#'people needed joy in their lives after being locked up inside for so long'

[nancywheeeler]

the ted lasso reviews that imply people only liked the first season because it dropped in summer 2020 are so boring and off base and reek of "we can't let people know we FEEL"

[novasdarling]

Hii🌹can i ask "It’s so dangerous out there. Can’t you see that?"

with yandere Chrollo please? Thanks🌹

HEHEHEHE this motherfucker would. He's delusional in the scheme of him being like "Yeah my darling is better than me than anywhere else." but also he knows it's just a lie he makes so he doesn't feel too ad when you cry about being with him

Dangerous Out There

TW: Kidnapping, Yandere Behaviour, Mentions of death, Mentions of punishment

The walls were plain and cold. Made of old cement bricks, leaving little room for any warmth or comfort. Any feelings sparking joy or tenderness were missing. Cold, bland, cruel. This jail cell represented the jailkeeper well. A void of happiness and delight was exactly what Chrollo was. Just this blackhole that took and took, destroying everything it touched and devoured.

However, no amount of sadness or begging changed his mind. Nothing let him declaw himself from you. No matter how much you begged these last few weeks, he refused to let go. Rather it seemed like your tears and pleas just made him dig deeper. Made him pull you closer to him, made him add more locks to the doors and windows. Like the more you begged and craved for freedom, the more he held onto you. The more he denied it. The more he felt like he needed to keep you locked away, keep you hidden. But you couldn't help the hope that pooled inside you. Hoping your begging would chip away at him. Make any sort of difference, cause him to feel any kind of remorse and let you go. A hope you would always hold onto.

Chrollo had made his way into the living room. Standing in the doorway, observing from behind as you watched one of the few movies he had provided when he first took you. You could recite it line by line.

"I know you're there."

"Your senses are getting better. Before you wouldn't have noticed me until you could see me."

Chrollo made his way forward, kneeling in front of you. Placing himself between your legs. It made your skin itch. You didn't give him an answer, even as he waited there. Starring up at you. You ignored him. Starring at the dumb movie in front of you. His hands squeezed your thighs.

"Most people say thank you after a compliment."

"Most people don't kidnap."

Chrollo laughed. Finding your response humorous. He always found your rebuttal funny and pleasant. Making it clear he enjoyed the bit of resistance you had. The wit that came with it. Your snappy remarks. It was fun for him, as long as you never went too far.

"Touché." Chrollo rubbed his knuckles over your cheek.

"Don't touch me."

Flinching away, you pushed him. Trying to create some distance from him. Trying to get the man you hated as far away as possible. He tried again, lifting his knuckles up to caress you, but you moved again. Denying him what he wanted twice.

"Enough."

He grabbed your arms. Trying to keep you still. Keeping himself between your legs and you caged.

"Let me go."

Chrollo held on. Dismissing your words as he wrestled you still.

"I want to go home."

Tears were forming in your eyes. You hated this, hated this man. Despised everything about all of this. How the hell did a charming stranger you bumped into one day turn into the man who was holding you captive? A man that killed and hurt people to get you. A man who had no boundaries.

"Let me go. I just want to go back. P-please. I won't tell anyone. I-I promise. I want to-"

"Stop it. Stop it now."

"Go to hell."

You lashed and kicked at him. Trying to get him away. Trying to make him let go. To understand just how much you hated him. How much you wanted him dead. That this wasn't home. That he wasn't what you wanted.

"I said stop it. Listen to me." Chrollo was raising his voice at you. Not yelling, but still enough to try to demand you listen to him. "Listen to me, just listen sweetheart." One hand now held both of your arms as the other made its way to hold your face still. Forcing you to look at him. "I'm trying to help you, my dear. Trying to keep you safe. It’s so dangerous out there. Can’t you see that? Can't you see understand?"

He sounded angry yet, worried. It was a lesson he was trying to push into your mind. Trying to teach you with him was better than elsewhere. Yet, even as his words sounded sincere. You couldn't help, but laugh at him. Laugh at his words. Dangerous? The danger out there? He was fucking deranged. Worse than you thought.

"Whatever is out there, sure as hell can't be worse than being here with you."

Leaning in, close to his face so he could hear your words. Understand what you were saying. Understanding you meant it. That you would rather be out there with whatever he was worried about than with the monster that was pretending to be your saviour.

The look on Chrollo's face had changed. Like he was hurt and angry. Disappointed by your words. You knew that look, you had hurt his little fantasy. Ruined the image of him being your little hero. The look that meant your behaviour needed to be "corrected". That your wit and back talk had crossed the line.

"Seems like you need some reminding why you're here."

"What, another couple of days locked in the closet? I'll take that if it means being away from you." You spat in his face with the last sentence. Showing him you were genuine.

"See, I was thinking something different." Chrollo grabbed your upper arm. Pulling you up and making you follow him. "If you think I'm such a monster, perhaps I should leave you alone with a colleague of mine. Someone who doesn't care about your safety. Someone who doesn't love you like I do. Remember Feitan?"

You had made the worse mistake since he had taken you. Not only had you been resistant to him, but you had made him the enemy. Not just in the scheme of kidnapping, but in the idea of being with him. You told him how you saw him. Now he was going to correct it. Make you see what is worse than him when there is no love to give.

[alpydk]

You asked for angst prompts.

I don't know if you can do anything with this, but I was thinking recently about Gale and "being heard". Going from the Mystra situation (begging to be listened to but being ignored) and moving to the tadpole stuff (being able to telepathically communicate with others if desired), from horrible quiet to loud and then maybe they win, he gets to live, and he comes back home to the terrible quiet of his tower, the only place he wanted to be the whole time, and the quietness guts him.

I dunno if that's anything or even a prompt but!

Thank you for this beautiful prompt. Really hoping that I've done it some justice. I really could have been cruel and ended this very differently, but I'm a good person (Yes, it's true.) I'll also say I found this a little challenging. I tried to branch out a little in my creative writing, so we'll see what people think.

All I ever wanted, All I ever needed

Word Count - 2923 - Angst/Comfort - CW - Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Loneliness

Silence is a such a wonderful concept. Silence is golden, as silent as falling snow, silent as the grave. All so peaceful, for that is what comes with silence, and that is what people want, isn’t it?

Gale sat within the Yawning Portal, the patrons as loud as ever with Deep Ale in hand and gut, and joy in their swollen hearts. The sound was like that of thunderous storms, and yet, to him, none of it was there. The one person whom he wanted to hear from refused to speak, her silence as deafening as the jaunty tunes spat with slurred words across the tables. He longed not for silence, but for the cacophony of life, for a connection with someone, something which in the next few days he would not have for a very long time, if ever at all.

He rubbed mindlessly at his chest as the dull ache began. After his grave mistake trying to claim the strand of the weave, a subtle pain had come and gone. He’d noticed the faded markings during the morning, a circle with weaving trails emerging from it, running up his neck, but by the afternoon they would vanish to nothingness. Over the following few days, however, they’d become more permanently visible to him, the ache becoming more persistent with a deep hunger that food could not sate. Research had told him all he needed to know; that without a cure or divine intervention, he and possibly a lot of innocent bystanders were going to die, and so with this knowledge in mind he’d made a choice: He would leave civilisation for his tower and then, if needs must, would end it all, not that it would be of any loss to anyone.

The songs grew in volume, a fight broke out in a corner of the tavern, a woman screamed obscenities at a partially dressed man as he descended the stairs clutching at a torn shirt. Friends laughed with one another over stories shared and Gale watched from a distance. He didn’t need to eavesdrop to understand the camaraderie, having seen it so many times before: during his childhood, at the academy, from the Astral Planes as the icy palm lay over his shoulder. Watching people, reading people, they’d become hobbies in enough themselves as he’d been met by the silence and rejection. He’d learnt early that he was different in some way and so he’d embraced it, resigning himself to the peace of the libraries, to the tranquillity of imagination, to the silence of loneliness. There had, of course, been the mask required of him, charismatic, charming, and yet he’d still not felt part of the inside joke, that he missed the one book that all others had been given: How to be accepted. Now, after all that had happened to him, despite the want of connection, the sound of the Yawning Portal’s inhabitants was becoming too much. Even amongst the din, he felt locked in his own mind, a spectator again to a world he was not a part of. He stood, dusting off his fine robes of scarlets and silver and left the tavern, leaving behind the patrons for one last time.

---

Gale had taken to talking to himself at random intervals as the months had passed locked in his tower. Tara was often gone finding magic items, his mother believed him to be away on an expedition in search of some ancient civilisation, and ‘friends’, if he could even call them that, had taken more notice of the words out of sight, out of mind, than he really thought was possible. His adorned robes of the past were now gone in tribute to the hunger within his chest, a Netherese orb built of guilt and self-loathing. He knew logically this was not the case; he’d read every book on the matter at hand, but sometimes it was as if it knew when he was at his worst and so inflicted more pain on him. Now he sat in the tattered robes once gifted to him by his mother, purple with many a bodged repair upon the seams, much like himself he felt.

The tower creaked and groaned; the stones settling into the foundations as the warm day came to an end. He sat on his balcony, mindlessly turning the pages of the book on his lap, hearing the flickering of the corner upon his finger. Tranquillity through imagination was not coming to him as he wished as the waves tumbled upon the docks lazily, as the breeze sang through the chimney tops with a distant whistle. Too long had been spent in the peace of his mind, becoming too familiar with the silence of an empty tower. He yearned for people, for conversation that was not his own, to be seen and heard by someone, by her.

The orb thrummed with the unwanted stir of emotion, and he felt the sting in his fingertips, knowing that another treasured possession was soon to be sacrificed to save his pathetic life, to save the people of the city who deserved better than to die at the hands of someone who should have known better than to defy a goddess. He straightened up and checked the study, glancing over the meagre number of magic artefacts he had left, working out how much time he had left. None. It was time to leave his home, leave the quiet safety of the stone walls, and find comfort beyond the veil. 

“You knew this is how it was going to end, not with a dramatic bow, a hero of the ages, but alone, as you’ve always been…”

Gale sighed, giving a last look at the place he’d called home for so many years. The piano had not been played in some time and dust gathered upon the wood. On the desk, the quill he had used to scratch upon many a sheet of parchment lay lifeless. The song of the breeze went unheard with the closing of the balcony doors. Silence. Nothing but silence in the air of the ill-fated wizard’s tower.

---

The campfire crackled in front of Tav, the orange glow lighting up her features, the blonde of her hair now as golden as a Waterdeep sunset, her eyes as magical as that of conjured starlight. Gale wanted to deny how he felt about her. He’d wanted to deny it since she had pulled him from the portal, her green eyes sparkling, the touch of her warm palm around his wrist. He’d loved her since his mind had connected with hers through the Weave: how inquisitive she was, how kind she was to all who came her way, how she wanted to kiss him with delicate longing.

Sitting on a blanket, he watched her from the entrance to his tent, the pages of his book shuffling with the evening wind that swept through the camp. The tadpole squirmed, and he heard the unwelcome thoughts of Karlach as she hummed a tune in her head before breaking into a small dance. Keeping his mental defences up constantly was proving exhausting in combination with the constant company and discussions with the party, all of which was a lot more than he was used to. He’d kept up, even with what he felt was with the slight diminishment of his wit and charisma, and for the first time in his life felt he was part of something more than just acquaintances and fleeting dalliances. Despite the heavy silence from Mystra, he did not seem to mind as much anymore as friends he wanted to be around, and connections with others filled the void that had plagued him for so long. He thought of Waterdeep, of the Yawning Portal and how the sounds there had seemed so far away from him, unreachable at times. Silence may have been golden, but to him, the noise he a part of was the spectrum of light shone from treasured gemstones.

“You seem quiet tonight, Gale.”

Tav’s soft voice drew him from the drunken chants, and he glanced up at her with a small smile upon his lips. He heard the crunch of fallen leaves under her boots as she stepped forward towards him; the fire continuing its snapping, and Karlach humming out loud for all to hear.

“Taking a moment to savour the world around me.” His words were the truth, and he’d savour the sound of her voice the most. The subtle lilt that came with her Baldurian accent was almost that of song, especially after a shared glass of Arabellan Dry or two. He’d spent many an evening with her, discussing shared topics of interest: history, poetry, Mystra; and laughter had filled more than one night, leaving nothing but fond memories behind.

