulders and moaned in his ear.

Oliver winked at Tommy and fucked Edith with hard, fast thrusts.

Edith’s nails scratched Tommy’s chest.

Oliver fondled her breast and pulled her for a kiss.

She came once again. Loudly and kissing Oliver.

It was better than she had ever dreamed of.

She could get used to being an Honor Slut.

The party dwindled down as pairs were formed and left.

Tommy was left alone between Molly and Edith, but even he had to leave when the sun came up and Mr. Brown walked through the door.

Molly and Edith were covered in dried cum from their chest, back and hair.

Tommy closed the door, Molly and Edith crawled up to their Master.

He caressed them and attached leashes to both of them.

They snuggled against his legs.

“Good girls,” He said. And led them up to the bedroom.

They purred happily. They were his fucktoys, his pets. And above anything, if he wanted, they would be Honor Student Sluts for him.

----

If you want to support my writing addiction you can join my Patreon where you can get ahead and read more stories at https://patreon.com/magisteramentia. Or you can invite me a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/magisteramentia

#magisteramentia #magister amentia #mind control #hypnokink #brainwashing

[hrtiu]

Final Chapter of Worthy of Devotion

Whew! We’ve made it! I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter because this fic has been a real pleasure to write. I felt like I found a better balance between plot and romance than I have in the past, I got to delve into Fox’s deliciously painful guilt, and I fell in love with Bacara. It’s been quite the journey! Thanks so much to my awesome beta @purgetroopercody and @lilhawkeye3 I hope you enjoyed your gift ♥

When Bacara woke up with a neat incision on the right side of his head, he remembered everything. He remembered his growing paranoia with General Mundi, remembered hearing about the inhibitor chips, remembered speaking the order that took his mind away. He remembered it all, and he hated himself.

Without the chip’s influence it was easy to see what a monumental mistake he’d made. What he’d done was treason of the highest order, and he fully expected to be executed for it.

Instead, he languished in prison for months, undergoing no trial, receiving no discipline, answering no questions. If this was to be his punishment, he’d prefer execution. Then finally, his cell door opened for something other than his next meal.

Chancellor Riyo Chuchi stepped through the door, her lavender hair braided into a crown over her head. She looked like a goddess, but Bacara had no reason to believe she’d be benevolent.

She sat down across from Bacara at the tiny table where he spent most of his time, but she didn’t speak for a long moment. Eventually, Bacara decided to break the silence.

“Madam Chancellor,” he said, with an incline of his head.

“Ah, so you believe that I was rightfully elected now?” she said, raising one eyebrow.

“I don’t believe my opinion matters, ma’am.”

Keep Reading

#foxiyo #commander fox #riyo chuchi #tcw #fanfic #worthy of devotion #bodyguard au #chancellor chuchi au #shades of rexsoka #FINISHED FIC!! #YAYY WE MADE IT

[giggles-and-freckles]

my fic masterlist

decided to do this for my own sake more than anyone else’s because sometimes I have to make sure the idea I get at 3am isn’t one I’ve already written hehe. anyway, a lot of these are on my ao3, but I’m also going to try and track down some of my TuMbLr-eXcLuSiVe fics, too. I’ll update this as often as I remember (so, uhhh–)

In-Progress: Not On A Consistent Updating Schedule Bc Abi is a Mess ™

midst of the mind – Anakin has always had a pretty good understanding of his feelings, even if he's not particularly disciplined in acting on them. But things surrounding the Chancellor seem to be off and Anakin's determined to get to the bottom of it. With a little help from his friends.(or: fix-it ROTS fic where Ani, Obi, and Padmé take down the Chancellor one fake smile and late-night tea party at a time)

evermore – "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam. (or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?) (unrelated one-shots based on taylor swift songs ha)

filling the gaps – after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

Obi-Wan & Ahsoka: Best Father-Daughter Duo In The Galaxy According To Me (because let’s be honest...that’s why I’m here) (tagged: #obi & soka)

filling the gaps – *in-progress multi-chapter* after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

playing catch – Ahsoka finds an old friend on Tatooine and has lots of questions. they cry a lot. obi-wan tells some white lies. they get the hugs they need. (Obi-Wan & Ahsoka reunite on Tatooine)

all too young – during a bout of insomnia while on Onderon, Ahsoka gets some advice and insight about her Master. (or Obi-Wan hears Ahsoka laugh for the first time and they get to have a snuggle and he absolutely spends the entire next day training the rebels trying not to cry thinking about it every dang time he sees her.)

hologram heart-to-hearts – we see Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have a conversation via hologram in the final season of tcw, but what if there had been...more?(three-parter) (basically Obi and Soka keep in touch after she leaves the Order and there’s...a lot of emotions involved)

little love – a sort of follow-up to hologram heart-to hearts; Ahsoka sticks her nose into the wrong Alliance meeting and discovers a certain Jedi is alive and on Tatooine of all places, so she places a long-distance call.

bad days – Ahsoka tries to squeeze out of her Grand Master exactly what happened on Mortis. and, as always, Obi-Wan is powerless to deny her anything, no matter how painful that truth may be.

sleeping with monsters – Ahsoka is having a hard time sleeping after her time on Felucia, so Obi-Wan offers a solution.

chance meeting – Obi-Wan is up late researching for his Master in the archives when a certain sneeze–and pair of big blue eyes–catch his attention.

‘drooping eyelids’ prompt fill – Ahsoka and Obi-Wan have a conversation about attachment while Anakin’s missing. they (plus Anakin) get some platonic cuddles.

‘dancing’ prompt fill – they attend a senatorial gala without Anakin because he’s feeling grumpy grump after deception arc fall-out. Obi realises that there are still things to be thankful for. 

sorrow – Ahsoka feels the full weight of loss as she clutches her Grand Master’s dead body. (deception arc FEELS!!!!)

‘I do not pretend to set people right, but I do see they are often wrong’ prompt fill – *trigger warning: death of children; Obi comforts Ahsoka after they witness an atrocity of the highest order.

the silence between — Ahsoka gets assigned to the 212th as her Master recovers. Unwanted quality time with her Grand Master doesn’t go as planned.

untitled ‘Obi & Ani role reversal au’ ficlet — Padawan Obi-Wan pays a visit to his best pal Ahsoka in the crèche.

‘falling asleep on each other’s shoulder’ prompt fill – the summary says it all. fluff!

'I don’t wanna die’ – Obi-Wan comforts Ahsoka in her pain. *tw: implied major character death

‘I made tea’ – Anakin is off-world so it’s up to Obi-Wan to take care of his sick grand-padawan.

sorry for the soup – post-deception arc. Ahsoka stops by Obi-Wan’s quarters to check-in.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: The Early Years (tagged: #obi & ani)

figuring it out – Anakin learns waking Obi-Wan up can sometimes be a good thing and Obi-Wan learns that maybe everything's going to be okay. (padawan!ani & new dad knight!kenobi)

if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more – Anakin overhears a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear and lashes out in response. lots of hurt is uncovered and Obi-Wan hears some hard truths from his Padawan. angst, angst, angst...but with a hug.

reading lessons – the team takes a trip to the archives to find some reading material. Anakin is adorably insecure.

cold – Obi-Wan and Anakin have their first solo mission, but in typical Kenobi & Skywalker fashion, it does not go as planned. Exasperated Obi-Wan and Won't-Shut-Up Anakin are put to the test by deep space and a completely out-of-fuel ship. (or some more fluff where padawan!ani and new knight!kenobi get to try and figure out how the heck this master-padawan thing WORKS. hint: it's not easy!)

playing hooky – angel baby Anakin breaks Obi-Wan's heart and it's not for the last time...womp wooooomp.

like you – sweet, angel baby Ani gives himself a haircut and Obi-Wan deals with the aftermath. (I’m copying and pasting most of these summaries directly from ao3 and cracking up because I called Anakin a sweet angel baby in two in a ROW hahah)

fun? – the Jedi Council gives Obi-Wan his newest orders as a young Jedi Knight and he struggles to understand them. he was instructed to take his new Padawan and...have...fun?

go away/please stay – Obi-Wan has been disappearing for solo missions more and more often and Anakin's starting to wonder if it's more than just on request of the Council. (or: can you say TEEN ANGST!)

‘forehead kisses’ prompt fill – Anakin stumbles upon his Master having quite the nightmare, so he handles it the way his mom always handled his own nightmares. with patience and affection.

unnamed NAP TIME fic – Obi-Wan gets home from a solo mission early to find his bed occupied.

‘sweets’ prompt fill – Anakin gets a little ambitious with his choco-ball indulgence.

‘fuzzy socks’ prompt fill – years after arriving at the Temple, Anakin still hasn’t quite adjusted to the cold. Obi-Wan gets him a gift to help. (really just an excuse for some obi ani banter)

‘snowball fight’ prompt fill – Anakin takes his boredom to the next level, much to his Master’s chagrin.

untitled Anakin sickfic bc I’m not feeling very creative right now – the team goes on a mission but Anakin gets sick. Obi-Wan is ultimate mother hen and Anakin makes an observation.

got germs – sickficlet where both of our best boys are sick.

you’re okay – just some classic protective parent!Obi-Wan and teenaged son!Anakin post disaster.

‘you lied to me’ – angstpril day 13. Anakin really wants to go to Ilum and make his lightsaber...but is met with disappointment.

random sickfic – because we all know Anakin is the most annoying sick person in the world.

don’t struggle – the ship is crashing, as usual. but this time, Anakin’s seatbelt is stuck. *tw: implied major character deaths

relic – sith!Obi au. *tw: major character death

aspectabund – Anakin’s eyes betray him and his Master.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: Brotp But Also Idiots Who Don’t Know How To Communicate (still tagged #obi & ani)

define ‘attachment’ – while the dads esteemed Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker wait for Ahsoka to wake up, they talk about attachment, worry, and that time Ani caused an accidental security breech at the Temple.

favourites – Obi-Wan has been tasked with telling Anakin of his special assignment to keep an eye on the Chancellor, but he gets sappy and sentimental in the process because these conversations are hard.

after all these years – Obi-Wan tries to talk to Anakin, but it doesn't go well. does this sound familiar OR WHAT? (post-decpetion arc angst)

brilliant – Anakin is having a difficult time adjusting to his new mechno-arm for one very specific reason. (the boys communicate properly in this one and even get a hug as a treat!)

sober words said aloud – Anakin's meeting with the Council is interrupted by his highly intoxicated–and wildly affectionate–Master. (crack fic turned fluff)

‘you’ve been crying, I can tell’ prompt fill – Anakin makes the mistake of checking in on his Master after a particularly grueling mission. it doesn’t go well. (or: Obi-Wan loses his sh!t)

going somewhere? – Obi-Wan catches Anakin on his way out for a midnight rendezvous with a certain Senator. Anakin makes a quick decision and chooses Obi-Wan. sweet words are exchanged on a sentimental walk.

shaking hands – in the immediate wake of Ahsoka’s departure form the order, Anakin...isn’t okay. Obi-Wan tries to do something about it. (post S5 angst)

untitled platonic tired cuddles/back scratching fic – Anakin resorts to an old tactic to make his Master rest.

sun shine on – Obi-Wan and Anakin take a little trip to Tatooine to visit Shmi’s grave. (post-ROTS fix-it au of sorts)

pushing it too far — Obi-Wan calls Anakin for some help when he takes ‘intel’ too seriously and ends up drunk on a street in lower-level Coruscant.

whump prompt fill – Obi-Wan looks after Anakin after a near-miss. They talk.

