waif like

look at this commission of my @thearcanagame apprentice and Julian from @kerbabbles??? I’m so happy??? I’m just… screaming?? I keep staring at it like *eyezooms*

anyway, meet Laika, who’s so jumpy by nature that when she tried to run away from Julian in the shop and he pulled her back, she just straight up passed out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ lowkey Julian’s like ‘……. this is Asra’s apprentice really’ yes Julian really

GoT S07E06 Thoughts

So I don’t know if this is late or early considering technically the episode doesn’t air till Sunday, but whatever, here we go: 

There was only one awesome thing about this episode, which was anything to do with the Night King and the Wight Dragon. Everything else was a complete departure from all we’ve come to learn about these characters, but that aside, let me try to understand it as best as I can.

We start the episode on Jon and the rest of the A Team trudging along and making fun of Gendry. I actually really liked all these scenes because the male bonding was done well, the dialogue was funny and the chemistry between these characters was believable. I mean I didn’t know I needed a Tormund x Sandor best friendship till that episode, especially when they begin talking about Brienne. Mr Tormund “I want to make babies with her” Giantsbane. It was brilliant, needless to say. 

What’s not so brilliant but a great moment of foreshadowing was Tormund’s conversation with Jon. He essentially tells Jon that although Mance Rayder was a great man, his pride got a lot of people killed, echoing Jon’s own words to the man: 

“"Isn’t their survival more important than your pride?”

And of course Dani’s words to Jon in the Cave of Invisible Chemistry. 

The problem I have with this is that it comes from Tormund, a wildling man whose pride is as much as a defining factor as his ginger beard. But whatever, I see what they’re trying to do here. They’re trying to justify what happens later because if Tormund can understand the dire need for Dani’s help over his own pride then Jon should too, and he does, of course, as we later find out. 

Here’s the thing though. I am still firmly of the camp that it’s all a ruse, and this is the moment Jon realises he might have to bend to Dani’s will for her alliance. He doesn’t want to and he knows fully well that the Northern houses will not accept her as their queen in any capacity, but all he cares about is his people’s survival through the Long Night. He’s willing to lose his kingdom for their safety. And this thought becomes even more concrete in Jon’s mind the moment Dani arrives to save his dumb ass with her three dragons. The look of awe on his face as those dragons rain hellfire on the wights is indicative of this because up until that point, he’s had a very abstract understanding of what these dragons are capable of and how they can help him. Seeing it in person, seeing them turn a hopeless situation into a victory, Jon fully understands now that the only way to survive is for Dani to fight with them with her dragons. 

Keep reading

After Hours - Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Summary: Based on the prompt: “I have a key to the theatre, and sometimes I go there when I need to think. Apparently so do you.”

Words: 5,296 (ren and i are just…yeah)

Warnings: Swearing. 

A/N: From Ren (@alexanderhamllton- Guys, it happened!!! Here’s my first collab with Liv, which I’m so so excited about, we wrote the whole thing in one afternoon and I couldn’t be more proud of the result. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do <3

From Liv - I am still dizzy from how much I enjoyed writing this. I finally had the honour of collaborating with Ren (aka real human sunshine) and it was so much more than I could have ever hoped for. Honestly, it is amazing. Happy reading!

askbox | masterlist

There is something very beautiful about a theatre without an audience. It is filled to the brim with potential, all these seats just waiting to be filled, an empty stage that could become an entirely different universe. The lights are dimmed down, and from inside a deserted Richard Rodgers, it is as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

Keep reading

I’ve grown in my affections for the
quiet dawning sun, for the gossamer
things that flew from my hands.
In the gentle distance
I can hear my returning -
delicate and new and waif-like,
but without scars or bruises;
with a soft, giving heart in my hands.
And I’m coming back. I’m coming back.


On the Ides of March 2014, we selected for our project an unremarkable sophomore engineering student named Trevor Lee. Little did he know that he would become TEST SUBJECT 22: the breakthrough proof-of-concept for our years of research into cerebral reconfiguration. Twelve months later, despite no previous nor natural athletic inclination, Lee walked onto the University baseball team—remade as the ideal designated hitter, both in mind and body. As a result, the Dept of Athletics took keen interest in our continuation of the project, promising significant support and funding.

We knew right away that our immediate priority was to maintain our gift to the team. Lee would graduate by the end of the 2016 season. Therefore starting in the fall of 2015 we began building his replacement for the 2017 season. This time we recruited a freshman named Andrew Petit. At intake the asset—designated TEST SUBJECT 25—was a waif-like art history major. However, like SUBJECT 22, SUBJECT 25 now suffers from markedly reduced academic ability, and has had to switch to a General Education BS, with specially awarded credits in “applied hypertrophic sciences” from the Kinesthesiology Department.

Like SUBJECT 22, SUBJECT 25 acquired high-level visual motion-tracking, reflexes, and proprioception through our cerebral reconfiguration techniques. Subject was also given a high drive to pursue muscular hypertrophy, under the guidance of the baseball team’s strength coach, Mr. Terrazas. We programmed Subject with an absolute, emotionally-charged loyalty to Mr. Terrazas, whom Subject now sees as a father figure. Aided by our reprogramming of pituitary function to increase luteinizing hormone secretion, Subject made rapid gains in muscular development.

Further programming imprinted hitting coach Mr. Howard and head coach Mr. Burnett as additional father figures, who report perfect compliance, dedication, and “coachability” from Subject. Along with further guidance from SUBJECT 22—who served as a “big brother” figure in his training, SUBJECT 25 developed extremely rapidly towards game readiness. Subject was selected onto the team’s roster in December 2016, and had a moderately successful debut season by all relevant statistics. As of this writing, Subject will soon begin play in a summer collegiate league to continue his development, and will receive training in a fielding position.

The usefulness of interpersonal foci in our programming is now undeniable, and shall now be a part of protocol in future projects. We note as having profound reinforcing effect the private sessions which Subject shared with his mentors, which may be examined in our video archive.

lady-hallowtide  asked:

FrozenTravel prompt: I really want to see Qui and Dooku find out Obi is of their Lineage and basically adopt him. Will Obi go to the nursery and interact with his younger self? Will the order change the babies name to avoid confusion? Poor Obi deserves the family he never had the first time. OH!! What if later Obi finds Maul before Palpatine and Maul becomes Obi's apprentice?!

He’d been expecting it, honestly Qui-Gon was late by his estimation, but finally the master arrived in a flurry of robes, blue eyes wild as he sought out the redhead at Plo’s table.