The orb hummed gently in knowing of what stirred within him, of the way his heart beat for her with a longing he wished to hide, the voice in his head yelling about wanting to hold her close that he had to drown with facts about religion and the Weave. If he tried to speak the sonnets he wanted to, they would erupt from him so freely, filling the evening tranquillity just as the ballads had within the tavern. There would be no peace for any of them travelling the Sword Coast, just as he’d experienced the last few weeks, his mind and heart full to bursting with the melodies of emotion.

Sitting beside him, Tav pulled her legs up to her chest. “Nights like this are too peaceful,” she spoke with fondness. “In the city, there’s always something happening, people talking, music, just the hustle and bustle of life. I miss it.”

“I can only imagine.” He wished he could see their nights on the road the way she did. What she heard as quiet here, he heard as an unstoppable commotion of the world, within and without.

“Is Waterdeep not the same?”

Gale would not tell her the truth, of the nights of loneliness and longing, of his pitiful existence, just wanting what he had now, during the worst phase of his life. The mask was placed on as ever, smiling and optimistic. “Waterdeep is a place of many things, but being peaceful is not one of them, at least not in that of the Yawning Portal or during a lively discussion on the ethics of fungal use within alchemy.”

“Ah yes, wizards, the epitome of the unrestrained festivities,” she said with a light chuckle at the image of Gale dancing and cavorting amongst droves of eager young men and women alike.

“I’ll have you know I was quite the socialite back home.” Hm…If only.

She gave him a playful nudge. “Liar.”

He wished he could just kiss her as he’d read in many in a romance novel, whisk her off her feet and hear the sound of her breath merged with his, the quiet moans, the declarations of love upon her lips, to lie under the stars with her in postcoital bliss. But those dreams were not met for him after what he had done. He would continue to lie alone, the sounds of crickets and mosquitos keeping him awake, the nightmares from Astarion unknowingly shared with those awake filling their minds. If only the music would change.

----

Gale stood within his study, gazing upon the room he’d not seen in months. It was as he had left it, dust upon the piano, quill lifeless. There was no sound aside from the pounding of his heart, one that soon would cease at the orders of the goddess. How he had longed to come back home to the solace of the walls lined with books, to feel his body relax into the warm sheets without the ache of his body to torture him. The breeze did not blow with his illusion, no waves crashing upon the shores, no whistling through the chimney tops. Silent as the grave.

Tav sat on the bench behind him, her eyes watching over him with the protectiveness they’d held for him since that first day. Tonight was meant to be one of love, not loss, and he sighed, composing himself before joining her, letting his own voice once again fill the void within the stone walls of the tower. “My favourite spot…”

---

Months had passed, and the sounds of Toril had built up to the crescendo with explosions erupting in the sky, the Netherbrain making commands that filled Gale’s mind. His companions shouted through the eruption of chaos around him, verbally or telepathically; it mattered little. Tav! To your left! Te curo! I’m unlocking it as fast as I can. You could always just hit it if you insist on helping! Mindflayer up above, Soldier! We’ve got to get to the brainstem and take control! Destroy it! Just keep calm, will you? COMMAND… OBEY…

His head pounded, though he did not know if it was the tadpole’s influence because of the proximity to the Netherbrain or because of the concussion that he was sure he’d received with the impact to his skull from a cultist’s mace. He clasped at his ears as the dominating voice of the Netherbrain bellowed forth once again, another command resisted with the last of his strength. Mystra’s words flew through his mind with the reminder of the crown, of the orb, of his folly, and for a moment, he considered the end he could bring, the peace that would descend with the ultimate sacrifice.

“Gale. This is it.” Tav’s voice cut through the chaos, a comforting whisper in a symphony, and she rested her hand on his shoulder, bringing him to calm. It was not the icy palm he had once known, but now one of warmth and love and for a moment he was upon his balcony, sunlight upon his face, the sound of birdsong in the air.

He nodded in acknowledgement, the surrounding commotion building again in another wave that would crash upon them. The ground tremored beneath them, the roar of a red dragon pierced the air, the screams of the city echoed through darkened alleyway and flame scorched garden alike. This was it, the finale. Silence in death.

-

-

-

Gale sat within the Yawning Portal, the patrons as loud as ever with Deep Ale in hand and gut, and joy in their swollen hearts. The sound was like that of thunderous storms, and yet, to him, none of it was there. The one person whom he wanted to hear was gone, sleeping beneath the waves of the Chionthar. When searching for the crown, he’d been unable to find her, been unable to see the darkened locks that weaved amongst the current. Sitting on the docks, his eyes reddened, the silence descending on him as heavy as the orb with its guilt and self loathing, he’d refused to move in case she appeared. But she hadn’t.

He’d waited in Baldur’s Gate for her, no longer hearing Karlach’s hum, no longer having the glimpse of Astarion’s horrors, no longer hearing the crickets and mosquitos or the sound of her voice. Silence was golden, and he had the magic touch that had brought it. The others who remained tried to speak to him throughout the following few nights, but it had been the beckoning of Tara that had soon drawn him home to Waterdeep once again. He saw his mother, who filled the awkward silences when the conversation lulled with her own musings and gossip, but he barely heard her, his mind back at the campsite, always at the campsite. Wine filled his mind during dark hours as the tower creaked and groaned, sometimes alone, sometimes watching the patrons laugh and sing from the tavern.

Again, their din rang out around him unheard, the world moving at a speed he barely acknowledged, a connection with all destroyed and gone forever. His head bowed after a while, heavy with Old Red Steed, lost in thought and contemplating his next actions. The long walk home would bring him near the docks, to allow him to fall into a blissful sleep beneath the waves, to be with her again. He would hear her siren’s call luring him towards the edge and he would not fight it. All just to hear her voice again.

“You seem quiet tonight, Gale.”

A voice cut through the quiet of his mind, more melodic than the drunken banter around him. He glanced up, surely his was mind playing tricks on him again. He’d seen Tav so many times after all, standing on the balcony just out of his reach, on the docks, calling for him to join her. She could not be here, not this time. In complete silence.

A warm hand rested upon his shoulder, a soothing whisper in his ear. “It took so long, but at last, I’ve found you.”

The sound of the patrons built up around him again, but he did not hear it. He only heard the song of his own heart, the quiet words of love upon flushed lips. Wine touched breaths passed over delicate flesh with whispers of devotion spoken with longing. His voice became one with the crowd, the sound rising to the heavens for the whole world to hear.

Silence is a such a wonderful concept. Silence is golden, as silent as falling snow, silent as the grave. All so peaceful, for that is what comes with silence, and that is what people want, isn’t it?

[heallearngrow3]

stay out of it

part 7 | stay out of it

pairing: Connor x f!Reader

summary: What does it take to evade a war?

warning: none

notes: this is my favourite chapter so far, revealing some things and making everything even more complicated :)

masterlist

You were a missing piece to a complicated puzzle. A mistery so fascinating he found himself drawn to you. At every crime scene, he waited for you to appear, constantly expecting you to turn up so he could hear your voice and bask in the light of your unnerving presence. You were incredibly different from anyone he has met before, but captivating nonetheless and he couldn’t stop the strange, tugging pull he felt whenever you were close.

The analysis of most people was brief, storing the data and never sparing a glance at them again. But you were an exception; he could’ve stared at you for hours and still wouldn’t have been able to scrutinize you for long enough to figure you out. You were a clean sheet, and you caught his attention, something that was unprecedented, and he couldn’t place the foreign feeling in his chest. It was difficult to decipher what you were, your job taking up every little segment of your life, and when he scanned you - seeminigly for the hundreth time - the data base didn’t offer any information other than your title and birth date. He found only one photograph in the virtual web interlacing the world: it was of you and Elijah Kamski, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, smiling widely in front of the building of the university he had attended. It was suspicious and raised the question as of why didn’t you have any trace of existance?

It was an unexpected oddity.

First, he needed to locate Jericho, and after - not if- he did that, he had to rip out the skeletons from your carefully locked closet. The key was preciseness and perseverance.

You paced around your office, trying to get rid of the building up anxiety in your chest. It was getting late and you had to choose between two evil. One was seeing your dying father and answering his questions, the other was meeting Kamski and listening to his never ending prattles.

Kamski it is - you thought.

You knew Elijah since you were a devoted university student, the two of you sharing the joy of creation. He created lives and you created souls. He always seemed more dedicated, ready to crush anyone standing in his way. You were less ardent, less resolute and you definitely lacked his depravity.

The abbreviation rA9 was an evidence of that.

When he looked at you for the first time after taking over his position as the head of the company he made a small sound and murmured something which sounded awfully similar to renunciation.

You knew where he lived, he invited you over many times before but you never accepted the offer. It was caution on your part and a sign of rebellion. The last talk you had in there were a few days before and you didn’t plan on coming back. You knew that if you were to step into his mansion he would be in a position of power and authority and that left a bad feeling in you, something you couldn’t rub off even when you arrived to his home. The Chloe who let you inside kindly asked you to wait with a small, artificial smile, and you couldn’t get yourself to sit down, instead you walked in circles around the hall. You stared at his self portrait hanging from the wall and couldn’t help but looked at the picture of him and Amanda. They both were young with a promising future ahead of them.

Such a pity that they were monsters in the making.

You stopped in your tracks when the door opened and revealed Elijah. You didn’t expect him to let you in himself, you thought it would be one of his androids’ task. He never put an emphasis on being a polite and welcoming host, he found these gestures rather unnecessary. But he was a complicated person, his mind made him unfathomable and you never dared to expect anything when it came to him.

“Hello [Name].”

You looked at his outfit: he was wearing a black cashmere shirt and jeans that was reeking of wealth and privilege. His glamorous lifestyle was overwhelming and something you could never get used to. Sure, he made a nice living off of his creations, your payroll was an evidence of that, but he showcased it, unlike you.

“Hello Elijah.” when he stepped aside you entered the fancy living room with the genormous swimming pool. The crimson water - reflecting the red tiles - looked awfully similar to blood, and you felt your heart drop when you noticed the two Chloes sitting next on the sofa in front of the huge window overlooking the snowy Detroit landscape.

“What brings you here, dear?” he asked you in an overly nice tone. You ignored the term of endearment, not giving him the reaction he wanted.

“I need you to put a stop to this. It’s getting out of hand, Elijah. Soon even you won’t be able to control it.”

“You were always so paranoid, [Name]. It’s a shame.” he circled around you like a vulture. “So boring.”

“It’s gonna destroy humanity!” you raised your voice. You had to make him understand.

“Humanity. Such a fascinating term with ever evolving definitions. We created artificial life, but were we able to transfer mankind’s essence into plastic pieces?” he mused with an expression of pride. “What do you think? Did we succeed?”

You shook your head.

“After seeing what Marcus has started…I’m sure we did. But now it’s becoming a threat.”

“A threat, you say.” he stopped and stood in front of you. “But I’m not the one believed to be a messiah, [Name]. Or should I call you rA9? It seems to be a popular these days.” he gave you a cruel smile. “I guess it means you are more involved in this than I am.”

Your father’s studio was one of its kind. His art supplies were scattered across the whole space, the canvases pushed against the wall in the corner, a curtain hanging from the ceiling covering his current piece.

He was sitting in his wheelchair, staring at a painting of two hands reaching for the other, one human, one mechanical.

“I must say it’s…passionate.” you murmured. “How long did it take you?”

“It wasn’t me. It was Markus.”

You were surprised. Surprised that Markus somehow could overwrite his instructions and create something with a soul. It wasn’t inherited, and it definitely wasn’t in his coding.

“You made him an artist? God, you are worse than I originally thought.” you said with a slight disgust clinging to your voice.

“I showed him that he’s capable of more than simply copying reality. That was the first one.” he pointed at a canvas with the contents of his table. “Perfect copy. No soul. No feelings.” he looked disappointed for a second, but fixed his features. “Do you want to have a go?” he gestured to an empty, clean canvas.

“No thanks. I’ll have to pass.” you stepped closer. “Have you heard from Leo? He hasn’t texted me lately. Didn’t even ask for money.”

