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yourneighborhoodporg · 4 months

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The Guardian

Chapter 10: Troubled Water

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Banter, fluff, ANGST, references to war/drowning/migraines, descriptions of pain/violence/slight injury, near-death experiences, super worried/concerned Obi, Reader really going through it 👀

Summary: A week following your and Obi-Wan's dalliance with The Muntuur, you decide to spend the day meditating on the famed Temple contemplation balcony. But after an unexpected visitor disrupts your concentration, you find yourself trapped within a new, wildly dangerous situation. Good thing Obi-Wan is nearby to share in the risk.

Song Inspo: Bridge Over Troubled Water — Simon & Garfunkel

Words: 13.4k (please take breaks I beg you)

A/n: Soooo splitting up this chapter wouldn't have made sense so y'all getting a two-for-one deal for the Part I finale, which hopefully makes up for the big delay lol. This will be the longest chapter I ever post I promise you. I’ve been so excited to write this one. It's a bit intense. Song inspo for this chapter is supes important. Like, it’s literally Obi singing to the reader, I CANNOT (there’s a line talking about his “silver girl” 😭)— ALSO updates will be slightly less frequent for the following chapters because we ‘bout to be officially entering tcw plot lines and imma need more time to review them lol. Also, will be using the next week or so to respond to requests 😋 As always, please let me know your thoughts in the comments, and be sure to tell me if you'd like to be added to the taglist. Anyways, enjoy 😈

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Oh, when darkness comes

And pain is all around

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down

— Paul Simon

The glittering, golden rays of Coruscant’s sun submerged your resting eyelids in its warmth, only to be abated by the partial shade of plump bushes whose orange-red gradients reigned proudly around the meditative stance you now held. That, and the occasional gust of cooling breeze, which brushed across your cheeks in its periodic hold on swaying shrubbery, trembling at its mercy. Still, despite this wind tunnel encircling the Temple’s primary spire, it was not enough to limit the sporadic vegetation’s effectiveness in secluding your crisscrossed posture from the rest of the rather exposed contemplation balcony that skirted the tower’s median.

You had discovered this bronze-floored platform of rest and meditation during that first week at the Temple, surmising its intended purpose from the few Jedi you’d spied engaging in those familiar, solitary explorations against a backdrop of the wider District. It was one of the primary reasons you’d decided to return to this spot when you had the chance— to engage in such like-minded behavior with fellow Jedi for the first time in many years.

For the first time since Qui-Gon wished the Force to be with you for the very last time.

However, despite earmarking the serene terrace’s smooth architecture and scattered plant life as a sensible spot for meditation, you’d only really had a chance to visit it this afternoon— three weeks since your arrival on Coruscant.

It was hard to forget that, in the days following your first Temple appearance, perplexing headaches had severely limited any propensity for introspective freedom. Initially, by coercing you to find the next best thing in terms of a quiet place to meditate by the suddenness with which they arrived. Frustrating the immersion necessary to delve deeply into your inner being.

But that was nothing compared to the searing pain which radiated throughout your body in each cognitive session following a certain, fateful hour—

In which you bestowed a name upon the affliction’s sensation in hopes of understanding it better.

Black Water.

You shook your head haphazardly, eyes still sealed shut while your subconscious attempted to dispel that particular thought without disrupting your current, and long sought after, communion with the Force.

With a lift of each wrist to protruding knees, you relaxed your palms open, as if to better catch the swirling energies like falling snowflakes that absorbed into chilled fingers. A gliding stream that energized your veins and stood unparalleled when weighed against the prior weeks you were desperately trying to put behind you.

In a way, finally tasting the Force’s unfathomably profound vibrancy with such renewed vigor was enough to comfortably remind yourself that you could dive as cavernously as you pleased, since the listlessness of penetrating headaches was now a time of the past.

And you really did have Obi-Wan to thank for that.

In an afternoon with The Muntuur, you’d unexpectedly uncovered that mindless sprints down seedy tunnels, hours with your nose stuck in a holobook’s blue glow, and playing copilot with Anakin were not your only options to dampen those sharp stabs into dull throbs. With a suddenness akin to explosive laughter, those moments that followed ignited an inner epiphany—

That the power you siphoned from the Force by focusing your mind on others acted as some sort of natural medicine, as a booster that couldn’t be equated.

Whether that was training beings in the intricacies of a long-lost Jedi device or finding the humor in the attempts that followed, your mind gradually discovered the strength that wafted from these seemingly trivial interactions like sparks off a campfire.

In hindsight, you kicked yourself for not recognizing the presence of this strange ability earlier. Though, having previously held the revered title of ‘Sole Planetary Being,’ it hadn’t given you much in terms of options for discovering it on your own. But even then, when finally faced with an endless sea of individuals following your daring escape from Hoth, it still all took much longer than you would have liked.

Mostly because, during those few heart-to-hearts with Anakin, you had appreciated that the baring of souls— for an instant even so fleeting it could be compared to the flick of a lightsaber— was enough to reconnect you to the Force’s lifeline like a falling anchor. It was something that helped you read the young Jedi just as well as it saved you from being launched into space by a certain garbage pit acceleration shield. Yet still, you hadn’t read it as anything more besides some possible understanding that a long-foretold prophecy drew between The Guardian and The Chosen.

You just never really put two and two together.

Until it stared you right in the migraine-dulled face with blue eyes, curled auburn hair, and a well-kept beard.

And, obviously, once this particular realization clicked, you were sure to lean into these revitalizing energies with every repeat opportunity that presented itself.

In the week that followed, you and Obi-Wan excitedly wrung out a few more collective hours with The Muntuur. In which he steadily absorbed the programming basics while you conditioned yourself to hold any semblance of composure during the Jedi’s subsequent twirls around invisible foes.

A skill you had yet to fully master.

And then, in the next few, rousing days, as the communications system was re-secured, and ramping up Council meetings dragged Kenobi away to organize and assign new deployments, you soon faced the inescapable reality of extending this perspective to other day-to-day moments that excluded the Jedi Master.

And you certainly did your best.

You’d draw on the vigor of swapping taunts with Anakin’s passionate personality in afternoon spars. And focus your senses on welcoming Master Windu’s signature into your thoughts— though still with little success. Even those periodic study sessions with Ahsoka became just as much a chance to learn more about the confident Padawan’s perspectives and person as a way to strengthen your mind against the piercing throbs that weakened like a dying candle following each of these interactions.

Consequently, it was during these same last four or five days that you’d finally found yourself beginning to open up to the beings who’d rescued you from Hoth. Because it wasn’t until you were forced to gather up fortitude from the rejuvenating effect of drawing on your connection’s ability to swirl in others— like plucking flower petals from a field of solidarity— did you realize your mistake since arriving on Hoth.

That, in an effort to come to terms with Qui-Gon’s death, you’d closed yourself off to the impact of other’s around you. Giving all of yourself to every prophetic instant with an emphasis on Anakin’s well-being without truly finding a moment for yourself to allow this new connection with the Order to take hold. Without permitting yourself the chance to absorb all the strengths such unity imbued.

Nonetheless, the more you unlocked your rigid chest to the beings surrounding you, the less frequent and tender those shooting pangs became, as they slunk away like the migration of a long winter season. All the way up until the last few days, in which, for a lovely change, the familiar, hammering pressure at your sinuses never came.

Still, no matter how well this unique manipulation of the Force aided you in your affliction, it still left you quite unsettled, weighing down your sternum like a misaligned rib.

You’d never heard of a Force Ability that drew upon a Jedi’s connection to other beings. Nor a power so unique that its strength was determined by the wielder’s level of familiarity with the associations they extracted from. A concept that immeasurably wise Jedi like Master Yoda and Master Windu would be quite uncertain of, you confidently ascertained. Because, in a way, this talent seemed to teeter on the edge of what was accepted by the Jedi Code by their strict standards.

It was moments like these that you’d wished Qui-Gon was here.

He always understood exactly what to say, and precisely what to do.

But your late Master was gone, and you could only make the best decision you could at this moment.

So, deciding to take a page out of his book, you determined it necessary to hold off on sharing this new tidbit with anyone, especially the Council, until you knew more.

Another chilly gust of wind whipped at your hair, snapping off a few clusters of brittle leaves that quivered past closed eyes, sparkling in the Force like bustling dots for your senses to discern. It deepened your concentration, imploring you to consider the sweeping impact of such an odd development. How it rippled into your past of isolation and everlasting hardship, and how it newly affected your approach of the Order. Mostly, you chewed over the possibility that finding strength in connecting with the Order and the beings it housed was all a wider symptom of your purpose.

You were The Guardian, after all. An individual whose entire existence premised on the notion of putting others before themselves. It was only rational that a creature of prophecy such as that would gather strength from those they were tasked with protecting.

Anakin, the Order, and, in a way, the Galaxy itself.

And, now that you’d finally reoriented your bearings, you were finally planning to put that new solidity to use.

Once more, you stretched your lungs with a rapturous inhale, taking in the contemplation balcony’s encompassing, earthy scents that barely cut the surrounding district’s gaseous fumes as they crawled over the fringe of your senses.

It was easy to see why Ahsoka complained about the lingering smells of speeder exhausts or freshly welded metal any time she considered meditating outdoors. Citing it as the primary example for her difficulty concentrating in such a space.

Yet, you found the opposite to be true.

After years of traversing anosmic ice sheets atop Meetra’s pungent fur coat, you relished in the cold’s ability to naturally numb your olfactory. And it turned out to be another one of the many factors on Hoth that disconnected you from other worlds. So, when finally given the chance to absorb the kaleidoscope of essences Coruscant had to offer, you couldn’t help but feel as if it tied you with a sturdier knot to the wider Galaxy’s intertwinement with the Force.

Maybe that’s why you’d finally found a yawing peace in this little alcove. Guarded by a half-circle of vermillion bushes that stood in staunch defiance against the acrid aromas climbing over and onto the platform’s edge. A nook so ethereally stilled that it nearly cleared your mind of the bustling city below. In an afternoon which snugged exposed arms and a poised neck in toasty rays that capered in equilibrium with the occasional gusts encircling the Temple’s main spire. A quiet locale that released clasped breaths, with each exhale further lightening your mind into the Force’s eternal flow.

“Hi.”

Creasing one eye open, you peeked out in search of the youthful voice, following its eager jump at your senses once drenched in tranquil quietude.

A young, human boy, maybe six or seven years, was leaning into the alcove’s overgrown doorway, small hand clutching a nearby bush as he idled. Jet black hair accented against the warm tints encircling you both, making room for strikingly green orbs to splash another vivid shade into your line of sight while his head curiosity tilted to observe you.

“Hi there,” you responded cordially, shutting your peering eye without a second thought.

“Who are you?” He asked, with a rapidity that implied you’d never dignified him with a response in the first place.

Quite blunt, you noted behind the soothing shadows of resting eyelids. But it was hard not to appreciate that quality. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you were certainly like that at his age.

Stifling an endeared smile, you answered.

“My name is Silvey.”

“Nice to meet you, Master Silvey,” the youngling greeted brightly.

“Just Silvey is fine,” you gently countered. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well—“

“Petro,” he announced quickly, while you sensed his feet meandering toward your form. “Jedi Initiate.”

Returning to centering breaths in the cursory stillness, you could already feel how your words finally registered with the youngling, his meek boot passing by your attuned senses as he nudged a nearby, pattering pebble.

“Are you not a Jedi?” He bemused, pausing a meter away.

You confirmed. “I am.”

“Well, you seem too old to be a Padawan.”

You chuckled lightly at that, wrenching your eyes open to stare at the unfazed youngling with a feigned dare in your gradual stray from the interconnectivity of a previously solidified, meditative state.

“You’re right, Petro. I’m a knight. I just prefer the name. Without the title.”

Forehead furrowing in uncertainty, he squatted down, joining you with his own meditative stance that sacrificed elements of tranquility in its desperate attempt to mirror yours.

But you, instead, followed by resting your hands on either side. Using them as pillars to support your weight that leaned back in an attempt to encourage relaxation in the young boy.

And also, because, it looked like your session was reaching beyond the point of no return.

“Why?”

A good question, you admitted. You didn’t really have an answer for Ahsoka either when you asked her to avoid that particular designation. Though when she did pose a similar inquiry, you somewhat knew in the back of your mind that the personal values that’d emerged from your unusual upbringing were certainly a factor.

The reasoning you presented then should do, you presumed

“I suppose having a rank divides me from those who do not share it. And, as a Jedi, connecting with the Force through all living beings is a part of who I am. It’s harder to do that if I’m placed on a pedestal above them.”

The boy’s nose crinkled, almost as if he’d just registered the District’s sickly fumes that billowed into a drifting fog from below.

“I always thought you were supposed to call Masters that to be respectful. Because they know so much, and they can do those big flips in the air with their lightsabers. And I’m still stuck on Form One.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t wrong, you mused. In fact, his astute analysis was detailed enough to bring you back to threading memories of that rainy afternoon. When Obi-Wan found you at the outer edge of the Senate District, and the burden of piercing stabs dissipated in the hours that followed. Attributable to what was aptly described as invariably sound advice, or, ‘knowing so much.’

You hummed contentedly at the memory.

“They are quite wise, aren’t they?”

But it was clear that such a jettisoned comment did not swing the pendulum of Petro’s mind in any particular direction regarding your previous statement.

Time to take a new approach, you decided.

“Do you believe in the value of all living beings?”

“I guess,” he mumbled indecisively.

Your brows skeptically raised as you probed his response.

“You guess?”

Petro’s voice gave way to an embittered tone. “I don’t like those Separatists we’re fighting. Especially General Grievous. When I get my lightsaber, I’m gonna challenge him to a duel and destroy him for the Republic.”

You took pause at the vexation which plumed into the Force and prodded at your senses. Swelling into cascading clouds throughout the proximate ambiance from a being who, if stood on the tips of their toes, would barely reach four feet.

“It was not long ago that those worlds were once part of the Republic. Would it surprise you to know that even the beings on the side of the Separatists are just as important to the Jedi?”

Scratching his knee, Petro unshackled his gaze to wander upwards, green eyes unfixed as he spoke simply.

“I don’t understand. The Separatists aren’t our friends anymore because the Jedi are fighting them in a war. How can we hurt them and care about them at the same time?”

Your eyes crinkled in serenity.

“Because all life is sacred, young Petro. No matter what side any being is on. No matter what rank they hold.”

You exhaled, gaze standing firm as candor seeped from your pores.

“Though I must admit, I’m also quite confused about our place as peacekeepers in this war. But as long as you preserve that belief in your heart, I’m sure it will take you far in your journey as a Jedi.”

He nodded, that ever so slightly ripening mind absorbing your words. But, like with most maturing Jedi, it didn’t take long for a satisfied grin to peak through the abating wonder that had once lined his features.

“Thanks, Mas—“

Petro cut himself off, inhaling as his teeth caught up with his brain.

“Thanks, Silvey.”

You offered a soft smile.

“Is it easier to mediate here?” He continued, topic shifting just as abruptly as he spoke. “This is my first time visiting the contemplation balcony. I know it’s usually meant for Padawans and Knights, but I’ve been having trouble meditating on my own.”