‘was it another premonition?’ – Obi-Wan dreams of Luke. He wakes up to Anakin.

post-mortis angst – Anakin remembers. *tw: implied suicidal thoughts

angstpril: ‘you have to let me go’ – Anakin and Obi-Wan are stuck in a pit. only one of them can make it out alive. *tw: implied major character death

role model – post-deception angst. Obi and Ani talk. it doesn’t go well.

here either way – conversations about mental health. *tw: panic attack

hiraeth – Obi-Wan walks alone. *post ROTS

Anakin & Ahsoka: Dream Team Sharing One Single Brain Cell (tagged: #snips & skyguy or (for the really angsty) #its crying about snips & skyguy hours)

that one person – (my first fic!) Anakin gets assigned to lecture a class of younglings, but he's not the only one who doesn't want to be there.or Ahsoka Tano is done with Jedi sh!t and tries to leave, but this time it's just a classroom and not the entire Order and there's a lot less tears and pain.

define ‘attachment’ – while the dads esteemed Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker wait for Ahsoka to wake up, they talk about attachment, worry, and that time Ani caused an accidental security breech at the Temple.

here and now – the Force has tried to swallow Ahsoka Tano three times. it's hard to be the last one standing. (or Ahsoka feels the death of three important men in her life and is tired of being left behind) *tw: major character deaths (canon compliant and not depicted, only mentioned)

whumptober: crying – Anakin comforts a distraught Ahsoka after her disaster mission over Ryloth.

reaching out – Anakin is always there...until he’s not. Ahsoka reflects on how different it is fighting and living without Anakin at her side. (angst)

help would come  – Anakin and Ahsoka get stuck on an ice planet and things get dire. I chalked this full of parallels to the final conversation between Ani and Luke bc I love pain, I guess?

whump: ‘i’ve got you’ –  Anakin pulls Ahsoka from a nightmare.

zen!Anakin ficlet — Ahsoka visits Anakin in his new job as Galaxy’s #1 Dad (well Plo Koon still exists so maybe #1.5?).

right as rain – Ahsoka insists she is fine when she is distinctly not.

snoozeville – Anakin and a few boys of the 501st find their Commander catching some extra z’s.

stitching up – Ahsoka performs some in-the-moment surgery for Anakin and he tries not to scream. *tw: field surgery

‘platonic spooning’ prompt fill – do I need a summary after that?

sad hours: dancing – Anakin and Ahsoka dance in the aftermath of tragedy.

rainy ending given to a perfect day – Anakin and Ahsoka take a trip into downtown Coruscant. 

Anakin and Padmé: Abi Tries and fails To Write Romance (tagged: #anidala)

not enough – Anakin has a hard time with the Mortis fall-out. Padmé doesn’t know how to help someone who doesn’t want it. some painful connections between Ahsoka and Shmi are made. (angst, no happy ending, trouble in paradise)

I will not have this baby in a jail cell – some fluff, some crack, some Anakin-being-so-proud-of-his-badass-wife.

marcid – domestic fluff in which Padmé almost shoots him. ha. oops!

rubatosis – angsty anidala hours. Anakin can’t go to sleep. 

Obi-Wan and Satine: Abi Tries and fails some more To Write Romance (tagged #obitine)

don’t go – Obi-Wan makes a choice. *year on the run timeline

that’s mine – some happiness AU obitine. waking up next to each other. laughing. all the sappy stuff.

accidental keldabe kiss – all the ridiculous tropes I love with our favourite pining idiots. it’s the ‘kiss me so they don’t see us!’ trope!!!! *year on the run timeline

you’re shaking – Satine knows Obi-Wan more than he’d like. *year on the run

Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, Padmé: Space Found Family In Whatever Form It Comes

here and now – the Force has tried to swallow Ahsoka Tano three times. it's hard to be the last one standing. (or Ahsoka feels the death of three important men in her life and is tired of being left behind) *tw: major character deaths (canon compliant and not depicted, only mentioned)

i want your midnights – the gang attends a New Year's banquet (read: party) and Padmé surprises them all with her midnight kiss.

evermore – "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam. (or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?) (unrelated one-shots based on taylor swift songs ha)

flair for dramatics – when the gang gets their ship stranded on a desert planet, Anakin and Ahsoka get creative as they try to keep spirits up and minds off the sweltering heat. Obi-Wan questions his sanity. (crack fic turned fluff)

nothing a cup of tea can’t fix – when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former Padawan and Grand Padawan are. (or: Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit.) (sickfic)

in the sandstorm – when Tatooine's weather takes a turn for the worst, Ben Kenobi finds a young boy in need of shelter and some lessons on how wonderful his dad had been. (luke and obi-wan hurt/comfort)

remembering hurts – Rex and Ahsoka strive to survive on the snowy moon in the days after Order 66. tensions are high and emotions are volatile.

balter – disaster trio dances at a senatorial ball.

reunion – au where Anakin doesn’t completely turn to the dark side but everything up to and including Mustafar (except for the last like...five minutes) happens. Padmé has the twins, Obi-Wan is overwhelmed, Anakin is a mess. they’re happy...or at least, they will be soon.

‘cookies’ prompt fill – disaster trio makes cookies for the crechelings for Life Day. (just fluff and banter)

first ever codywan! – Cody does some bedside vigil for a hurt Obi-Wan. :’)

transponster – disaster trio is tired and delusional. Rex and Cody want Jedi to have some kriffing self-preservation.

one final salute — Obi-Wan and Cody get trapped. Obi-Wan’s luck is running out. (angst? angst.)

codywan whump – Cody saves Obi-Wan’s life. again. (more fluff than whump)

girls’ night – Ahsoka hangs out with her mom pal Padmé.

driving lessons – Obi-Wan and Anakin teach Ahsoka to drive. ha.

affectionate obi – the kids get Obi-Wan a puppy. fluff!

sorry I don’t speak idiot – Rex and Fives deal with a drunk Echo :’)

post deception disaster trio sadness – Ahsoka tries to keep Obi-Wan company in the aftermath of Rako Hardeen...but Anakin isn’t playing nice.

verklempt – Ahsoka and Yoda talk about being chosen. and Ahsoka finds out maybe she hasn’t been left behind afterall. *pre-TCW

apricity – disaster trio have a picnic at the temple! just pure fluff.

pyrrhic – codywan but make it angsty. some battles are won at too great a cost.

disaster trio sickfic – two Jedi dads and their (sick) daughter :’)

‘you’ve been here this whole time?’ – newlyweds anidala (but shh, Obi-Wan doesn’t know that! yes he does, everyone does.) are there when Obi-Wan wakes up and he ownders just what he did to get so lucky.

Febuwhump 2021: A Foray into Hurting the Characters I Love the Most 

mind control – Anakin’s narrative as he fights Ahsoka on Mortis. sad boy hours. a lot of insecurity happening here.

‘I can’t take this anymore’ – during the Obitine (plus third-wheel Qui-Gon) year on the run, Satine gets tired of Obi-Wan trying to die for her. a bit hurt/comfort, a lot sappy.

imprisonment – on their first mission together, Obi & Ani get captured. Anakin learns how Obi-Wan feels about tight spaces.

coma – post deception arc. Obi-Wan goes into a coma after a particularly intense conversation with Anakin. Anakin tells Obi’s unconscious body how he’s feeling. angst, angst, angst. there’s your warning.

‘take me instead’ – Anakin escorts Padmé on a diplomatic mission but things get dicey and quick decisions must be made. Anakin isn’t the only one in this relationship willing to be an idiot for the sake of *love.* (or: another attempt to write Anidala in a convincing way because they give me a tough! time! so this time make it...dangerous)

insomnia – Anakin overhears a late night holo-call and learns that his Master has a...friend that is a girl???? and is pretty???? but also that his Master may need some fixing and he thinks he may just be the nine-year-old for the job.

poisoning – Ahsoka gets drugged and Anakin gets...er...angry. (read: dark)

‘hey, hey, this is no time to sleep’ – as Ahsoka and Anakin wait for help, Anakin tells a story. an ancient monster in the heart of Tatooine...waiting for it's day of reckoning. (or: Ahsoka gets dehydrated and Anakin can't deny his hurting sister/padawan anything so he talks a little bit about home.)

buried alive – Anakin reflects on some things as his Padawan tries to rescue him from the rubble. angst!!!!!!!!!

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know’ – the Council loses a planet and Obi & Ani get tasked with finding it, but after nine hyperspace jumps and a painful discovery, Obi-Wan teaches his former Padawan one more lesson. (or: the boys talk about failure and feelings when Obi-Wan finds out Anakin's mechno-arm has been causing pain for a couple years)

hallucinations – Ahsoka tries to fix things. it doesn’t work. (post-order 66) angst 

‘who are you?’ – Anakin and Ahsoka rescue Obi-Wan, but things aren’t okay and Obi-Wan doesn’t recognise Anakin. (or: Obi is tortured for information about the fall of the Republic before it happens and goes a bit mad bc of it)

‘I didn’t mean it’ – Obi-Wan learns how cold and unfeeling his young Padawan thinks he is and has a rough day. angst

burned – Anakin mourns the loss of his Padawan in a tactile way. Obi-Wan watches. (or: Anakin throws Ahsoka’s Padawan beads into a fire)

‘I wish I have never given you a chance’ – Obi-Wan is reminded of his own incompetence through a vision form his old master.

you have to let me go – Ahsoka has one heirloom: a hologram of her old master as a padawan. but it’s time to let the past go and step into the future, with help from an old friend.