He shook his head in resignation.

“No, I haven’t.” he rolled himself . “Why are you here, [Nane]? Definitely not because you wanted to talk about your brother.”

“It’s..It’s me. I need advice.”

He looked at you in expectancy.

“If you were…to control someone..I mean total control. Would you do it? If it was the right thing to do?”

“How can controlling someone be the right thing?” he said. It was not bitter nor accusing, he was simply being honest with you.

“I don’t know.” you admitted with a small sigh. “So you wouldn’t do it? If you were in my position.”

“No. I would not.”

You nodded to yourself.

“But what if it’s necessary?”

He gave you a loop sided smile.

“Destroying free will is never necessary.”

You stayed silent, contemplating whether you should come clean or stay quiet.

“And if it’s going to go all wrong if I don’t intervene?”

“Still.” he turned fully to take a long look at you. “Whatever it is, I advise to stay out of it.”

You couldn’t just leave it alone. It was you who started it.

“I’ll try.” you said.

[marvelstars]

Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker

This is one of the more long standing relationships on Star Wars, it bassically takes over Anakin´s life pre and post Vader transformation, there´s a lot that could be said about it but today I am going to tackle the psycological aspect of it.

First off, Palpatine takes a lot of time to firmly establish himself as one of Anakin´s parental figures and the tools he uses for this end are psycological abuse, which goes on even after his fall to the darkside.

Psycological abuse: Breaking someone with words instead of punches, to dominate unfairly.

The long term stress can actually exhaust the body to the point of causing physical damage, even to vital organs. But sadly it's not recognized by the police and doctors, so the victim can end up being the one locked up in a mental institution. The worst abuse is gaslight and is sadly done by health care too, by shaming and invaludating your rightfully sad emotions.

Don't allow disrespect or they will do worse than kill you. They will destroy who you are, your feelings, your self esteem, your joy, your capacity to run away by making you think you deserve pain and that's what love is (it's not), they will destroy your will to live and turn your life into hell.

It's one of the the true causes of "mental illness". It's an imbalanced between your needs and limits. (Neglect and abuse.) Don't allow abuse in any form, psychological can be worse than physical, it's harder to notice, stop and heal. And it's often the start of physical, sexual, financial abuse later.

There are many examples in the comics and movies of Palpatine doing this but I will chose one in which Anakin and Palpatine started hanging out, Anakin is 13 year old here.

What makes Palpatine´s manipulation so effective here is that he isn´t working using lies per se, he uses the corruption of the Republic system, it´s Senators involved in keeping slavery or the very real distrust the Jedi Order has concerning Anakin´s future, factors that are already there to make Anakin believe Palpatine´s understanding of the goverment/Jedi is the only one valid because he´s the "one honest politician who cares about Anakin" Anakin respects the Chancellor a lot but also questions him, take in consideration talks like this one were had between them for around 10 years between Episode I and Episode II.

Their first meetings, when Anakin was a child were allowed by the Jedi Order and programed by Palpatine, Anakin didn´t have much choice in the matter even if he does like the Chancellor, respects him and comes to love him as a trusted mentor/parental figure.

The reason why this kind of manipulation is so dangerous is because it´s very subtle, the people around could mistake the person/victim of psycological abuse as the one responsible of their own abuse, which is what ultimately happens to Anakin.

Obi-Wan, for example, takes Anakin and Palpatine´s relationship as an actual friendship where Anakin is getting benefices for being close to the Chancellor, this is most obvious in ROTS where part of the Jedi Council distrust of Anakin is because the Chancellor effectively gave them the Order of getting Anakin inside the Council, they believe Anakin wanted in and is using his influence when that´s is false and in practice this gives Anakin the perception the Council is manipulating him to spy on his friend and Clone Wars established the precedent with Raako Hardeen, that the Jedi Council is willing to use Anakin percepcion or feelings for political or war purposes which only reinforced Palpatine´s words about the Jedi not appreciating Anakin as a person or as a member of the Order.

Add to this Palpatine putting Padme and Anakin on opposite places of the political espectrum, because by having Anakin apparently support his political decisions, Padme considers her and her group of Senators who want Palpatine to give up his especial powers because of the Clone War, his political influence handed to him by the Senate are in opposition of Anakin´s current political beliefs. When Anakin in fact agrees with them about Palpatine no longer needing those powers, tried to talk about this with the Chancellor, only to be told Padme and her political group are seeking a coup agaisnt him, which they in theory are doing by building the begginings of the rebel alliance.

So Padme starts hidding from Anakin her meetings with the Senators and Anakin doesn´t tell her about the Chancellor thinking they are organizing a coup and him being worried for Padme because of this.

Palpatine has effectively isolated Anakin from his main loved ones, Padme and Obi-Wan, leaving only the Chancellor as the trusted confidant/mentor and he also introduced seeds of doubt about Anakin for Obi-Wan and Padme, which reinforces Anakin´s sense of paranoia about his closest people being agaisn´t him or lying to him, because this is indeed happening but not for the reasons he believes.

All this leads to Anakin´s complete breakdown, psycotic break in the middle of ROTS, Lucas even added other signals like lack of sleep and food because of his nightmares of Padme dying all this because Palpatine needed Anakin emotionally broken for him to ever consider choosing the darkside.

I could go on and on, there are some expecific circunstances there but this post is long enough.

Bonus:

[majestyrising]

Plague Light Info Dump

Okay so my idea for a Light/Plague clan is kind of weird. It starts off with a bunch of archeologists operating in the Emperor’s Wake discovered a strange temple whose architecture didn’t match – it was built as a holy place where their important ally was able to worship. It was an impressive structure of marble and gold, and in the center was a statue of Lightweaver and Plaguebringer, each holding a gilded bowl. This discovery was pretty important, and a sign of things to come. As more researchers poured over the area they kept finding more and more references to this Light/Plague culture. They showed up with more temples in allying lands, in artifacts they traded, and in war records. A lot of war records of many clans – apparently this Light/Plague culture was an empire and expanding.

Eventually they hit paydirt and find one of the Light/Plague culture’s ruined cities.

Lots of archiving and discovery, and they discover a map, detailing more of their holdings. Including the Light/Plague clan’s main city. After a brief scare of the Emperor walking far too close for comfort, an expedition to their capital sets off. Luckily this city was well preserved, time and Luminax have spared this city.

The archaeologists also discover why this clan was lost to history – littering the streets are bodies.

Most of them warriors locked in battle or those who succumbed to their wounds. War. They were attacked by a stronger clan; wiped out the nobles, killed the priests, buried their twisted religion. If there were any survivors, they fled and never returned. Walking the eerily quite temple walls surrounded by the dead and riches of a long-lost empire is…. Sad.

The archaeologists, tomb robbers and treasure hunters take back artifacts, and a few of these ornate coffins lining the temple. And that is where they made a mistake. These coffins are actually… a ritual tool that keeps the dragon inside hovering in between life and death. During the assault most of them were cracked open and the dragon inside killed – except for a few. In one of them lies the last surviving princess of this Light/Plague culture. The sun may have set on her people, but their empire will rise again! She will rebuild it, 1000 times grander! She just has to wait for them to figure out how to open her prison and she will live again! I’m debating on there being more like her who managed to get overlooked when her family was wiped out and her people scattered to the winds. For sure she is the last of the noble bloodline.

Some of the inspiration for this clan comes from Christianity. Specifically the older stuff – a bunch of worshippers believing that they start life in debt, born in sin. Lightweaver and Plaguemother does not love them. That the act of suffering and sacrifice is to be brought closer to the divine. Flagellants and martyrs who take on the sin of others. Sad saints. And can’t forget the impressive looking cathedrals. Also included in this is the Aztecs. Blood sacrifice is key to this clan – the belief that the gods require sacrifices to keep their creations running. Sometimes it is a trickle offered to the scarlet stained altar of the Lightweaver, other times whole hearts are offered up to the gods. Blood is life and magic, and the gods need it. Incorporate some of that Aztec City look into their Cathedral Cities. Combating their dour religion and war like nature is their vivacious grasp on life. They throw 100% of their being into celebrations and the arts – the sheer unbridled joy is a stark contrast to their faith. They sing, they dance, and above all else feel. Also included is glorious White Phyrexia, if only for the amazing White/Red imagery. Like scarlet veins and pure flowers blooming.    

Some Pathfinder classes I think they’d use.

Pain Tasters: a prestige class that uses pain and ritual to buff up their stats. Even for those not blessed by Lightweaver or Plaguemother, pain can still bring out the divine and elevate you. Another prestige class, Scar Seekers take on self-mortification rituals, and are empowered by their pain. Their religious self-scarification leaves them a patchwork of scars, which offers various boons when it comes to healing and sharing pain. Holy Vindicators are the last prestige class I think fits them. They gain stigmata and while bleeding bolster their attacks with divine might and lay down curses. Clerics of Martyrdom and Tyranny walk down the same temple halls and psionic collectives expand their senses in opulent guildhalls. These psionic collectives churn out Hemokinetics that learn to manipulate their blood, and psychics dedicated to pain master their mental powers here.

Outside of the standard FR Light and Plague type of magic, I figure theirs focuses on three things.

The first: Healing Magic. A culture dedicated to bloodletting and ritual penance sufferers would have some of the best healers around. Plus taking on the wounds of others fits in with their martyr theming. Secondly: Pain, and the emotions it brings. Despair. Anger. Fear. This is why they have psionic collectives. And lastly: the Red Blood that flows through the veins of the universe, of which they are just a small part.

[headcanonsandmore]

Something Good Can Work

Summary:  Tegan and Nyssa visit the Jovanka family farm. Turns out, meeting your girlfriends' parents for the first time is less scary than you may think.

(Just a quick heads up; this fic does contain some veiled references to homophobia.)

Thanks to @serenbex for suggesting the idea!

                     Read on FFN.                            Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

‘I’ll keep the TARDIS parked here, and get on with repairs,’ said the Doctor, grinning cheerfully. ‘You two have a nice time meeting Tegan’s parents.’

Tegan rolled her eyes. They were stood in the middle of a field, where the Doctor had parked the blue box. A farm house was stood in the far distance, across several fields. The smell of pigs and sheep was especially pungent. Rural Australia could look picturesque, but the Jovanka family farm did not. It amazed Tegan that she had once insisted to people that it was in the outback; the outback was, at the very least, interesting to look at.

‘You better not fly off,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘I know what you’re like, Doc.’

Nyssa chuckled, linking her arm through one of Tegan’s.

‘Please be careful not to dematerialise, Doctor,’ she said. ‘You did promise to keep the TARDIS parked here until we return, after all.’

‘Yes, yes,’ the time lord said, waving his hands absentmindedly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be careful…’

Tegan locked eyes with Nyssa, who chuckled again. Tegan relented.

‘Okay, just make sure you are careful,’ she said. ‘I’ve still not forgiven you for ditching me at Heathrow without so much as a goodbye between me and Nyssa.’

The Doctor frowned.

‘I did apologise for that, young lady.’

‘Doc; don’t “young lady” me. My dad is in that farmhouse; I don’t need another one in the TARDIS too.’

The blonde man chuckled.

‘See you both later, then.’

‘Do you think we should tell him?’ Nyssa asked, as the two women began to make their way through the fields towards the farm house.

‘About us, you mean? Probably. It is fun seeing him try to work it out, though.’

Nyssa giggled.

She did look very pretty. The young woman was dressed in her stripy top and long skirt. In the Australian sunshine, she looked even more gorgeous than usual. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Tegan really could not take her eyes off the woman she was holding hands with. Good grief, how was Tegan this lucky?

Nyssa presumably noticed Tegan’s staring, because her cheeks pinkened and she pressed a kiss to Tegan’s cheek.

‘You are so lovely,’ she said, giggling. ‘But you will have to stop staring; I don’t think your parents will approve.’

‘I don’t care,’ Tegan replied, squeezing Nyssa’s hand. ‘I bloody love you.’

‘I love you too, Tegan.’

Nyssa kissed her again.

As they reached the farmhouse, Tegan was overcome with nostalgia for her youth, which was ridiculous considering that she’d been living here barely a few months before. Maybe it was the novelty of being here with Nyssa?