Obi-Wan had long since shed the last of his tears and had gone back to his quiet waif like silence.

But he noticed when Qui-Gon arrived, curling a bit in on himself.

Qui-Gon took no notice of it, knelt down beside Obi-Wan and took his face between his hands, turning him to look at the other man. “Oh padawan of mine.” He whispered before pulling him in, crushing Obi-Wan to his chest.

Whatever the bond between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had told the long haired master, it had obviously hurt.

Plo could understand that.

Even the bond between himself and Obi-Wan told him enough.

And everyone in the temple knew that this was a damaged young man.

Obi-Wan gave a tired little sniffle, no more tears to shed.

Qui-Gon didn’t seem to need that to confirm the others state of emotions, one of his arms tucked around the redhead and the other cupping the back of his head to hold him tight to Qui-Gon’s chest, rocking lightly though if the motion was more for his own comfort then Obi-Wan’s was anyone’s guess at this point.

Yan followed after a few moments, more sedate but his brows drawn tight in worry as he closed the door behind him. “Master Koon.” He greeted.

“Master Dooku, they’re here.” The kel dor nodded to the table, having stepped away to give the illusion of privacy.

“So he’s my linage.” Yan murmured quietly, the salt and pepper haired master staring at the young man in Qui-Gon’s arms. “… Yet his bond to me is… unclear.”

“His words earlier indicated that some of his linage had…fallen.” Plo offered calmly and Yan looked quickly at him, frowning slowly. “Though he did not indicate in what way.”

The human master brows furrowed even harder and he stroked his beard as he flickered his eyes over the dark patch on Plo’s tunic that had come from Obi-Wan’s tears. “… I know I’m considered grey, but if I was Fallen… then its disturbing news.”

“Qui-Gon died.” Obi-Wan whispered into the tunics he was hiding in but they all heard him. “It was the last straw. You left… I had to raise a padawan alone because my master asked for it on his dying breath…and my grandmaster left.” His voice was colored in a tired sort of betrayal and loss.

Qui-Gon tightened his arms around him even more and made a low soothing noise deep in his chest.

“I… I see.” Yan looked deeply troubled by this before he crossed over to the other two, settling down to cup Obi-Wan’s face in one hand so he could look at him in the eyes. “May I ask for a new chance then? You are here now, part of my linage. I would be very interested to know you Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He smiled a careful smile at him.

Obi-Wan stared at him. “…As long as you don’t cut me up again.”

Yan blinked before leaning in and pressing a dry kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead. “That sounds like a story I should hear Obi-Wan. And I won’t.”


Across the temple, others were still adjusting to the bond, trying to be respectful and not invade Obi-Wan’s presence until he was ready.

Just because the bonds were there, didn’t mean the man himself was ready for the onslaught of people that wanted to both know and help him.

A great grandmaster was carefully meditating and friends were examining the what they could gain from the bond without invading Obi-Wan’s privacy.

There would come the time when Obi-Wan was ready to meet them properly and let them know him again.

They looked forward to that.

calm as still water.  brienne is nearly twice her size, but arya knows she shan’t be hurt.  brienne would sooner die than let any ill befall lady catelyn’s daughters, and brienne’s good enough to keep herself from hurting arya even if she beats her.  it helps keep her calm.  not like the waif, where her heart was hammering in her throat and her belly ached and she wondered if she would die, how she wasn’t already dead.

Keep reading

Percival Rex: Prologue

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The cruelest part of his imprisonment was that he was not restrained.

He could roam his own home freely, Grindelwald didn’t live there, and as such he could destroy it as his temper lashed out, as his desperation grew, and Grindelwald could come in, gleefully surveying the physical evidence of his prisoner’s frustration, the destruction wrought upon Percival Graves’ expensive flat and all the personal items therein.

Now I lay me down to sleep.

Keep reading

power. grace. wisdom. wonder.

Okay, so. After 800 years (and already falling super, SUPER in love with Diana) I finally saw the dang movie.

And you guys.


Obviously, I’m probably not going to say anything terribly new in this, given that I am unavoidably late to the party, but once the film ended and the credits started rolling, my sister and I sat there for a solid minute or so (with tears streaming down my face, basically) collecting ourselves before we even thought about leaving. I just wanted to sit there and be with it a little while longer, because. Holy shit. Just. This movie, okay.

This movie.

(Obviously, spoilers ahead, mateys.)

I don’t recall a single instant where I was bored, my attention was wandering, I was like, “Just get on with the damn story already,” or otherwise less than completely enthralled with what was going on (even as someone who doesn’t watch much/any DC stuff). I cried for the first time about, oh, thirty seconds in, and several times thereafter. I cried when there was a shot of Antiope looking powerful as hell, broad-shouldered, strong, when this incredibly capable warrior woman actually looked like she could legitimately kick your ass, and not like a waif or a pixie. I cried when I saw Diana for the first time. I cried when Diana went to get the sword, because how many times have we seen the movie where the man is given the magical sword and becomes the hero? (And then of course, later on, it turns out that the sword isn’t what is special, she is.) I cried during No Man’s Land, because obviously I did. I cried during the whole ending sequence, because also I obviously did.

Saying this was an important movie to me almost sounds cheap, but I don’t know any better way to put it. It just… wow. I feel like I need to watch it again (and I am the WORST about seeing movies in the cinema). There was just so much there: thematically, visually, character-wise, story-wise. So much that I loved and so much that hit me in the face (and the heart).

(I want to marry Gal Gadot like, even more than I already did, which was so much. I literally could not take my eyes off her the entire time.)

Diana and Steve were absolutely delightful. They played off each other so well, with Diana the serious “straight man” (or rather woman) convinced of her own lofty purpose (and struggling when it seems she’s been deprived of it) and Steve functioning as the skeptical observer/voice of the ridiculous/’so that’s cool” note of levity that the movie needed (and I was surprised and very pleased at how funny it was). One of my favorite things was how the movie managed to play Diana’s entrance into our world both for humor and without making her the butt of the joke – in other words, it never pointed and laughed at her ignorance. It found it charming, just as Steve did, and likewise, we have seen the movies where the (male) hero enters a new world and gets to stare at its oddity. Here, we have Diana experiencing the strangeness and charm of a department store, a cafe and a winter evening in the middle of the war, dancing with someone she liked, and otherwise getting to see the small magic of our own world with new eyes, even for a demi-goddess from a pseudo-heavenly realm. Those scenes had such a lovely bit of enchantment and enjoyment to them, when it would have been so easy to make them cynical.