#my fic #maybe I'll go give creative names to some of these prompt request fills someday but #probably not #anyway I definitely should have been doing things other than making this tonight but HERE WE ARE #:) #also at the time of me typing this I have 49 fics listed on here #which is so crazy to me #bc I just started writing in september and if you had told me I would have 50 fics in five months I would have laughed at you #and its so fun and cringey to look back at some of these #its only been a few months but my writing has CHANGED #(hopefully for the better?) #anyway yay! an organised archive! #sw fanfiction

[animemangasoul]

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.

Chapter: 1/10

"No luck?"

Mace sighed.

Walking through the door only to come face to face with his former Padawan sprawled across his couch especially after the trying day he's had only served to make his shoulders tighten further. "What are you doing here Depa?" he asked doing his best to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

His fellow council member raised a single eyebrow in reply.

Mace sighed again, hand running over his face and pulling at his chin. "No," he finally answered. "No luck." And if voicing his failings didn't already sour his mood, seeing the flash of disappointment in Depa's eyes drove it home.

"There is nothing wrong with Obi-Wan," she huffed. Her annoyance bleeding into the force as she observed him go about preparing his own afternoon meal along with hers now that she'd decided to make herself at home in his apartment.

"I know," he said, bringing out cups and plates while he waited for their dinner to heat up; not even contemplating asking Depa for assistance as he well knew by this point he could never make her set a foot inside the kitchen after that 'incident'. "But with his prior records and Qui-Gon,"--the Chalactan woman snorted in disgust and Mace paused to send her a warning glare. "having repudiated him," he continued doing his best to clam down on his own anger when the words leave his mouth. "Not many are willing to take a second look."

Walking over to sit by the dinner table Depa sighed; the force muted with her sadness. "It's a cruel faith being stripped of your future because one man has decided to upend all traditions because he thinks himself some kind of force whisperer," she dragged the last words out rather mockingly inciting a snort from Mace which then resulted in him trying and failing to give her another stern glare.

Annoyed as he was with the other man, insulting him was not a productive endeavor. Still, he couldn't fault his former Padawan for her bitterness towards his old friend. Qui-Gon certainly did parade around as if he was the only man blessed with the true gift of the force. "Hopefully young Kenobi still has a future as a Jedi," he said, setting down their plates. "I just need to find one Master who is willing to take him on. He only needs a year or two before he is ready for his Trials."

Depa hummed in agreement but the force swivelling around her was still leaking uncertainty if only a little. Clapping his former student on the shoulder, Mace let encouragement wash over her as he sat down. "Do not worry yourself," he said letting go when he the tension finally eased out of her body.

Companiable silence falls between them after that, the worry for Obi-Wan still lingering in the air but for now, both willing to put it aside to share the little time they rarely get to spend together to its fullest. It's only after the table is cleared and Depa has found her way back to his couch that she speaks on the topic again.

"How is he by the way?"

Staring forlorn at the dirty dishes and missing the good old days when he could make little Depa wash up as part of her training while he excused himself for a short nap, Mace shook his head and made his way over to the opposite coach, leaving the dishes for tomorrow. "He's doing well," he said, folding his legs under him. "All things considered. He's healing."

Depa pursed her mouth. "He's the Sith-killer and we can't even give him an automatic knighting because--" She bit her tongue before the words slipped out, but Mace knew very well what she was going to say.

'Because Qui-Gon is still alive.'

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had both survived the battle of Naboo. Survived the Sith. And while Obi-Wan had accomplished a feat no other, saved his master and come out alive; baring the heavy injuries sustained both men, by saving Qui-Gon Jinn the young man had unknowingly sealed his own faith.

Not that Mace wasn't immensely grateful his old friend had gotten away with his life. But--

With Qui-Gon alive, Obi-Wan could not be Knighted without taking the Trials and to everyone's horror the boy's Master was not willing to wait for him to be ready for them.

No, Qui-Gon had made it quite clear how little he thought of his student's well being when he so cruelly disregarded him in front of the Council, repudiated him and thrown him away in hopes of training young Anakin Skywalker. Mace stomach coiled in disgust just thinking of that day. That moment….. With Qui-Gon standing in the middle of the room, an uncertain Anakin next to him and a distinct lack of Obi-Wan by his side. Qui-Gon had declared for all to hear that he would be training Skywalker and if that could only come to be with Kenobi out of the way, so be it.

Obi-Wan hadn't even been there to defend himself. Submerged in a bacta tank as he was, fighting for his very life and---

Clenching his fists, it's all Mace can do to carefully release his anger into the force and close his eyes against the onslaught of memories. Obi-Wan's clear eyes staring up at him from a hospital bed in abject disbelief, having woken up to a broken bond and a hair distinctly lacking a familiar braid.

The fact Qui-Gon hadn't even had the respect, the heart to tell the poor boy face to face. That he had unbraided his hair while Obi-Wan was still….. That he hadn't explained anything. He…. Mace was a Jedi,

"He…. repudiated….me?”

Mace hadn't known what to say. Standing there in the Halls of Healing, staring down at the too sickly, too skinny, too haunted man in the hospital bed. Mace hadn't known what to say.

What could one say in the face of absolute devastation?

So he had just stood there, seconds ticking by, eyes unable to break away from the dull blue-gray ones of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Unable to speak, unable to console, unable to utter the words he knew would shatter whatever remained of the fragile sense of self-worth the kid had left.

Finally, as the auburn haired man swallowed thickly, looking away, Mace regained his speech.

Sitting down heavily in the chair stationed by the bed, he'd folded his hands under his chin and lowered his voice into an almost gentle hum. "Yes, he did. In front of the council, a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh."

That single word crumbled something in Mace he hadn't known he ever had.

Kenobi looked so small. Thin fingers clutching at the white covers, bottom lip red from being gnawed bloody, hair damp from recently having been brought out of the bacta tank and eyes swimming with such hopelessness it left the Korun man's heart with dull sense of ache he didn't quite know how to deal with.

Mace Windu was a Jedi. Controlling and releasing his emotions into the force was by now a habit as easy to him as breathing.

Nothing got under his skin, nothing pained him for long. He was focused, he was disciplined and by all accounts he was never brought to the edge of absolute fury. But looking into those gray-blue eyes. Seeing young Kenobi trying so hard to keep himself from crying. Watching the young man chest heave in futile attempt not to collapse in on himself. The destruction of a bright light, of a hopeful child ruthlessly turned into a broken young man at the hands of someone who should have known better---

Mace was a Jedi and his emotions did not rule him.

They did not. And yet, and yet….

So he pressed his fingers against his knees, nails biting into the skin beneath his clothes and he looked Obi-Wan Kenobi dead in the eyes and firmly; without pity, laid out the decree of the council. Explained what precarious position the kid found himself in; all the while being oh so careful not to let his voice catch on the lump choking him from within.

Now that Kenobi had been repudiated he was no longer a Padawan and if the council had followed the Jedi Code to the letter, he should have been expelled or relocated to the ServiceCop or the AgroCorp the minute Qui-Gon had disowned him, but this wasn't an ordinary situation and Kenobi, well, Kenobi was anything but an ordinary Jedi.

So, "with your unique circumstances," Mace had said, hand resting by the kid's knee just in case the proximity dispelled the harshness of Obi-Wan's new reality or even brought the kid some semblance of comfort. "the council has concluded that you will be given six weeks to find a new Master to complete your training and 'if' that Master is deemed acceptable by the council." Mace did his best to emphasize the 'if' for it meant any young Knight trying to do Obi-Wan a favor while having nothing of their own to actually teach him were automatically ruled out; force knew the kid had plenty of friends who would step up to the task (just the thought of recently Knighted Quinlan Vos boldly declaring himself Obi-Wan's new Master gave Mace a headache. If the sheer embarrassment didn't kill Kenobi, Quinlan's teachings surely would.) "Then your apprenticeship will be transferred to them until you're deemed ready for your Trails."

Obi-Wan had nodded, fingers tracing unknown patters on the cover. "I assume you have already spoken to a fair number of potential Masters?"

There is a certain ease to his voice, the raspiness behind it the only thing giving away how hard the kid was trying to cover up the burnt edges of his anguish. Even after Mace had seen with his own two eyes how Kenobi; as soon as the visible grief of his former Master's betrayal had run its course, gathered himself up. Taking a deep breath and then as if it was an artform storing away his emotions, carefully and meticulously behind unreadable eyes until a hurt child once again transformed back into a composed young man.

It was…… concerning the ease with which Kenobi could look as if his entire world hadn't just been shattered into pieces.

"I have." he had said in answer; swallowing down the bitterness of his own failure and watching as Obi-Wan's fingers darted across the knuckles of his outstretched hand (that Mace had yet to move) almost as if unconsciously seeking out comfort; only for the young man to then realize what he'd done making him flinch away. Mace nearly scowled in distress 'What had Qui-Gon done to this child?!'. "Unfortunately I have yet to find a Master willing to take on a Padawan your age," he managed to finish.

"Ironic isn't it?" Obi-Wan muttered, self deprecating amusement dancing in his eyes. It took Mace a second to grasp the context behind the words but when he did, a sardonic smirk pulled at his lips.

"Yes," he said. "It is."

For it was. To be rejected for a child too old to become a Padawan, only to turn around and find yourself the one who is now too old to be anyone's Padawan. Ironic indeed.

And so very awful.

They had talked about nothing of note after that. Obi-Wan content in pretending nothing outside the four walls of his room existed and Mace wanting to indulge him, just this once.

Still, even though he regaled the kid with stories, particularly of that one time Master Yoda had kidnapped him to lure five other Masters away from a council meeting, his brain was still running through potentially willing Masters for the child he was so unwilling to give up on just yet.

"I would take him if I could."

Depa's words managed to bring him back to the present with an abruptness he wasn't ready for.

He blinked, once, twice. Then sighed deeply as he closed his eyes. "I know."

Depa shifted across from him. "His time is nearly up."

Mace tensed. "He still has two more weeks left."

Now it's her who uttered "I know."

A suffocating silence once again wrapped itself around them. This one hinging on uncertainty, worry and concern. Emotions that swiftly were released into the force and yet lingered in the room like an unspoken blemish. Finally Depa spoke. Her words nothing but a whisper but holding all the strength of an ocean slamming against the shores of Mace's stability.

"You could take him."

It's not a question, not quite a suggestion either. It's more like…… a promise.

Mace startled, eyes flying open. "What?" He had expected much from her, maybe a suggestion of one of Kenobi's little Knight friends taking him on, which he would have soundly rejected but not this. This was unexpected to say the least.

Depa only shrugged away his incredulity. "You could take him as your Padawan learner. He would only need a year or two at most like you said and Kenobi is mild tempered, level-headed and a quick study, you would get along great." She said it all with such casualness and certainty Mace couldn't help but stare.