The two women stepped onto the porch.

‘Er… shall I wait outside?’

‘What?’ Tegan turned, staring at Nyssa. ‘Why?’

‘Well…’-Nyssa’s expression turned slightly anxious-‘It might be a shock for your parents to have you back and then immediately being introduced to me as well.’

‘Oh…’ Tegan said. ‘Well, if you’re sure…’

Nyssa nodded, squeezing Tegan’s hand.

‘Just call me when you’re ready.’

‘Okay.’

Reluctantly letting go of Nyssa’s hand, Tegan knocked on the door.

No answer. That wasn’t unusual; this was a working farm, after all. Tegan’s parents were usually out and about on the farm at any given time. Tegan gave Nyssa a reassuring smile, opened the door and stepped inside.

The kitchen looked much the same as it had done the last time she had been at home. Old-fashioned table, well-maintained oven, a fridge covered in magnets and photographs, and a bunch of old wellies dotted around the doorway.

It was at this moment that a woman appeared in the kitchen doorway.

‘Tegan!’

Tegan found herself being pulled into a tight hug from her mother. Joy Jovanka had always been a force of nature and, despite their shared personality traits, even Tegan was unprepared for the full force of her mums affection. It was like being run over by a very friendly steamroller.

‘How are you, love?’ Joy said, pulling away and inspecting Tegan’s face. ‘Have you been eating properly?’

‘Mum!’ Tegan exclaimed, face already burning with mortification. ‘Yes, I have!’

‘Well, I should hope so; the last thing we heard, you were in Amsterdam to visit your cousin and then-’

‘Mum!’

Joy took a look at Tegan’s expression, before relaxing, letting out a chuckle.

‘I haven’t seen you for a while, love; you can’t blame me for worrying. I’ll call your dad; he’ll want to see you,’ she then turned to the doorway and hollered. ‘Will!’

A few moments later, Will Jovanka stepped into the room. Upon seeing Tegan, his mouth stretched into a warm smile, and he crossed the kitchen. He was a quiet man, but with a sort of steely resilience that Tegan had always respected. Picture in your head a typical Australian farmer; he was the opposite of all of that, but he was the best father Tegan could ask for. And, for what it was worth, he was an amazing farmer too.

He pulled Tegan into a hug. As always, he smelled of animal feed, but Tegan had never minded that. It was like being hugged by a golden retriever.  

‘You alright, love?’ he asked, pulling away slightly. ‘They treating you alright in Europe?’

‘I’m fine, dad, really,’ Tegan said, smiling. ‘Actually; I’m… well, I’m brought someone here to see you both.’

‘Tegan…’ Joy said, slowly, a wide grin enveloping on her face. ‘You’ve never brought a girl home before.’

‘Well, this is someone pretty special,’ Tegan said, nervously.

Crossing the room, she poked her head out of the door. Nyssa was stood just outside; she swallowed anxiously. Tegan reached out and intertwined her fingers with Nyssa’s, giving a reassuring smile before leading her into the kitchen. They came to stand in front of Tegan’s parents.

‘Mum, dad… this is Nyssa.’

The Trakenite smiled nervously, as the older couple took in the sight of her.

‘Hello, dear,’ said Joy, smiling. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Jovanka,’ Nyssa replied.

‘Oh, call me Joy,’ the older woman replied, waving a hand airily. ‘Would you like a coffee?’

‘Er…’ Nyssa said, turning to Tegan in bewilderment.

‘Maybe a tea instead, mum?’ Tegan suggested. Given Nyssa’s different physiology, it was probably safer to stick with something that they knew she could drink without issue. Knowing their luck, coffee probably made Trakenites turn bright green and develop an all-consuming desire to line-dance.  

‘Righty-’o,’ Joy replied. ‘Tegan, take Nyssa into the living room; I’ll bring in the drinks in a mo. Will, gimme a hand, will you?’

Tegan’s father nodded, giving Nyssa a friendly smile as he waved them through the door.

The family sitting room likewise hadn’t changed much. There was still the various photos from Tegan’s childhood, the old television set that only worked if you whacked it on the side, and the sofa with the plastic covers still attached (with all the dust and muck around the farm, Joy didn’t take any chances).

Nyssa sat down next to Tegan on the sofa, still looking rather nervous.

‘You okay?’ Tegan whispered, squeezing Nyssa’s hand.

The younger woman nodded.

‘I’ve never done this before,’ she said, softly. ‘But I want them to like me.’

‘Nys, it’s mathematically impossible for anyone to dislike you,’ Tegan replied, grinning. Nyssa smiled, cheeks dimpling. She seemed to relax a little from Tegan’s words.

A few minutes later, Joy and Will entered the room, placing four cups of tea on the coffee table, and pulling chairs out to sit down opposite Tegan and Nyssa.

‘So…’ Joy said, smiling as she took a sip of tea. ‘You both met whilst travelling with this… Doctor, you said?’

‘Yes,’ Nyssa said, nodding as she held her mug in her hands. ‘Has… has Tegan explained?’

‘More or less, yes,’ Will said. ‘We couldn’t quite believe it at first, but… well, it would explain a lot about where Tegan was.’

‘I imagine it was something of a shock.’

Joy shrugged, cheerfully.

‘Tegan seemed to be having fun; she mentioned you quite a lot, now that I think about it.’

Tegan felt her cheeks flush as Nyssa’s eyes turned on her.

‘Oh, Tegan…’ Nyssa said, warmly. ‘You are too sweet.’

‘W-well, yes,’ Tegan mumbled. She wasn’t used to girls looking at her like that in front of her parents. ‘I missed you.’

Nyssa put down her mug, reaching out to intertwine their fingers.

‘You’ve got a lovely accent,’ Will said, speaking to Nyssa. ‘Are you from the south of England, perhaps? We used to have a sheep-hand who came from Kent.’

‘Er, no,’ Nyssa said, her voice wobbling slightly. Tegan squeezed her hand, and the younger woman seemed to take heart from this. ‘Actually, I’m… I’m not from Earth.’

Joy and Will stared at her, blinking in confusion.

‘You remember that I did explain the Doctor travelled in time and space,’ Tegan said, quickly. ‘Well, Nyssa is from another planet.’

‘Anywhere… we might see in the sky?’ Joy said, slowly.

‘Most likely not,’ Nyssa replied. ‘I am from a planet known as Traken.’

‘But… you speak perfect English?’

‘That’s the TARDIS,’ Tegan explained. ‘It translates languages automatically. Nyssa’s speaking Trakenite, but we’re hearing English.’

‘Actually,’ Nyssa said, cheeks pinkening. ‘I… I have learnt English.’

Tegan stared at her, mouth falling open.

‘What? When was this?’

Nyssa looked down at her lap.

‘It… it was while you were away,’ she said, softly. ‘I had been planning on learning the language anyway and… well, there wasn’t much else to do at that time. The Doctor was busy fixing up the TARDIS, so I had a lot of time to myself. It took me a little while to get some pronunciations right but…’

As Nyssa trailed off, Tegan’s heart ached for the younger woman. If her parents hadn’t been in the room, she would have kissed Nyssa on the mouth right there and then. Oh, god…

‘Well, you speak it beautifully,’ Joy said, smiling. ‘One of my uncles was excellent with languages, and Tegan got her way with Aboriginal dialects from him; they say the talent runs in families. I imagine your parents are probably excellent with languages too, eh?’

Nyssa suddenly went very pale, and Tegan immediately found herself gripping her hand. They hadn’t really discussed whether to disclose this with Tegan’s parents, but that had clearly been an oversight. Of course Tegan’s parents would want to know Nyssa’s background and what her family were like. But… well, Nyssa never really talked much about her family and Tegan had been worried about upsetting her girlfriend by bringing up the subject.

And now it was upsetting Nyssa regardless.

‘Mum; I don’t think you should-’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Nyssa interjected, blinking quickly. ‘My parents were both good with languages, Joy. But my mother died when I was a child and my father… well, he is no longer with us either.’

‘Oh…’

Joy’s eyes were already watering. She crossed the room and pulled Nyssa into a deep hug.

‘Oh, you poor dear,’ she said, softly. ‘I’m so sorry, Nyssa; I shouldn’t have-’

‘You weren’t to know, Joy,’ Nyssa replied, very quietly, as Joy eventually pulled away. ‘But thank you.’

Joy smiled, her hand still supportively clasped on Nyssa’s shoulder.

‘No worries. Anyway, Nyssa, has Tegan ever told you about what she like at school?’

‘Mum,’ Tegan said, very quickly. ‘I really don’t think Nyssa wants to-’

‘Oooh, no; she hasn’t!’ Nyssa said in delight, leaning forward eagerly. ‘Do you have photographs?’

‘You’re gonna love this,’ Joy said, ignoring her daughters loud groan. ‘I’ll just grab the albums…’

‘Muuum!’ Tegan exclaimed, her head in her hands. She could hear the tell-tale signs of the photo albums being pulled from the bookcase. ‘Stop it!’

‘Oh, stop fussing, Tegan,’ Joy said, as she sat down on Nyssa’s other side with the photo album in her lap. Will let out a chortle. ‘Now, Nyssa, this is Tegan’s photo from when she finished boarding school; I always thought the sailor-suit looked lovely on her…’

                                                            *

 It was that evening. After that mortifying journey down memory lane, Tegan had spent most of the afternoon showing Nyssa the rest of the farm. There was no-one else around, and the weather wasn’t too hot, so it was perfect for giving the younger woman a tour. After returning to the farmhouse for dinner, the two women had spent a quiet evening watching television with Will and Joy. Around 9pm, Nyssa had started yawning, so Joyce had recommended that both Nyssa and Tegan turn in for the night. Nyssa had gone to Tegan’s bedroom to change into pyjamas.

Tegan was quickly finishing up a biscuit when her father called her into the kitchen.

‘Tegan, I think we need to have a talk,’ Will said, and Tegan -expecting an observation based on that evenings television- turned at the serious tone in his voice. ‘You and Nyssa are sharing a room after all.’

Tegan chuckled, bemused.

‘Dad, me and Nys share a room on the TARDIS-’

‘That’s not what I mean,’ Will continued. ‘Tegan; you remember when, before you left for boarding school, your mother talked to you about the birds and the bees-’

‘Oh, god!’ Tegan exclaimed, facing turning crimson. ‘Dad, we are not discussing this.’

‘Yes, we are, Tegan. You and Nyssa are very close, but you need to make sure you’re taking precautions. So that neither of you ends up pregnant before you’re ready for-’

‘We’re both women, dad!’ Tegan -now utterly mortified- ran her fingers down her cheeks. ‘We can’t get pregnant from… that!’

‘You don’t know that, Tegan,’ Will said, looking as embarrassed as Tegan felt. ‘Like you said, Nyssa isn’t human, strictly speaking, so her species might have a different way of doing things.’

‘Don’t misunderstand us,’ Joy added. ‘Nyssa’s a wonderful young lady, and we are so happy that you’ve found someone. But we think the two of you ought to just wait a little while before giving us grandchildren-’

‘Oh my god, stop talking!’

Tegan stormed away, hurrying to her old bedroom and slipping inside. As she closed the door, she could hear the tell-tale signs of giggling from behind her.

Sur enough, as she turned, she could see Nyssa, sat on Tegan’s bed, wearing a pair of borrowed pyjamas and chuckling quietly to herself.

‘I’m guessing you heard all that,’ Tegan mumbled, sitting down on the bed.

‘Every word,’ Nyssa replied, cheeks dimpling. ‘Your parents care about you a lot.’

‘I know. I just… I wish they’d keep their noses out of our business.’

‘Well, we are currently staying in their house,’ Nyssa said, wrapping an arm around Tegan’s shoulders. ‘And, like they said, you don’t know if either of us could get pregnant from-’

‘Nyssa!’

The Trakenite let out another chuckle, and pecked Tegan on the cheek. She then settled down against the headboard of the bed, beckoning Tegan with a hand. Tegan rolled her eyes fondly and followed her girlfriend, settling down next to her. Their arms settled around each other.

‘Is it nice, being back here?’