The boat scene with Diana and Steve leaving Themyscira was sheer genius (and I seem to recall reading that they improvised most of that) as was the bath scene, and of course the end. Jfc. When he’s pointing the gun into the hold of the plane, trying to work up the courage to die, and you know that he manages to go through with it because of her – because as he tells her, he can save today, but she can save the world, and he needs to let her be the one to do that. Even when she’s angry at him beforehand, he still tries to help her, tells her what the smoke signals are and to follow them to find Ludendorff. He never tries to cut her down or diminish her (and him using the lasso on himself + “this is a terrible idea, we will probably die” = also genius).

Also, the backup team was an Indian, a drunk Scotsman with PTSD, and a Turkish man, and every single one of them were given poignant and genuine moments??? Chief gets to talk about how the Indians have been driven out of their lands. Charlie can’t manage to shoot the sniper, and yet Diana later asks who will sing for them if he leaves – she values him for his talents and for his possibility of a life beyond war, she doesn’t blame him for failing in crunch time. Sameer gets to point out that he can’t be who he wants to be because he was born the wrong color, and there is nothing he can do about that. This team of marginalized people, working together to change the world for the better despite all the odds against them – I mean. Wow.

When the Ares reveal happened, I literally whispered, “I knew it I knew it I knew it” three times under my breath, because I suspected that guy from the start. I just felt as if the Clearly Psychotic German General ™ was too obvious a candidate and there was a twist coming, and when he died utterly anticlimactically (although I was proud of Diana for doing it) I was like… welp, VINDICATED, NOW THE SHIT IS ACTUALLY GOING TO GO DOWN, I KNEW IT WAS EVIL REMUS LUPIN, and it was. So yes.

As I said, I feel as if I have to watch this movie in the theater again at least one, and then several times thereafter. I cannot believe that in in the year of our lord 2017 this is somehow the first female superhero movie directed by a woman, and frankly, I don’t know why we have to keep accepting mediocre manpain movies in any genre otherwise. It was an action movie, a love story (both in a romantic sense and in terms of Diana’s own actions/arc), a comedy, a tragedy, a fantasy, a superhero origin story, a social commentary, a war movie – as I said, there was just so much of it. It was such a rich tapestry of a story and it fitted together so brilliantly. All the questions it managed to raise about the nature of war and humanity, love and darkness, the people we are born as and the people we choose to be, the fallacy of “deserving” to be saved, and to do this in a way that is both deeply genuine and which isn’t overly naive, when Steve tells Diana that he wishes it was as simple as just killing one bad guy to make it all stop… I mean. That is hard. And they pulled it off amazingly.

In not-really-short, my life has been changed. I want another three movies, I want Diana to have a girlfriend (because I will cry my damn eyes out if I get to see this beautiful, powerful, gentle heroine being actually bisexual on screen), and I also want for all movies ever to be like this, basically. 

I am going to be thinking about this for a very long time.

Bad Karma

@ritarmandi - After a bit of lurking on your tumblr, it seems you have a soft spot for magic!Stiles, so here, have some magic!Stiles causing a bit of mischief from the POV of an unwitting outsider!

by @kai-strex

Josh has come to learn that everything about Stilinski is a little odd.

Note: I have zero experience with college dorms.

Josh never believed in karma until he got to college. In just the first two weeks, Micah broke the vending machine that gave access to the nearest supply of chips and then every shower ran cold no matter which stall he stepped in; Brett set off the fire alarm at four in the morning and then had a pipe burst in the bathroom all over his only pair of shoes, which stayed dripping wet for an entire week despite being left on the radiator at every spare moment; and after Andy and Craig ‘accidentally’ ate the leftover pizza belonging to Stilinski - Josh’s dorm room neighbour - their room became a wifi deadzone. (Two months later and they’re still being forced to set up shop in the hallway with no fix managed. Stilinski always looks oddly gleeful whenever he sees them huddled out there.)

Though, Josh has come to learn that everything about Stilinski is a little odd. He grows herbs on the windowsill of the room he shares with McCall, has intricate red tattoos swirling up his arm like vines - probably the latest hipster trend that he’ll find himself regretting in six months time - and Josh is pretty sure his geeky, thick-framed glasses have no prescription, even though he always makes a point to perch them on his nose whenever he stares at the blank pages of the leatherbound book he carries everywhere with him.

Josh hasn’t really had much to do with him - except for that one time their hands brushed and he got an electric shock - but the guy’s door is always open and seems to be admitting a never ending stream of visitors. They leave with small packets of said ‘herbs’, leading Josh to the only conclusion that he must be the dorm’s resident dealer. (Once, he thought he saw the guy hand a nervous, waif-like girl a tiny stoppered vial of acid green liquid - though when he blinked, it turned out it was just a novelty eraser and Stilinski flashed him a wink.)

Josh is all for everyone finding their recreation wherever they please but he’s surprised at how blatant Stilinski’s activities are. It’s probably the reason for their RA’s eyebrows pulling down into a scowl whenever he catches sight of the guy.

Stern but fair, Derek is probably the best RA Josh could have hoped for, but something about Stilinski seems to just rub him the wrong way. Whenever he’s in the vicinity, Derek is all but gnashing his teeth and when Stilinski flutters his eyelashes and smiles that impish grin of his, it - inconceivably - ties the usually articulately-spoken RA’s tongue into knots.

It hadn’t taken long for a secret betting pool to open up predicting when they’d finally get each other’s clothes off. Josh’s prediction passed by a week ago so he’s down ten bucks to Micah, the only one of them who’d guessed it would take this long. Lucky son of a bitch. Or maybe it’s the karma? He’d better watch out. It has a habit of turning at the drop of a hat around here.


Josh is running late one morning in early November, cursing his lucky roommate who has a late start as he fumbles their door closed behind him. He’s just wrestling his bag onto his shoulder when Derek storms across the corridor and slams into Stilinski’s room.

Stop it,” he snarls.

“Stop what?” comes Stilinski’s voice, dripping with airy innocence.

You know what.

“Get Isaac to apologise and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Isaac Lahey is the most recent victim of the karma curse, waking up yesterday morning with hands somehow stained bright red, though Josh has no idea what he did to bring that down on himself. He doesn’t know what problem Stilinski could have with him either.

There’s a thud and as Josh inches by, he sees Derek pressing Stilinski against the wall, hands fisted in his collar. Josh has heard the phrase ‘seeing red’, but for a moment he’s sure Derek’s eyes are actually glowing.