You considered the youngling’s words, panning your gaze by the swaying orange-red bushes and toward the distant cityscape infested by disparate skylanes.

“Yes, it’s quite nice here.”

You faced the black-haired Initiate.

“And usually very quiet.”

But Petro simply stared at you blankly as that thinly veiled joke vaulted over his head.

“You can meditate here with me if you’d like,” you offered, hoping to bide some silence without discouraging the young fellow.

But the boy was way ahead of you, shutting his eyes with a beaming expression before you even had a chance to finish your sentence.

And, for a moment, it was calm.

The sway of rustling shrubbery and distant whirs of dashing speeders reentered your senses. You found yourself relaxing your shoulders back into the swirling stream, resting your wrists on each knee once more to deepen your connection. Quicker than the weeks before, you could feel its tingling energies crawl up your forearms and widen your perception of the swarming, broad region. The many Jedi circulating through local walkways, training, or even meditating nearby as well as the thousands of beings going about their daily lives only within a few blocks of the Temple.

Their distant mutterings. Their footsteps. The way with which their signatures contributed to Coruscant’s hive. Even young Petro, his squirming facial muscles and bouncing knee tugging at your senses as he attempted his own communion with the Force.

But, of course, it never did last for long.

“How old are you?”

You kept your vision obscured, hoping not to lose your progress in intensifying your concentration as you swiftly responded.

“That’s a secret.”

“Why are your eyes silver?”

“Family trait.”

“What color is your lightsaber? I bet it’s green.”

“Gray.”

“Gray!? That’s so cool! I’ve never heard of a gray Kyber crystal! Did you find it like that or—“

A sharp spasm speared through your mind, stunning your eyes wide open as your posture collapsed forward. Arms flinging out toward the ground to catch yourself.

With every extractable effort, you tried to absorb the debilitating sensation, hoping that if you just let it flow through you, it would pass as quickly as it came. A pain that, for an instant, felt as if it dwarfed all the headaches of the last several weeks.

“Are you ok, Silvey? I’m sorry if I said something wrong—“

“No,” you heaved, catching your breath as the feeling slowly dulled into the background.

Glancing up at the nervous boy, you offered a tired smile, reaching out into the Force’s eternal connectivity to focus on the beings around you.

“You did nothing wrong, Petro. I’m just—“

Another flash of white-hot agony, searing into your mind a sustained hammering that yanked from feebly quivering lips a distressed groan. Your fingernails dug into the squeaking bronzed platform, almost as if to distract your head from its steadily swelling excruciation with the torment of scraping skin against metal.

Yet, it only produced a mere fraction of the pain.

You couldn’t help it. It was the only way to avoid screaming out at the blinding sensation. That, and the anesthetic of grinding your teeth— an operation which made it equally impossible to speak.

“Get….”

Another penetrating stab ripped open your jaw, unshackling a jarring yell as your heartbeat began to quicken against a heaving chest.

“Get what?!” Petro implored, panicked, as he sprung to his feet.

“Is there something I should get?! What do I get?!”

“…help” you croaked.

“Help?” He sounded, tasting the consonants in his mouth.

Then, his alarmed gaze exploded in recognition.

“Oh, help!” The black-haired boy exclaimed, waving his arms while the cogs of his mind zipped into overdrive.

“Get help! I can do that! I can do that.”

Petro froze, dropping into a lower hush as he calmly addressed himself.

“I can do that.”

Bright green eyes snapped back up at your writhing, keeled-over form.

“I’ll be right back, Silvey! Don’t move!”

And with that, the energized youngling hopped into a sprint, barreling through the doorway out of your meditation alcove. Skidding to the left in an attempt to avoid one of the larger vermillion shrubs before disappearing around its lush corner.

But that still left you, reaching up to rigidly clutch your head out of instinct. Fingernails furrowing into disheveled hair and scrapping against the irritated scalp below just as ravenously as the floor.

Because, to you, superficial discomfort stood as the sole avenue to divert your attention from your paling face and shaking hands. As a means to grasp onto escaping tendrils of concentration amidst spiraling torment. You knew that intense focus was your best chance at ejecting these perforating splashes of acid from your mind. That intertwining with the Force’s undying strength would be the only pillar maintaining your teetering consciousness.

So, you plunged into it. Enveloping yourself deeper into the circulating stream’s linking medium with the aim of drawing stability from the beings who resided within and beyond the Temple.

From the Order itself.

Hoping that your brief theater to their energies would prove potent enough to pave you a path out of this torture.

Until it wasn’t.

Black spots began to cloud your vision, bobbing in from your peripheral, swelling to obscure the still swinging bushes and greater District’s landscape. Smothering you into a sea of darkness as if the Maker themself reached up into the sky and darkened the Coruscanti sun with a flick.

It was then when you prepared yourself for what you assumed was coming.

Snapping your eyes shut, you braced for the sudden dizziness that you were sure would take hold. A weightlessness in your stomach destined to shoot up your esophagus. A heated copper platform soon to meet your pained skull with an unceremonious slam.

But none of that ever happened.

Instead, the darkness began to dissipate. Clearing like a temporary fog that was simply passing through.

But this was no ordinary haze, it seemed.

Because in its place, with the continued volatile pangs slowing your eyes in their attempt to refocus, emerged a realm you had no words to fully describe.

And no idea for how you got there.

Your neck was angled downwards when your orbs first began to blink away the daze as the headache of before dissipated into a faraway hum. A position that encouraged you to confoundedly rub those same, silver eyes the instant you realized you were suddenly standing.

And on a ground quite unfamiliar to you, no less.

Beneath your feet ran an overlayed pile of black rocks, smooth yet jagged as they hugged your brown boots with slippery bodies.

You lurched back, disorientation from the drastically altered sight driving your feet as unknown, overcast skies darkened your movements. A freezing ache from the shock attacking your hands while you moved.

Until you quickly realized that each brisk heel rapidly digging away brought your legs deeper into the pile’s mass like a quicksand.

You went rigid, taking swift note of the sharp stones that now slithered around your ankles with a consistency akin to having been dipped in oil.

Quickening heartbeats shot up your gaze as you tried to reorient yourself within these new surroundings. Secretly hoping that perhaps you’d accidentally stumbled into some strange rock exhibit on the contemplation balcony.

But it didn’t take long to surmise that belief’s impossibility. Because to your left and right and as far as the human eye could see, was an endless accumulation of overlapping rock mounds. Rolling like black sand dunes on a lifeless island on which you now stood.

And solidifying your credence that, wherever you were, you definitely weren’t in the Temple anymore.

Still, that wasn’t the only new terrain that infiltrated your senses. By a flickering gleam a few meters ahead, you abruptly spotted a body of water that skirted the rock formations. A strange moat that seemed to stand still atop a bottomless pit of murky shadows with an eery calmness that made it nearly invisible to the naked eye, despite it being located just under your nose.

Then, still raising your head, you spied another structure just beyond the channel. A jagged rock face of stacked boulders that bore a towering plateau reaching twenty meters into the gray sky, measuring at least the same distance from which its foundation stood beyond the trench. You assumed from the few, fluttering wisps of green grass oscillating over its edge, that the sky-scraping crag’s inviolability clearly rivaled the unstable land on which you now stood. One that collectively squirmed from the same occasional gusts of cold, damp breeze, which left the calm waters unaffected.

Decidedly, you needed to find a way over there.

With considerably more caution, you stepped toward the standing water, trusting in your ability to inch close enough in order to gauge its depth without sinking too dangerously below the slick rocks as they continued to wriggle up your legs. Still, each lumbered stride became increasingly difficult while the hill’s pressurized grip tightened around each calf before squeezing at your knees.

But, in spite of that noticeable roadblock, and following several strained, jerking steps, you were finally able to near the bank. Drawing close enough to gaze into the river’s spine-chilling, shadowy underbelly.

Angling downward, you reached out a hand with the hope of splashing some dulled skylight into its depths for a better view. Perhaps it was more shallow than you initially surmised, which would certainly make your journey across its waters much easier.

But as your fingers graced its surface, you were completely unprepared for the jolting fiery shock that surged up your arm, triggering you to yank it away as if you’d just been splashed by pure, volcanic ash.

You hissed from the sting, cradling your arm while staring deeper into the river’s shadowy depths that rippled from the sudden distortion.

Within seconds of the minute cascading wavelet stretching and dissipating into the river’s outer rims, a handful of bubbles trickled toward the surface from inside its murkiest blotches. The first set effervescing skyward only to, one after another, snap and crackle like watery fireworks whose speckled flakes stung your arms stuck in the crossfire at the river’s bank.

Soon, though, the last gurgle fizzed into a silent pause. A deafening calmness purveying the unknown land to which you’d somehow been transported. Providing an opportunity to formulate some new strategy of escape.

An instant immediately stolen.

In a snap, the waters became overwhelmed by a swarming array of roiling bubbles. A rapidly expanding feat that began to overtake the stream. Transforming the once-still liquid into a gurgling mess as if a thousand lightsabers ignited its expanse from below to tip the already blistering lake over into a chain reaction of pure, uncontrollable entropy.

Your lips formed a thin line as you hummed to yourself.

“This is gonna be a problem.”

—

Obi-Wan Kenobi continued his steady jog down the main Spire’s winding staircase. Nut brown robe fluttering by each pearly step while the bearded Jedi considered just how long he’d been waiting for this pertinent moment.

Or, at least, for the assignments finally allocated at the Council meeting this morning. One that he was just now departing.

It had been six, prolonged days brimming with Jedi deployments following the communications system’s final clearance for secure use during sensitive operations. One after another, fellow Masters and Knights, accompanied by the occasional Padawan, circled through the Council’s chambers like an endless revolving door of diverse faces. Accepting each new mission with complete decorum before bowing to the seated assembly to make their exit. Ensuring space for the next General to enter the yellow rotunda of decorative inscriptions and curtain walls before encircling chairs and the distant panorama of Coruscant’s tallest structures.

All to receive critical orders.

That included Anakin and Ahsoka, who, by request of Master Windu, had departed from the Temple just the other day for the Bith System.

All and all, it had been nearly a week of Kenobi’s colleagues rejoining their clone forces to tackle the Separatist threat. After almost a month of virtually twiddling his thumbs while the men in his battalion laid down their lives without him. A scenario that weighed on the Master Jedi.

Thank the Maker that was no longer the case.

The first set of Council members— Obi-Wan Kenobi, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti— had finally received their first returning assignments since the full communications lockdown. But while those other Masters were expected to lead their respective battalions alone or be the sole Jedi representative on other worlds, for the first time since Anakin was his Padawan, Kenobi would have a companion.

A being, by Master Yoda, he was tasked with integrating into the Order. And, as a high-ranking Council member, one whose true identity Kenobi needed to protect. An individual who had mentioned to him earlier their plans of meditating on the contemplation balcony before his morning meeting. And because of that, a Jedi he knew exactly where to find to inform them about their mutual deployment scheduled for tomorrow morning.

You.

The auburn-haired man paused mid-step, brown boot hovering over the next, grayed stair for an instant before gently touching down as his senses attuned to their surroundings. His ears perked while a subtle distortion washed by stilled feet, like the elusive splash of a puddle that just happened to knick the edge of his shoe.

With a hand on the thick, wooden guardrail, The General’s curious head smoothly tilted over the staircase, as if to spy the source of the atmosphere’s twitch that he found so strangely difficult to describe by simply peering at the level below.

His brows twisted in slight confusion. Mostly because, after conducting a quick analysis of his environment, the Master Jedi found the subtle sensation’s presence to be quite foreign to him. It wasn’t anything he believed to be particularly concerning. Though he couldn’t admit to having encountered it before. No matter his countless meditation sessions or travels to other worlds.

Perhaps that too was why, despite its innocuous nature, the sudden shift in the encompassing hum of the Force still gave him pause.

Resting his eyelids, Obi-Wan focused his mind on the strange discrepancy, reaching out with the tendrils of his senses to ascertain its truth.

It was as if, within the Force’s steadily taught string, a subtle dip pried down one insignificant section of its intrinsic flow. As if in its everlasting stream that moved throughout every being and world, a fly became caught, with wings too soaked to free itself.

Overall, it was a feeling that wasn’t quite… right. Something that shouldn’t necessarily be there, he gleaned.

An otherwise benign inconsistency Kenobi was confident you wouldn’t mind him investigating. Even if it meant a delay in hearing the details of your upcoming, joint mission.

The blue-eyed Jedi resumed his trek down the spiraling staircase, spry footsteps leading his loosened form. This time with his aim shifted toward the curious ridge that etched into the Force and canopied his senses.

With ample time to reach the variability and a wandering mind, Obi-Wan took the empty moment to consider the Grand Master’s decisions regarding his delayed assignment.

Of course, The General understood the logic behind Master Yoda’s insistence that non-Council members be deployed first while those left behind delegated such commissions. If the Republic expected to recoup its battlefield losses, it was wisest to finalize those strategies with the senior decision-makers still in one place. All while those uninvolved in the planning process took those first, few important strides toward implementing the Grand Army’s ever-evolving designs.

Still, the wait became arduous. The bearded Jedi was usually more patient when it came to such matters as these. And, to be sure, he wasn’t particularly enthused about the encroaching sleepless nights or measureless tasks that were destined to cut into his meditation time.

But now that most of the overarching battalion strategies tailored for the Jedi’s return had been finalized, General Kenobi could not wait any longer to dig his heels back into every effort the Republic put forward to preserve peace in a Galaxy threatened by shadowy forces. Agents of the Dark Side like Count Dooku who, week-by-week, further convinced Master Yoda of his Sith identity.

One of two beings Obi-Wan could never risk permitting either of which to entertain the idea of your existence.

“Master Kenobi!”

Traversing the last few stairs onto the Spire’s median platform, Obi-Wan promptly raised his head toward the adolescent voice. Taking note of its high-strung manner as a dash of jet-black locks jounced into the lower creases of his vision, followed by a flash of green orbs ablaze with panic.

He tilted his head inquisitively.

“Yes, youngling? Is there something wrong?”

But the winded, wide-eyed boy couldn’t answer, mouth agape like a Bluefish thrust from the ocean. Instead, he flung out one distressed arm, grasping Kenobi’s own to tug it frantically toward the platforms behind while breathless words tumbled from trembling teeth.

“We… we need help! Silvey needs someone… someone to help them!”

A raw chill surged up Obi-Wan’s spine, spreading across his cheeks like icy roots that temporarily sucked the color from his lips. Providing enough of a momentary shock at the boy’s words to nudge Kenobi’s heels forward as the youngling dragged him along.

The Guardian, in need of help…

Considering how stubbornly independent you’d always been, this notion certainly worried the Jed Master. It would’ve taken a great deal for you to request any sort of assistance. And from a youngling, no less…

Something must’ve been seriously wrong.

And, as the Jedi whose only indefinite assignment to himself was to ensure your protection, the idea of you being seriously injured or worse fleetingly triggered Obi-Wan’s anxieties about the future in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Not since his experiences as Qui-Gon’s Padawan, at least.

“Slow down. Tell me what happened to Silvey. Are they alright?”