Crossing her arms and folding her knees under her in a mirror image of him, Depa lifted a single eyebrow. "You cannot tell me you have not considered this?"

Mace bit back a wince. "Of course I have. Unfortunately that doesn't."

Depa cut him off. "Why not?"

If there was anyone who feared him less than Depa; excluding their green troll of a Grandmaster, Mace had yet to meet them. And now watching as she stared him down, Mace was torn between pride and indignity. "You know why." He gritted out, mindful to keep his voice even. "I'm Master of the Order. I will not have the time to train him properly. My duties are on Coruscant. Young Obi-Wan will need someone to go on missions with him, look out for him and I'm afraid I cannot do that."

If he'd thought his words would discourage his former student, he was wrong. Now she looked even more resolute than before he'd made his argument.

"May I remind you Obi-Wan is Senior Padawan. He does not require someone to hold his hand every step of the way." Here a ghost of a smile grace her lips. "He is only a year or so away from his Trials, Mace. He is supposed to take solo missions by now. You just need to oversee the remaining of his training, help him polish a couple of things and he'll be ready." Her eyes flickered with something too fast to detect. "Please Mace, at least think about it."

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Obi-Wan deserves someone who can devote their time on him," he said yet the idea running through his mind with possibilities.

Kenobi deserved better than what Mace could provide. Especially after Qui-Gon. Especially after the countless setbacks, traumas and horrors the kid had been through. He didn't deserve a Master who wouldn't always be there even if the kid only needed minimal help at this point. "I may not be what he needs?"

Now Depa was glaring at him. "Maybe it's about time people stopped assuming what is best for Obi-Wan and started giving him the chance to choose what he thinks is best for him? And maybe it's about time he received the knowledge that he is actually wanted for once in his life?!" The last words are said with such vehemence Mace is momentarily stunned.

Quickly as the anger came it vanished, leaving behind a sheepish smile and mildly apologetic eyes. But Depa did not take her words back.

Mace couldn't find it in himself to scold her. After all, wasn't that the root of Obi-Wan's issues? How everyone kept assuming what was best for him, never once listening to what he wanted?

Would it be wrong for Mace then to lay his cards on the table. To ask? The kid did not have to accept; although Mace would be disappointed if he didn't. But to ask, he could do that, couldn't he? Let the kid know that he wished to train him, had always seen the potential in him. Might have taken him on from the very beginning if Depa hadn't still been his Padawan. That he would see him to Knighthood if Kenobi let him. What would be the harm in that?

"When he's released from the Halls of Healing where will he go?"

The abrupt change in topic makes the Korun man blink up at his for Padawan in confusion.

"Without a Master," she continued eyes glinting with something. "He will be relocated to the Initiate dorms will he not?"

Mace was already shaking his head before the question had fully left her lips. "No."

"No?"

He nodded. "He will move in with me until a Master chooses to claimed him as a Padawan."

Now the glint in Depa's eyes are all but twinkling like stars but why…..

Mace own eyes widen in realization.

Oh

He hadn't thought much of it. Having just assumed Obi-Wan would stay with him until a Master stepped forward to accept him. Hadn't even contemplated putting the traumatized young man with the Initiates. In a way, he had already made his choice days ago, hadn't he? And of course Depa had see right through him to a part he hadn't even been aware off.

If he was a lesser man, Mace might have flushed red with embarrassment having essentially claimed Kenobi as his own Padawan without knowing. But he was Mace Windu, Master of the Order, so all he let himself get away with was a huff and a slight twitch of his mouth. "Looks like my mind has already decided what my head has yet to conclude."

Depa answering smile is teasing. "Seems so."

The relief that hits him at those words is almost staggering. Knocking into his chest and nearly toppling him back against the headrest.

He'd been worried, angry, concerned and at his wits end these past couple of weeks. Knowing he was letting Obi-Wan down every day he was politely rejected by another Master who'd seen Obi-Wan's records, heard of his repudiation and refused to take a chance on him. Knowing Qui-Gon repudiating him had essentially sealed the young man's faith. Feeling disgusted by the false rumours of Kenobi's insubordination, and having to go see him every evening watching the light flicker out of his eyes as each shred of hope he had of being a Knight was torn away from him.

In the end it was all so very simple wasn't it.

The minute the kid had looked at him with those eyes, Mace had known.

He would never let him go without a fight. Not Kenobi. Never Kenobi.

It didn't matter how busy his schedule was he would make time for Obi-Wan if he accepted him. No longer would he stand by and watch those hunched shoulders trailing after the rigged figure of one Qui-Gon Jinn. No longer would he stand by and let the kid be used to wash away someone else's darkness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi would be his Padawan.

Overwhelmed by the sheer sense of calmness that washed over him, Mace momentarily closed his eyes and breathed. Releasing all the emotions clinging to him into the force. Worry, anger, fear, concern, care and most of all pure, unwavering protectiveness.

If he had something to say about it, and he did. Qui-Gon would never step a foot near the kid ever again.

"Do you think he will take to Vaapad as quickly as you did?" He asked as his composure fell into place and his eyes sought out his former student.

The startled laugh that burst out of Depa made a sharp smile twist at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe Soresu is more is speed," she lightly jabbed back.

Tilting his head; playful for those who knew to spot the miniscule changes in his expression, Mace glared. "Don't you even think about interfering Kenobi's lightsaber studies behind my back."

Depa looked amused. "Wouldn't dream of it."  But then the mirth vanished and gave way to contentment. "It would be nice," she said. "Finally having a Padawan sibling."

Mace found himself smiling, gentler this time. "It would."

They share a smile before Depa is on her feet, making her way to the door. "Best to inform Obi-Wan of your decision as soon as possible," she called over her shoulder. "He'll be out of the Halls in three days time."

Mace stared and stared. And then, stared some more.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he said out loud, not quite believing she managed to manipulate him so thoroughly . "You came here today to coax me into accepting Kenobi as my apprentice."

Depa doesn't look back at him, but she doesn't have to. The Force danced around her with mirth and shades of guilt for having deceived him. The Korun man could only let himself shake his head, heart tugging with pride at how much his little spitfire had grown while also frowning in realization. "Depa." he said firmly, but his former Padawan was already palming open the door.

"Don't be like that Master," she said turning back to give him a final look, the familiar title she only used sparingly coming out of her mouth with overflowing warmth and fondness. "We both know I only guided you to the decision you wanted to make all along."

She was right. Still,

"I don't like to be manipulated Padawan mine."

She only smiled. Mischief in her eyes and a single dimple creasing her left cheek before she was gone, vanishing out the door.

Mace was left sitting alone in his living room. A mirroring smile painting his lips and chest for the first time since Naboo filled with nothing but anticipated flicker of hope.

To go from being repudiated one day to being the Padawan of Mace Windu, Master of the Order few weeks later….. Kenobi would have hell of a time trying to compute the insanity of the news coming his way tomorrow.

Mace hoped Obi-Wan Kenobi he slept well tonight for both their sakes.

The next couple of weeks would be….. Hectic to say the least.

The end

Believe it or not the idea that Depa's preferred form is Soresu is half the reason why I wrote this fic. Just her taking Obi as her unofficial baby brother and helping him on his path to becoming a Master at Soresu makes me all giddy, so here you have it.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #mace windu #qui gon a+ parenting #seriously if you like him avoid reading this #depa billaba #padawan obi wan #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfic chapter 1 #Mace is best dad #my very first long star wars fic so be kind please #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi

[acioo]

anybody who knows anything about me will be able to tell you i spend a bunch of my time ice skating & i’ve never seen a guide on how to write a character that figure skates , so i thought i’d compile some tips & explain things , because my whole childhood i was travelling across the country to spin on ice with nothing on but a leotard & some tights , and now i have nothing but a bunch of tacky costumes and this post to show for it . this is pretty in-depth , about 2.5k words , but if you have any questions about specific aspects or want me to clarify anything , feel free to shoot me an ask . oh & a like  or reblog if you found this helpful would be sweet ! tw : injury, mental illness, eating disorders

most people that wind up as figure skaters started ridiculously young. i was probably six, but at my rink, we train kids as young as four and five. if your character has competed professionally at a state-wide level or up, they most likely started super young and have been professionally trained. figure skating is not a sport that you can do casually, most of the time. ice skating, casually, however, totally different thing. but competitive figure skating, being on a figure skating team, and the like, it’s a lot of effort, time, and discipline. in a lot of families, it’s a tradition to teach your kids to ice skate. at my rink, there’s a lot of people who come from slavic families whose parents signed them up - or athlete parents in gen. so, if your character is SUPER GOOD, they’ve put hundreds of hours of work into it, and have years of practice. it is not something you can pick up in a day, and i’d even say you have to be at it for at least two years before you get good good, and it takes a while to even become comfortable on the ice before you can start to do any kind of trick - THAT is why they start young, so by the time we’re pre-teens, we’re really, really good. the problem happens, famously, at puberty, because your balance gets knocked off, your bones are growing, and you have to basically relearn everything you know.

there are so many different types of figure skating. i specialize in singles, but i’ve done showcase and solo dance ( but both of those skills are more for me to be a well-rounded skater, not for competing ), and would sometimes be put into pairs to help learn skills and work together. you NEED to be in one of these categories for competition because they are what all comps are based upon. singles is, as you think, one single ice skater individually doing their routine. singles will do various dances, jumps, spins, etc. i won't lie, it’s hard, and really, really competitive. singles is the most competitive of all these categories. it’s usually a short program ( jumping, spinning, steps - the easier portion of competition because it’s really just a routine that you need to get down pat so you can boost your score. you will learn to do it in your sleep. ) and then a free skate ( longer than the other, it’s more complicated and difficult ). pair skating is really, really difficult, tbh, and you need a good relationship with whoever you are doing it with because there’s a lot of trust involved. it’s hard to break into pair skating because you need a partner that you’re equal to in skill and you like as a person. you guys spend a lot of time together and you need to get along. you guys need to be equally proficient at ice skating. most pairs get put together when they’re still very young. it’s very difficult to from singles to becoming a pair skater. it’s two skaters and they skate around each other, they lift each other, and move in synchronized patterns. it’s highly technical, like all figure skating, but it is more difficult because you have to keep in mind both your own feet and someone else’s. you do NOT want to bump skates with someone. at best, that is very uncomfortable. at usual/worse, you’re both about to eat shit on ice. in pair skating the partner that lifts needs SO much strength. like, so much. i’ve tried to lift fellow skaters, who are the same weight as me, and it’s near fucking impossible for me. ice skates are HEAVY and skaters have a lot of lower body muscle. we are not light people. for example, once time my team and i were out of practice and just skating around and we started playing around and i did a cartwheel on ice and i fell very hard. wiped tf out. and that’s me, trying to handle my own weight. like singles, it’s a free skate and a short program. pair skating is typically male + female ( what a sad world, i know ), but i encourage every writer to take some suspending of reality. ice dance is, basically, dancing. it’s a lot more performative than other types of skating. it’s done in pairs, but can be performed alone, in a different category called solo dance. in the nicest way possible, singles/pair skaters usually look down a bit on ice dancers because it’s a bit less technical, and doesn’t have any jumps of lifts. but ! that doesn’t mean it’s easy because it’s not. it’s rooted in ballroom dancing and they have two parts of competition: rhythm dance and free dance. fun fact: pair ice dancers scott moir and tessa virtue, who are famous to be suspected dating, are the reason we had a no dating rule at the rink. showcase ice skating is usually for some kind of platform, or in front of a large crowd. i’ve done showcase for investors for our rink. there’s usually costumes involved ( there are costumes for all competitions, but their costumes are more, like, theatre - y ), and props, and acting. it’s actually very fun to watch, but you need acting skill. theatre on ice, however, is just what it sounds like. theatre on ice is popular with children and good for ways to show off an entire team of skaters, because you can have eight to thirty skaters on the ice. they can also compete and they can go international, but they aren’t in the olympics and there aren’t many competitions for them. it’s usually just a fun way to get together with your teammates, bond, and then show off what you did.