“If I’d have known you liked it rough, Sourwolf, I would have invited you in sooner.” Stilinski leans closer to Derek whose resident scowl has melted and now he just looks dazed, ears pinking. And is he staring at Stilinski’s lips? The way they quirk up at the corners say it hasn’t escaped Stilinski’s notice.

Josh accelerates down the hallway as Derek barrels out of the room and back to his own. He doesn’t need to be seen putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. He also doesn’t have the precious seconds to spare.


Thursdays are Josh’s longest day of classes so the dizzying trek to the top floor of the dorms that he usually considers the bane of his existence is, for one day a week, a blessed relief.

Derek and Stilinski are having a hushed conversation at the top. Despite having never met before, Josh has spotted them whispering in corners since their very first day in the dorms and at least three times a week since. They’re always accompanied by Derek’s usual scowl, but what’s not so usual is how serious Stilinski always looks. Josh has never been able to catch what they’re saying and the discussion today ends as he crests the final flight. It’s so commonplace he doesn’t even wonder what they mutter about anymore.

Derek nods at Josh as he starts to make his own descent, a stack of paper in one hand, and Stilinski has his elbows draped over the banister, watching.

“Just remember what I said,” Derek says to Stilinski over his shoulder.

“Sure thing, Alpha,” Stilinski purrs.

There’s a choking sound and swish of paper and Josh looks back to see Derek’s worksheets spiralling down the stairwell. He’s staring open-mouthed at Stilinski whose eyes sparkle above a wicked smile.

Josh shakes his head and continues his weary trudge towards his room. These guys are driving him crazy.


He’s jolted awake that very same night by Stilinski yelling, “I can take care of myself!”

There’s urgent shushing and a low, rumbling murmur that can only belong to Derek. Josh lifts his head from his pillow, straining his ears.

Stilinski is hissing, “You’re the one who nearly got your arm ripped off by that other Alpha.”

Getting into a fight with some fraternity? That doesn’t sound like usual Derek behaviour. Though, by the sounds of it, he was defending Stilinski’s honour, in which case it makes perfect sense.

Can’t they just bone already? Josh asks himself as he rolls over and tugs the sheets over his head. He just wishes he had the courage to open his door and yell it at them.


The next morning, Josh spies Stilinski and Derek in line in the cafeteria, standing close, though it looks like Stilinski is giving the RA the cold shoulder. The argument of the night before clearly hasn’t been resolved. Josh can’t help eavesdropping.

“What, are you going to punish me this time?” Derek is asking. “Turn all my course notes to Japanese? Zap all my underwear to the moon?”

Stilinski smirks, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Derek scowls coolly back, and though he can’t put his finger on why, Josh finds himself gulping for him.


When he gets back to the dorms after classes, all of Derek’s shirts have mysteriously been sliced open from collar to hem. It’s not exactly unusual for Derek to be walking around the dorm without a shirt, but Stilinski still leans against his doorframe and leers at Derek’s bare torso whenever he stomps by.


The next night, Josh goes for drinks at a friend’s place off campus which is exactly what he needs to get away from the weird and downright impossible goings on at the dorm, like the fact that all of Derek’s shirts had been inexplicably restored when he woke up that morning or that he’s ninety-percent sure he saw a black wolf jumping out of Stilinski’s dorm window in the middle of the night. He has no idea what’s going on anymore.

He’s still feeling pleasantly buzzed when he gets back to the dorm at one in the morning, already chalking everything up to sleep deprivation and the stress of an increasing workload.

As he passes Stilinski’s room, a thud comes from inside, followed by Derek snarling, “Jesus, Stiles, you can’t just-”

Josh heaves a sigh and rolls his head on his shoulders in exasperation. He’s had enough of their shit.

Fuelled by his liquid courage, he spins round and slams the door open. He realises too late that there was probably a reason why it was closed for once.

“Okay, that’s it, will you two just-”

The words shrivel in his throat as he takes in the two of them sprawled across Stilinski’s bed, Derek’s jeans undone and slipping down his thighs, Stilinski with his shirt off and revealing that his tattoos spread all the way up his arms, across his chest and down his stomach, all the way to the spot above his belly button where Derek had been in the midst of tracing them with his tongue.

“Oh,” Josh squeaks. “As you were.”

He pulls the door shut with a snap and stands frozen in the corridor for a few long seconds, already pretending that Derek’s mouth full of fangs and Stiles’ eyes shining gold was just a trick of the light. He focuses instead on the triumph of About time! as he continues on to his own room with a spring in his step resulting from the alcohol and a vehement denial of reality. His internal celebrating lasts even through Stilinski’s choruses of “Fuck, Derek, oh fuck-” echoing through the wall, even though that’s something he could really have done without hearing, ever.

On the bright side, he thinks, as he pulls his pillow over his head to block out the world he no longer understands, Maybe it will finally put an end to their constant bickering.


 The next morning, he’s awoken by a monumental crash next door.


Maybe not.

I hate in movies or shows or whatever when a guy grabs a woman by the chin or cheek while saying something suggestive/degrading

It pisses me off that even the strongest of female characters just turn doe-like and don’t pull away or do anything but look earnest and waif-like every time a guy grabs their faces.

It’s almost like…

A male fantasy or something, crazy, amirite

anonymous asked:

What about age reversal where ObiWan is Anakin's padawan?After Ahsoka leaves the order so ObiWan is insecure about being Anakin's padawan and commander of the 501st because neither were welcoming when he arrived thinking he's trying to replace Ahsoka

“I don’t want a new Padawan.” Anakin growled quietly, glaring at nothing.

Beside him Qui-Gon sighed quietly before resting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Anakin, I know you don’t but this may be a good thing. You were good with Ahsoka, training a new generation would do good for you. And Initiate Kenobi is a promising Jedi from what I can tell.”

Anakin looked at the other man and sighed. “…I want Ahsoka, I should still be training Ahsoka.”

“Ahsoka choose a different path. Yes it was partly the Jedi’s fault. Yes I know that Anakin and I know the blame should be put with us when it comes to Ahsoka…but she is also an individual with the right to choose where she goes and what she does. The council is sending a padawan your way again.”

The blond knight looked away from his former Master. “…I don’t want a new padawan.”


His master doesn’t like him.

Obi-Wan knows that. He knows it quite well.

He’d been so excited to become a padawan until he heard who, not because of the man himself but because of the fate of his former padawan, Ahsoka Tano. Obi-Wan felt like a usurper and it was clear the knight and his men felt so too.