Both Kenobi and the youngling fell in step, the former walking briskly with the semi-jogging boy across the rotunda’s cobalt blue carpet while he continued to tug at the Jedi Master’s sleeve.

“I don’t know!” He huffed, slightly sniffling as he gazed up at the elder Jedi with teary eyes. “We were just talking and they fell and they looked like they were in a lot of pain! They told me to get help, so I did.”

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his mind from the initial surprise.

He had an idea of what could have caused this, yet it didn’t make any sense. The bearded man thought that these stress-induced headaches had resolved. At least, that’s what you had told him. He’d become convinced that your efforts to focus that bright mind on differing matters had finally compelled them to fade into the background.

But, if that was the case, what could have possibly changed all that in the matter of a day? Of an hour, since last he saw you?

“Where are they right now?” Kenobi coolly spoke as agile Jedi and youngling stepped onto the contemplation balcony, the gleaming rays of Coruscant’s blazing, yellow sun beating down on the pensive man’s searching face.

“I told them to wait in the Redweeds Circle where they were meditating.”

Obi-Wan halted, forcing the glassy-eyed yet somewhat more sedated boy to skid to a stop, fingers still tightly clasped to his brown sleeve as he frighteningly gazed up at the bearded man.

“I will go and check on Silvey, youngling. But I have one very important task for you while I do that.”

The boy emphatically nodded, lifting up a pair of knuckles to swipe away a dribble of snot leaking down his lips. Still, he listened, green eyes glistening.

Kenobi exhaled, kneeling down to address the boy at his level. “What is your name?”

“Petro,” the youngling sniffled.

“Young Petro, I want you to run up to the High Council Chambers and find Master Windu. Tell him what you told me and where to find us.”

A slight twinkle flickered in the boy’s eye. “I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Obi-Wan graciously smiled while resting a hand on his knee to stand once more. “Now go. I will see to it that Silvey is alright. Have no fear. You did well.”

The black hair boy nodded.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi,” Petro vocalized, a modest upturn gracing the corners of his mouth.

With a pivot of his foot, the youngling trotted back toward the inner spire, beginning his lengthy journey to the tower’s highest point where the Council chambers lay. Still, despite his frazzled signature and hurried pace, Petro still found a moment to call back to Master Jedi who’d just resumed his trek toward your being.

“I hope Silvey will be ok!”

And Obi-Wan certainly agreed with him.

Trailing the copper-tinted curvature of the Spire’s outdoor platform, Kenobi quickly sped toward the Redweeds Circle, passing the occasional Jedi and botanical display in his tempered jog to reach you. He paid no mind to the blue lekku that hung smoothly from either side of Master Aayla Secura’s head as he glided by her deep, meditative trance at the terrace’s outer border without a second thought. He brushed off the District streets’ eddying fumes, accompanied by an unbroken chain of droning speeders and stirring winds that echoed down the path toward the secluded divisions of the balcony.

But the instant his bounding steps brought him within reach of those familiar fiery shrubs, Obi-Wan suddenly found, with his legs uneasily immobilized just before the alcove’s parted entrance, that a familiar distortion had weaved its way back into his senses. And in a fashion that couldn’t simply be ignored.

Because it was the same bend in the Force that he’d sensed on the main Spire’s stairway just moments ago.

A discrepancy, Master Kenobi realized, as he was once again driven to spin through the verdant corner and onto the meditative alcove, was coming from you.

Drinking in your slumped-over spine and cradled head in a blink, Obi-Wan’s unexpectedly spurring heartbeat bolted him toward your figure, stirred to quicken his pace as another pained groan escaped your lips.

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan called out, concern tugging at his sternum while he slowed to kneel beside you.

Eyeing your obscured countenance, Obi-Wan tried to slightly lean in, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face to help gauge the severity of your condition.

But that wouldn’t change the fact that Kenobi had never seen such a strong, physical reaction like this from you before. Especially with regard to the migraines of the last week.

“What is happening? Is it the headaches? Have they come back?”

“Obi-Wan?” You croaked, flicking your head out of cupped palms in startled search of him.

But what Obi-Wan saw nearly made him stumble out of your line of vision altogether.

In place of your brilliant, silver eyes had emerged a thin, gray film, wrapped around the delicate orbs like a taught bedsheet. Seemingly acting as a buffer in your vision during your aimless search for Obi-Wan, despite him being knelt directly in front of your wandering gaze.

“Where are you?” You intensely inquired, vision oscillating from side to side.

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. “I’m right next to you.”

Puzzlement jerked at your brows. “I- uh. I don’t see you.”

“You’re sitting on the contemplation balcony with me.”

Lifting a hand, he reached out for you, placing his palm on your sun-kissed shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze as a freezing tinge enveloped his fingertips.

“Do you feel my hand?”

“No, I can only feel this damned headache!” You groaned. “And I’m gonna have to disagree with you, Obi-Wan. Wherever I am, it’s definitely not the balcony, and it’s pretty hard to move.” The Master Jedi spied as your hand shot back up to massage your temple. “It doesn’t help that this ache is weighing me down.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth devolved into a thin line, worry etched across his features as he absorbed your troubling words.

“I’m not sure I quite understand. Are you saying you’re seeing some other… place?”

“If you can call it that, yeah.”

The bearded Jedi’s blue eyes narrowed, unsettlement bubbling like a steeping tea at the uncertainty of your condition.

“Tell me what you see.”

“I’m…”

Kenobi dropped his hand while your head swiveled, scanning the encircling vermillion bushes and bronzed terrace below as if you could truly see those landmarks through swathed orbs.

“I’m on some sort of… island. But it’s made up of these strange rocks. They’re oily, covered in soot, and… seem to act like quicksand around my feet. Uh, there’s a lake? It’s surrounding the island. But, Obi-Wan?”

Your neck swiveled like a droid urgently conducting a scan as you again searched for him, uncertainty contorting your features.

“I’m here, Silvey,” Kenobi reassured, scooting his knees against the smoothed floor to resettle directly in front of you as your cloudy eyes stilled straight ahead.

“What is it?” He implored, attentive stare unmoving. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“The water… it’s… black. It’s so black it’s like a shadow in my hand.”

The Jedi Master did not like the sound of that at all.

Kenobi steadily exhaled, a swirling array of thoughts fighting for dominance while he attempted to ascertain what could cause such a condition. And, more importantly, what he could do to stave off its symptoms to ensure your stability, even if temporary.

“What worries me is…,” his eyes refocused on your shifting gaze as words trickled past his ears. “…Is that’s what I called my headaches. The name Master Windu told me to assign to it. Black Water. And now that’s what I see. But when I touched it, it started to boil.”

Your brows contorted in realization, jaw tightening while you spoke.

“I think it’s gonna flood the island…”

Instantly, Kenobi felt his forehead will toward yours. Slowing just inches before your nose as if proximity would make his voice clearer to you. As if it would bring your mind back from being trapped inside this bizarre realm.

“Can you get out?” He implored, a serious quickness charging his tone. “Is there somewhere you can go?”

“There’s another tall island on the opposite side, but I can’t reach—“

An audible gasp ladened with visceral pain tumbled from your tongue, followed by a stiff exhale from flaring nostrils. It was enough to draw Obi-Wan to launch his hands out to clutch your upper arms, holding them so staunchly like it was the only thing keeping you talking. Like it was the only way to keep your body from disappearing too.

He was supposed to be protecting The Guardian, and, by the unnerving sight before him, it looked like he was already failing at that task. A notion that only drove him to accelerate his spoken tempo in an attempt to seek the answers he needed to help you.

“What was that?” He worried, eyes softening at pain transparently emanating from your features. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s happening.”

“The waves,” you swallowed with stitched brows, rubbing the back of your hand while you spoke. “It splashed my hand. They’re moving closer. And every time I step back to get away, I sink deeper into the island. I don’t think I can walk any further. And I can’t use the Force here to pull myself out.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze sunk, allowing his arms to fall to his side as he settled into folded legs in an effort to parse out this rapidly developing situation.

Master Windu still hadn’t arrived, and there was no way Kenobi was leaving you by yourself to deal with this unpredictable vision only to fetch a distant Healer. If he could call it a vision. The General had certainly never heard of a Jedi becoming fully imprisoned within their own mind by one.

Though, despite being trapped by his own expeditious attempts to decipher the imminent disturbance, the uneasy man still noticed out of the crest of his vision a splash of reddened skin with peeling flakes as your soothing fingers uncovered the striking development.

And it was a sight perplexing enough to compel Kenobi to grab your wrist, just when you began to pull it away.

“Silvey…” he spoke lowly. “You hand.”

“What?”

“It’s red.”

“What? You can see the burn?” You asked, confusion dripping from your cheeks. “How? You’re not in my mind.”

“It’s here. It’s on your hand here. On the balcony.”

“Oh,” you vocalized, scrunching your nose as you continued.

“That’s really not good.”

Kenobi’s already galvanized chest hammered deeper, threatening to fracture a rib.

If, much like The Muntuur, this strange affliction within your mind had a devastating effect in the real world, it was quite possible that were this dubious river to flood your mind’s island before you had the chance to escape, your body would likely go down with it.

And, given your tightening jaw and sucking, painful breaths in your continued purveyance of invisible surroundings, Obi-Wan at least knew this:

That he had to do something.

It was his duty, after all. Even if that meant putting his mind, or life, on the line for The Guardian.

Not just for you. Or Anakin. Or the Order.

But for the Galaxy itself.

For Qui-Gon.

Positioning his hands on each knee, Kenobi rested his posture into a taught line, hoping to focus his racing thoughts on reaching out to the swirling energies that glided throughout him. Paying careful attention to narrowly avoid that dip in the stream that characterized your being and infected the flow.

“Hold on,” he murmured, releasing his mind into the Force. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Obi-Wan, no,” you rejected, vehemently shaking your head. “We still don’t know what this is. This is my mind we’re talking about. You know, the one Master Yoda had trouble analyzing? The one Master Windu hasn’t broken through? It’s too dangerous for you to even try exploring it in this state.”

“You forget,” he jested, pressing against the severely weakened barriers to your signature while his eyelids swung shut. “Facing danger in service of others is a Jedi specialty.”

But despite the confidence leaking from the bearded Jedi’s whimsical words, it was still not enough to prepare him for the astonishing sight that beclouded his bright blue orbs as Master Kenobi shouldered through the thin, protective layer that gave way to your inner mind.

—

You knew the uphill battle of hiking away from steadily rising waters lapping at a disappearing shore would inevitably sink you far enough into the mound’s squirming pebbles to trap you indefinitely. Thwarting away any hope of putting another inch between you and the frothing black liquid whose gurgling waves rolled over each other as thickly as a bubbling oil field.

You just didn’t realize that waist-deep would be the cutoff.

The deadly river roiled just a few meters away, unleashing its intensifying rage with sporadic splashes scattering far enough to swipe searing lines across the sides of your neck and forearms.

Yet, even then, the distance still appeared skewed, mostly by steaming rocks transferring the stream’s burning heat against the protective layer your robe provided. Its slender fabric barely cut their progressing fever while they buzzed with an intensity akin to the campfire rocks you remember scavenging during those late-night cave explorations on Hoth. And, with memories of prematurely dispersing those pebbles with the help of a sleeve, it didn’t take long for you to realize, eyes fixed on the unfortunate sight, that your ash cloak’s thickness wouldn’t be enough to stave off the shards’ uniformly climbing heat for long.

“It appears you could use a hand!”

Your gaze flung upwards, eyes narrowing pryingly at the rough skirt of the grassy precipice from which a carrying voice resounded down the crag and bounced across the humming buzz of scalding waters, all the way to you. Vision sharpening through rising smoke plumes, a hazy emergence snagged your focus while a brown robe flapping around similarly tinted boots crystallized in the fog.

You crossed your arms, elbows gracing the wriggling, sizzling pebbles as an incredulous smirk charmed your expression.

“Last time I checked, that was my line.”

Your brows furrowed in bewilderment.

“Wait—“ you exclaimed, having fully registered Kenobi’s presence within the inner facets of your troubled mind while your arms released to gesticulate your point.

“—How are you here?! Master Windu and I have been working for weeks to even access my thoughts!”

“Whatever this is, it has severely weakened your barriers!” He called out, a swelling wind swishing auburn curls and a shadow of unease clouding his countenance.

Soon, Obi-Wan’s lost stare raised to absorb your mutual surroundings in his scan of the endless, inky mounds whose rolling bodies far surpassed your being into the outstanding, elusive expanse. And, inside those few, short seconds, it became clear that whatever he saw germinated an element of disfavor that stitched like a spasm deep into his blue orbs.

“I sense a great darkness there!”

“Fantastic,” you huffed lowly, sarcasm nurturing its steady drip while you returned toward the preoccupied Jedi with a pointed stare and wry chuckle.

“Still think it’s just stress, Master Kenobi?” You poked, raising a brow.

And you could tell from the Jedi’s mixed expression that he realized he definitely deserved that.

A searing slap at your cheek drew out an uncontrollable hiss, snapping your gaze back toward the sizzling rapids. During the progression of your exchange, the raging waters had crept close enough to now densely crackle less than a meter away from your confined frame.

“Uh, any ideas?” You vocalized, nervously eyeing the encroaching, greasy waters.

“You’re going to be alright!” Obi-Wan shouted, arms extending over the cliff side with fingers pointed toward your figure below about thirty meters away. “I believe I can access the Force here! Don’t move!”

“Thanks for the advice!” You deadpanned, feeling a slight pressure begin to tighten under your armpits, and bow your elbows. “I was originally planning to practice Form Four while stuck in these quicksand rocks, but now I know not to do that.”

With the rise of his palms, your torso harshly tugged upwards, bringing the borderline of writhing pebbles roughly below your rear while the belligerent waters licked at the unstable land mere feet from your anchored form.

“You know what I meant!” He objected tensely, forearms straining in his continual heave skywards.

Another squeezed yank, and most of your heated legs were finally freed. Loose, burning shales tumbled back into the cavity hatched by limbs kicking out to freedom during your hasty retreat to elbow onto flatter land.

And just in the nick of time too.

Boiling liquid instantly engulfed the mound that once had you ensnared. Only seconds after you’d finally, gratingly freed a boot momentary wedged among interlocked shales.

Still, despite your newfound freedom, you couldn’t help but refocus your mind back on the black river’s looming essence as you were promptly reminded by the mounting deluge that your temporary haven would be just that.

Temporary.

“Obi-Wan…” you uneasily droned, sights locked on the molasses-like liquid traveling intelligently across the last few inches that divided its scorching heat from your fidgeting, sweaty feet.

“I don’t understand!” He nervously exclaimed, drawing your stare while he viciously grappled with thin air before his arms fell with a grunt. “I can’t move the rocks! Can you see anything that could be used to block the overflow?! Or to help you move away?!”

“No!” you shouted, fruitlessly surveying the endless mounds of black shards to your rear before facing the quite visually unsettled Jedi. “And if I move back any more I’ll get stuck again!”

Tensely biting your lip, you stretched your neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of any way across the crashing waterway— a loose path of stepping stones perhaps— when your vision once again spied the rocky cliff towering fiercely in support of Obi-Wan’s faraway figure. And while you scrutinized the plateau’s craggy outer foundation that fabricated a makeshift shoreline, you did happen to spot amidst its rugged construction two round, graphite boulders of particular interest balancing against each other toward the divide.