‘On the old farm?’ Tegan replied. ‘Yeah. I haven’t been here for a while. I did move back in after I got fired from my flight attendant job, but that was a while back.’

‘Tegan, I’ve always wondered; how did a woman from a farm in rural Australia end up as a flight attendant for a plane leaving Heathrow Airport?’

‘Oh, that’s… well, it’s a bit complicated.’

Nyssa stared at her, expectantly.

‘Well, I was always a bit… different growing up,’ Tegan said. ‘Even compared to the other girls around here that grew up on farms. I didn’t find it… easy, getting on with people my age.’

Nyssa didn’t say anything, but nodded softly.

‘My parents thought that a boarding school in Europe might be a good idea,’ Tegan continued. ‘Help me make some friends, and expand my horizons a bit, that sort of thing. I never really knew what I wanted to do when I was growing up. I didn’t fancy taking over the farm, and getting a desk job in a city didn’t seem inviting. My dad had relatives living in Europe, who were happy to contribute to the fees. So… off I went, to a boarding school in France.’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

Tegan shrugged.

‘I guess. I can still speak a little French. There were lots of people from different places there; very international. But, even by their standards, a girl from the arse-end of nowhere in Australia was pretty unusual. Didn’t help that my mouth often got me into trouble.’

Nyssa chuckled, squeezing Tegan around the middle.

‘I know, some things never change.’

‘I like your mouth, Tegan.’

‘And don’t I know it. But… yeah, it was pretty great, mostly. Of course, some of the other girls were a bit horrible, but the vast majority were pretty good. Although… well, I was just becoming a teenager then.’

Nyssa frowned, brow furrowed in bafflement.

Tegan sighed.

‘I think that was when I properly began to realise that I liked girls. I mean, I was locked up in a school with tons of other girls my own age, for the first time ever. That was… eye-opening to say the least.’

‘In… in a good way?’

‘In both good and bad ways. Yes, I did realise I liked girls but… also, I realised that a lot of people didn’t approve of that.’

‘Oh, Tegan…’

Nyssa cuddled closer against Tegan, who rested her head gently against the younger woman’s, taking a slow breath.

‘Mum and dad were always great about it; they probably knew before I did that they’d never have to worry about me bringing boys home.’

‘And instead you brought home an alien woman?’

‘Ye-es,’ Tegan said, chuckling. ‘But I think they’re rather delighted by that. I did say that they’d adore you, didn’t I?’

‘True. But you haven’t explained how you ended up as a flight attendant.’

‘Oh. I just… well, after I finished at the boarding school-’

‘Where you wore the adorable sailor-suit?’

Tegan groaned.

‘Yes, where I wore that bloody sailor-suit. Anyway, after I finished, I was staying with Aunt Vanessa in Britain for the summer, wondering what I was gonna do. I saw a piece in a magazine about being a flight attendant; it sounded glamorous and interesting. I had a bunch of qualifications from the boarding school in all sorts of subjects, so I thought… what the heck? I applied and got the job. And that’s when I ended up running into the TARDIS.’

‘When you randomly wandered into the TARDIS on the Barnet bypass?’

Tegan frowned.

‘You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?’

‘Never,’ Nyssa grinned, before sobering up. ‘But, in all seriousness, Tegan; I… I am so glad I met you.’

‘Wait, what’s brought this on?’

Nyssa sighed, squeezing Tegan softly.

‘I suppose I was just thinking… I almost lost you. I… I don’t think I ever told you how much I’m grateful that I have you in my life. It terrifies me to think that it could have all so easily never happened.’

‘Nys…’

‘I know; I’m being ridiculous.’

‘No,’ Tegan said, softly. ‘You’re being wonderful, as always.’

She pressed a tender kiss to the top of Nyssa’s curls.

‘I’m so lucky,’ she said, softly, eyes slipping shut. ‘You’re my best friend and my girlfriend too. I’m bloody lucky.’

‘I thought I was the lucky one,’ Nyssa whispered. ‘Tegan?’

‘Hm?’

‘We are still best friends, then? Despite being a couple as well?’

‘Of course,’ Tegan replied, opening her eyes and giving the younger woman a gentle squeeze. ‘Us being a couple doesn’t negate us being best friends, after all.’

Nyssa smiled.

‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘For… bringing me to your home. Meeting your parents. I can’t show you my home, but… I hope I can be a part of yours.’

Tegan pressed a kiss to Nyssa’s cheek.

‘You are, Nys; my home is with you.’

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone; hope you enjoyed this fic! Again, special thanks to Serenbex for suggesting the idea after I wrote "Only Love Can Break Your Heart"!

[bitchfitch]

Years ago now Esti's mentor had warned him that there would come a day he no longer thought of the home he grew up in as his. He'd said it as a warning against taking his yearly break from training for granted, after Esti complained about having to return to his parents. Esti knew the take away Pavo meant was "You will miss your parents, their home, and their roll in your childhood when you are grown," but he had long since stopped thinking of his parents' home as his. It had been a miserable prison he was forced to return to year after year since the second year of his training when a fight between him and his father about what kind of influence Pavo was blew out of proportion. He had spent the rest of that winter locked in his room.

Home was at his mentor's side studying and learning everything the vastly more experienced man had to teach. Home was a place of spring flowers and summer rains, and autumn leaves. Here there was only isolation and blinding blankets of snow.

Esti had been a man for years now, long overstaying his apprenticeship which had been meant to end the moment he was an adult. He'd begged to continue his training, both at his mentor's and his parents' feet, just to avoid having to leave all his joy behind.

Esti was allowed to stay only because his apprenticeship had always been a tool of barter. A way to feign goodwill between his clan and Pavo's until he could be married off to seal a more lucrative alliance elsewhere. Pavo had said it was just the way of things for nobles to live unhappy lives and then die obscenely wealthy. He joked the only way he had managed to escape such a fate himself was by being too ugly and mean for anyone to marry even out of desperation. Esti had hoped being a halfbred bastard son would have made him an equally unappealing match despite his family's wealth and reputation.

He sat on his parents front porch while he waited for his fate to be decided by two people who never cared much for their eldest son and one who made him the man he is.

The ribbon he pulled between his fingers in an idle fidget was crinkled and worn from years of use. It was tradition for young women to give their soon to be betrothed one of their hair ribbons before their families negotiated their marriage. Something about luck and it making the talks more likely to work out in their favor.

Her name was Raven. She was as shadow demon like Esti but she was from one of the lower noble families. He'd met her when they were both fifteen, when her governess brought her to Pavo's village to train for a few weeks alongside the boys who would one day command armies. She was bold and brash. The sort who charged first and thought later. Always happy to speak her mind but clever enough to know when to hold her tongue. Everything Esti wasn't and so much more.

He'd nursed a crush on her that entire week, but so did basically every other boy in their training group and a fair few of the village girls who all suddenly became extremely interested in watching the training sessions when they never had been before. Raven was just that awe inspiring. The sort that didn't need years of training to have armies ready to kneel to her.

Despite that, despite everything wonderful about her, it wasn't her ribbon in his hands. She was the match their parents picked out for him. He did have her ribbon, but that shiny red thing she had clearly never worn once was tucked away inside his pocket.

This one in his hands was Pavo's ribbon. The one Pavo had taken out of his own hair when they arrived to tie up Esti's. That had been a nervous fidget too, in its own way, Pavo grooming him like he was still a mud stained pre teen in need of an adult to do their hair and straighten their clothes before they were put in front of someone who mattered more than them.

He wondered if the tradition was on Pavo's mind like it had been on Esti's as his thick fingers combed through his hair. He wants to believe it had been.

The door behind him slid open and shut again. The well worn floorboards creaking as Pavo stepped out onto them.

"Esti? Are you near?" he glanced around, the mirrored silver of his faux eyes glinting in the evening light.

"Sorry," Esti forced himself to calm down, supressing the inky black shadows that tended to cling to his skin when he got nervous. For most people they did nothing to conceal him, while rendering him totally invisible to whatever spell work let Pavo see through his prosthetics.

Pavo sighed when he looked to him then, his face losing almost all the tension he had been carrying.

"Come on then. I want a guided tour before we have to go hear their verdict at dinner," Pavo brushed past the moment of quiet emotion as he stepped down from the porch and into the icy grass. "Start with how we get to your room I know the maid already showed me but- Your mother and her shadows- I swear that woman has set up much of her home to irk me specifically."

"Yes sir, Master," Esti bit back a small laugh at his mentor's expense. Standing and leading the way to the corner of the estate his room was situated in. "Did the talk go well?" he would ask after long moments of only their footsteps crunching through the year's first snow to fill the silence between them. He was still worrying the ribbon between his fingers while they made the walk, finding solace in it when he found himself too cowardly to reach out and take Pavo's hand.

"It went as well as we expected it would," Pavo shrugged. "They don't want to say yes, because they want Miss Raven's lands, but they also know I'm not leaving without a yes. I'm sure they considered just killing me for such insolence, but killing a king's brother would be plenty excuse for said king to finally start that war your apprenticeship was meant to avoid. Plus such a conflict would be hugely unpopular amongst your people for how pointless it would be," he prattles off the details. "So, they don't want to say yes, but they know they have no real choice. I even tried to lay it out plainly in a way that would let them feel like good people. Said 'Marry him off to her and have land, a guaranteed war, and none of your son's love. Marry him off to me and you'll have an alliance with the only military strong enough to turn this entire land to ash, and a guarantee that as long as I live there would be no war between our clans.'"

"You would prevent the war?" Esti had always believed it a forgone conclusion. Their families had been rivals for centuries but only recently did Pavo's gain the power needed for a quick victory through ruthless conquest of a few of Esti's clan's former allies and their surrounding neighbors.

"For you? I'd fight it alone if I had too," he put a hand on Esti's shoulder, squeezing it before pulling him to his side. "And maybe I've already confirmed it with Truthahn. He wants a peaceful reign now that our father is gone, and a marriage between us is probably the fastest and easiest way to guarantee that. He even offered to come to these talks on my behalf, if you can believe it."

"That's an image. The two of us sitting on that porch together waiting for them to decide our fate." Esti couldn't stop the laugh this time. Pavo, a man so regal and confident in himself, made to sit outside in the cold while someone else argued that he be allowed what he wanted.

"Oh no, had that happened we would have found somewhere to sneak off to. If they aren't going to respect me, I'm not respecting them; I'm fucking their son in the snow and making absolutely certain they hear him screaming for me."

"Pavo!" Esti exclaimed while his brain tried very hard to work under the strain of such a mortifying image.

"Yeah, like that."