Oh the 501 were coolly professional and listened to him, but that was it, cool professionalism. Obi-Wan could always feel a faint wistfulness at the end of his title. Only once had someone accidentally said Tano instead of Kenobi. They missed her, especially the Captain.

As for his master…

“Kenobi!” Obi-Wan jerked to his feet and jogged to the mans side, looking up at him with wide eyes as the blond focused on troop movements.

“Master?” Obi-Wan pretended not to see the half grimace as Anakin gestured at the holo.

“Look at this and tell me what you see.”

‘At least he tries to teach me…’ Obi-Wan turned his attention on the movements and squinted his eyes, taking in each squad and formation of them. “Its a tight formation with trooper stationed to make an ambush if any Seperatist droids makes it past them. The front squads are heavily weaponized though and should be able to take care of anything incoming with the rear squads being more precaution then necessary. Or that’s what I see?” He looked quickly up at the Jedi beside him.

The blond nodded sharply. “Good eye.”

The praise should have made Obi-Wan glow, as it was…it only made him gnaw on his bottom lip as he retreated to his katas again. ‘I’m not wanted.’ Crystallized in his mind at that moment and Obi-Wan swallowed heavily before losing himself in the motions of exercise, Ahsoka’s ghost hanging around his shoulders.


“You’re going to high.” Obi-Wan almost dropped his saber in surprise and looked to the fire where his Master was still going over reports.


“Shift your stance, broader. Your weight comes of wrong unless you do when you utilize Ataruu. Broaden your stance.” He repeated.

Obi-Wan blinked then shifted, sliding his feet a bit more apart.

“Bend your knees a bit more. Your light and quick on your feet, you can move from a crouch fast.” Anakin put the report aside and watched the copper haired teen follow his instruction. “…Better.”

Obi-Wan glanced at him then gave him a small, shy smile.


“Oi, commander, catch!”

Obi-Wan jerked to and caught the mealbar mid air, blinking in confusion at the medic clone who had his eyebrows raised at him. “You’re starting to look like waif commander, its not good, eat. You can’t live on tea anymore then we can live on air.” He offered sternly.

Obi-Wan blinked again before giving the clone a wide smile, nodding before unwrapping the bar and taking a big bite, waving before he hurried along.

Kix blinked a bit. It suddenly hit him just how much babyfat was in the others cheeks…

He turned to Rex who was frowning at the padawans back. “Captain…how old is our commander?” He questioned quietly.

“…I’m getting the feeling that we wont like the answer to that question.” Rex offered in return before following.


Obi-Wan gnawed on his braid, trying to settle the unease in his stomach as he followed his master and the squad of 501 that were with them. Tracking into a cave to get behind Separatist line seemed like a horrible idea and for every step they took, Obi-Wan’s stomach squirmed and flopped even more.

Eventually he just stopped.

To Anakin’s credit, he did notice when Obi-Wan stopped and turned to him, a frown on his face. “What is it now?”

“Something doesn’t feel right.” The copper haired teen offered in return, looking around.

The blond sighed. “You’re just spooked, caves are like that, it brings up sounds and echos them back.” He tried to sooth Obi-Wan. “The more we dally in here, the longer it will take us to get around.” He gestured for Obi-Wan to come up beside him.

Obi-Wan swallowed but nodded, moving past Captain Rex to Anakin’s side, hand resting on the hilt of his saber just the same.

He halfway expected to be told off but his master made no comment. Instead he rested a heavy hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly in reassurance.

They came to a wider opening with three separate holes, Anakin stopping to look at the map of their route.

And for Obi-Wan’s eyes a vid started to play as a vision desperately grabbed him to warn him. Droids setting charges in the wide cavern, Grievous hand hovering over the button, the blast and pained screams as they were buried under a mass of rocks. His master’s head cracked open by the massive boulders.

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched and he jerked his head to look above them, faintly seeing the wires attached to the packs of explosives as dark and gray as the caves around them. A red light lit up on one of them.

“No…” He jerked around, gathering the Force around himself before pushing his Master and all seven clone troopers out the same way they had come.

“Kenobi what in-”


Obi-Wan barely had time to curl in on himself as the first boulder came down, feeling the cave shaking around him even as he retreated into the Force to try and preserve himself. ‘I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.’


Anakin coughed, waving his hand in front of his face as the dust started to settle. And then he snapped to his feet, moving towards the rubble that had been the cave opening. “Obi-Wan!” He checked along the usually blocked bond he had barely remembered forming with the copper haired teen even as he started removing boulders. There was a faint sensation of something flickering and illusive.

Alive but no longer aware.

“G-General what happened?” Rex coughed even as he and the others joined Anakin in removing boulders.

“A trap, a trap we didn’t see but Obi-Wan did.” Anakin gritted his teeth, mind analyzing. “He belongs to the Unifying Force. I felt a shift and…I think he had a vision.” He offered shortly as he started lifting several rocks out of the way with the Force. He had to get his Obi-Wan out before that flickering sensation faded out for good. He had to get his padawan out.

He was still and pale when they found him, a trail of red rolling down his forehead from his temple and his face slack from unconsciousness. But still breathing as Anakin reached in and pulled the teen out, reaching out through the Force to assess his condition.

“He needs medical attention. The path is blocked as it is, we need to get him to Kix.” Anakin stood with Obi-Wan in his arms, the boys head slumping against the blonds shoulder and his arm hanging down.

He looked small. And broken.

“Go sir, we’ll catch up.”

Anakin didn’t wait for further confirmation before he was running, memory alone tracking his way back through the caves. Against his neck, Obi-Wan’s faint breath hitched and came as it wanted. It made Anakin put on more speed as he held the copper haired teen to him tighter.

“KIX!” He roared out as he closed in on camp. “GET YOUR SUPPLIES READY!”


Anakin rested his chin on the copper head, stroking Obi-Wan’s hand gently with his thumb as he held the teen to him.

Kix had done what he could. Obi-Wan had been treated with bacta bandages and scanned for internal damage. He was connected to an Iv drip and steadily pumped full of painkillers to make him rest easily.

He’d almost lost a second padawan today. While the outward damage had been surprisingly minimal, Obi-Wan had been hemorrhaging pretty badly on the inside, the crush damage inflecting injury to his organs.

Only Qui-Gon appearing as backup for them had saved Obi-Wan’s life, the older man more experienced with healing Force then Anakin himself and had managed to stop it long enough for Kix to handle the rest.