so, competitions. super complicated, and as a writer, i suggest really glossing over them, because it’s difficult to get it down completely right. there are nonqualifying and qualifying comps. the difference is that in qualifying competitions, you’re looking to start moving up, basically, so if you qualify in the first one, you go onto the next one, then state eventually, then national, and so on. you start with regionals ( singles ) /  sectionals ( pairs and ice dancers ). then, if you succeed, you go to sectional singles / pairs + ice dance finals. the goal is to get on the national team ( i’ve watched ameatur skaters tell other rinkmates they want to compete in the olympics - it was NOT pretty ), basically. which, let me say this. it is nowhere. near. easy. like, just go into youtube and search “ yuzuru hanyu “ ( gold medal in pyeongchang olympics for mens singles ) and watch ANY of his performances. now he’s the gold medalist, right. he started at four years old. so let’s go smaller. google elsa cheng and watch one of her routines. she’s a member of the us national figure skating team. she’s fifteen. YEAH. not an easy sport. nonqualifying is more laid back and for fun, or trophies. nonqualifying is also a way to practice before you enter into qualifying. competitions are really nerve-racking. it’ll cause stress between you and your rinkmates, because more often than not you’re going against one another. you and your coach will usually spend all the prep season creating your two programs, which you will almost always repeat in every single competition you attend. i have about 20 different routines stored in the back of my head. sometimes my coach would give us exercises of coming up with a routine during a time restraint. my friend junior learned a routine that was on yuri on ice. 

for competitions you arrive, you get ready. you’re almost always wearing some kind of elaborate costume/dress leotard thingy. this is a time to start getting mentally ready, talk to your friends, and do each other’s hair and makeup. costumes are bought way ahead of time, and are usually related to the theme of your routine. you do NOT want a wardrobe malfunction. it’ll mess you up & you’ll lose precious points. your hair will most likely always be back and, more often than not, braided or in a bun. the comp will begin and you have a practice session so that you can get warmed up and ready. it’s not long. you will get the music for your program played one by one, and you rehearse - this is usually to check to make sure your music is right & to get acclimated to the ice then you get off the ice and another group will warm up. your coach can’t be on the ice whatsoever, and has to stay outside the rink. usually, competition order is done by a random draw. one by one, you will do your routine. no one but you can be on the ice. then you go off to the “ kiss and cry “ ( because you’re either about to celebrate or get your ear chewed off by an adult in a tracksuit ) where your score gets announced. then, competition continues. your warmup + when you start is not based on how you placed in the last part of the comp ( usually started with lowest ) and you perform the second routine. then, and this is usually determined by like how serious the competition you're going to, but there are trophies handed out, a podium ceremony is held, or medals or flowers are given out. my coach would always make the team pose together after competitions and go out to eat - lots of coaches hold bonding exercises esp after comps. if we did well, we could skip our 9 am practice. if we did poorly, the team meets up at a local park and runs the three-mile trail, and then they do technical corrections at the rink. after your medal/etc ceremony, you’re done. sometimes the top people will perform, but by that time you’re usually exhausted and want to sleep for a billion years ( or, if you did really well, you want to go eat 15 ihop pancakes and conquer the world ). the competition season is from august to april. this is a BASE of what happens. it’s different at different kinds of competitions and for different categories of skating, but it’s almost always something like this. offseason is for practice, rest, and fun, basically, but if you're a serious skater, by the time you’re hitting july, you’re spending more time at the rink than at home. the most well-known and the hardest competitions to qualify for are the grand prix, europeans ( european championships ), worlds ( world championships ), and the, of course, olympics.

another aspect of almost any professional sport is injury. think about any ice skating routine you’ve seen. there is no protection. you’re wearing a thin sheer leotard. you have basically knives on your feet. it’s VERY easy to get yourself beat up by ice. the ice is very hard and not very forgiving. meaning, if you hit, you hit hard. you usually are putting a lot of force into it, too, because you’re falling. don’t even get me started on the BRUISING. you will look like you have gone thru something, all the time. ice skates, which have to sharpened routinely, are, as you imagine, SHARP AS FUCK. knife shoes. i’ve been recreationally skating, because i work at a rink, and just monitoring the skaters and usually messing around with my rinkmates, and i fell, and i sliced open my thigh. i didn’t need stitches, or anything, but there was blood everywhere. very gross. ( ask abt this answered here ! ) and i wasn’t even doing anything particularly hard. and this has happened before. they WILL cut you. ankle injuries are super common. i’ve seen someone break their ankle feet away from me. i’ve twisted my left ankle five times. as for dislocations, they also happen a lot. when i was twelve, i was at the top of my figure skating career. i was qualifying to competition after competition. during a regular, normal practice, i was doing a jump i had usually aced, and i landed the wrong way and i dislocated my knee and blacked out. it’s a very disgusting injury and extremely, extremely painful. like, a good 50k in hospital bills for the surgery to fix it. i was very good and it was my favorite activity on the planet, but it was so awful that i quit. when i was fourteen, i started skating again, joined my team, etc, etc, but it was very difficult to recover from. and that’s a very common story. most people get injured and they have to stop. i know a girl who got a bunch of concussions, and wasn’t able to skate. i’ve been concussed on the ice. people tear their acls or their hip. we have a sports medic at all figure skating practices and comps. and a lot of injuries, once you hurt something, you will hurt it again because you made it weak. we are all very flexible but overuse will make your bones brittle. there’s also stress fractures and different things you can get from just overworking your muscles. shin splints, tendonitis, jumpers knee, etc. you name an overuse injury, and i’ve had it. i was one so exhausted after practice that i laid down on the ice and cried until my coach ( who i love very dearly ) gave me a bag of skittles and told me to suck it up. that’s not saying my coach is a bitch ( john mulaney vc my coach is a bitch and i like her so much ), that’s to say there is no break, no stopping. you get better, and move on, or you quit.

as-is with basically any competitive sport, if you get serious, you will probably go onto some sort of diet along with it. you want to be eating a lot of nutritional stuff ( granola bars are HOARDED in my locker room & to this day i gag at the sight of protein shakes ), anything with a lot of calcium ( because we do be breaking bones ! ), and iron. i used to eat pasta before comps ( like wayyy before not an hr or anything ) because it gives you ~energy~. you need to be eating a lot because you’re exercising a lot. gatorade is banned by my coach because it's so much sugar. you need to drink so. much. water. we all take a bunch of vitamins. usually will eat chicken / meat in general. but keep in mind, like any sport in which you are cutting things from your diet / eating specific things / etc, it can easily lead to an unhealthy relationship with food. there’s a lot of shitty mindsets you will encounter with coaches and fellow competitors about what weight a figure skater should be, and it's even worse in pair skating ( because of lifts ). when i was eleven, one of my old coaches told me that she hoped i never hit puberty because it’d fuck up my balance & when i did i cried. a fellow competitor once told me she wished she had my “ figure skater “ body ( and at this point of my life, i had very unhealthy eating habits ). another time a group of older kids made fun of how gangly i was while i was in earshot. the amt of times my coach has SCREAMED at ice skaters for making fun of / putting down fellow ice skaters is astronomical. it’s rough. a lot of figure skaters have opened up about how figure skating caused / contributed to their mental illness. it’s very easy to fall into because of how “ perfect “ you need to be. you can look up various figure skaters stories on this: adam rippon, gracie gold, and yulia vyacheslavovna - a very famous one as it was part of the reason her career ended & she was the youngest ever skating gold medalist. and i will say, personally, my unhealthy relationship with food ( that would eventually lead to lots o problems & i still feel the impact of today ) began when i was figure skating. there are other risk factors for mental illness as well because there’s so much focus on winning / losing. more than once, competitions would give me panic attacks because of the great stress.

another thing is MONEY. as fucked up as it is, you need money, or a grant, if you want to get good. you need expensive skates, costumes, travel fees, and more. my pro figure skates, not my casual ones, cost upwards of 300, and that’s low balling it. when i was ten, my parents spent upwards of 10k on figure skating. there are rink fees, there are competition fees, there are coaching fees. it adds up extremely quickly. i know a lot of skaters who stopped competing because it was just too expensive. i work for my rink by teaching classes and monitoring open skates and additional things, but if i added up every single dollar i ever made, it would be nowhere near enough to pay for everything. but the thing is, if you get really good, you can make money off of competitions, but getting there is the hard part. at one point in my life, my parents were paying $100 an hour for my private coach who i was seeing multiple days a week. figure skaters also oftentimes will take additional classes to help. my coach made the entire junior team take ballet one year. i took a ton of gymnastic classes as well to help with skating.

so, who are the kind of people that ARE figure skaters ? what do we act like ? there’s a lot of stereotypes that figure skaters are cold people. that’s not necessarily true. i would say that we are extremely competitive people. i’ve seen rinkmates get into full-blown fights during competitions. one of my best friends, who i met at my rink once i returned from my hiatus, HATED me because she knew i was competition. we are on-edge.  stakes are high and the pressure is on. a lot of us are very perfectionistic because you sort of got to be to get to our level. we can have control issues and we can become easily frustrated if we flop jumps or keep stuttering coming out of a spin. the other stereotype is that we are super delicate little flowers. probably because of the way we have to move. realistically, we’re a tactile bunch of people who would probably wind up hurting someone if we played hockey. ( another stereotype : figure skaters and hockey kids. the closest i’ve gotten to a hockey player is the one time i threatened to quick him in the nads because they came early and insisted we get off the rink. ) we all love skating and have a lot of fun while doing it. it’s dangerous, and that’s part of the thrill. speeding around the rink at extremely high speeds is, honestly, exhilirating. we love our sport and, though we can get on each other's nerves, love our rinkmates. it’s not easy, but it’s our favorite thing to do.