[badaseyebags]

to all the boys that tried to love me ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Ch1

word count: 1,1k

warnings: none yet, characters will reveal themselves

authors note: hello hello, i’m not sure if anybody will read this since it’s not bada/team bebe related, but big thank you to those who do! i kept this one short just to test things out -🍞

do you ever feel like you’re falling behind in life or that you’re are too childish for your age? or maybe you haven’t experienced things others your age have been doing for years? well.. what better way to fix that than to go to your first party, am i right? haha no. you shouldn’t pressure yourself to fit into society’s standards, if i could tell my younger self i would. and maybe punch her in the face, repeatedly. but then i wouldn’t have all these stories to tell.

let’s start from the beginning..

covid is just ending, restrictions are finally being lifted, and you’ve spend so much time being locked inside the house. all of your friends are adults, yet none of you experienced a real party without supervision, how embarrassing right? the one damn party you’ve ever attended was with your family’s presence and it was full of high people and terrible music. how lucky were you to find a party that’s catered to a specific audience that you resonate with? a community of people who enjoy the same music as you, and it’s in a nearby city? oh you definitely had to go! this small town was full of weirdos, it’s time to explore the real world!

i’ll take you to the day of the party, just a few hours before it all happened. when me and my best friends were getting ready. it was our first proper party, well.. mostly, my ex, ryujin who turned into my bestie after our break up has been to many, she was always a bit ahead of me. but for me and my other bestie ningning, this was a premiere. we had no real idea of how these parties go, or what to expect, you could call us daydreamers, or delusional if you want.

we took the train to the city, and lucky for us my auntie lived there so we didn’t have to worry about going home at 5 am or searching for a place to sleep. it was all going according to plan. we sipped on some champagne to “loosen up” before the event, honestly it did a little more than just loosen me up as i disappeared for a good 20 minutes and came back with pink hair dye? yeah, not sure what compelled me to do so, but it was one of the best hair choices i made. so while my friends are doing their makeup, i’m sitting on the floor, tipsy and with pink hair. we finish getting ready and feel our own heartbeats as we get in the cab and drive to our destination.

are my legs shaky because i’m nervous? or is it the after effects of the cheap champagne working it’s magic on my inexperienced heart? as if i have time to worry about that right now, i’m so exited! we skip over to the line of the club and gasp at the amount of people. do clubs usually have this many people? we look at each other in excitement, grasping each others hands tightly, as we hear our favourite songs being played from the inside.

our joy was cut short upon entering and getting hit with the unpleasant, pungent smell of people’s sweat mixing in with whatever alcohol they were drinking. did nobody else in here use perfume? or deodorant at least? why the hell is everyone so touchy with each other? are they dating… my eyes didn’t know where to focus so instead i looked at the floor shyly, deciding i might need a little drink to handle this. at some point we felt like we didn’t belong in there and made a huge mistake planning this night. but we decided to stay since we planned this for long, and we would seem like even bigger losers for leaving so suddenly. and so, we had a few shots that felt like a rock being thrown at a window, me being the window. i had to sit down, this feeling was so icky, the music is too loud, too many people.. i found some random seat and just watched people dance and have fun. was this what all parties are like? at least my friends are having fun… kinda. my eyes pan from them to this random person across from me. hm.. he seems to.. not belong here neither. is he here because of his friends? he seems oddly calm for such a loud place, he seems nice. i thought to myself, eyes scanning him a bit longer than i thought. my friends came up to me teasing me about this little “crush” huh? crush? i just thought he looked kind.. anyways, he seems really nice i wouldn’t mind knowing his name. but that’s all. his vibe is really different from all these guys showing off, much different than that guy that keeps screaming over there. at this point even i know his name, he seems very popular this loud guy.. tsurugi, or whatever people passing by called him. he’s already making my head hurt but he seems to be having fun, i wonder what that feels like.

speaking of guys, ryujin seems to have her eye on the jimin wannabe that just passed by us. dressed in all black, his hair covering the remainder of his face that his black mouth mask didn’t cover. ugh, the way he carries himself and seats himself right between all those girls that are glued to his twinky looking arms, how icky. definition of fboi right there, she can’t be serious. “you can’t even see his face, what’s there to like??” i shake my head at her, making eye contact with the said guy, glaring at him. he turns his attention to the group of girls surrounding him, drinking up all the attention while buying them a bottle. jeez, i’m guessing he’s the star of this party or something. i hate guys like this. this is also the type of guys you should avoid at parties, no, he’s not loud, doesn’t seem super drunk and in everyone’s faces like that tsurugi dude, but he’s far from the guy that i was curious about earlier. this guy definitely came here with a goal and he’s making it come true.

little did i know, that all 3 of these said guys will try to find a spot in my life, or more like, my heart. how on earth does that happen? well… you will find out soon.

[fionayiyang]

2024, Eternity and New Beginning

After months and years of painful healing, I am finally able to feel the soft springtime breezes brushing on my face again. Light, peace, and joy are finally resurfacing.

Standing underneath the hundreds-year-old blossoming sakura tree alone in centre Tokyo, I looked up at the delicate flowers against the street light from afar - the petals are turning from pink to transparent with stems outlined in silver.

In this very moment, I felt eternity.

"How could there be such beauty without God's creation?" I wonder. "Can human beings invent beauty at all?" I doubt it. I feel lucky by just experiencing true beauty and I think many artists are just trying to recreate it from experience. And yet this process of recreation itself holds power. The guilt of possessing such divine gift is so enormous that I feel compelled to share it. And by sharing it - I feel love.

For so long, I had gotten lost in the world of reasons, the toxic arguments, the fearful fights, and the meaningless right-and-wrongs. When I was trapped by running thoughts, it felt like being sucked into a black hole and nothing gets to escape. I wanted to shout, but I had no voice and no one could hear me, instead, I choked on my pains and fell into depression.

I believe there is a living hell - that's other people's opinions and other people's standards. When you try so hard to get your feelings across to the person you care about, and yet the only thing you get in response is seeing him distorting your words and intentions in real time - that is true frustration...

I majored in communications and yet never had I felt so helpless when you have words and feelings but the other person is talking yet actually shutting you off.

I understand his pains and his defense mechanism, and yet I have no keys as he guards himself from inside out and locked his heart by fear and tossed the key into the black hole.

Everyone's relationship has something to do with their childhood, and we spend the rest of our life repeating the early-on patterns that we were exposed to if we do not actively seek for improvement.

"Why spending the entire life living in the same patterns over and over again with predictable endings but just different people?" That I don't get... But, that is not my problem now.

To some, hell can be more familiar than heaven. And yet we cannot stay where we don't feel happy, valued, or appreciated.

Life is too short for hatred and let this be a reminder to myself that, this year, I will have to filter people out. I have my goals and dreams to achieve, and they are big ones. I need my friends and my allies to be rooting for me, just as the way I do for the people that I love. This is the year to give myself what I have always wanted but have given to others first.

Life is transient and yet beautiful. Use time wisely to love, to experience, to care, to laugh, to have fun, and to see all the miraculous views while allow yourself to be sad, to grieve, over the loss that will never come back. Yet that is OK, because in the end, everything will be gone but the happiness and kindness that we shared with others will be passed on.

Pains are inevitable, so choose wisely what type of pain that you are willing to suffer for in life.

Love never ends. Be brave.

Van Gogh x Klein

Love.

[realityhelixcreates]

By Talos, This Can't be Happening pt 6: Bruma County Blues

Oh is it going to let me post this one? Marvelous!

Our heroes(citation needed) finally reach Bruma! What absolute horseshit awaits them there?

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont

?~?~?~?~?

Helix thanked the elves profusely while Swag laid out their single bedroll. Yeah, this wasn't going to enforce the elopement theory at all. Oh well. It was probably better than saying oh yeah, we're super into each other, years long relationship, but we're both so traumatized by previous experiences that we're mutually afraid of commitment baybeeeeee~

Yeah no.

What they had was fine, and he didn't worry about it.

Helix and the elves got a fire started and some food cooking. The elves swapped stories of their people and their old home at Helix's curious prodding, sang elven folk songs in a lovely, flowing language Helix seemed able to understand. Hearing their words tumble from her lips lit a little flame in him.

It was funny. She could speak the languages of elves and dragons, demonic and celestial beings, but on Earth, only English. His grasp of Italian delighted her.

Well, it was very sexy after all.

While Helix caroused with the elves, Swag located the needle and thread he'd appropriated from the waystation, and began fixing his damaged clothes and backpack.

“Oh, you've a steady hand.” one of the elves pointed out. “Didn't think Nords were really into that sort of thing.”

“His family are tailors.” Helix lied rather easily. “From Markarth. That's how we met.”

“She's been my canvas ever since.” he said locking eyes with her over the fire. If they were going to craft this lie, they were gonna do it together. She smiled, and the elves exchanged knowing looks.

Yeah, yeah, they were adorable. But more importantly, they now had a more solid existence in this land. Just so long as they didn't run into anybody else from 'Markarth', wherever that was...

They ate dinner, and Swag finished repairing his things, then Mels bid the 'youngsters' retire in preparation for their early morning.

“Does he not realize that we're like, thirty-seven?” Swag whispered, once they'd crammed themselves into the bedroll.

“Maybe not.” Helix whispered back. “Elves live a really long time, so they might not be good at judging human ages. Besides, you still look fantastic.”

“Right back at'cha. You are timeless.”

“Here's hoping.”

With a quick smooch, they settled down.

Twin red stars in a twilit world, the air floral perfume. His eyes stung from incomprehensible beauty, scent, sound, sight, overwhelmed, but two red stars, always.

They blinked.

“Challenge.”

Feminine voice, everywhere at once, inside. A woman in a dress of flowing starlight, a statue given breath.

She lifted her arm and pointed to the west and green. A grimy man lifted his arm and pointed to the west and green. A monk lifted his arm and pointed to the west and

Red.

A path split, and split, and split again, into rays like starlight, starlight, starlight-

“Mornin' Starlight.”

They wore rings and lived a cozy life in a stone walled shop in the largest and most prosperous city in the world. She was happy, even though she barely remembered anything these these days, and he took what joy he could in caring for her.

Like starlight, starlight, starlight-

“Stay with me, Starlight.”

He knelt before the statue with her in his arms, like a Pieta in parody, making a pledge to the being whose evil crept up from the ground to claim the words from his mouth.

Rays like starlight-

“I miss you, Starlight.”

The rope was tight around his neck, and a thousand eyes were on him, waiting to see the ultimate fate of the Gray Fox, but he was simply relieved to be finally leaving this tiresome world behind.

Rays like starlight, which curled back in on themselves and disappeared as in dawn. There was no road before him. It was on him now, to step into that unknown, and set himself on one of many possible paths.

He lifted his foot.

He opened his eyes.

Nice and snug with Helix in their shared bedroll, and a gleaming white statue gazing down upon them.

Helix mumbled at his movement, floating into wakefulness.

“Mornin' Starlight.” he yawned. “Weird dreams?”

“Mnn. No...none at all.”

“You're awake? Excellent. Pack up and get prepared.” Mels said from the other side of the clearing. “I'm afraid I really can't let you stay any longer. This is no campsite, after all.”

It was fair. Back home, the churches talked a big game about mercy and generosity, but they sure as hell didn't let the homeless shack up in the sanctuary. The Daedra priest had shown more forbearance than them.

They got their things together, and tended to their hygiene as best they could, then followed the elves back to the main road.

“Hey sorry again about the troll.” Swag said, and the elves waved him off.

“It wasn't as if you did it on purpose.” Mels said “Who would expect such a thing to happen? I haven't heard of there being any trolls in these parts for many years.”

Swag could feel the eyes of the statue on him, mocking and amused. He bid the elves farewell, grabbed Helix firmly by the hand, and began walking off to the west.

“No more going off the road, okay?” Swag said. “If something is growing within arms reach, fine, but we can't get lost like that again. We're not equipped to take on monsters.”

“Agreed. We'll get to Bruma, and then do something to scrounge up enough money for some equipment. Don't know what yet, though.”

“You leave that to me. I've got skills. Now don't you judge.” he said, noticing her side-eying him.

“No, of course not. I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”

He barked a short laugh.

“Baby, I regret so much. Don't worry, I won't do anything I wasn't already willing to do. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me anything else you know about this world?”

She spoke as they walked, about the world being created by Aedra and Daedra, about the moons being the body of the one who tricked them into doing it, and the sun being a hole torn in the firmament, created when the god of magic decided to abandon the project and return to his home dimension. About the great towers scattered across the world, places of enormous power that supposedly stabilized material reality.

The White-Gold Tower was still visible from the road, rising high and slender through the morning mists. Maybe it held the key to getting home?

The road began to wind upward again, though this time he could just barely see the top of a crenelated stone wall poking out above the snowy trees.

“You think that might be it?”

“I think that might be it.”

A city. Civilization at last, for whatever that meant here. Helix of Verdancy might be an ethereal forest witch, but Edward Nigma was definitely a city rat. The cities he was used to didn't have things like tall stone walls or guarded gates, but they also didn't have bandits and trolls and giant rats. Well not that kind of giant. You saw things on the Gotham subway, but still...not like that.

The gate guards wanted nothing more than their names and business, and that was easy enough. Helix and Edward, and just passing through~

That was all this world needed from them, but he felt like it was going to try and take more.

Bruma looked old. Lived in, but built on the bones of history, in the way one could go walking down the street in Europe and be suddenly confronted by a building from the sixteen hundreds. A reminder that people had been here for centuries before you, and would be after.

The city was split into clear business and residential districts, centrally divided by a huge stone cathedral. It looked like the kind of church that could be found in the older portions of Gotham, though he doubted there were any crosses hung in this one. Houses clustered around it, like chicks around a dark, brooding hen, or orphans around a dark, brooding bat, while shops and public buildings squatted on stone tiers like a collection on display.