The blond knight gave a shaky breath and looked towards the small white pauldrons resting innocently on a spindly table that Obi-Wan had worn hours before, cracks showing in it showing where the brunt of the impact had gone. It was a Force blessed miracle that it hadn’t cracked Obi-Wan’s head open.

“How is he?” Anakin looked up as Qui-Gon stepped into the tent, the white haired master giving them both a worried look.

“He’s…resting. He hasn’t woken if that’s what you’re asking.” Anakin captured Obi-Wan’s braid, rubbing it between his fingers before tucking himself more around the little body beside him.

Qui-Gon sat down on a chair by the bed. “Rest helps healing. You may want to teach him healing meditation once he’s awake Anakin.”

“I will. I’ll do better. I…” He sighed. “I may have taken out my…feelings about Ahsoka on him.”

“…I had a feeling you did.” The old master sighed a bit, watching them. “…Obi-Wan was originally going to be my padawan you know. Or he was until Yoda changed his mind. I rejected the idea since Obi-Wan was to young.”

Anakin looked to his master, frowning a bit. “You took me at the age of ten.”

“Your case was different and we were not in war at that time.” Qui-Gon offered quietly. “And while Obi-Wan is a prodigy in his own right, I felt him to young to be sent to battle lines.”

Anakin hesitated, glancing at Obi-Wan, seemingly taking in the babyfat of his cheeks for the first time. Obi-Wan was tall and a bit broad, he had assumed…

“How old is Obi-Wan?”

Blue eyes peered at him. “…Obi-Wan is eleven. He turned eleven right before he was given as a padawan to you. Until that day he had never been of Coruscant.”

His padawan was eleven standards.

His padawan was eleven standards and sent to the frontlines. His padawan was eleven and he had almost died because Anakin hadn’t seen the trap.


Resting on his back with a Jedi knight curled up against his side, Obi-Wan continued to breath, unaware of the shifting emotions around him even as an arm wrapped protectively around him. Institutionally, he knew he was safe.

My Beloved - Part 4

Originally posted by lady-arryn

Originally posted by avengers-of-mirkwood

Summary: Princess Lyanna Avon of Planet Zirkon (OFC) had been hiding on Midguard for two peaceful years with the Avengers under the alias, Dr. Lillian Zane. That is until Loki showed up making demands and revealing the truth to everyone she cared about. 

 This chapter finds Frigga letting Loki know that she is not pleased with him and Lyanna finding out that Asgard can be very unfriendly to Zirkonian princesses.

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tags: @rcarbo1@thequeenofgood​ @ourheartsaregone@mcheung0314

If anyone wants to be added to the Tag List for this fic, let me know via an ask or a message.

Feedback is ALWAYS welcome! <3

The summons had come while he was reading in the library. He would have usually been annoyed by the interruption but he wasn’t. Not this time. This time he had been expecting it. This time, he thought in reluctant acceptance, he also deserved what was coming his way.

Paused in front of the door leading into the solar, he inhaled a fortifying breath. Then he entered. The room was airy and sunny, filled with warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the vibe of those that occupied it.

“Hello, mother,” he greeted, smiling, displaying a casualness he did not feel, trying to lighten the mood. It obviously did not work.

At his arrival, with a nod from Queen Frigga, the ladies in waiting made their polite exits. Loki was alone in the room with her. A clear indication that this was not going to be something he wanted to hear.

“I am very displeased with you.” She looked it. The usual loving smile, and easy camaraderie between them was absent. And he felt it deeply. She had every right to be displeased with him and he knew it. He simply looked at his feet unable to meet her stern gaze. “You were disrespectful to our guests. Specifically to your betrothed, who is just a child, mind you. With your insensitivity, you made her very first day at her new home an unpleasant one. I expected better of you, Loki.”

“I plead guilty to all those charges, mother,” he accepted. His eyes earnest, he tried to make her understand. “I never wanted this. You know that. But father, without even considering my opinion on my own life, betrothed me to someone – a Zirkonian! I spent twelve years hoping he would finally change his mind. That he wouldn’t make me go through with it. That he would finally see reason. And then all of a sudden, she was here. It was real. I admit I did not react well to any of that.”

She took in her son’s face, and the regret evident in his expression. “No you didn’t,” she agreed. “But she is no different from you, Loki. It is not like she had any choice in the matter either. You are both bound by duty to your respective realms. The least you could do is make it easier for each other.”

“I’ve come to those realizations all on my own,” Loki said. At her raised questioning brow, he added, “Fine. Thor helped.” It hurt him personally to admit that but Thor’s insight had sped up his process of understanding.

She laughed, the tension between them dissipating. “So you will make amends to set things right with her?”

“She is not awfully fond of me,” he said, thinking of the quiet disdain with which Princess Lyanna had dismissed him the day before. Then he sighed. “I suppose that is my own fault. Fine, mother. I will be civil to the Zirkonian princess.”

“Civil? Oh no, Loki,” his mother said staring him down. “You will be more than that.”

Once more, he sighed, a bit melodramatically this time. There went his plan to avoid his betrothed until it could be avoided no longer. “Fine, I’ll try to make amends. Since you insist.” The pleased smile that spread over Queen Frigga’s face was worth his impending hardship. “I’m five hundred years old, give or take a few, and yet you still treat me like I am your wayward child,” he observed, not quite happy about the fact.

“But you are my wayward child,” she said pointedly. Then she laughed at his obvious disgruntlement with that idea. “I am your mother, Loki. Five hundred years or thousand, you will always be my baby.” He scrunched up his face at her, making her laugh some more. “Now run along. It won’t be easy to redeem yourself in her eyes. You better get started.”

He rolled his eyes at him, kissed her offered cheek, and took his leave. Already the wheels in his mind were turning, thinking of ways to find himself back in the good graces of the princess. His mother had been right. It would not be easy. Princess Lyanna had spunk. He admired her for that, but at the same time, it did not bode well for his chances.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t see them until he almost interrupted them. Prudently he did not.

The scene was easy to read. Lyanna was surrounded by Vinayana and some of her friends. Their words were not too kind and though the little princess held up her head with an impassive face, he could see they were getting to her. The strain was clearly evident on her face warning of the threat of tears. Vinayana was not happy about Lyanna’s presence in Asgard and she had no qualms about making it known. Yet he could not interrupt. Not without making things worse.

Lyanna had been strolling through the castle that morning, trying to get used to her surroundings. After all it was going to be her home for what would possibly be thousands of years. There was no way around that. She might as well accept it and make the best of it. Fortunately, Prince Loki had not been around. Unfortunately, she had run into some other residents of the palace.