They stood at about half your size and appeared sturdy to move, you assessed. Making them maybe, just maybe, durable enough to get you off this death trap of an island.

So, extending your mind through elongated fingers, you attempted to clasp onto one of the shapes.

That was before learning the hard way that on that faraway shore too, you could still not manipulate the Force.

“What is it?!” Obi-Wan called out, having seemingly noticed your distant focus and budding frustration.

“Those boulders below you!” You replied, motioning for his probing peer to traverse back over the river’s murky depths. “Can you move them?!”

“I can certainly try!” He exclaimed.

An echoing grunt reverberated down the cliffside while Kenobi struggled to negotiate the boulders’ dense builds. Even from your remote spot through clouds of smoky fog and under overcast, gray skies, you could almost glimpse the blossoming of thick veins that tirelessly pulsed throughout both of the Jedi’s tautened arms.

But it wasn’t before the obvious strain brought Obi-Wan’s two, forcibly planted feet teetering just at the cliff’s edge that you felt compelled to somehow strategize a new plan. Because no matter how dangerously close those bubbling waves came, you were far more driven by the heightened danger Kenobi inched toward with each onerous yank at the structures below, effectively stiffening every muscle in your body.

Until the tiniest twitch in the right boulder stifled your breath.

Within the span of a blink of an eye, Kenobi had, by all accounts, unearthed the brawn demanded to barely lift the grayed boulder, prying it from the delicately balanced pile that slumped noisily from its removal.

He hovered it through the splintering waters, securing the object against crashing waves that threatened its journey. Holding it steady enough to shakily maneuver its shape before finally allowing it to clatter inches before your feet.

“I’d like to know why you can access the Force in my mind when I can’t!” You complained, grappling onto the giant stone with grayed sleeves clutched between your fingers as you rose atop its structure, two rapid heartbeats before the dark waters encircled the drifting, black rocks below.

“Never mind that now!” He remarked. “I’m going to build you a bridge!”

“You can’t!” You called out, boulder quivering up your legs from the rushing stream. “It took nearly all your energy to move just one of them!”

His eyes dilated with apprehension at the truth behind your words. Until that was all washed away by an element of reluctant resolve.

“When you have another suggestion I’d be happy to take it under advisement! But, for now, this is the plan!”

With rounded lips, you sighed, whispering lowly to yourself as you considered this rapidly developing predicament that you somehow now roped Obi-Wan into.

“This is not gonna end well…”

So, for those next several, tense minutes, once you acquiesced to Kenobi’s plan, it became a desperate race between you and the troubled waters persistently frothing its deadly torrent always just below. Obi-Wan constructed you a path to deliverance brick by brick, with a cacophony of strained grunts and shouts to watch the slippery corners that, following one misstep, were sure to lead to a scalding demise. It certainly didn’t help that the river had once again proved its near sentience, with the blubbering, hot liquid countering your bid for freedom by striving to surge and crack against the ascending bridge, passion like an Alessian Terror Moth to a Glowlamp.

Though, despite the restless undercurrents of anxiety breaking against your own subconscious from the absolute instantly that was this situation, a small part of you eased at the ongoing effectiveness of this thrown-together strategy Kenobi had arranged. With every available effort, the auburn-haired Jedi briskly lugged each shiftable boulder ahead of the flooding river and rising steam. And, you had to admit, his perseverance had certainly helped alleviate any general unease surrounding the plan’s ill-advised nature, calming nerves that you didn’t even realize had heightened before the adrenaline began to shake out of your system.

That was, until his complete exhaustion started to manifest through heavy perspires, drenching his face and tunic and stiffening his increasingly stuttering movements. Especially once you passed the waterway’s halfway point, those sluggish maneuverings of trembling boulders barely lifting off the ground soon became a new cause for concern.

“You need to take a break,” you advised with a comforting gaze and more standard projection, now able to make out the bearded Jedi’s entirely drained complexion from just twelve meters away. “The water will still be safely low enough for a few minutes at least.”

All Master Kenobi could do was nod while labored breaths struggled in and out of his lungs, hands reaching for rigid knees as he subsumed the brief instant greedily, fatigue dripping down every inch of his hunched body.

It was really difficult to see him like this, you absorbed, eyes glued to the troubling sight. Obi-Wan was by far one of the most intelligent and capable Jedi you’d met during your time at the Temple. So much so, that had Qui-Gon seen this day, you knew he would’ve been immeasurably proud.

Then, to watch him crumble within the confines of your strangely infected mind? Putting every piece of himself as he was known to do in service of others? Toward some crisis you could’ve escaped on your own had you held out for just a little bit longer?

You felt awfully guilty.

You sighed, attention so strongly levied on the recovering man just above and beyond that you almost missed the nearly imperceptible, detached rattlings that ostensibly reflected from the torrent below.

Ears perked, you glanced around the set of stacked boulders that precariously buttressed your balancing, skyward frame. Allowing your severely debilitated senses to lead you into a turn as you tracked the clatter toward the flooded land from which you just barely escaped. Still, despite being initially met with the broad flood of shadows, you encouraged your vision to center.

It was a decision that empowered you to quickly spy a thread of black specks emerge from the dark waters, swelling quickly in their rapid, squirming approach up the bridge with movements so coordinated you assumed they had to have been connected by some invisible thread.

“What in the Wampa…” you whispered to yourself while trying to discern this strange sight with squinting eyes.

Neck craning to take a closer look, you soon recognized the flecks’ familiar snaggy shape and greasy complexion as they melted into a pebbled form.

With nowhere else to go, and a healthy bought of curiosity driving your gaze, you observed as the black rocks slithered up the last few boulders, wondering if some strange wind trap created by the manmade bridge had somehow twisted these shards up and out of their sodden cradle.

But you were swiftly proven wrong when, madly wrapping around your leg like an unshakable boa constrictor, the reactive pebbles seized you into a downward tumble, preventing you a chance to even react. Still, your eyes grew wide at the twist while a startled Kenobi called out after your disappearing figure.

Your back slammed roughly against the bridge with each jolt, forcing you to twist and wrestle for an imperfection to grip. All the while blistering rocks jabbed into your leg with a wildness that made you gasp.

With fingernails continuing their descending scratches against a flux of smooth surfaces, you finally felt your arm give as it locked onto an indent in one of the jutting boulders. Eliciting another groan while the gravely serpent continued to tug at your commandeered limb just before the simmering heat that now suddenly reigned a centimeter below.

With a heartbeat exploding so hotly it felt as if the organ itself would stop altogether, you floundered to face the earthy creature. Spine twisting and arms tightly hugging the boulder beneath while you attempted to somehow come face-to-face with its pants-shredding clutch, hopefully without plummeting off either edge of the narrowed bridge.

Soon, however, by the swing of your other limb flipping your body, you were finally able to secure a newfound position of dominance. With the resulting urgency that rushed through your veins playing a pivotal role in raising your uncaged leg to rally a string of unfettered stomps across the organism’s linked skeleton.

One by one, you snapped off each wedge of the unwelcome parasite, feeling each incisive, prodding sting until you watched the last pebble fall with a hiss and whine back into the deluge. One that, any second, threatened to nip at your ankles.

“Nevermind!” You yelled, leaping to your feet in a desperate race back up those few, squeaky boulders you’d collapsed down.

“No time!” You continued, finally reaching the bridge’s incomplete brink and nearly stumbling over it altogether before halting just in time to spot an aura of relief wash over Obi-Wan’s features the instant you emerged.

“The rocks are alive and they’re trying to kill me!”

Kenobi’s head retracted in befuddlement from registering your words.

“What?”

Another clamor of pattering clicks rang out from the rear, soon overwhelmed by a racket of grating cracks and splashing plunges that whipped your head so quick it took a full second for your hair to catch up.

Alert eyes stilling on the alarming sight, you quickly registered that, in place of the bridge segment once fastened to the tumultuous waters below, now stood a fractured crater. In fact, the structure’s first disappeared steps into ascendancy had overflowed with squirming oily shards and rushing black liquid. The same conscious elements that began twirling like waterspouts with the intention of shimmying up to the next set of boulders, only to girdle the masses with a tight squeeze that sent another section of the bridge bursting into useless fragments.

Staunchly pointing at the rear development, you addressed the perplexed Jedi once again.

“Now they’re eating the bridge!”

“What?!”

But it didn’t take long for Master Kenobi to understand what you meant, as the last few levels of the hazardously erected configuration began to buckle under readily collapsing supports, drawing you into a falter while you tried to steady yourself atop the highest-reaching boulder.

Clearly, this situation was becoming far more dangerous than you could have ever predicted. And with that came a very real realization—

That the longer Obi-Wan remained here in his futile attempts to save you, the more jeopardy he’d be entrenching himself in.

You’d had your fair share of tight circumstances before. And, no matter how dire this one seemed, you knew by your track record that you could probably figure some way out. But, each time you faced down another bloodthirsty Wampa with a broken arm and fractured clavicle, or defended against greedy pirates who’d temporarily stolen your lightsaber, or even traversed icy plains after becoming lost in the dead of night, you still felt comfortable taking such risks.

Because you had faced them alone.

There was no one else you really had to look out for that prevented you from subjecting yourself to the perils necessary to survive.

Until now.

With this danger unlike any other.

One that you could barely predict. And one that had tangible consequences transferable to the physical realm.

One that siphoned the security you usually experienced in attempting such perilous schemes into unruly disquietude. At least since an unpredictable element by the name Obi-Wan Kenobi illuminated the fact that you’d now be endangering a life other than your own.

The land he stood upon was much safer than the vanishing oily mounds below. You understood that. But such a belief would only hold true for so long. It was just a matter of time before the troubled waters threatened to swell and engulf the bearded Jedi whose features contorted in uncertainty as he stared down at you.

Even if he waited until the absolute last second to escape— at the instant when your dreadful doom was sealed— you didn’t believe that the Master Jedi could pry himself from your mind fast enough. At least, not before it was wholly consumed by slippery shadows.

And, most importantly, if you knew one thing, you knew this, and with the confidence of a simple math equation no less:

That if Kenobi got hurt because of you, you would never forgive yourself.

In the short time he’d known you, he had already done so much. Acted as an incendiary to healing discoveries about yourself that you had no previous notion of exploring. Stayed at your side during those inner battles of painful migraines despite your initial attempts to push him away for his own protection. Truly, you couldn’t allow a man as kind and affecting as that to put his life on the line for you. Not when the Galaxy needed Jedi like him.

Not when his death would feel like losing a piece of Qui-Gon all over again.

Besides, being The Guardian of The Chosen One didn’t just mean protecting Anakin, but anyone who you believed to be a part of his destiny.

And you were quite confident that his former Master certainly qualified.

With the prospect of an untimely and horribly painful end slapping you in the face, your sheet-white face finally gravitated toward the unsettled blue-eyed man above you. For the first time since you were both thrown into this bizarre mess, the two of you exchanged a lingering gaze, silently arguing about the best next step as you gradually came to terms with the prospect that your insatiable luck may have finally run its course.

But while your features drowned in realism and pursed lips, Obi-Wan’s seemed to harden with sharpened brows and a newly robust determination, one that threatened to cut down your soberness with a mighty slash.

Because, if you remembered correctly, Obi-Wan Kenobi never believed in any such thing as luck.

“You need to jump—“

“—You need to go.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“The water is rising too quickly, Obi-Wan. You took so many rocks from the cliff side that it will probably collapse once it nears my position—“

Another quake in the tottering bridge jumbled your feet onto a slippery edge, nearly toppling you off the bridge altogether before a strong yank tugged you back by the hood of your robe.

Quickly, you replanted your boots, releasing a shuddery exhale as you spotted Obi-Wan’s outstretched fist lunged toward your figure, an agitated sigh falling past his evenly firm lips.

“There is no choice, Silvey!” He sternly repeated, heavily lowering his outstretched arm. “You must jump!”

“It’s a death sentence either way!” You yelled before dropping into a pragmatic tone.

“It’s too far for me without my abilities. I’ll fall.”

“Then we’ll work together,” he suggested, closing his eyes and releasing his spine as he spoke.

“Focus on my connection to the Force—“

With literally not a second to lose, you did as the wise Jedi advised, pressingly reflecting his posture amid roaring waves and collapsing boulders that you did your best to drown out with eyelids that fluttered closed.

“—And repel the shadows.”

But it was hard to sense his meaning.

The instant you tried to reach out to Kenobi’s figure with every branching fiber of your being, all that you were met with was a brick wall. As if the rising steam had congealed into some sort of smoky barrier that reigned all around you and deepened the blur of your senses. Suffocating your connection to these strange surroundings in a way you didn’t think was possible. And in a way that you couldn’t control.

“It will feel like a bright flicker in the darkness.”

Darkness? Could that be what this was? A pure, unadulterated aura of the Dark Side? And encompassing a portion of your grievously debilitated mind, no less.

You’d never had the occasion to sense the Dark Side of the Force, having only known one light side Jedi during your isolation on Hoth. You didn’t even know what it felt like. Master Kenobi had mentioned he could sense it here. Perhaps that was why your connection to the Force felt indefinitely cut off.

And, if that was the case, then maybe you were going about this all wrong.

Rather than force the shadows away in their immovable form, rather than controlling forces quite unknown to you, perhaps you could glide through them.

And the instant you endeavored through this tactic, you soon realized that Kenobi was right.

As you reached out again, this time wading past the confusing blockades that bloated into mist as you tapped them away like drifting bubbles in search of anything familiar, you finally tasted it.

A gentle orb of glaring light that, despite its size, radiated with the strength of a thousand suns.

An energy so sweet, tangible, and linking within these ubiquitous, observational shadows, that you felt lured with shaky fingers to touch it.

“Find your connection, Silvey. Whatever you must do, find your way back to the light.”

An aura so intoxicating, that you took a bite.

An unparalleled sensation of light surged through your veins. Radiating up your arms and throughout your body with an intensity that wrenched your eyes open with a sharp inhale as you felt the tingling buzz of the Force reactivate through standing hairs across your frame.

After a moment to settle into this stream’s bright yet anomalously quivering touch, with prickling cheeks gradually subsiding, you finally felt able to breathe into the remarkable feeling. First encouraging your nerves to cool while electrified eyes refocused on the auburn-haired man above, who appeared similarly disoriented and breathless.

You couldn’t blame him, though. With a quick glance at the deluge below and the rapidly ascending shards bouncing behind, you both registered that you had mere seconds to make a decision. Still, despite perceiving a reconnection to at least some piece of the Force through Obi-Wan’s dependable guidance— no matter how strong that initial connection felt— you couldn’t help but sense it to be much weaker than you’d ever experienced in the real world.

If you were being completely honest, as you readied yourself with heels digging into the slate boulder, you didn’t think this was going to work.

But waiting any longer meant giving more time for the troubled waters to reach Obi-Wan.

And that was unacceptable.

You needed to move.

With a hand boldly cast down, he yelled for a final time, imperious, blue stare burrowing into yours.