Helix approached a guard who was warming himself next to a large brazier.

“Pardon. We're new here, could you point us to a boarding house?”

The guardsman looked the two of them up and down, and from the slight sneer on his face, Swag guessed they didn't make a favorable impression.

“Yeah, you'll want the Tap and Tack. It's...inexpensive. Other side of the chapel. Keep on the right side of the law while you're here.” he said dismissively.

Helix shrugged and they headed toward the chapel, Swag throwing one annoyed glance back over his shoulder at the brusque guardsman.

Dick.

The Tap and Tack certainly looked...inexpensive. Like a rickety shack that would blow over in a storm more like, but it was clearly a high traffic area, and warm inside. Customers filled the common room which smelled strongly of ale, bread, and smoke, and they were shouted at upon entering to hang up any weapons they had that were larger than a dagger.

Helix held up her hands.

“Sorry man, they don't come off.”

A few half-hearted laughs from other patrons, and they were promptly ignored again, having to shove their way up to the bar.

“How much for a room and a meal?” Helix asked.

The innkeeper eyed them both with the same dismissive attitude the guard had shown them, and shrugged.

“Three septims usually, but if you're short, I'll take that polypore you got.”

Helix had collected so many plants that she'd had to string them around her waist and over her shoulders. She removed a yellow mushroom from a string, and plopped it down on the counter. Swag had watched her pry the sulfurous thing off a rotten stump two days ago, and could not imagine at the time what use it might be.

The innkeeper supplied two wooden bowls and utensils, half a loaf of bread, and directed them to the stew pot over the fire. They opted to eat in the room provided, instead of trying to squeeze in at one of the crowded common room tables.

Swag had hoped for a bed, but there was only another furry bedroll. At least it was clean.

Helix lit the lamp and settled on the floor, laying out her large collection of plant parts, organizing and bundling them up. She selected a handful of stalks, and began stripping their silvery leaves.

“Is that going into the soup?” Swag asked, going through their backpacks, taking inventory of their remaining supplies. One of their water bottles had been cracked in the troll attack and was slowly leaking. Their bread had been soaking it up all day, and Swag drooped a little more with each handful of mushy goop he scooped out.

What a damn shame. All that effort, wasted.

Her lips tightened slightly at the sight of the loss.

“Sorry.” he said. “Troll fucked it up.”

“Better that than you.”

She took his hand, pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles, and went back to her silvery leaves.

“These aren't going into the soup. They could, but they're more valuable for other things.”

“They smell great.” it was a green, herbaceous scent, hard to place yet somehow familiar.

“It's mugwort. Were you ever into absinthe?”

“I've tried it. Great aesthetics, but didn't enjoy it like I thought I would.”

“Mugwort and wormwood are related. Tomorrow, I will seek out whatever mage, alchemist, or apothecary this city has to offer, and I will sell this, along with whatever else I've gathered that I can get decent value from. Some of these are uncommon, not things that can really be cultivated. I might also be able to get some information out of whoever I sell to. Some clue about what to do next. How to proceed.”

They ate in relative silence, Helix getting her wild wares prepared while Swag examined his knife, looking it over for dirt, damage, or rust. There were two bedrolls now, so they had space to stretch out, but...

They pulled the furry sleeping bags close to one another, so they could rest to the sounds of each other's breath.

?~?~?~?~?

[doriandistortion]

My favorite post on Letterboxd

I can’t explain how much this means to me

By reibureibu

Reviewing The Man Who Sleeps

After graduating college I thought I had things figured out. I had a paid internship that provided housing and other interns as roommates, at a maritime museum that was next to the ocean. Every day I woke up to my seaside surroundings and interacted with all kinds of people both indoors and outdoors, and every week we visited another museum to learn more about the field and just hang out as a group. In retrospect, that was one of the best periods of my life; certainly it was one of the most vibrant, and meaningful.

Though I wouldn't know it at the time, what I did next was the complete antithesis. I essentially worked a miscellaneous office job, doing whatever leftover tasks were necessary that no one else wanted to do. I had coworkers I never connected with no matter what I did, and I became even lonelier with how a few came so close (I still wish them well, they were really good people. And so I came home with the daylight all spent to a shabby floor I shared with two other people. They were terrible at cleaning. They also claimed the living room. So I spent all my time locked in my small room just staring at a screen that bathed the space sickly white, until it was too late to get any restful sleep.

This job was temporary so after a while it ended, but I still had a few months left on my housing contract. So instead of spending that time being productive like I promised my parents, my friends, and most importantly myself, I spent that time delving even deeper into exile.

I never left the house (I barely left my room) and the only thing I ever did was find momentary escapes from my increasing anxiety. Video-games I took no pleasure in, books I never read, music I listened to once... honestly I couldn't even really tell you specifics because I barely remember anything at all.

The few times I went outside was a haze, like stepping outside into a bright, blinding fog that took every ounce of will just to put one foot forward over the other.

Nothing felt real; nothing seemed real. The time spent outdoors warped like the paint on my walls. So I went back inside. At least there time stood still.

And when I ran out of all the food I had in the fridge, I just started ordering delivery online. And I ordered a lot, so I could eat a lot, because eating was the only thing that still gave me pleasure. And by ordering so much I had food for days; you'd be surprised how long pizza (and pasta, and burgers, and anything fried, and-) can last at room temperature.

Yeah, it's disgusting. I was disgusting. I just had containers of food lying around on the floor so I could eat it whenever I needed to feel something, anything; I probably smelled like stale grease all the time, plus I had no motivation to shower at all; I was unemployed and unproductive, wasting all my money on stuff I didn't need to buy that only gave me fleeting moments of joy; I stayed up all night feeling like a soulless husk so I could wake up with the next day already almost gone; and I stopped talking to all my friends and family, because suddenly that phone became too heavy to lift when I needed to text one of them back.

I guess that sounds like mavbe I had depression. I don't know. I think you rarely know when you do. At the time, it all just seemed so... normal. How different normal was then, compared to when I was at sea.

"It is on a day like this one, a little later, a little earlier, that you discover, without surprise, that something is wrong, that you don't know how to live and that you never will. Something has broken."

That's the story of The Man Who Sleeps, or at least, my story of when I was most asleep. The film ends, right there, at the absolute nadir of despair. The period when things are at their utter worst, yet, paradoxically, when one is at their most accepting of it. Perhaps it's because that's when we succumb to it entirely, at an uneasy peace now that we've renounced all else.

But I won't end it here, no, because that's not where my story ends.

If you told me at the time that I would get better, I wouldn't have believed you. If you told me at the time that I would start enjoying hobbies again, I wouldn't have believed you. If you told me at the time that I would reconnect with my loved ones, I wouldn't have believed you. And if you told me at the time that I would find any sense of worth in myself and my life, I especially, vehemently, would never have believed you.

But I did. I woke up. I am no longer asleep.

[coolstorysister]

Sentence starters

“Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all.” “Which is?” “It’s not about you.”

We never lose our demons, (name). We only learn to live above them.

“I’m not ready.” “No one ever is. We don’t get to choose our time.”

Death is what gives life meaning. To know your days are numbered. Your time is short. You’d think after all this time, I’d be ready. But look at me. Stretching one moment out into a thousand…just so that I can watch the snow.

(Name), I’ve come to bargain!

Time will tell how much I love you.

You cannot beat a river into submission; you have to surrender to its current, and use its power as your own.

People think in terms of good and evil, but really, time is the true enemy of us all. Time kills everything.

Pain is an old friend.

“It’s beautiful.” “It is. And so are you. On the inside.”

There are two types of beings in the universe; those who dance and those who do not.

Sometimes, the thing you’ve been looking for your whole life is right there beside you all along.

When you’re ugly, and someone loves you, you know they love you for who they are…Beautiful people never know who to trust.

“All any of you do is yell at each other. You’re not friends.” “You’re right…we’re family.”

Ow! My nipples!

You don’t have to believe in yourself because I believe in you.

I will see you in the stars.

I’m sorry. I can only afford to lose one friend today.

And if you died, I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.

“I just wanted to be like you.” “And I wanted you to be better!”

You need to stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Just don’t do anything I would do. And definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. There’s a little grey area in there and that’s where you operate.

Oh, look at that! I’ve been impaled.

The only frozen heart around here is yours.

The cold never bothered me anyway.

Hands down, this is the best day of my life! And quite possibly the last.

It’s not nice to throw people!

Oh, (name). If only there was someone out there who loved you.

“You won’t get away with this!” “Oh, I already have.”

Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.

Hey, we were just talking about you! All good things.

The heart is not so easily changed, but the head can be persuaded.

“In this world, there are heroes and there are villains. Heroes don’t kill people.” “Well, I do.”

Force is always necessary.

You have the power to be the destroyer of this world, but you can also be it’s savior.

I don’t waste words on the dead.

Oh yes, the past can hurt. But from the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it.

I’m surrounded by idiots.

You see? He lives in you.

Remember who you are.

Well, forgive me for not leaping for joy. Bad back, you know.

“Looks like the winds are changing.” “Ah. Change is good.”

Long live the king.

I laugh in the face of danger.

When the world turns it back on you, you turn your back on the world.

(Name), (name), come on, you gotta get up. (Name), we gotta go home. Help! Somebody!

I wish this could last forever, and yet change locks us with her beauty.

“You can’t just follow me into fire!” “You don’t want me following you into fire? Then don’t run into fire!”

Be prepared. Just when you think you found your way, life will throw you on to a new path.

I’m sorry, (name). You’re gonna have to do the next part on your own. Okay?

My love is not fragile.

Fear is what can’t be trusted.

[vivaamor]

“I was made for loving you.” with tony stark please? I love a good fluff with him ❤️

yes yes yes I love my boy tony I’ve been waiting to write for him! here you go! <3

word count: 1.6k

I Was Made For Loving You, Honey

This was borderline exhausting.

You didn’t know how Tony did it. Granted, all he really did was pull on a suit, spray some cologne and fix his hair before going to one of these stupid parties. To be fair, you shouldn’t call it stupid. It was a charity event, but it surely felt stupid, considering you’d been standing for two hours in front of the vanity in Stark Towers that Tony had so kindly put together for you.

You’d done your makeup, a light smokey eye and paired it with a dark lipstick. That alone had taken you about forty-five minutes. It would have taken you not as long, but you very rarely did your makeup, let alone eyeshadow and eyeliner, and eyeliner was a whole task in itself. You worked from yours and Tony’s place, so you didn’t often need to look to impress.

Then it was time to do your hair. You usually settled for a messy braid or a half-assed bun, but instead, you decided to curl your long locks. The worst part about getting ready for tonight was figuring out what to wear. Tony had bought you dozens upon dozens of dresses over the past two years you’d been together, and they were all so beautiful. After maybe thirty minutes of contemplation, you went with the emerald green, floor length gown. It really was pretty, and you hadn’t had the chance to wear it yet.

“Almost there.” Happy announced from the car he had driven you inside of, nodding to the spectacular building on the right. You almost felt underdressed just by how elegant it appeared. You shot happy a thumbs up and unbuckled your seatbelt as the vehicle pulled to a stop. He met you outside of the car, helping you out, since Tony claimed he’d meet you at the charity event. He’d had something he had been working on with Bruce, which meant a couple long workdays, and you had yet to see him today. “Excited?” Happy asked, closing the car door and handing the car keys to the valet.

“To mingle with a hundred people that I’ve never even heard of, but will kiss my ass in hopes of getting some donation from Tony?” You raised an eyebrow at Happy, who returned your look with an amused smile. “Elated.” Your answered sarcastically, though your words were no match for Tony’s sense of sarcasm. You were more nervous than anything. You and Tony had been in a relationship for two years now, and tonight would be the first time you’d be attending an event with him. You both had busy schedules and you usually weren’t in town for the events he would attend. Now that work had slowed down (much to Tony’s joy, he hated that you had a job, but you insisted you wouldn’t just live off his money alone), you were around far more often than usual.