#writing guide #character guide #sport guide #rph #rpt #i wrote this in a shakespearean fury #can u tell i miss my rink : ( #i should be doing finals ! #ch: axel mendoza

[mytwilightimagines13]

Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Fifteen)(Alec Volturi)

The final witness

Then Alice danced into the clearing from the southwest, Jasper was only inches behind her, his sharp eyes fierce. Close after them ran three strangers; the first was a tall, muscular female with wild dark hair - obviously Kachiri. She had the same elongated limbs and features as the other Amazons, even more pronounced in her case. The next was a small olive-toned female vampire with a long braid of black hair bobbing against her back. Her deep burgundy eyes flitted nervously around the confrontation before her. And the last was a young man... not quite as fast nor quite as fluid in his run. His skin was an impossible rich, dark brown. His wary eyes flashed across the gathering, and they were the color of warm teak. His hair was black and braided, too, like the woman's, though not as long. He was beautiful. As he neared the vampires in the meadow, a new sound sent shock waves through the watching crowd - the sound of another heartbeat, accelerated with exertion. Alice leaped lightly over the edges of the dissipating mist that lapped at Bella’s shield and came to a sinuous stop at Edward's side. Bella reached out to touch her arm, and so did Edward, Esme, Carlisle. There wasn't time for any other welcome. Jasper and the others followed her through the shield. All the guard watched, speculation in their eyes, as the latecomers crossed the invisible border without difficulty. The brawny ones, Felix and the others like him, focused their suddenly hopeful eyes on Bella. They had not been sure of what her shield repelled, but it was clear now that it would not stop a physical attack. As soon as Aro gave the order, the blitz would ensue her. Edward, despite his absorption in the coup he was directing, stiffened furiously in response to their thoughts. He controlled himself and spoke to Aro again. "Alice has been searching for her own witnesses these last weeks," he said to the ancient. "And she does not come back empty-handed. Alice, why don't you introduce the witnesses you've brought?" Caius snarled. "The time for witnesses is past! Cast your vote, Aro!" Aro raised one finger to silence his brother, his eyes glued to Alice's face. Alice stepped forward lightly and introduced the strangers. "This is Huilen and her nephew, Nahuel."  Caius's eyes tightened as Alice named the relationship between the newcomers. The Volturi witnesses hissed amongst themselves, including Jane and Alec, but Maeryn did not join them once again. She felt intrigued by the newcomers. So there were more male vampires impregnating female humans.  The vampire world was changing, and everyone could feel it. "Speak, Huilen," Aro commanded. "Give us the witness you were brought to bear." The slight woman looked to Alice nervously. Alice nodded in encouragement, and Kachiri put her long hand on the little vampire's shoulder. "I am Huilen," the woman announced in clear but strangely accented English. As she continued, it was apparent she had prepared herself to tell this story, that she had practiced. It flowed like a well-known nursery rhyme. "A century and a half ago, I lived with my people, the Mapuche. My sister was Pire. Our parents named her after the snow on the mountains because of her fair skin. And she was very beautiful - too beautiful. She came to me one day in secret and told me of the angel that found her in the woods, that visited her by night. I warned her." Huilen shook her head mournfully. "As if the bruises on her skin were not warning enough. I knew it was the Libishomen of our legends, but she would not listen. She was bewitched. "She told me when she was sure her dark angel's child was growing inside her. I didn't try to discourage her from her plan to run away - I knew even our father and mother would agree that the child must be destroyed, Pire with it. I went with her into the deepest parts of the forest. She searched for her demon angel but found nothing. I cared for her, hunted for her when her strength failed. She ate the animals raw, drinking their blood. I needed no more confirmation of what she carried in her womb. I hoped to

save her life before I killed the monster. But she loved the child inside her. She called him Nahuel, after the jungle cat, when he grew strong and broke her bones - and loved him still. I could not save her. The child ripped his way free of her, and she died quickly, begging all the while that I would care for her Nahuel. Her dying wish - and I agreed. He bit me, though, when I tried to lift him from her body. I crawled away into the jungle to die. I didn't get far - the pain was too much. But he found me; the newborn child struggled through the underbrush to my side and waited for me. When the pain ended, he was curled against my side, sleeping. I cared for him until he was able to hunt for himself. We hunted the villages around our forest, staying to ourselves. We have never come so far from our home, but Nahuel wished to see the child here." Huilen bowed her head when she was finished and moved back so she was partially hidden behind Kachiri. Aro's lips were pursed. He stared at the dark-skinned youth. "Nahuel, you are one hundred and fifty years old?" he questioned. "Give or take a decade," he answered in a clear, beautifully warm voice. His accent was barely noticeable. "We don't keep track." "And you reached maturity at what age?" "About seven years after my birth, more or less, I was full grown." "You have not changed since then?" Nahuel shrugged. "Not that I've noticed." "And your diet?" Aro pressed, seeming interested in spite of himself. "Mostly blood, but some human food, too. I can survive on either." "You were able to create an immortal?" As Aro gestured to Huilen, his voice was abruptly intense. Bella refocused on her shield, but Maeryn no longer paid attention. This was something new to her kind, something interesting. And she wanted to know every last bit of it. "Yes, but none of the rest can." A shocked murmur ran through all three groups. Aro's eyebrows shot up. "The rest?" "My sisters." Nahuel shrugged again. Aro stared wildly for a moment before composing his face. "Perhaps you would tell us the rest of your story, for there seems to be more." Nahuel frowned. "My father came looking for me a few years after my mother's death." His handsome face distorted slightly. "He was pleased to find me." Nahuel's tone suggested the feeling was not mutual. "He had two daughters, but no sons. He expected me to join him, as my sisters had. He was surprised I was not alone. My sisters are not venomous, but whether that's due to gender or a random chance... who knows? I already had my family with Huilen, and I was not interested" - he twisted the word - "in making a change. I see him from time to time. I have a new sister; she reached maturity about ten years back." "Your father's name?" Caius asked through gritted teeth. "Joham," Nahuel answered. "He considers himself a scientist. He thinks he's creating a new super-race." He made no attempt to disguise the disgust in his tone. Maeryn shared this feeling. It indeed was disgusting. Caius looked at Bella. "Your daughter, is she venomous?" he demanded harshly. "No," Bella responded. Nahuel's head snapped up at Aro's question, and his teak eyes turned to bore into Bella’s face. Caius looked to Aro for confirmation, but Aro was absorbed in his own thoughts. He pursed his lips and stared at Carlisle, and then Edward, and at last his eyes rested on Bella. Caius growled. "We take care of the aberration here, and then follow it south," he urged Aro. Aro stared into Bella’s eyes for a long, tense moment. Maeryn had no idea what he was searching for in Bella’s eyes, or what he found, but after he had measured her for that moment, something in his face changed, a faint shift in the set of his mouth and eyes, and Maeryn knew that Aro had made his decision. "Brother," he said softly to Caius. "There appears to be no danger. This is an unusual development, but I see no threat. These half-vampire children are much like us, it appears." "Is that your vote?" Caius demanded. "It is." Caius scowled. "And this Joham? This immortal so fond of experimentation?" "Perhaps we

should speak with him," Aro agreed. "Stop Joham if you will," Nahuel said flatly. "But leave my sisters be. They are innocent." Aro nodded, his expression solemn. And then he turned back to his guard with a warm smile. "Dear ones," he called. "We do not fight today." The guard nodded in unison and straightened out of their ready positions. The mist dissipated swiftly, but Bella held her shield in place. She analyzed their expressions as Aro turned back to them. His face was as benign as ever, but unlike before, there could be a strange blankness sensed behind the facade. As if his scheming was over. Caius was clearly incensed, but his rage was turned inward now; he was resigned. Marcus looked... bored; there really was no other word for it. The guard was impassive and disciplined again; there were no individuals among them, just the whole. They were in formation, ready to depart. Once Alec’s mist had returned to himself, Maeryn took off the glove of her right hand, showing her porcelain skin to the sun. Alec did the same to the glove on his left hand and grabbed Maeryn’s hand tightly. It felt good to feel each other’s skin touch one another. Now they could feel their connection much better than before. The Volturi witnesses were still wary; one after another, they departed, scattering into the woods. As their numbers dwindled, the remaining sped up. Soon they were all gone. Aro held his hands out to the foes, almost apologetic. Behind him, the larger part of the guard, along with Caius, Marcus, and the silent, mysterious wives, were already drifting quickly away, their formation precise once again. Only the three that seemed to be his personal guardians lingered with him. "I'm so glad this could be resolved without violence," he said sweetly. "My friend, Carlisle - how pleased I am to call you friend again! I hope there are no hard feelings. I know you understand the strict burden that our duty places on our shoulders." "Leave in peace, Aro," Carlisle said stiffly. "Please remember that we still have our anonymity to protect here, and keep your guard from hunting in this region." "Of course, Carlisle," Aro assured him. "I am sorry to earn your disapproval, my dear friend. Perhaps, in time, you will forgive me." "Perhaps, in time, if you prove a friend to us again." Aro bowed his head, the picture of remorse, and drifted backward for a moment before he turned around. The foes watched in silence as the last four Volturi disappeared into the trees.

Once back in the castle, Jane, Alec and Maeryn made their way towards Jane’s room. Jane was boiling with anger and she threw some expensive vases against the wall on their way to her room. Maeryn and Alec skillfully avoided the porcelain shatters and followed their sister to her room. Once inside, Jane grabbed her pillow and ripped it in half. Alec let go of Maeryn’s hand and pulled his sister in a tight embrace. Jane used her gift on him, but Alec kept on holding her, not once making a sound of agony. Soon enough Jane calmed down, and as soon as Alec released her, she fell onto her bed that was now covered in feathers. She picked one up and studied its form with her magnified sight, seeing every little detail. “Don’t fret sister, there will be a day we can defeat them.” Alec said. “At a moment when they least expect it.” Jane said, slowly grinning again. "We got all eternity to plan it ." Maeryn said to Alec and Jane. Both the twins grinned. Maeryn grinned along, though she could not shake off the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

#alec volturi #volturi #volturi imagine #athenodora volturi #twilight imagine #twilight

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Part 2

Charles Vane x Reader, slow burn adventure/romance, written in a series of short scenes.