“Jump!”

And, so, you did.

With this newfound connection to the Force, the faith it partially imbued, and the man you needed to protect in dire need of saving—

You jumped.

Your feet soared above the lapping waves of piping liquid as the bridge’s final pillar shattered, toppling the structure’s remains into gurgling oblivion. You felt the blistering swipes of the ensuing, loose droplets at your ankles, catapulted by the boulders’ untimely descent while you neared the overhanging, verdant ridge from which Kenobi’s hand remained firmly extended with eyes locked tensely on your gliding frame.

However, what you had judiciously feared, and what the Master Jedi hadn’t seemingly predicted, was that, despite the helpful boost in mending a fraction of your Light Side connection, the degree to which you became entwined with the distant Force appeared to fall short of your immediate needs.

With ash-like steam thrusting against your face, you began to lose propulsion too soon, leading to the drastic turn that sent you hurdling toward a lower portion of the cliff face with no discernible crevices to grab ahold of.

Subconsciously, your legs began to kick, arms outstretched to brace yourself as if that would cushion the inevitable crash that was sure to bounce you back into the boiling, black river rumbling just below.

But that darkness never came.

In an instant, Obi-Wan had vaulted over the precipice, using one hand to grab the crag’s lip while he swung in between your collision course. Tirelessly flexing arm outstretched, he slid a loose, sweaty palm into yours, clutching it tightly before ripping you out of your momentum and into a brief twirl, leaving you both to dangerously dangle feet above the boiling stream that steamed your swaying boots.

“Maker…Are you insane?!” You screamed, a crimson outrage blooming on your face at the sheer recklessness with which he acted. “Why did you do that?!”

“I seem to have learned…a thing or two…from our mutual friend,” he grunted, attention focused on your upward escape while his knuckles whitened on either end.

You didn’t want to believe it, but you were confident in its truth.

If you stayed like this, you both were going to fall.

“Obi-Wan,” you gulped, a chill running up your spine against the smoldering background as you tried to calm your voice.

“You need to let me go.”

His bewildered gaze snapped toward yours.

“Absolutely not!”

“You’re just going to get yourself killed…” you explained, ogling him sensitively.

His eyes softened.

“Then save us both,” he hushed. “The Galaxy needs you just as much as Anakin.”

Kenobi’s eyes warily flickered past your figure as his voice intensified.

“Now, whatever you may have done earlier, I suggest you try it again before we both become another ingredient in this ghastly stew!”

You followed his stare, catching sight of the same encroaching waves that churned inches from your toes, thickly crashing and gurgling up black spouts over the array of sporadic boulders.

Wait.

“I have an idea!” You exclaimed, digits extending toward the smoky, gray body of a nearby boulder. “Cover any exposed skin!”

Tapping into that tiny spark of light blooming in your chest, and in cahoots with any and all available facets of energy remaining in your wearied body, you heaved the giant rock, clenching every possible muscle in an effort to nudge it upwards.

With a guttural cry you had no idea was your own bouncing off the cliff side and across the rumbling river, the rounded mass finally broke free, following a sedated, wobbly climb up the crag toward both of your hanging bodies.

Only a third of the way up, you became numb, extremities tingling while you focused your entire consciousness on ensuring this last-ditch plan’s success. So much so, that as your eyelids drooped in and out of blurred vision, you didn’t even realize that your clasped palm had begun to slip.

Until Kenobi let out a pained gasp, taking on the brunt of the collective weight by clamping onto the remaining loose fingers so tightly that you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t broken one or two.

But that extra two or three seconds was all you needed. Within that frame, you’d raised the dense boulder to hover just beside Obi-Wan’s swaying form, providing a stepping stone of sorts to the ledge just above.

“Climb,” you arduously breathed, skin itching as your muscles threatened to give out.

And you certainly didn’t need to tell him twice.

Using his robe to protect himself from the rock’s blistering heat, Master Kenobi swung one leg and then the other onto its rounded body, heaving himself up with every procurable limb that wasn’t attached to you. All the while you desperately held the boulder in place as black dots began to dance at the creases of your vision.

Swiftly, he found his bearings, using the newfound surface to lunge onto the grassy knoll that characterized the plateau’s surface before immediately swiveling to drag you up with him.

“Let go of the boulder!” He exclaimed while his other arm reached down in urgent search of your Force-wielding fingers.

But the moment he told you to release it, those digits fell limp, collapsing just as quickly against your side as the giant rock plummeted back down to the dark, troubled waters below.

Yet, crouched over the cliffside, Obi-Wan refused to give up.

Tracing the outline of your slumped limb with the back of his hand, you felt the warm thread eventually reach your frozen palm, grasping it eagerly before the Jedi Master tugged you upwards by both arms.

Slowly, but surely, you felt your body lift while rising steam dissipated into a cold sweat, eventually permitting weak feet to mindlessly carry you over the partition and onto solid, green ground that pushed up against your soles.

You blinked.

“Silvey?”

The familiar sway of red-orange bushes and distant commotion of cityscape bustlings suffused your senses. In time, you spotted Obi-Wan, crouched directly in front of you with a particularly troubled tint lining his features and a warm palm resting gently atop a shoulder that you barely distinguished as your own.

You were back.

But something felt…

Off.

You shot up, legs buckling slightly as if you were trying to walk for the very first time in years. Brushing off Obi-Wan’s touch with the back of your hand in an attempt to continue your driving stumble forward.

“Wait a moment,” Obi-Wan insisted while bolting upwards, propelling opened palms to hover by your sides as you momentarily stilled in between them. “Take it slow—“

“What is going on here?”

Squinting, you spied the familiar figure of Master Windu, brows crossed in stoic reprimand as he whisked toward you both, brown cloak whipping behind him. With a wandering gaze, you narrowly spotted out of the far corner of your eye a familiar set of black locks. Peaking out from an inconspicuous hiding place behind one of the far vermillion shrubs that betrayed their location in its periodic swerves against the breeze.

“Master Windu,” Kenobi called out, waving him over. “We require your assistance.”

But with a body that, for some reason, felt uncannily like your own, it became hard to focus.

Master Windu eyed you critically. “What happened?”

A dizziness overtook the distant migraine of before, black splotches from your mind returning with a vengefully accelerating frequency. It blurred your vision into a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that soon mutated the eyes, and noses, and lips of the men before you into an unnatural, dripping putty.

Your mouth opened disjointedly, yet no words came out.

“Master Kenobi, what’s going on?”

You reached for your head.

“I’m… unsure. Silvey? Is it still the headache?”

Weightlessness.

“Woah woah.”

Warmth.

“Youngling, fetch us a Healer—“

“Silvey, can you hear me?”

“—And then see if Master Yoda is available.”

“Silvey?”

End Part I: Rescue of the Fates

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

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lutawolf · 5 months

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My Dear Gangster Oppa Commentary Ep 5

If you haven't read my other commentary on the show. You can find it here. Sorry this is late, hope you still enjoy.

@bl-bam-beyond

The scene starts with them at the beach and transitions to them walking into a hotel room while kissing. Tew double checks that Guy is still okay and once he gets the green light it's all done for.

I love the feet tangled, and that Guy is a very active participant. He wants Tew just as much as Tew wants him.

@bl-bam-beyond

The good thing about being late to writing my review is all the bomb ass gifs. Especially since I can't get my discord still frames to show up. Something really wonky is going on with my Tumblr.

Anyway, Guy is giving off super shy vibes. Unless he is talking about Tew's scars, then he turns into a whiney baby. He quickly learns that maybe he didn't want to know as much as he thought.

Ahhh, here we have talks of Tew leaving the gang again. Boss Daddy isn't going to let him go easily, me thinks.

"I'm all grown up!" but I stayed the night with a friend. 🤣🤣🤣 Tew teasing Guy is too adorable. We are having a too cute sappy moment, so of course that's when Wahl has to show up.

Okay, I'm all about friends being concerned but this just screams ownership. When he doesn't own Guy! Meanwhile, the entire time Wahl is running his mouth, Tew is making some expressions in the background. Which I'm loving. Wahl just doesn't realize that he is only safe because of Guy.

Fuck, I love Guy's speech.

"Listen to me, Wahl. I admit I've changed." He is asking Wahl to listen to him. This is a good way to start a conversation when you need someone to hear you, but this only works if the person values you. He then gives Wahl the benefit of telling him he is right. This will actually make Wahl more receptive to listening because he is showing this isn't a negative conversation set to place blame. "I used to be insecure and have no friends until I met you." Again, using positives in the conversation before the negatives is going to keep the listener receptive. He's also showing that he values Wahl. "You were the friend that I cared about the most. I tried to do the things you liked. Applied to the same university as you. Attempted to fit in with your friends." He is keeping this about himself and not blaming. "Do you know why? Because you told me, I would always be your first choice." You see Wah's eyes drop, and he is clearly thinking, because he is receptive to what Guy is saying. "I've been holding onto what you said for so long. So long until I've become tired of them." Now he is addressing the negative. He is exasperated with himself and Wahl for allowing himself to be stagnant and for Wahl trying to keep him there. "I want to have my own life and someone who truly understands me."

Now we have a sad Wahl at the beachside having a self awareness melt down. Meanwhile, Tew is having a beachside pouting session. He all happy once Guy spills the beans and a cute flirty moment ensues. Now he is more than happy to eat the cake that his boyfriend is offering.

Awww, he wants something personal from Guy.

These two have become sickly cute and I love it. From the teasing to the bite on the nose. I'm entranced.

Boss Daddy can read Tew very well. He knows he did something wrong, he already knew about the lying, and he knows that Tew is in love.

Damn. Daddy not playing around. You got one shot buddy, make it count. But Tew is taking those chances and is lucky. I like that he still shows respect, and I still maintain that Boss Daddy cares for Tew. It's just that he is a gangster boss.

Then Tew accepts the beating that he knew was coming. Relying on his moments with Guy to sustain him. He wraps the handkerchief from Guy around his hand and endures.

Meanwhile, in the land of guilds, they are not happy.

Just as we're about to have a reunion. Tew shows up bloody and beaten. Did the dumbass really suggest calling the police. Did his common sense leave with his virginity? This is so fucking cheesy... I mean, I like it, but it's still cheesy. "Why are you crying?" "I never want to see you hurt like this again. It hurts everywhere." We are falling into the "He fell first, but he fell harder troupe."

We get sweet promises, moments and kisses. Some TLC. That sadly doesn't move to more. Sad for both us and Tew. I'm with you, Tew. Sex makes everything better.

They are so playful. I love it.

So they'll have to do some clean up, but the besties quit the gang together and they've got a plan! If you think this is too easy, then you're right, but let's just enjoy the moment while we can.

Guy and Boss quickly realize that they need help, and guess who shows up.

I love these bitches. Let the teasing and cuteness commence!

I adore Boss's flirtiness, but damn, I don't trust him. Neither does Tul. Also, what did Phai's business card say that had Guy making that face? I have so many questions!!!

And we establish that Muffin is an idiot, but the other two aren't. But it instigated the official announcement of TewGuy. Which, of course, everyone pokes fun at. Good Times.

Tul really doesn't trust Boss. Looks like he was right not to. He works for Wish John Lennon. Sure it's by force but so what. He betrayed the person he is, claiming he'll always be beside. You thin Tew would do that to Guy?

Tul cares but doesn't trust. That is a mood there. One that is valid considering that Boss drugs their drinks.

And that is where the episode concludes. If I was Boss, I would be very afraid of what Tew will do to him for hurting Guy. But we'll have to wait and see.

#my dear gangster oppa #tew x guy #tewguy #luta talks my dear gangster oppa #thai bl #iqiyi drama #coconuts mafia #coconuts mafia day rip #I'm sorry that this isn't as good as unusual. We lost a friend and while I wanted to write this. It's hard to be happy.

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ener-chi · 9 months

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Review for Ener-chi:

Imagine for whatever reason the spirit world has some hold on you that you can't escape. To make matters worse, you're not at the level to handle it by yourself so you seek out those with the abilities that can. Alright, shouldn't be difficult right? Incorrect. Things that have happened to me on my search: scammed, ghosted on and just feeling like I'm left in a ditch in the middle of nowhere with the sound of howling coyotes approaching. Thankfully, I'm a stubborn cow that just wants to chew my grass in peace so we climb out of that hole and give a finger to the coyotes. Here is my review of Ener-chi aka Zach!

Skill level: intermediate.

it's a given if you've gone through Zach's posts with his adventures in the astral or the readings he's done for others. With the readings he's done for me it's been the whole "what I needed to hear" and not "what I'd like to hear to stroke my ego." My ego was out of control once so Zach didn't sugar-coat the message from my spirits. The end result? Me with a metaphorical black eye. My ego? Bruised, swollen and crying like a baby for days on end😥😰😭😭I was ganged up on by not only my own spirits but the spirits of Zach's cards too. Looking back, I know I deserved it and my spirits did try giving me spoonfuls of honey but noticed me being greedy and thought enough was enough. Painful truths serve a purpose so between them and a beautiful lie, I prefer the former's bitterness because who's ever heard of "good" medicine that tastes sweet anyways?

Spirits like to talk in their own cryptic ways so I'm not surprised when I asked for clues related to something I need to search for in the physical only to be redirected to something seemingly unrelated but likely is related. Zach's readings made me feel reassured that my spirits do have my back. If they didn't care, they'd fill my head up with helium and I could descend down a path of egotistical madness that repulses me down the road. The spirits that care for me remind me of my own physical friendships where if a friend told me they want to jump off a cliff I'd berate them and probably take a taxi over and beat them over the head in person some more. My friends would thank me for that and I'd thank my friends for doing me that favour too if I said something like that.

There was a time one reading turned into a healing session and I've got to give props to Zach's ability for that; something was deeply buried in my energy that previous practitioners didn't detect at all. Even my guides who keep a watchful eye over me didn't sense it. This nasty yucky thing Zach said was leftover rotting energy that I'm thankful he removed. In the physical, it seems that this nuisance was aggravating my negative moods. The moment it was taken out I felt wayyy better. More relaxed and less hurt by whatever weighed on my mind. After that Zach helped configure my energy which I guess the nasty thing stunted from working normally. My energy has since entered a sort of "clearing out" state. So if I was worried something threw a metaphorical wrench in my clockwork it's since been taken care of.

Maturity: a humble dude.

There's a quote I'll paraphrase that goes something like, "people can brag about being enlightened but those who truly are just let themselves be and their actions speak," I'd say Zach is definitely the latter. Zach cultivated not only his abilities to be able to decipher the messages of the spirits and heal others but also as a person which is demonstrated by his patience and willingness to discuss things with people. He has, in my opinion, stayed humble and not strayed from growing both spiritually and in the physical as a human being. You can't separate the physical from the spiritual since they're two sides of the same coin; whatever injuries you get from either side it's gonna show up, so you can't neglect either. Speaking from observation, some practitioners neglect their humanity and it shows in how they treat others.