She had introduced herself as Lady Vinayana. Lyanna assumed she was a daughter of one of the lords or ladies at court. The friends of the posse were negligible. It was Vinayana that held center stage. Everyone else was treated as simply an accessory to whatever Vinayana seemed to desire. The whole dynamic of it reminded Lyanna of a Queen Bee with her mindless hive of bees.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the little Zirkonian princess,” the greeting had come.

Lyanna couldn’t ignore the impudent tone but she responded with politeness nonetheless. “Good morning.”

“Loki’s betrothed. I didn’t know he was into waif-like children,” she sneered.

Prince Loki, you mean,” Lyanna automatically corrected, which snared her a glare from the tall willowy redhead.

In hindsight, that had been the wrong move on Lyanna’s part. The insults had come in many forms after that. Her short stature was mocked. So was her unruly wayward blonde hair forever escaping her braid. Well she could not help it, could she? She was twelve years old and she was as tall as a twelve year old could be. At least by Zirkonian standards. It wasn’t her fault that Asgardians were basically giants. Her hair couldn’t be helped either. The braid usually starts out neat enough but Lyanna was always in too much of a hurry wherever she was going to care when strands escaped the ties as she moved. Apparently she had lips fit for a jester, with them being too big to fit in her face. She was too blonde, too small, too plain and overall, too insignificant.

She heard it all. For the moment, she pretended that it did not reach her but she heard it all. Still she concentrated on blinking back the sting in her eyes. A princess did not cry in front of anyone. That would be improper and disgraceful. And she could not be either of those things. Not for any reason.

She tried to excuse herself away, to escape from the cruelty she could not yet comprehend. Vinayana was not agreeable to that either.

“Awww,” she cooed mockingly. “Does the little princess want to run away? Well not yet. I’m not done with you.”

“What do you want from me?” Lyanna asked warily.

“Nothing. Just the pleasure of your company for now,” Vinayana smiled, if the baring of teeth in such distaste could be even considered a smile. “He will never love you, you know,” she told her, as if revealing some big secret. Prince Loki’s lack of love for her and their betrothal was no secret however. Everyone who had eyes to see and ears to hear knew of how much he loathed the very idea of their union. There was no love lost there. “You and your childlike innocence won’t last a day with him. He’ll turn into a wolf and probably eat you alive. Then he’d be free to do as he liked.”

“A wolf?”

“Hadn’t you heard? He can turn into a wolf at will, among other things. And he eats little weak children like you for fun.”

Lyanna stared at the redhead in disbelief. This was a joke, wasn’t it?

“Did I scare you? Poor thing. Terrified of her own shadow, isn’t she?” Vinayana laughed at Lyanna’s shocked face, and the posse of ladies joined in.

The laughter halted abruptly as a shadow fell over them. A soldier in gold armour stood tall, waiting till he was noticed. “Queen Frigga requires your presence in her solar, Princess Lyanna,” he announced to the group at large. Lyanna could not follow him fast enough.

As the soldier led her through the maze of corridors, she thanked the Gods, both Zirkonian and Asgardian, for the timely reprieve. She mindlessly followed him, trusting him to lead the way and let her thoughts wander elsewhere.

Never before had she been exposed to such senseless unprovoked cruelty. Lady Vinayana had only just met her and she seemed to utterly loathe her. If loathing was the only emotion she was going to inspire here, she’d have to let go of all thoughts of Asgard ever being home. The servants tasked with catering to her had been nice enough. In fact, they had clucked around her trying to make her feel welcome until she had begged them to let her go and explore.

She had not thought of herself as awfully tiny before either. But Asgard, full of their overly tall and burly citizens had brought that fact to the spotlight. Was that such a terrible thing then, to be small? Perhaps it was. Asgard takes pride in the strength of her inhabitants and size was apparently the prime indication. In that regard, she still had some growing to do. Well, she didn’t hold much hope for that. Zirkonians were usually slight of build – far better suited for artful persuasions than ways of war.

If Vinayana was right about that maybe she was right about the other things too. Were her lips truly too big? Was she so plain that she was practically invisible and blended in with her surroundings?

“You must not dwell on spiteful words too much, Princess. If you let her get to you, she wins,” the soldier said breaking her out of her own destructive thoughts.

She looked up to see him peering down at her with a kind smile, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. Green that was curiously familiar on a face she had never seen before. Strange.

“Yes, you’re right. Thank you,” she replied graciously, offering a tentative smile. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know she is wrong about all of it.”

“Thank you. I needed to hear that. Everyone seems to hate me here. I can’t quite understand why.”

“Not everyone,” the soldier responded pointedly, and she smiled back at him.

Perhaps not all of Asgard was bad. Perhaps there was kindness to be found. That gave her some hope at least.

They came to stop at a set of large wooden doors almost as high as the ceiling. She stepped in behind him to find herself in a huge library. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books, and she looked up in awe as the doors shut behind them with a thud.

She walked past him, breathing in the aroma of crisp parchment and print. “It’s beautiful,” she exhaled. She received no response from the soldier but she was too taken by the splendor of the library to take notice. There were probably thousands and thousands of books just waiting to be read! This library was even bigger than the one at her home. And that said something, considering Zirkonians were very fond of their literary indulgences.

Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw a golden glimmer. A strange occurrence in an otherwise dimly lit room. She whirled around to see what it was. Right before her incredulous eyes, the golden armour gave away to be replaced by an awfully tall man with slick long black hair, wearing a dark green leather tunic. The green eyes still twinkled at her and finally she knew why they were so familiar.

The one person in all of Asgard that she had hoped to avoid now stood before her, practically smirking at her impudently.


He couldn’t miss the accusation in her one simply uttered word. “Me,” Loki replied solemnly, but a small smile lurked on the corner of his mouth. His betrothed had eyes of pure violet fire. If he had been a lesser being, he probably would have been taken back by that much anger being directed at him. For someone half his size, she held her own. “I’m here to negotiate a truce.”

All he received in response was silence and a stony glare. His mother had been right. This was not going to be easy. Not at all.

But he felt something stir in him in anticipation. Whether he liked it or not, she was his. His to protect. His to cherish, if he even knew how to do that. His till the end of time. His.

He would win her over even if it was the last thing he ever did. It was a good thing he loved a good challenge. This slip of a girl just might be his most daunting one yet.