Part One Here

This episode’s prompt: “ “I thought they’d killed you. I lost my temper.”

The sea spray leaves the taste of salt on your lips as the ship crashes through another unexpected wave. It feels good to be sailing again, even with a crew you were all but press-ganged to join, and even with the weather now threatening to turn dangerous.

You had pled for mercy for Captain Fisher’s life, and those of his men. They had been your crew for going on five years, and though the plan to steal the cargo from Vane’s ship had been a foolish one, you couldn’t just let them die for it. That moment in which you watched Captain Vane’s eyes smolder while he considered your plea had been the longest one of your life. “So long as they leave Nassau,” he had finally said. “They leave, and you stay.”

You watch your new captain now, down on the deck below, alternately barking orders at the men and peering up at the darkening clouds moving in from the southeast. His heavy brow and bold cheekbones give his face a rugged sort of handsomeness, like he was carved by gods more primal than the Christian one, out of tougher stuff than other men. No one in Nassau knew where Vane had come from, only that he rose through the ranks of Blackbeard’s crew and barreled through the island like a storm.

He catches you looking at him, and responds only by calmly staring back. He looks at you too much. He has not yet been crude, but you fear you know what it means regardless.

It’s hard for a woman to survive as a pirate without becoming somebody’s woman. It would be safer that way, too. Easier. Anne Bonny may be an absolute hellcat, but surely the place she’s carved out on this crew stays comfortable because everyone knows she’s the quartermaster’s woman. It would be easier to have that kind of protection yourself, too, but the idea rankles you. You joined the pirating life because you wanted independence. You made it on the last crew because of your quick wit, and because your skills with celestial navigation were unique and indispensable. Although it helped that the captain was married to your sister and treated you like kin.

You had assumed those skills were the reason Vane wanted you for his own crew, as well. Very few people in this life are educated enough to read the charts and almanacs, to decipher the celestial bodies and figure a precise location in the middle of the ocean. But he looks at you too much. This may be an uglier trap than you had thought.

A lock of hair that escaped your braid flies across your face. The prevailing winds are changing. Perhaps the only thing this particular long look signifies is Vane’s awareness that this storm means the course you’ve been marking out for him will have to be corrected. The course that, if the weather doesn’t blow you too far off from, will take you to meet the intended course of a merchant vessel, whose schedule just happened to fall into Vane’s hands, much farther out from land than most pirating crews would ever hope to be able to find.

You’re already up here to take the noon measurements, but the sun is not quite at its zenith. Once you have the number, a flurry of calculations will follow, and you’ll give Vane your course corrections based on precisely where on the open ocean this ship is located right now, and where the other ship is most likely to be. But you’re already feeling extra tension in your chest looking at those thick clouds; if they cover the sun before you’re certain it has reached its apex, your faulty measurements could throw your course off by miles. And if that storm catches the Ranger, all you can do is wait for the skies to clear to figure where the hell it has blown you. Your chest tightens further when you see the captain mounting the steps to come up to your deck.

Even though you had intended to wait a little longer to take the next measurement, you find yourself lifting the backstaff toward the horizon again while you listen to Vane’s boots approaching you from behind. It’s careful work, to line up the sun’s shadow as the deck rolls in the waves. And it’s only getting more difficult as the nearby storm makes the sea choppier.

“Nineteen point three, and…” You mutter the numbers under your breath as you get them, not wanting to forget the figures before you have a chance to write them down. “Eighty-two point four.”

“Is that what you were expecting?” Vane is standing so unexpectedly close behind you that you jump at the sound of his rumbling voice.

You step away from him, quite deliberately, as you answer his question. “I’m not certain that’s the precise number we’re looking for, but yes, I believe we are still on-course.”

Vane closes a little of the space you had drawn between your bodies. But not enough to be worthy of further correction. “You look worried.”

The last thing a woman trying to hold her own on a ship should do, is admit vulnerability. You roll your eyes at him. “Fuck off. This is not my first storm at sea.”

A smile cracks the captain’s stony face at your response. “Fair enough.” He looks to the south. “We should be able to skirt the edge of that one without much difficulty.” His heavy gaze falls back on you, a sudden gust of wind pulling at his long, twisted locks. “But it will take us off the course we’ve been plotting.”

Usually you have no trouble looking a man in the eye; it’s something particular to Vane that has you dropping your head. You draw your little notebook from its pocket to excuse the movement. “Now who’s the one that’s worried? It’s no problem. I can correct for that just as soon as we get another sighting after it’s passed.” You flip to an open page, and lift your pencil. 19.3, you write, and then… “Fuck me, what was that last number?” Normally you have a good memory. The captain is just being too damn distracting.

You hear Vane chuckle. You refuse to look up. “If I tell you, do I get to?”

It takes you a half a second to run back through the precise words you just said, and catch his meaning. Your voice turns acid. “If you are not going to be helpful, then get out of my way. I am attempting to do the very work you pressed me into service on this ship in order to perform.”

Vane rocks back on his heels. “Is that what I did.”

Your exhale is a sharp burst of irritation, on many, many levels. “You can’t say you gave me much of a choice, about joining this crew.”

You risk a glance directly at Vane’s face again. He looks pensive, behind the general air of aggressiveness that usually suffuses his features. “You’ll be happier here,” he growls out after completing his thought.

You arch an eyebrow at him, just about as high as it will go.

“You were wasted on the Starling.”

 ~*~

 Every pirating crew hopes to avoid violence. They ready themselves for it, bristling with threat and menace as they wait for the ships to close tight enough for boarding, but the most preferable option is negotiation, always, with a prompt surrender on the part of their quarry before any blood is spilt.

That ideal outcome is not playing out today. This merchant vessel’s crew must have been largely made up of former naval soldiers, given the competence with which they are resisting Vane’s vanguard, and the discipline you are observing in their ranks from atop the Ranger’s quarter deck.

“Get belowdecks,” Jack Rakham, standing by your side and watching the battle just as closely, suddenly urges you.

“What? Why?” you bristle on reflex.

Jack interrupts himself to bark orders across the locked sides of the ships: “Watch those riflemen! Aft!” Three men peel off the main fighting to interrupt the knot of sailors that Jack had spied franticly reloading near the back of the other vessel.

You raise your chin as one of Vane’s crewmen severs a man’s arm at the elbow with a deft strike of his axe. “I assure you, I am not squeamish.” You are accustomed to observing the fighting from one of the higher decks with your old crew. On just about every run, unless… Jack’s fingers close tightly around your elbow. With a little shove, he directs your gaze.

A knot of enraged seamen are pushing through the Ranger’s men, dangerously close to one of the gangplanks connecting the ships. “If they get across, you’re a target,” Jack says sternly. “Seeing as you are not disguising your sex. Hide yourself. Now.”

You’d been held hostage once before. It was not a pleasant experience, for you or for your crew. You forgive Jack for shoving you as you start to make your way down.

The fear starts to set in as you scramble toward the ladder that leads to the lower deck; enemy boots stomp onto the Ranger just before your head disappears down the hatch. You hope that Jack, or some of the other men still aboard, notice in time to resist them, but that officer’s eyes landed on you with heavy interest as you scurried away. It seems likely they are indeed intent on a hostage.

The long knife you keep belted to your waist is in your hand as you scurry through the belly of the Ranger. You whip your head and turn back and forth in the muted light belowdecks, changing your course more than once in a way that you are dimly aware signifies panic. This is not your ship. This is not your home. You don’t know where to hide in this unfamiliar place.

Booted feet are pounding somewhere behind you. No way to know if they are friend or foe. And would your new crewmen even care enough to defend you? You duck into the doorway ahead of you and then put your back to the wall beside it, clutching your knife to your chest and readying to ambush anyone that comes through after you.

Your eyes land on a bed, bolted into the bulkhead. You’ve somehow chosen the captain’s cabin in which to hide. Not that it means much more than that you ran straight to the back of the ship. You’re much more concerned with getting your breathing under control, until your great gasps are not making quite so much noise, so you can listen to the sounds of approaching feet.

A figure steps through the door, and your knife flashes out with barely any choice on your part. You bury it almost to the hilt in his chest. You may not be one to ever storm another ship in the vanguard, but you’ve been training to defend yourself for years. You wrench it out of him and blood flies as the startled man stares down at you, not even realizing he’s already dead.

His last earthly act is to attempt to grab you about the arms, which unfortunately means that when his body sags into dead weight, he’s falling directly into you. You had got the knife free to stab again, but that’s not going to help you against his two hundred pounds of inertia. You have to twist with him in a macabre dance, his life’s blood still spurting, in order to not be knocked directly to the floor.

Which, unfortunately, puts your back to his fellows, rushing into the room after him. You hear a couple of enraged voices screaming at you and then a sharp crack, which instantly creates a thundershock of pain reverberating up from the back of your skull before everything goes dark.

 You wake to shouting, then screams. Ugly, ragged, tortured ones, of men too far gone in pain to retain either sense or hope. You feel your body, laying flat on the deck, and a splitting headache that rouses you quickly to consciousness. The sun is harsh against your eyes. Somehow you’ve gotten abovedeck again.

You lift your head; you don’t quite feel ready to move anything else. Your eyes focus dully on a dead man’s face in front of you, his cheek wet in a pool of blood that’s slowly expanding. You don’t know him.

Somewhere past your feet, you hear a voice call “Mercy.” The only response is a bestial snarl and then the wet sound of something slamming over and over again into meat.

You know that snarl. There’s only one voice in the West Indies pitched like that, rasping over blown-out vocal chords. You push up on your hands and look over at the men fighting less than two paces away from you.

The fight is over. Vane hacks once more with his cutlass and the head of the man who was just begging for his life drops to the deck and rolls.

It looks like most of the crew is back on the Ranger. How long had you been knocked out? “Captain…” comes the voice of Jack Rakham, and he’s pointing at you.

Vane’s face is feral as he turns, his long hair matted up with other men’s blood, sweat glistening on his exposed chest. His eyes widen, and your name falls from his lips. He takes a long step toward you, and drops to his knees at your side.

“Are you wounded?” His voice is low, and you’re surprised at the concern you see in his steady gaze.

You push with your hands so you can sit up on one hip, then reach up to the back of your head. “Quite a lump here,” you report, wincing.

Vane reaches to your chest, pinching up a bit of the fabric of your shirt. The whole front of it is soaked red with blood.

“That’s not mine.”

Vane lifts one scarred brow.

“You’ll find the first of the men that came after me belowdecks, with a hole in his chest.”

Your captain nods, looking pleased.