In the past, I've approached various somebodies that presented themselves as open to helping others only to do the exact opposite and I'd be worse off. So I'm forever thankful Zach isn't Ike that and recognizes the responsibility and weight of this line of work. I'm not afraid to ask for clarity which he is happy to provide. On the economical side of things, he's willing to work it out and godbless him for that. There's people who would charge up to $100 if not more than $300 for a single reading that they'd say has NO guarantee to help you. IMO, if they're not a scammer then they might as well be one. I don't joke about the fatalities energetic injuries can lead to physically so if somebody is that enamoured with money they're fine with you dying and being in debt thanks to them they shouldn't dare claim they're "enlightened."

You could hire anybody to compliment you, even probably hire lots to insult you and some would offer to do it free of charge but somebody who can get rid of a parasite that's giving you months of insomnia you never had in your entire life? it won't cost an arm and a leg?? PLUS they're not an asshole???! A national treasure find.

Conclusion: highly recommended.

This was written because I had this nagging voice in my head saying I truly wish Ener-chi would get more love for what they do! I thank whatever forces looking out for me that led me to them. For as long as Zach would allow it I'll be back to check in with whatever's going on that side for me. It's easy to talk to him, he's level headed and channels the voices of the spirits well. Also if stuff is going down with your energy he can tell you straight away if it is from spirits giving you unnecessary grief. If you've eliminated the usual physical checkup then maybe it's time for a spiritual energetic one.

In light of me opening up my readings again, I wanted to share this wonderful review that I received! I always love getting feedback on my readings, because it helps me grow and improve. But I also love hearing about how it resonates and how it helped you. That's probably one of my favorite parts about doing a reading 🥰

Thanks again for the review, anon! It's absolutely wonderful and I'm incredibly grateful for it, and for you too (:

Blessings!

#mine #asks #feedback #readings #psychic readings #intuitive readings #psychic

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fujoreads · 4 months

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Umineko: Episode 1 // Review & Thoughts

I was initially NOT going to do this since I played Episode 1 long ago last year, but since I'm doing this from episode 3 to 8, might as well have these.

I have daily logs with my reading sessions' reactions and thoughts, but I'll try to find my highlights and summarize everything!

VNDB | Steam

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

CW: Murder (duh, it's a murder mystery); ableism + dysfunctional/abusive family talk

P.S.: There are youtube previews but they break inside my blog's theme, so they won't look as good, but I refuse not to show them, hmph!

This Episode was definitely more of an introduction, even though we seem to get introduced to new concepts, characters and even plot points with each chapter—just like with Higurashi. They do have the same author, after all.

One of the most common complaint I hear from folks about this episode is that it's too much of a slog at the beginning and while I can understand people's issues with pacing in general, I disagree. Maybe I just read too fast and am used to slow pacing, but I feel like people are just too used to having everything quickly presented to them without having to wait at all.

I see this same complaint with Higurashi and I gotta say: it's exactly BECAUSE it's not scary and mysterious from the bat, that when it does become crazy, you feel it. And it's gradual, even at that stage. You can see that as you go further: so far, this is the tamest episode yet and each ones outdoes the previous.

Anyway: I really enjoyed this as a first episode. It truly felt like an Agatha Christie and then it went 180 on it, just like I was expecting from Ryuukishi.

The incest jokes are fortunately short and quick to end, and I get why they'd bother so many people looking for a serious story, but at the same time I feel like people made too much of a ruckus over it. Battler is a horny teen and hasn't seen his family in 6 years; while that doesn't excuse him being a creep, this is clearly meant to be a funny scene and not be taken seriously. You can either laugh it off, roll your eyes or just ignore it, not drop the VN altogether—though if you can't take some tasteless jokes, you wouldn't last the entire ride for how long it is (lol)

I really like how similar yet so different the MCs from Higurashi and Umineko are. While they are both lovable perverts, Keiichi is quick to paranoia and doubting his friends; meanwhile, Battler shows a strong resolve to never doubt his family to the very end. ...This might age poorly depending on future episodes.

PLOT

youtube

Honestly, the score doesn't matter that much to me anymore. Especially not when I've read further and have been therefore corrupted with more exciting scenes.

This might be the less out-there scenario, and I appreciate it for what it is. This is basically Ryuukishi saying "hold on to your seats, this is gonna be crazy, but for now, just take it all in and get ready."

On the other hand, the family drama got INTENSE. Eva being voiced by Takano's VA makes so much sense, her being so sly and scheming. Poor Natsuhi, she's a bit too serious for her own good, but Eva is just a bully T^T

The scene where the first twilight happens is too much of a banger!!! I was not to control my emotions: I didn't know whether to dance or to grieve/be shocked. Ugh. But I'll talk more about it in my Soundtrack part.

Also, I just fucking love all the subtle (and not so subtle) references to Higurashi. It's really lovely to see a connection to one of my favorite VNs ever.

And those are my thoughts for the plot itself! I'll be talking about other aspects of the game after, but before, we still have the Tea Party and ??? chapters to talk about!

I knew beforehand there would be something akin to the All-Cast Review Session (from Higurashi) but it certainly surprised me. I was expecting a 20-minute read and I got 2 hours of reading AND a direct connection to the main plot??? Bonkers.

Plus, Battler was so badass the whole time, even if I called him an idiot a few times before this.

Oh yeah, and he was a bit of a savage at times LOL

(this hurt even ME)

CHARACTERS

Since this is the introduction, most characters are still very barebones compared to how far they've come where I currently am. HOWEVER! Ryuukishi is a fucking madlad writing characters.

Everyone feels like their own person with their own faults and liking points. Hell, he plays you like a puppet whose strings have been cut masterfully, shaping your opinion of certain characters just for that illusion to be broken along with our tame expectations of them.

Ushiromiya Battler

My cutie patotie, my little meow meow.

He started off a big incestuous weirdo but he's more mature than he shows, being all considerate for people around him and never being malicious. I love him.

Oh yeah, the whiplash I got from hearing Akasaka's voice is no joke-

Ushiromiya Rudolf

He's a dork and not a great father, it seems. I like his character but I know I wouldn't stand him irl. Though to be fair, I would be more like Maria—but we'll get there in a sec.

Ushiromiya Kyrie

MY WIFEEEE 🛐🛐🛐

I just love Kyrie no matter the episode. She's badass, reliable, but always mysterious. I never thought those "cool" mysterious characters were all that until I met her.

Ushiromiya Eva

MY QUEEN, SLAY 💅🏻✨ Jokes aside, she's a fucking great character. She might have a venomous tongue and be very shitty at times, but that's what makes her her.

Ushiromiya Hideyoshi

Hideyoshi is my utmost "can do no wrong" pick. What a wholesome and cute husband, especially to someone like Eva. God have mercy on this man.

Ushiromiya George

George is another cutie patotie, but he makes me a bit suspicious. I don't know, while Battler is just a pure-hearted goofball, George seems a bit more formal, more intentional with his behaviour and acting. Maybe it's just the glasses... Probably.

I gotta say though, some of the phrasing in his scenes with Shannon (or Sayo, I guess) are uuuuhm... I'd call this a red flag. Unless they were both into it, I guess lmao

Ushiromiya Krauss

I still remember my first impression of him:

He doesn't stand out particularly in this episode, so I won't make any comments. He does remind me of one of my uncles. As I said: insufferable.

Ushiromiya Natsuhi

So far (currently on episode 3), this is her episode. Maybe we'll get further character development (I hope so!) but for now, this a Natsuhi-centered episode. She starts off rather traditional and even cruel to servants, but she quickly earned my respect as the leader of the group, when the murders start happening.

Kinzo acknowledging Natsuhi as an Ushiromiya made me tear up 🥺💗

So many queens in this game 👑

Ushiromiya Jessica

I find Jessica a bit lame as a character. Maybe I'm just an adult, but her whole teen drama felt a bit too much. I mean, I get it; hell, it could even be envy... My own mother is mostly a Natsuhi-type and I can relate to Jessica's feeling, but I have grown up more contained—afraid— than her, let's just say. (Growing up autistic + ADHDer and undiagnosed with a overworked mother who now rejects my official diagnosis does things to you lol)

Ushiromiya Rosa

Rosa started as one of my favorite characters. As the younger sibling to a Eva-type of sister, I could relate to her struggles so much. That is, until you see how she is as a mother. I can still sympathize with her own individual struggles and I don't suddenly hate her because she isn't perfect, but again, as someone who grew up undiagnosed and was the "weird thing" that freaked everyone out and shamed my mother for exisiting, Rosa's behavior towards Maria was hard to watch.

Ushiromiya Maria

I will say: Maria's behavior is a bit weird when the occult is involved, but I daydreamed my whole family would die in a traffic accident at 11 so I'd be free of them—who am I to judge?

I could relate SO MUCH to Maria. I swear to God, Maria is so autistic-coded it hurts: ecolalia (the "uu"s, even if it's also supposed to be a moe? trait lol), lack of facial expressions, special interests (occult, Beatrice), not understanding jokes (even if she is a child)…

She's just like me fr. Her meltdown over the Rose reminds me so much of my own childhood, even if I don't remember much. Beatrice should just adopt her, heh.

Also, pretty sure Maria is the one writing these character profiles.

Ushiromiya Kinzo

OOOOOOH BEATORICHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Nothing much to say, he's painful to listen to. I mean, I guess that's intentional so hey, the VA did a wonderful job!

I think this is how my family must feel as I shut myself in my room all day long, only leaving to walk the dog and eating lol

Shannon

As of this episode, Shannon isn't given much spotlight. I'll be commenting more next episode!

For now, she's my little cutie patotie (3)

Kanon

I didn't love Kanon at first, but he’s just a teenage boy, it’s understandable. I still don't love him, but he's grown on me.

Genji

Genji is an interesting character. I don't remember much from him during the first episode, but I basically saw him as the reliable type.

I wouldn't be too surprised if there were any Kinzo x Genji fanart, not that I ship them

Kumasawa

Ah yes, the only able to outdo Battler in the pervert lines.

Kumasawa is a fine supporting character, but we don't see much from her. I mean, there are some things about her during episode 3, but not really? I can't explain without spoiling, so I'll complain more when I get to it.

Nanjo

Nanjo's cute mustache my beloved. That's all.

Gohda

Gohda might be the funniest character, actually. The fact that he is just a random dude caught in the whole mystery is so funny to me.

Other than that, I absolutely hated Gohda this episode. He gets a bit less insufferable for the next episodes, but maybe it's just me sympathizing for the poor guy just trying to do his job.

Atmosphere & Soundtrack

FUCK. I LOVE BEING ABLE TO HEAR.

Seriously, what a divine soundtrack. Especially the ones by zts.

youtube

I just couldn't stop banging my head!

And I've heard Umineko has around 200 tracks—I can't wait to get through all of them <3

I'm kind of sad I don't know what else to say, but I'll just leave this video here. It's what made me pick up Umineko once and for all:

youtube

Ooooh I almost forgot about the Voice Acting, so I'll include it here. I LOVED IT. A lot of VAs from Higurashi came back so it's always fun to notice these little things. It makes the drama much better too.

Art

I've chosen the PS3 sprites. Yes, I know: heathen behavior. But personally, I love them. I know that compared to the OG art, they may not be as expressive, but I just enjoy them a lot more. I've grown to appreciate Ryuukishi's art a lot more as I played Higurashi, don't worry.

The Pachinko version, on the other hand, is fucking awful. Say what you will, I just can't swallow it down.

Writing

I know Ryuukishi's forte isn't his prose, but it's actually not bad at all!

I don't have anything in particular to comment on, so I'll make this one short. Great writing, even if a bit convoluted at times.

Mechanics & Gameplay

This is a weird section, as Umineko doesn't even have choices, let alone "gameplay", but hear me out: I'm playing with the mods.

The visual and sound rain effects, the lip sync, the overall visual effects... chef's kiss! I doubt my enjoyment would be so great without these. Call me spoiled, but they are truly amazing.

Final Thoughts

Phew, I wrote a lot!

Umineko is not an unknown work for those into visual novels so I don't think I have to particularly recommend it, but I am absolutely loving it. No wonder people praise it so much.

My final score for this episode is a solid 8.5/10, aka 4 stars!!

If you want to have an idea whether this is for you, don't drop it until the first murder happens, please! It's considered to have a slow start, so take that into consideration. If you're a fast reader like me, you'll get there in no time!

For reference, the first episode took me around 15~17h to finish, a length somewhat close to Higurashi's Episode 1. Episode 3 and 4 are said to be the longest ones and they average a total of 30h, but when you get there, you'll be hopefully fully immersed. I certainly am, at least!

Well then, I'll be writing my thoughts on Episode 2 soon! Look forward to it~

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Thank you for reading it all to the end! I’m working full-time and looking for another job to make my life possible; would you be so kind and consider giving me a little tip? It can be as low as 3 bucks and it’d make a huuuuuge difference!! If you tip 10€ (or higher), you can dictate my next read and be credited (if you’d like) on that review! Have a nice day!!

#review #visual novel #07th expansion #when they cry #umineko no naku koro ni #blog

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rehcciardo · 2 years

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Hi guys! Its after the French GP and this means it’s time for my review!

As I didn’t write about the Qualifying on saturday, I will put it in first. To be honest I just didn’t want to put myself in front of my computer. It was so hot and I just want to do nothing at all xD. But anyways here it is:

Q1:

I was so so sad that Pierre got eliminated in Q1 at his homesoil. His free practice sessions were promising and I thought he could end up in the top 10! He must have been so dissapointed of everything.

Mick’s fastest lap was deleted for exeeding the track limits. Not again those damn track limits. It’s okay because its a rule everyone has to abide by and he clearly broke it. But it hurts. This car had much more potential as we saw with Kevin on P6 in Q1.

Alex had a spin which ended in a visit off track and would had cost his way into Q2 but he was the lucky one who has got benefited of Mick’s deleted lap.

Q2:

Both Ferraris were literally flying! INSANE!!!! It really looked like they could easily make a 1-2 finish if Carlos wouldn’t had a grid penalty for using new parts.

Speaking of Carlos. He. Was. A. Beast. Out. There! The gap he had in front of Max was HUGE! It’s amazing what he can do if there is no pressure on his shoulders.

I actually don’t want to talk about it but Daniel out in Q2 again ....it’s pain and I’m not sure how much longer I can handle it. And it was so damn close again. The gap between Daniel and making it into Q3 was just about 0.086. This is literally NOTHING.

Q3:

Guys, who of you had kidnapped Ferraris strategists and replaced them to people who know what they’re doing? There can’t be no other explaination for a working strategy! Charles got slipstream from Carlos to help him getting on pole. Now it makes sense that they wanted Carlos geting in Q3 even he had to start from behind. Charles owes him a lot. Thank you Carlos for beeing such a nice wingman!

Lando ended in a Merc sandwich on P5! Good job Lando! My little papaya heart loved it, even if I’d rather like to see Daniel in the top ten if not both of them. But of cause he actually ended in the top ten at the end due of two drivers getting grid penalties but I want him landing in the top ten without this kind of ‘help’.