To be continued…


From the NYT obituary. February 2008:

A slight, pale dancer with large eyes, Ms. Bessmertnova was known for an innate lyricism that gave her dancing a mysterious, almost unearthly beauty. These qualities made her especially notable in the title role of “Giselle.”

Reviewing the Bolshoi’s London season in 1969 for The New York Times, Clive Barnes called Ms. Bessmertnova “the kind of dancer born to dance Giselle.”

“She is as fragile as a bird, has a frail, waif-like innocence, and dances with a fey sense of doom,” he continued.

Ms. Bessmertnova frequently appeared with the Bolshoi in its New York seasons. When she starred at the New York State Theater in “Swan Lake” in 1979 in the dual role of Odette, the innocent maiden transformed into a swan, and Odile, the villainous enchantress, Anna Kisselgoff wrote in The Times that Ms. Bessmertnova “had only to step on stage to establish her great sense of style and authority.” She continued, “Regality was everywhere — from her first high leap to the velvety tone of her unfolding leg extensions.”

Ms. Bessmertnova, whose mother was a homemaker and whose father was a doctor, was born in Moscow and received early dance training in the children’s classes of the Moscow Young Pioneers Palace. Encouraged by her teachers to become a professional dancer, she continued her studies at the Bolshoi’s school and entered the company in 1961, making her debut in “Chopiniana,” a ballet known in the West as “Les Sylphides,” and one in which she could display her sense of Romantic style.

Galina Ulanova, the Bolshoi’s foremost interpreter of “Giselle,” coached her in that ballet, and her repertory also included 19th-century classics and contemporary works, especially those choreographed by her husband, Yuri Grigorovich. She made particularly strong impressions as Phrygia, the poignant wife of a rebellious slave in “Spartacus”; Shirien, a fragile woman stricken with a mysterious disease in “Legend of Love,” for which Mr. Grigorovich based much of his choreography on Persian miniature paintings; and Rita, a variety-show dancer seeking to escape the world of the stage in “The Golden Age.”


REQUEST! Another hunter makes a few rude comments, which leads Dean to learn more about you and make a few confessions of his own…

**reblog from my old site**

Dean x (curvy) Reader

The hunt had gone well. Really well. Better than had been expected. Which was why you were currently in this shitty bar with the Winchesters, drinking whiskey and trying to one-up each other with stories of monster hunting. So far you were losing, big time, because, lets face it, you hadn’t taken on Lucifer, been to hell, lost your soul, or have Crowley on speed dial. But you were having fun, which was something.

You’d met the Winchesters a few months ago, when a Rusalka case had led them out west to Los Angeles. You had been working some cases out there by night and moonlighting as a plus-size model by day, taking the work you could get. You were surprised how much you enjoyed it- but getting dolled up for photos was a hell of a lot easier and safer than hustling pool or committing credit card fraud, those two hunter staples. You’d caught wind of the Rusalka case as well, you’d all run into each other, and you’d sorta saved their asses because it turns out, Rusalkas don’t really have much interest in drowning women, just men. It had been very handy that you knew CPR or both brothers would be dead. Since then, you’d worked some cases together, and the last month you’d found yourself tooling around the country with them in their big black car.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I just read nothisfault and I love it! May I humbly request a continuation?

Head in a lap and feet in another, Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed or this safe, especially in the light of Anakin’s revelation.

Rex fingers were gently tugging at his hair, running through it with a steady pressure and Cody was teasing the skin of his ankle with his fingertips with one hand and holding his calve with the other. It was pleasant enough that he had his eyes closed.

“Is he asleep?”

“Mmmn almost, he’s certainly exhausted enough for it.

The voices made him flicker his eyes open but instantly close it again as he breathed out deeply.

“Like I said, almost.” Rex repeated, smiling down at Obi-Wan with the copper strands curled around his fingers.

Snorting quietly, Cody rested his caressing hand on the ankle instead. “Well, he deserves to relax, he looks better.”

“You mean he doesn’t look like a pale waif like he did earlier.” Rex countered dryly, still wondering what in stars names his general had told Obi-Wan to provoke that look but having the gnawing suspicion that they wouldn’t be told.

Raising his brow, Cody shrugged. “I would have put it more diplomatically but…yes. Good food and company tends to set things at ease though.”

In response to that, Obi-Wan gave a low hum and nuzzled his beardless cheek down into the fabric of Rex’s blacks as if in agreement.

Throwing a smug grin at his brother, Cody carefully shifted the legs out of his lap and moved to stand, stretching slowly. “But lets get him tucked up into bed eh? Its late, he’s as good as asleep and tomorrow is a new day.”

Rex nodded and shifted a bit, allow Cody to shift his arms beneath the Jedi to pick him up, the Commander lifting the man with a bit of difficulties but not too much before getting him of to the bedroom and tucking the redhead in.

Both hesitated in undressing him, after what had happened to Obi-Wan, the last they wanted to do was to invade his privacy.

Obi-Wan caught Cody’s wrist however, eyes open to tiny slits with only the light of the livingroom shining in on them. “…Stay.” He mumbled while giving a little tug. “Stay both.”

“Its a narrow fit Obi-Wan.” Rex murmured.


After giving each other a long look the two clones joined Obi-Wan, all three pressed tightly together on the narrow bed of the Jedi and shifting around to get comfortable.

It ended up with legs and arms tucked in and around and over each other.

But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Didn’t feel uncomfortable even if it should.

Cody drew the blanket up around them and then settled in, Obi-Wan tucked between them.

It was much to easy to fall asleep just like this and Obi-Wan gave a quiet sigh between them, his legs tangled with Cody’s and Rex knees resting in the back of his and arms resting around him.

This was even better then the hands rubbing his hair.

He got to be safe for one night and pretend nothing was wrong.

“Of Love and Agony,” (1/1)

Summary: His tongue was cruel in more ways than one.

Notes: This was inspired by a very NSFW sketch that appeared on my dash. It is also DO-era filth, which means it is incredibly sad. So be aware going into this, it’s probably the darkest thing I have written or will write. Thanks to the bae, @abbadons-little-witch! Also tagging @captainwiley, by request. xo Also on Ao3, as always.

I have lost myself in the sea many times
with my ear full of freshly cut flowers,
with my tongue full of love and agony.
– Federico García Lorca

+ He surrenders in an unknowable moment between her thighs; but he won’t realize he’s lost until it’s too late, the strange, salty taste of her an intimate, uncanny premonition of the blood in his mouth.

“I knew,” she’ll whisper days, weeks, months later, their skin warm and damp in the light of a grey, early dawn, “I knew.”

Keep reading