You notice that several sprawling corpses surround you on the deck, each one a red ruin, hacked more brutally than would have been needed to kill them. The would-be hostage takers? You look back at Vane for answers.

“When I saw them dragging you up here, covered in blood, I thought they’d killed you.” Now it’s your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “I lost my temper.”

Your chest fills with some unexpected emotion that feels rather too complex for you to even attempt to sort out. “You can’t be losing the asset you just went to such lengths to attain for your crew,” you say wryly.

Captain Vane fixes you with eyes as blue and deep as the sea. “No one else could have guided us this far out to meet the prize,” he acknowledges. “But I have a feeling I’ve only barely begun to discover your worth.”

Part 3 Here

Notes: if you liked this, thank @acebreathesfire too, she’s my source on navigation facts and basically has been co-creating this OC with me. If not for her encouragement none of this fic would have happened!!!

Taglist is open: @acebreathesfire @kind-wolf @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen you are all pressganged into this ship but anyone else is free to request to be put on the list!! Also I am creating this series entirely out of prompt fill drabbles, so if you come across any dialogue prompts you think would inspire good chapters, please pass them my way!!

Link to More Vane Action

#charles vane x reader #charles vane imagine #black sails fanfic #captain vane #charles vane #the heart of admiration fic

[oceansmelodysblog]

Hyrule High School

Promotional fiction for @zelquiwi​ ‘s fanart on Twitter

Chapter 1

Zelda said goodbye to her ballet coach and stepped out into the sultry evening sun. A cooling breeze blew into her face and dried her sweaty face. She undid her braid and let the breeze blow through her hair. Zelda relaxed mentally and walked along the pavement. Bicyclists sped past her, twirling her white polka-dotted red summer dress. She shyly held her hem so as not to expose too much, as the dress only covered half of her thigh. She wore a white short shirt under her dress, white sporty shoes and a small bag with her ballet clothes.

The roar of cars and motorbikes deafened her ears, pedestrians shouted at each other, the paths were too crowded. Fathers and mothers with prams and people in wheelchairs were disregarded and jostled.

Dogs barked at each other while being held back with difficulty by their owners.

Zelda found the chaos too much, so she decided to take a diversion today, away from the main roads.

Fascinated, she watched the retro facades of the narrow streets, the colourful hubbub of the restaurants and the welcome invitations from the waiters to take Zelda to the restaurant. She smiled off gratefully and walked briskly along the paths.

She loved to stroll the streets after her hard ballet practice before returning home bored. As the 15-year-old pubescent daughter of a diplomat and a lawyer, the highest discipline was expected of her. It was tough, but she couldn't complain as it opened many doors for her.

When Zelda finally arrived at her front door, she sighed loudly. She knew the summer holidays were coming to an end and with it her freedom to devote herself fully to her hobbies.

Zelda moved gracefully through the corridors of the school to her classroom in her white blouse, navy blue school uniform blazer and matching skirt and was greeted warmly by her classmates, although she treated everyone equally, she felt most comfortable in the presence of her best friends Impa and Purah. The two were siblings with a year's difference, though they could be as different as night and day. While Purah was older than Impa, she was still a bright and fashionable model student in science. Impa, on the other hand, was the more sensible of the two, very well-versed in languages, politics, history and the subject of Hylia's teachings. While Zelda excelled in all subjects, the poor marks in the teachings of Hylia cast a mocking shadow over her report cards every time.

While Mipha, Robbie and Revali joined them, they were talking about their experiences of the summer holidays when the other students suddenly fell silent. It was still too early for one of the teachers, so the troop turned around curiously.

A young man about their age with blond spiky hair tied back stood in front of the blackboard and greeted everyone curtly.  He stood there with his chest erect and sporting clothes, scratching the back of his head nervously.

" Are you lost Link?" asked Revali mockingly.

"Revali don't be so rude. I hope you are all right." intervened Mipha. A girl who was always sweet and polite to everyone.

"Where the heck have you been all these holidays!" blurted out Impa.

"I'm fine, thanks," Link said, giving Mipha a smile without bothering to give Revali a glance. "I've been helping out in the countryside all summer." His gaze drifted from Impa to Zelda, who paid him no attention. "Hope you didn't miss me too much." He winked at Paya , Impa's and Purah's cousin, who blushed every time Link flirted with her.

He immediately noticed that the rest of the girls were also looking in his direction, whispering and giggling amongst themselves. They couldn't be blamed, because Link had an attractive charisma, fascinating blue eyes, an athletic figure and above all something mysterious about him, which was attractive to many girls.

"Don't pretend you'll be missed, you poor beggar have to sweep up cows' shit on your farm."

He whirled around and stared renegade at Revali, running towards him, but when both grabbed each other by the collar, Sakasai intervened while Cado and Dorian held them back.

"The holidays are only over, yet you are feuding blood. Let's enjoy this year peacefully!", Sakasai soothingly talked to them. His poetic expression was able to melt even ice-cold icebergs.

 Just when the situation had defused, the bell rang for the start of class and the teacher, Mr Daruk, entered the room.

"Link, Revali. As soon as you make eye contact, you bark like dogs fighting for territory in the street. I have a new seating plan here that will make sure you two sit far apart."

Mr Daruk was the linguistics and labour teacher. He was dark-skinned, broad-shouldered, with a muscular chest and a round beer belly. His white hair pointed in all directions and his full white beard went down to his stomach. He always prepared us, apart from the lessons, for the hard life after school. For which Link was particularly grateful, as he had to struggle especially hard in his neighbourhood.

"Revali, you will sit in the front row next to Mipha. Sakasai, please sit next to Paya. Link, you will sit next to Zelda." As an indignant murmur went through the class, the teacher thumped the teacher's desk, creating a silence that had never existed before. "I demand discipline! Now sit down at your assigned seats. You will see that you and your new neighbours will complement each other. Now to the order of the day..."

As he sat down, he felt how uncomfortable it was to sit next to Zelda, as she obviously couldn't stand him.

Therefore, he slid as far as he could to the edge of his chair so as not to get too close to her.

Link barely caught what the teacher was saying, he was too taken with her closeness. To keep a clear mind, he pulled his hood over his head and rested his head on his arms, which were folded on the table. He sighed. It was going to be a busy day at school, he thought to himself.

  "Hey bro, you alright? Up for basketball?" asked Sidon, who was his best friend, despite the fact that he was in a different class from his year. He was a hunk and towered over him by several heads. He had red hair, like his sister Mipha, but gold-shimmering eyes. Despite his imposing and intimidating manner, he was the most likeable Hylian he knew.

"Ayyo Bro, how you doin'? Throw me the ball!"

Link took off his hoodie and bared his muscular torso. He wanted to clear his head and stop thinking about how annoyed Zelda was at his presence. He wasn't even sure why she was and assumed she was looking down on him with her domineering appearance.

The mere fact that he had put his head down on the table and was boredly playing with his pens made her breathe an annoyed sigh and tap her foot impatiently. She was also the first to immediately pack up her utensils and disappear out the door without giving him a glance.

While he was shooting baskets with his best buddies, he was joined by the rest of his friends, including Cado and Dorian, one slim and athletic, the other broadly built. More boys gathered around him, whom he knew from his neighbourhood or from his sports clubs. He greets them all with a handshake and a brotherly hug: a fist to the brother's shoulders. This is how they signal solidarity and friendship to each other.

Sometimes they were joined by Impa, who would then go up against the boys and single-handedly finish them off in every game. Impa was a girl Link liked to have around because she was unbeatable. She was like a second sister to him, whom he respected and wanted to protect at the same time.

But when Link looked out for her, he found her agog with Zelda Purah and Paya discussing something and smirked. He could only guess what they were so animatedly discussing at the moment.

 "Phew, Link put some clothes on, your armpits stink big time."

Abruptly Link's mood changed, as if someone had hit him in the head with a shovel.

"It only started to smell when you got here, Revali."

The young Revali was not much taller than Link, had his hair braided into a boxer braid while two white dyed strands hung out of his braided hair. He had the eye shape of a snake and his eye colour and character were just as venomous. He was always out to make Link's life difficult and to flaunt his parents' wealth.

"Do you want to mess with me? You street dog have nothing to say to me, is that clear?" said Revali provocatively. Just like Link, he was surrounded by his boys waiting to bash each other's heads in.

"You can't do anything but play hardball, come on get lost with your wannabe gangsters."

A horde of girls from different years, cheered Link's and Revali's names as if it was some kind of competition.

Link wrinkled his nose contemptuously and stared renegiously into Revali's eyes. As a final sign of warning.

Sidon noticed the sparkling fire in the eyes of the two rivals and walked between them and stood protectively in front of Link.

"Hey yo bro, how about we settle this problem between you with a contest".

The girls who were just now cheering and gushing for Revali or Link were now screeching Sidon's name together as if his presence could put all disputes aside.

"A competition? Only if I choose the discipline. ", Revali said, but Link was about to intervene when his best friend held him back.

"We will choose three disciplines. Everyone will get one discipline they are particularly good at, while the third will remain neutral. Okay?" asked Sidon. Link nodded in agreement. Now it was up to Revali.

"On one condition, we're going to put this competition out to the whole school so everyone can watch me kick the shit out of that son of a bitch."

"Be careful what you say, we don't want your ego to be hurt anymore." Countered Link and turned away. It was already a foregone conclusion for him that he had to face his rival and win.

  Zelda watched the action of the rival boys while Impa and Purah argued about which motto would be more appropriate as a house party. She squinted over at the silent Paya looking distressed at the tense troop of boys on the basketball court. Zelda followed her gaze and immediately understood her expression. It was Link, who moved away from the group and sat down on a wooden bench, running his hands through his hair.

"Paya, go to him. He will be very happy to receive emotional affection from a pretty girl, like you. He might fall in love with you after all," Zelda said hopefully.

She shyly looked Zelda in the eye and turned bright red in the face. Purah and Impa interrupted their discussion and listened in wonder.

"That's right, Paya! Go get him!" Purah, Paya's eldest cousin, motivated her. Everyone knew that Paya was crazy about Link but was too shy to talk to him.

When Paya finally decided to go to him, Impa was about to stop her, but Zelda and Purah held her back. Impa didn't like it, because she knew Link very well and also knew what his heart was like. Her gaze rested on Zelda, who was looking contentedly behind Paya. Maybe she had to get involved after all and a house party by the pool would be the best option.

#zelink #botw zelink #zelink fic #zelink au #zelink fanfic #aoc zelink #zelda x link #link x zelda #linktober #botw fanfiction #zelda fanfiction #zelda fandom #zelink fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction author #high school au