As always, qualifying left me with mixed feelings. Is there any chance of feeling nothing but happiness after Qualifying or race? Likely not. I just like too many of the drivers and that’s why I have to life with a certain amount of dissapointment every race weekend. But is it too much to ask for a little bit of luck for Daniel or Pierre? But I don’t want to annoy you with this too much so let’s start talking about sunday. For me racedays starts with the drivers parade and in France we saw a comeback of every driver getting an own car and someone who drives them around the track. Not the best start in my opinion. I already have told you, that I don’t like this kind of drivers parades and that I’d rather like to see all of the drivers on the truck. But there were two things worth mentioning for. Max signed his driver’s cap during the parade and somehow it made me happy. Max maybe isn’t always the kindest person and sometimes his temper is a bit over the top but in my opinion he really is a nice guy and things like this are proving it. I really liked it that they brought the local heros closer to their own grandstands. It’s always somthing special to race at home. And it was even cooler that Pierre gave his cap to one of the marshals at some point of the parade. It’s just a little gesture but I guess this guy will be smiling for a long time now :D. At least I would. Nothing could wash the bright smile off my face for a while :D. According to my notes we finally come to the race itself.

Daniel had a nice start. He gained a position already in the first seconds of the race! Sadly Lando couldn’t stay in his position but I honestly didn’t expect him to be able to do so. Mercedes have made a big step forward and there was no way Lando could fight with them in his Mclaren.

Where the hell did Alonso come from? He was suddenly there on P4 or 5?I haven’t seen him but he must had a nice start as well. Esteban Ocon in the second Alpine caused a collision with Yuki instead and got a 5sec penalty for it.

Kevin had the best start I guess. He gained 7 positions in the first lap. It’s nice to see what the car is capable of.

Lap 18. Yellow flag in the third sector. Charls Leclerc in the wall. This can’t be true. Not Charles! Firstly i thought that it was the throttle pedal again and I wanted to burn this fucking shitbox of a car down. But after a short time it became clear that Charles made a mistake. But the worst thing was to hear Leclercs team radio after his crash. This scream full of despair and dissapointment was the most heartbreaking sound I’ve ever heard. And I pray to never ever have to hear something like this again! Poor Charles. He neded more than a hug after this. I was sitting in front of the tv and I wanted to cheer him up so badly.

But of course the Ferrari shit show had more suffering to show to us. Charles crash leaded to a SC and Sainz took the oportunity of a free pit stop like most of the drivers.When his stop was finnisched, his crew sended him out unsafely and Albon almost crashed into Carlos in the pit lane. This sunday went extremly wrong at Ferrari. And Ocon was almost involved too. Carlos got a 5sec penalty for the unsafe release.

In lap 20 Yuki was forced to ritire the car. His car had massive damage. I would say this was a late result of his crash with Ocon in tthe beginning of the race.

I hadn’t much time to get some breath. In Lap 23 another yellow flag poped up and was caused by Mick Schumacher. Zhou went to box for a new nose right after it and I was sure that there must have been a crash between Mick and Zhou. At least Mick could stay out but he lost much time after spinning and getting back on track again.

Not the Ferrari crew telling Carlos wrong infos about his penalty and Carlos had to correct them? It’s hilarious somehow. But in a painful way.

There was another yellow flag in lap 38. Magnussen forced Latifi off the track and Kevin had to retire the car afterwards. Latifi had to retire at the end as well.

The fight between Carlos and Checo was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen during the French GP. I really enjoyed to see this amazing overtake. But have you seen his onboard during the overtake? The crew really told him to box DURING an overtake? Do those guys even watching the race? xD. And why did they boxed him after it? Were his tyres so bad? Even Carlos was wondering about this choice of strategy. I guess the original Ferrari strategists were back again after their day off in qualifying xD

George and Checo touched each other in lap 42. I don’t know who’s foult it was. None of them was innocent in my opinion but I would say it was more George’s fault. And he literally discussed over 3 laps with his crew about the incident? At the end Toto had to step in to end the discussion and he sounded slightly pissed.

In lap 49 and with only 4 more laps to go, Zhou stopped his car off track and this caused a VSC. It was to short to let other drivers do a pit stop. Perez missed the restart after the vsc was ending and george took the oportunity to pass him. The last laps were so exciting to see because there was the possibility that Checo could get his 3rd place back before the end but Gorge made crossed the finish line at third after Lewis and Max. First double podium for Mercedes after a long long time! Well done! Good drive boys!

I was a bit afraid when Lewis layed himself down on the floor at the cool down room. Especially after I heard that his drinking system was broken during the race.

One important thing: WHERE WERE THOSE MONKEY TROPHIES? I felt robbed! It was probably the last race at Paul Ricard for quite a time and they didn’t have one of the best and hilarious trophies in the whole season? Don’t do this to me! xD

The race was way more interesting than I would have thought. Congratulations to Max, Lewis and George! And both McLaren in the points again! Sadly they didn’t showed Daniels fight with Esteban. I have to watch it on their onboards before we are heading into the Hungarian race weekend. My personal highlights were Carlos’ overtake on Checo and all the hilarious team radios. But it still hurts that Charles crashed out himself and max could gain more points in the championchip. I really would like to see Charles win it this year but this will be really difficult. Especialy with thios clown team behind him. And of course he have to stop making mistakes. But the team, the bad strategy and this unstable car costed him more points than his own mistakes. But I’ll keep my fingers crossed! But that’s it. Over and out until next weekend and maybe I will get myself to write my review a bit sooner next time XD See you at the Hungarian GP <3

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bagog · 1 year

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Final Interview for the 66th Shift-Colonizing Corps: Samuel G.

The room was dark as a bruise, as if the corners held unseen eyes. There was a single lamp at the table in the center of the room where Samuel had been seated for almost an hour. Sound of metal scraping the bare floor: the door was opening in the darkness of one wall. It let no light in, and from that window of even blacker shadow, a woman strode into the room, setting a file on the table before seating herself across from Samuel.

"Thank you for waiting, we congratulate you on making it this far in the selection process." She opened the file, smoothed how the ornate broach hung on the lapel of her blue suit. "Do you have any questions for me before we begin?"

"Was the wait a part of the test?" Samuel's voice sounded dry and cracked even to his own ears. The woman smirked and did not answer. Instead her finger landed on a piece of text in the file she reviewed.

"This is a special session, normally our operatives would be moved on to out-processing and matriculation by now. But you're here, with me, now. And you're here because I have a very important question to ask you which will determine your future with this agency. May I call you 'Samuel'?"

"Alright," Samuel said when the woman seemed to wait for a response.

"Have you ever been in love, Samuel?"

Samuel couldn't read her eyes, a deep hazel rendered green in the lamplight. Her face was impassive as the darkness crowding the corners of the room.

"Have I been in love?" He asked, incredulous. "That's really the question?" He hadn't meant to sound so upset, but the days of recon, of sleepless nights, the brutal treatment under the recruiters. He had endured it all only to be stalled here.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asked again.

"Yeah. Yes, I've been in love." Samuel didn't know where this was going, and if the woman thought the days of recruitment exercises had broken his will to argue, she was right.

"What was the person's name?"

"Heath. His name was Heath."

"Were you in love for a long time?" She was writing something now, a slender pen in her hand adding notes to the margin of her file.

"About four years." He swallowed, "Is this really part of the test? Can I ask why any of this is necessary?"

She didn't answer right away, taking her time finishing her notes before she turned her eyes on him again. She closed the file in front of her and sat back in the chair.

"We've given you a gift, Samuel. You're the future of humanity, now. Or rather, with my say, you will be. If I let you back out there into the Drome and you get yourself all ready to colonize Beta Propterix, I need to know where you're going to end up is Beta Propterix."

"My test scores are good, I've never failed to Shift on target--"

"62% of our new recruits disappear the first time they try to Shift." She sighed the words. "That's not a figure you'll hear outside this room, but it's the truth. We've been training your mind, training your spirit, in a sense, to instantly Shift 90000 light years to found a colony. But the truth is, we can't make you go there. And plenty of our recruits have gone into the Drome and just disappeared. Never arrived at their colony, never heard from again. They might get distracted and end up off-course, in space. Or they might end up in the past. Or the might completely atomize. Thing is, we just don't know."

"62%?" The number sounded outrageous, the instructors had told them if they passed through the training, they'd be ready. But now...

"That's the average, anyway." She leaned forward, elbows on the table. "My theory is connections. I'd rather have somebody on this mission with no prior connections. You spend a lonely year or two on B. Propterix and next thing you know you're missing somebody. Next thing you know, you're standing in their living room, back on Earth. We know very little about this technology, Samuel. And if there were another way to save humanity, we'd never be putting people in this position. But I need to know you're committed to the mission."

"I'm committed!" Samuel rushed to supply. "Are... are you scrubbing me because... because..."

"Relax. I'm not scrubbing you from the program. I'm not concerned about 'Heath'. Homosexual romantic relationships are not considered vectors for interference." She stood, and Samuel heard the metal door scraping in the darkness.

"What does that mean?"

"It means the government doesn't recognize your relationship as being of the same caliber as a heterosexual relationship. If you had told me you loved a 'Britney' or something, you'd already be on your way home. We'd dose you with the counteractive: no more teleporting, no more heightened consciousness. Disavowed."

Samuel opened his mouth to protest, then felt a cold rush go up his spine. "So what now?"

"Now, I leave you. You won't see me again. Good luck tomorrow, I'm sure you'll make Beta Propterix a beautiful place for humanity's eventually salvation. I have every faith in you." She spoke over her shoulder and strode into the darkness.

Samuel slumped into his chair and thought of Heath, for the first time in years. Suddenly, he wasn't sure what would happen to him in the Drome tomorrow, and with the uncertainty came a certain kind of peace.

#original characters #character sketch #flash fiction #sci fi #teleportation #hate tagging things what even is anything #just trying to write SOMEHTING you know?#this one is weird and incomplete #and i feel like i shouldn't post it #but i'm trying to follow my old rules

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cinemaocd · 2 years

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Howard Hamlin Had it Coming: Plan and Execution

OK props to the writers for this title because it works on so many levels...

This is the climax of season six. This is the high point, the successful grift, pulled off brilliantly at the last minute and ending with a blurry makeout session while on a conference call. Truly a high water mark for Gisell and Victor! They celebrate by watching Born Yesterday (someday I need to make a whole post about classic film refs in BCS) which is perfect because it is about the intelligence of a supposedly dumb person. Then Howard walks in, the dupe, the dumb guy the pretty face in the Hamlinigo blue tie, looking and sounding a lot worse for wear. He speaks his truth and dies in a terribly matter of fact way at the hand of Lalo.

I think I disagree with almost everyone in the fandom when I say that Howard actually does deserve this comeupance. There are the reasons Howard mentions: "I took Chuck's side too often, I took away Kim's office and put Kim in dock review," but there is more than that.

When the series opens Howard is the principal antagonist to Jimmy. We don't know why but Jimmy is struggling to care for his brother, he has no income, is living in nail salon and trying to get his practice off the ground. Howard offers Jimmy an allowance to help him care for his brother, but Jimmy wants to take his brother's power of attorney and take control of Chuck's money. That would have been a very bad thing, I think, but Jimmy sees it as just another way in which he is treated like a child by his brother and his brother's partner. I also can't help but wonder if Howard isn't happy with Chuck out of the way because he can run HMM like he wants to despite all appearances to the contrary. Howard seems as lost in Chuck's shadow as Jimmy is.

And there is so much more to the situation with Kim than dumping her in dock review. Remember she is the one that got Mesa Verde and they took it away from her. The patronizing way they take control of the case, and push her out of the spotlight is what drives her flight from HMM. It wasn't the office and dock review, it was taking Mesa Verde away that triggered her to leave. You can say yeah well they put her through law school, but hasn't she paid them back for that? Her years in the mailroom alone...She is an indentured servant to them and when she tries to go her own way, they slap her down and punish her.

Howard's patronizing "Charlie Hustle" crap all through Jimmy's mailroom days was enough to earn him the bowling balls. It wasn't all Howard's fault of course, but it couldn't have happened without Howard's complicity. Then there is the Howard's role in the disbarring. Again, it was mostly Chuck, but Howard facilitated and validated it and Jimmy and Kim repeatedly saw him as being in league with Chuck.

I think Jimmy has rationalized Chuck's death and completely blames Howard for forcing Chuck out of HMM. He saw the evidence that Chuck had had a complete relapse. We the audience know that was triggered by Jimmy's visit and his insincere "apology" but I don't think Jimmy can ever accept that. He clings to the fact that he was forced out of HMM at the same time.

Did Howard deserve to die? Fuck no. That was horrible. But from JImmy and Kim's perspective, Howard has always been the bad guy, always been against them, and has profited greatly from both of their hard work and talent. All they want is what is owed to them and the grift is the way to get it. They have balanced the scales by imagining the good work Kim will do with that money. The whole point of it wasn't to destroy him anyway, it was to settle the Sandpiper suit so they could get paid. And Howard sees that as "childish" but actually it makes a lot of sense given that Kim has quit Big Law and Jimmy is recovering from the disbarring. It also makes sense for the elderly residents of Sandpiper. Cliff and Howard want to get more money in theory for the residents, but how many will be around to actually enjoy it? And lets face it they want to get their payday.

I don't believe Jimmy and Kim are souless as Howard says. I think they have acted selfishly and been vindictive when they should have just moved on, but it's because they've both been patronized and put off by Howard that they've done it. When Kim makes the U turn on the highway, she is choosing revenge, not justice. Jimmy is looking to her for moral guidance (a completely unfair and imbalanced part of their relationship by the way) and she decides for them to go ahead with the grift.

I feel like the whole point of this season is the ways in which revenge destroys the people who try to enact it, how it robs them of their happiness and peace of mind and slowly consumes them and becomes far worse than the original grievance or grief. We see this with Jim and Kimmy and especially Gus and Mike as well.

#Better Call Saul #plan and execution

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rigelmejo · 1 year

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Despite japanese being objectively fucking hard (in the sense it DOES take more hours to learn the same topic versus learning it in French, and the grammar IS simply very different and DOES have conjugations and the Kanji pronunciation just MUST be learned word by word and I need to keep the new pronunciations separate from mandarin)

I just dont end up studying it the way I know would work for me, and work well. What I know would work, based on how I study French and Chinese? Read a full fucking grammar guide first of all (I read 2 japanese grammar guides to intermediate but like in reality I usually read that stuff all the way through in a cram session of weeks all the way through advanced). Then study 2000 words (realistically in some SRS program or app since like chinese the benefit of srs scheduled reviews speeds up how long this cram session of 2 weeks split between a few months would actually take). Start reading GRADED READERS (hello Satori Reader app you'd be perfect!), then possibly get frustrated by unknown word amount at some point and to make my life easier cram up to another 3000 common words on some app over a few weeks with weeks of breaks in between. Then dare to read some normal stuff for native speakers, and volley between normal stuff and graded reader stuff with click-word translation until I get better.

What I'm fucking actually doing???? NOT THAT FOR SOME REASON

(Okay I suspect I know the reason... it's because I'm both an upper beginner in japanese but also have artificial inflation of "cognates" to help guess meaning because of hanzi knowledge resulting in me actually doing good enough with graded readers that they don't hold my attention as much as Intense Challenges do. I sure am motivated by intense challenge... even though a balance of "filling in my knowledge gaps" with "challenge" would be better. And I hate SRS and can't focus on flashcard apps and when I can't focus I can only get through 10 words an hour at which point any other study method will cover more words ToT)

Anyway I guess my brain hates me because with japanese it really mutually thinks it can be cocky and just DO stuff while also I am quite viscerally aware I'm drowning and barely know shit and REALLY SHOULD PREP MORE IN THE ABOVE STATED STUDY METHODS I KNOW WORK EXCELLENTLY FOR ME AS PREP WORK FOR BEING ABLE TO READ.

So yeah. This has been my fucking japanese study plan the last few months:

Listen to glossika japanese. I've only gotten to file 33 despite more days passing. I'm clearly barely using it. What can I say I hate focusing on flashcards even in audio only mode. This is really atrocious lmao considering I planned to listen to these when gaming and I've played like 150 hours easy this past winter so far so I shouldve fucking gone through like 300 lessons at 1/2 hour each, or at least half that since I pause the glossika audio during cutscenes. I'm gonna blame the adhd partly here and say i don't remember to fucking turn audio back on, and also if I see my phone I goof off on my phone so I hide it when I video game so I don't play audio glossika cayse I can't get up and pause it easily ToT just. Not very effective overall the whole thing is a mess. (Actually I love the audio files and I learn well from them and get through them better than anki by far, they just... aren't as easy to incorporate into my daily schedule as I expected). They are helping fill in some word pronunciation gaps I have. To be fair to me.... when I'm playing games with no voiced dialogue I do more glossika. Also to be fair to me... I'm considering playing this card game by Yoko Taro that's text rpg, entirely in japanese. Which would cover both reading and listening AS the game playing. Instead of listening to japanese audio while playing something in English.

Playing japanese video games. I've only done like 6 hours this winter and again should've done more, but tbh its an accomplishment. Brain is still fried to hell playing Persona 3 in japanese but I am much better at doing it and doing it faster to English playing speeds now. I uh lowkey hate the level of informality and slang I have to guess most fucking unknown words because I don't even get results trying to look this slang up. Meanwhile Final Fantasy X was very relaxing to play in japanese and I'll continue once I hook up my ps3 again instead of ps4. Still considering playing Nier Automata in japanese but I remember the level of tech words I DONT know then keep chickening out. This is by far the method I'll likely currently be most successful with - like when I go back to FF X there's a good chance I'll get 20 hours or more of study time just playing it since I will finish it I love the game (20ish hours cutscenes plus any in game dialogue and text in the 40 hours gameplay).

Reading Kokoro on a parallel text website with audio. Why is this the first japanese novel I'm trying to read? Who the fuck knows. That one and his cat story are the only real novels I've been chipping away at. Also reading Kokoro manga adaptation (which I have an ocr to help me but it translates as bad as Google translate so tbh I'm just reading and doing my best from context - SIGNIFICANTLY easier to read than the novel form)

Reading some stuff thats free on Satori Reader (honestly fun and I was doing 2 chapters a day, if and when I'm willing to pay subscription this is definitely still the PLAN for studying to prep for reading novels if I can prove to myself I can consistently use the app first)

Using app ListLang to learn 5000 common words. First, great free app I recommend! Second, the app has some kinks to work out for saving more than 100 words at a time so upside I'm learnjng a TON of helper basic common words I didn't know but downside I can't save more than 100 to reference later without finding their specific module first. I was using this cause memrise was burning me out. But honestly like all srs like apps? I can't do more than 40 words a day over 2 hours I'm just sooo slow studying this way.

Memrise. I got through Nukemarine LLJ 4 but still slowly chipping through rip ;-; so much for goal to get to lesson courses 6 or 7 by spring. Maybe by a miracle I'll go into a cram session of being able to hyperfocus on memrise. The thing is? If I COULD FOCUS this single study method I think is the BEST prep I could use to improve quickly, its well structured and covers all I need. But I .... can't focus, so it's not very helpful currently.

Watching japanese let's plays. Comprehending the main idea wooh, but also I rationally know I'd build a better foundation and rely less on hanzi carryover and fill my gaps in knowledge if I went and watched Comprehensible Input Japanese.

Using nihongo con teppei (do you see the trend? I love a challenge apparently I focus better, this is the least challenging listening I do BUT it's only in japanese so more challenging than glossika).

On bilibili and youtube listening to audio dramas with japanese subs.

#rant #japanese #progress #study plan #just so fucking funny to me i dont take the easy clear proven route with the difficult languahe #which i could most benefit from TAKING THE TRIED AND PROVED WORKS ROAD

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rowan-ashtree · 3 years

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just made a phone call everyone be proud of me!!!!

#i had to book flights and i called and did it and worked out a fairly cheap price with good times and i'm so proud of myself #no connecting flights either!!!! straight there and straight back!!!#insert gay joke here lol #also y'all know how i'm a TA? and i grade assignments and answer students' questions? they have a test this week and this one student .#this one student keeps emailing me like 'what do i need to know for []? and []? and []?'#which. i get it. they wanna be prepared. HOWEVER.#there is a review sheet/study guide AND the students can access all the powerpoints that the prof used in class #so it's like what do we need to know abt []? maybe check if the review sheet says u need to know it and then check the slides for what we #talked about in class abt that thing!!#am i making sense or do i sound rly mean rn? bc i feel like this person wants me to give them test answers which i cannot do #also there were two review sessions. one was held DURING CLASS TIME so everyone was free during that time #maybe i'm just tired lol #anyways i probably should do things!!! don't forget to eat and stretch and hydrate!!!#rowan says words

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bukojuiice · 3 years

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— genshin boys as your late night study buddy

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, xiao and albedo x gn! reader

ೃ 200-299 words per character! (they are your bfs in this! bc MAN do i desperately want one of the genshin boys to cram school works with and shower me with luv and affection.) ♡

ೃ tags: college au, modern au, and lots of fluff.

ೃ thank you so so much for 1k notes on my very first batch of genshin hcs! i appreciate all the luv it received and i can never thank all of you enough 🥺 i’ll be making a genshin masterlist soon to compile all of my current and future works so pls stay tuned for that!

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

ZHONGLI:

– Zhongli would be a very chill study partner. He will always keep his cool and focus, never letting his attention stray away from less trivial things. If he can focus, he’ll focus. There’s always this sense of comfort surrounding him that brightens up your mood and productivity. The both of you are sat in this long table, papers, books, and cute matching pencils are sprawled about. You lean your head on his shoulder, as he serenades you with his deep and butter voice, explaining all the formulas to you. Being able to study in peace and quiet with him is always a blissful experience. He never fails to brew you green tea (as it helps the brain function) even if that meant going down to the kitchen at 2 in the morning. He always brings a small humidifier and some essential oils with him that can help brighten up the study mood and that emits a wafting vanilla pinecone scent to keep you happy. (He’s just fancy like that.) When he doesn’t understand the concepts right away, he’d turn to you, his sharp amber eyes gazing at yours with nothing but innocent and love, and asks: “(Y/N)... what reference is this supposed to be? pepe the frog? kermit the frog? here come dat boi? aren’t they all just amphibians? what are the differences between them? I am very intrigued.”

CHILDE:

– Childe loves a challenge. An academic challenge. He loves the thrill of finishing school works the night before the deadline, he loves studying for a pop quiz twenty minutes before the bell rings, and most importantly, he loves to pretend he doesn’t know how to solve point a to point b if that means getting to spend time with you as you tutor him on how to do so. He’s at the top of the class, He’s popular and friendly, He’s the captain of the Archery Team, and one of the vice council members of the Fatui Club. But, no other title will ever come close to being your study buddy. You and Childe always chill on the bed whenever you study. Especially when the both of you have the sudden urge to just laze around. Well, it is the wee hours of the night, so just lounging around and trying to resist the urge of sleep is pretty understandable. Sometimes, the two of you would take power naps in between study sessions. This meant cuddle times! Childe will always cuddle with you, (he’s the big spoon and you are the smol spoon) and often times you would be immersed into your textbook while he’s scrolling through his phone and looking for some of the current and popular memes. He’d poke you on the cheek and show you what he’s found. It was quite annoying sometimes and you would reprimand him for it, but it never fails to make you laugh. You jokingly suggested one time that the two of you sneak in the library after closing hours, and your chaotic boyfriend turns to you with the biggest smirk plastered on his face. “Let’s do it baby. I know the law.”

DILUC:

–You and Diluc are the cutest pair of night owls. So, studying late at night is never a problem with him because with the help of each other, the both of you are unstoppable. An actual power couple. Batman and his love interest who? I only know (Y/N) and Diluc. Mondstadt University should be giving you the title of #NoSleepGang for the “Campus Cuties” awards because the two of you are able to ace every test still despite lack of sleep. You and Diluc are very very organized. The both of you own matching couple planners (that the both of you had gifted to each for Christmas) and have your entire study schedule planned out already. Since the two of you prefer to study at night, your dates are usually done during the day. Which meant never having to worry about the upcoming finals whilst you’re at a cute little café with him. The both of you have respective desks whenever you study together, but you never fail to gaze at your crimson-haired boyfriend with the cutest pout and biggest puppy eyes. He always gives in and next thing you know, your swivel chairs are practically glued next to each other and the both of you are cuddling in your seats. One thing that Diluc never fails to do is pamper you with comfort food or little gifts that you love after a long and tiring week of hell (aka exams) It’s such a sweet gesture and the blissful relationship that you have can’t get any better than this.

“I got you some boba and that necklace from Pandora that you’ve always wanted. I-I’m so proud of you (Y/N). You did great, my love.”

KAEYA:

- You are the Lawful Good to Kaeya’s Chaotic Evil. Kaeya is always tempted to ask for answers from your professors. He’s quite the teacher’s pet, but with good intentions. That’s just how he rolls. Every time he jokes about going to the faculty to help out and the answer sheets are just out in the open, waiting to be snatched, you always glare at at him and punch him softly on the arm, every time he tries to bring up the idea. To which he would always reply with, “I’m kidding. Just kidding my love.” You and Kaeya have amazing study hacks. He is always able to find a movie that is somewhat related to the topics that the both of you are currently studying about. For example, when the topic was an introduction to different branches of science, Kaeya chose Big Hero 6 as the “Educational Movie Of the Day.” He is always able to find something fun and informative for the both of you to watch. Well, Kaeya does find fun and interest in everything. Another effective strategy that both of you do is every time you or him get an answer right, you reward each other with either a kiss on the cheek or a bear hug. Both of these affectionate gestures give you butterflies in your stomach anyway, so it doesn’t matter which is which. With the ideas that Kaeya constantly makes up every single day of your study sessions, there’s a high chance that you’ll never fluke a test ever again.

“Oh. That’s pretty cool of you (Y/N). You got 30 correct answers! If we count everything, so I basically gave you 15 forehead kisses and 15 bear hugs. Congrats! I know we’re going to ace our finals!”

XIAO:

– Xiao is extremely intelligent and talented in a myriad of things. However, he lacks self-confidence. You’ve sworn to your boyfriend that you’d help him gain confidence in his academic abilities. Which is why you became study buddies in the first place. It served as dates with him too! Although he stubbornly refused at first, his reasons being that he can do things by himself and he doesn’t need any help. You continued to encourage him that this was going to help the both of you and it was a way for the two of you to bond, and Xiao hesistantly agreed right after. As the captain of the soccer team, “The Liyue Adepti”, The only free time that Xiao has was during the evening which is the reason for your scheduled late night studies with him. This brought so much more intimate and sweet moments with him though! It meant sleepovers with him, midnight snack runs, and casual early morning strolls in the park. It became sort of a routine. Your hand interlaced with his, the crisp morning air, the little chirpings birds, and the tranquil swaying of the trees brought so much comfort to the both of you. Xiao would be the type of student to not speak up unless he’s called. Even if he knows the answer. The both of you sit on some floor pillows whenever you would study. So, whilst you read aloud, Xiao always hugs you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I don’t deserve the patience and love you give me, (Y/N). I am eternally grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I hope you know, that I’ll always be here for you.”

ALBEDO:

- Being the university’s library assistant has it’s perks. Access to infinite knowledge, quiet solitude within the library walls, and being able to hang out with your boyfriend. It was truly a perfect deal. After classes, Albedo would be heading straight over to the library to do his work. You’d meet him there and wait until he gets his work done, and then the two of you head home together or have dinner. Albedo likes to plan things in advance. He’s quite busy, being a part of university’s alchemist group and as a library assistant, but, he will always study with you. He even brings Klee with him at times too! She’s always an energetic and cute addition, + she tattles on and on about how in love Albedo is with you and how he would never shut up about you at home. Albedo puts a lot of effort into creating review materials for the both of you. He makes very intricate drawings of modules, dioramas of certain science models, and has all the formulas memorized for him to list down. He’s a genius after all, and although you’ve constantly told him time and time again that he doesn’t have to make a review paper specifically catered to you, he still insists. He always gifts you one whenever it’s exam week (he adds extra detail to them during your finals) The cutest thing about these papers are scribbled about in all of the pages. The cutest doodles of the two of you with hearts and flowers drawn all over. Albedo + (Y/N) is even written in the last page, along with a heartfelt message:

“I put all my faith and belief in you, (Y/N). I know you can do this. I’m proud of everything you’ve reached so far, my beloved. and I know you’ll reach greater heights. Let’s continue to excel and thrive together. I can’t wait to spend the rest of this journey with you.”

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ahtsumu · 3 years

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long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you.

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime.

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy.

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years.

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things.

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on.

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it.

You were proud of your collection.

And boy, did you love them.

They never let you down, ever.

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights.

It has been a tough week.

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury.

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it.

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it.

Usually, you were on his food side.

Yesterday, not so much.

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends.

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot.

Literally.

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed.

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers.

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow.

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop.

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone.

Or get someone to throttle you.

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk.

Or anywhere really.

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night.

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire.

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy.

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot.

Simple, straight forward.

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would.

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain.

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze.

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator.

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration. “Fucking hell.”

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep.

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you.

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there.

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.”

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great.

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile.

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks.

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment.

Ever the gentleman.

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market.

You wanted that hand around your throat.

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s.

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart.

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it.

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression.

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered.

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts.

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves.

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him.

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along.

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.”

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room.

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon.

Okay.

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this.

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject.

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response.

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out.

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly.

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it.

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together.

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you.

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you.

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.”

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words.

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady - feet instantly, putty in his hands.

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him.

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said.

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent.

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.”

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this.

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it.

That very thought pained you.

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes.

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you.

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you.

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth.

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do.

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him.

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that.

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body.

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there.

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you.

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him.

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin.

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting.

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.”

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue.

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone.

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…”

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you.

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything.

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end.

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you.

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something.

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you.

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before.

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there.

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come.

And you did.

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you.

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted.

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.”

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm.

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again.

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course.

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.”

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt.

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch.

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips.

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips.

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly.

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly.

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about.

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat.

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist.

That is what you needed.

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy.

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?”

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely.

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time.

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were.

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined.

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain.

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you.

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit.

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue.

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg.

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up.

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful.

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped.

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer.

It just didn’t stop.

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand.

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Better than toys indeed.

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth.

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.”

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips.

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

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