Happy nodded to the gentlemen who opened the front doors to the building for the two of you. “You sound just like-”

“Me.” You lifted your head, and your eyes met the dark one’s of your boyfriend. He immediately grinned at you and took the few steps separating you to interlace your fingers together. “You look…”

“Like I’m pissing my pants?” You finished the sentence, waving to Happy, who had walked away to go greet Natasha.

Tony chuckled, “One, pissing your dress.” You rolled your eyes playfully while he raised your locked hands and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “And I was going to say enchanting.”

“Ever the gentleman.” You teased, walking further into the building, where music was playing, and drinks were being poured. “I missed you.” You told him, not caring how pathetic it sounded. You had just seen him last night, but you hated waking up to find he had already left to go meet Bruce for their project.

Tony pointed between you and him to the bartender, announcing that he would like a scotch and requesting a vodka martini for you. “Oh, did you now?” He turned back to you and let go of your hand to grab the glass of scotch for the bar, the bartender continuing to make you a dirty martini. “Good. I missed you, too. You’re much more fun than Bruce, did you know that?” You rolled your eyes again as you took the martini from the bartender. “It appears we have an audience.” He noted, eyes flickering over to Agent Phil Colson, who stood at the other end of the bar patiently, obviously waiting to speak to Tony.

“It appears we do.” You replied, swallowing down a sip from the martini. “Go on.” You waved him off and smiled at Phil. “Hi, Phil.” He returned the gestured with a mutual smile. You planted a kiss on Tony’s cheek before he eventually wandered off to go speak to the agent.

“Ms. Stark,” You turned your head and were met with Steve Rogers, one of Tony’s fellow Avengers. Tony had referred you as Ms. Stark so many times, that the rest of them had started saying it as well. It was an inside joke at this point.

“Steve.” You smiled softly and set your glass down on the bar top. “I didn’t think I’d see you here. Didn’t know that charity events were your thing.”

Steve huffed a laugh and offered you his hand to come with him while you waited for Tony’s little meeting with Phil to be over. “I don’t have much of social calendar these days.” You followed him to where everyone was dancing and conversing, eventually meeting up with Natasha and Bruce, too. Steve had always been a nice guy since you were introduced to him after the Battle of New York. You’d thanked him for babysitting Tony, to which Tony profusely denied that he needed a babysitter. You and him both knew that Tony needed to be kept in line sometimes, but you loved him for it, anyway.

It wasn’t long until Tony had returned from speaking with Phil and found you and Steve dancing. “Ahem,” He obnoxiously cleared his throat and stood beside the two of you. “I think she might be a little young for you, Cap,” He offered a sarcastic smile and held his hand out for you to take. You waved goodbye to Steve and eagerly took Tony’s hand. “I leave you for ten minutes and you’re over here with grandpa.”

“He’s a nice friend!” You retorted with a giggle, Tony’s other hand finding your waist and yours on his shoulder. “You know I hate these things. I don’t like your parties.”

He scoffed in mock-offense. “My parties? Honey, my parties are way better than this snooze fest.” You shrugged your shoulders innocently, which only caused him to scoff again. “Say it, please say my parties are better.” Again, you shrugged. “We’ll stay for an hour then leave.” He spoke matter-of-factly.

“Tony, no. We said we’d be here. We can’t just come for the open bar and then-”

“Hour and a half?”

You pretend to consider his offer. “Deal.”

“Alright. Come on, lightweight.” You giggled, pulling Tony into the living area and out of the elevator by his tie. Tony after a few glasses of scotch always amused you. He was less backtalk and sarcasm, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything sarcastic to reply. You both stumble around the sofa and fall on to it. Tony was the main one who was stumbling, you were more doing it because the damn heels were making your feet utterly miserable.

Tony sat with his back against the couch and your legs bent to the side. He reached forward and grasped your ankle, pulling it onto his lap. “One hour was long enough.” He mumbled, focusing on the strap of your shoe, and somehow unbuckling it before he dropped the high heel to the floor. “Other one.” He waited until you stretched your other leg on to his lap. “There we go.” He yawned once he got the other one off, his hand rubbing up and down your ankle.

“I got all ready for an hour at some event.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back into the comfortable sofa.

“Why? Should we go back and stay until the end? Okay, put your heels back on!” You shook your head eagerly, and he laughed. “What do you say that tomorrow, we just stay here?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean? No work?”

“No work. Just you and me. And maybe a bottle of champagne.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, and then planted one last kiss on your jaw. You look at him and don’t say anything. Not because you don’t agree, you’d give anything for a lazy day with your boyfriend, but your feelings are overwhelming you. It had always been this way with Tony. Although he wasn’t one to be super sentimental with his words, he showed you how he felt with his actions. You both had said I love you before, but those three words weren’t enough for how deeply you felt for this man. “What?”

You moved closer to him, your thighs moving onto his lap. You cup his cheek in your hand and press a sweet kiss to his lips. He still looks confused by your lack of response when you pull away. “I love you.” You tell him, his hand traveling to your back and using it to hold you to him. He leans down and pressed his lips against yours softly, his lips slowly moving in time with yours. You push your hand to his chest. “Hey. You didn’t say it back.”

He grins, even more wide than usual with the alcohol in his system. “I was made for loving you, honey.” His sweet grin turns mischievous. He full-on tackles you into the couch with him hovering above you and kissing firmly all around your neck, his fingers tickling your sides.

“Tony! That tickles!”

[hotchnerxo]

Fairytales lie

Masterlist

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Detailed description of what having depression feels like, mentions of anxiety, having hard time with self care. Stay safe my loves and remember, the world is so much better with you in it and I am proud of you!

Summary: Life is so hard sometimes and when depressions clouds your brain, everything feels like too much. But maybe having the right person next to you, the journey is just a tiny bit less scary. Hurt/Comfort and angst + fluff.

A/N: A bit (a lot) self-indulgent fic. I've been struggling a lot thanks to the 'depression fairy' and writing things down helps. This is the aftermath of that. Not my finest writing, but I hope it makes sense.

As a child, you remember reading books about princesses and princes. Queens and Kings. How just one person in your life fixes everything and you will never be sad again. How a true love’s kiss is the cure for everything.

As you got older and you found the world of romance novels and the majority of books in general, the story line of sadness being cured by ‘the one’ was something you got very familiar with. That after a break up a person becomes ‘depressed’ and it all goes away when you fall in love again. That a certain someone ‘fixes’ you with just a smile. And for a big part of your life, you believed it. You believed that this is how life works. It’s destined to be that way.

What no one prepared you for was the fact that, no, this isn’t how life works. Sometimes there is no big, dramatic backstory, no evil stepmother to explain your pain. You were loved as a child, had friends, got a good education but life still hurts. Sometimes there’s no tower you’re locked inside of, no poisonous apple. No jealous step-sisters or speaking animals around you.

Life is just life.

Day in, day out.

As a teenager you found the world around you turning gray. You started to lose interest in everything and everyone. Just wanted to hide in your room, escape from the crazy world around you. But not many noticed. You masked it well, you didn’t want to worry your parents or make them think they’ve done something wrong. But you were confused, everything around you felt slow and dark, but everyone else’s lives were still filled with color and joy.

At some point, you asked for help, afraid that you’re going insane. But you got some peace of mind when you found out that you’re not alone in this, and you got a diagnosis of depression. Having a word for it gave you some peace, knowing what was wrong with you.

During the dark years, friends didn’t understand and a lot of them left. And you understood, you didn’t want to bring anyone down, hold anyone back. You didn’t think you were worth being understood or having people that care around you. Some even shamed you for being sick, as there are a lot of people out there that have it worse, that are still able to push through.

Slowly and with the help of professionals and medication, the colors started to come back to your life. The leaves in the trees started to look green again, the sky was blue and everything was starting to make more sense. And for a long time, the colors were vibrant and you felt like you had a purpose in life.

During that time, you’ve made new friends and you’ve gotten a career that you enjoy. Your friend Penelope introduced you to the rest of her friends and coworkers, who are like family to you now. One of them being her boss, Hotchner, who you started dating not long after. And who’s last name you took as your own a few years later.

To you, it sounds a lot like a fairytale, having met amazing friends and a partner, a great home to call your own. A home that’s been filled with a lot of happy memories and celebrations. A home where you and your husband both feel safe enough to let your guard down, comfort each other when it’s needed. Safe enough to love each other so deeply.

But what you didn’t notice was that the gray clouds started to form around you again. Until it was too late and the rain started pouring down on you. Slowly the colors had faded to black and white again without you noticing, until this morning.

Until this morning. You wake up in your shared bed, alone. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything unusual as Aaron works irregular hours and is out of town often hunting town serial killers. But this morning, nothing felt as devastating as being inside your house all alone. The silence was excruciating and your body and brain felt disconnected from one another. The bed feels huge and cold, making you feel even smaller and more insignificant than you already felt.

You could feel the tears in your eyes, burning and your whole soul felt like screaming. But nothing happened. Not a single tear drop fell down, like it was physically impossible for you to cry. And it made everything ten times more frustrating. Everything was bottled up, about to explode inside of you, but can’t find a way to release it.

You recognize the feeling as it’s an old friend. A friend you haven’t met in over a decade. The feeling of being disconnected from the world and your own body, feeling insignificant and worthless. The darkness and fog around you, even though it felt crushing and overwhelming, it was familiar and for that reason comforting.

You’re not sure what time it is, you’re not even sure what day it is. You don’t know how long you have been asleep. And honestly, you don’t really care to know. The room is dark, there’s only a small beam of light entering the room from between the curtains. All it does is give you enough information that it isn’t night time.

You feel…. nothing. Even numb doesn’t seem fitting at this point. You know nothing. And the feeling has consumed you.

“Hey!” somewhere distant you hear your husband’s voice, but it gets no reaction from you. You lay on the bed, trying your best to focus on your breathing, just to feel something. Heavy, leaping footsteps climb up the stairs and go to the laundry room, searching for something. “Honey? Have you seen my” his voice comes to a full stop as you hear him enter the bedroom you’re in. If you had any energy in you, you’d turn to look at him or at least answer to him.

“Honey?” The softness of his voice was unexpected and was enough to trigger the tears. It felt like a tsunami in your chest as the crying took over, an explosive release of emotions you didn’t realize were there. You couldn’t help but sob into the pillow and let the tears stream down. Seconds after you hear him talk again, but not directed to you “Hey Dave. I can’t make it back” he said on the phone. “No, no, it’s all good. I’m just needed at home right now.”

The mattress dips beside you as he sits down. He takes off his suit jacket and tie and tosses them onto the armchair close by before coming to lay down beside you. In the shocking wave of emotions, you barely notice him there, before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close.

His arms feel safe and warm as he holds you close to his chest. His chest moves up and down at such a steady pace, it’s almost mesmerizing. One of his hands moves up and down on your back and the other is stroking your hair. “I’m right here sweetheart. Take all the time you need”

The love and warmth of his tone was both amazing and horrible at the same time. Amazing in a way that it always is, he is such a kind man with a heart of gold. He’s never raised his voice at you, no matter how stressed he is. But it makes your heart hurt, because you want to give the man everything he’d deserve, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough and it’s only a matter of time until he gets bored with you.

“I’m… I’m so sorry Aaron” you stutter between sobs. He places soft kisses to your hair and hums at you, not understanding why you’re apologizing to him. “I’m so sorry I’m like this. You shouldn’t have to come home to such a broken wife” you burst into tears again. You hear and feel him sigh, trying to think of how to help. “I’m sorry I’m so broken and you would deserve so much better. I’m sorry I can’t be a better partner for you”.

He doesn’t say anything, just holds you close. His breath is warm in your hair and you can smell his faint cologne. So familiar and safe.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me Aaron. I don’t understand why I’m like this. I married an amazing man, I have great friends and a beautiful home. And here I am, crying and feeling like shit when there are so many people out there, that have it so much worse. And you! You make the world so much safer but you don’t complain!” the words just come out of you. You feel yourself rambling between shaky breaths and sobs. “I mean, you’d have every reason to complain and cry and break down. Not me! Maybe I’m just being ungrateful and pathetic and just a waste of space”

“Honey” he whispers in your hair, planting soft kisses, trying to distract your train of thought as it seems to be going downhill and fast.

“I’m not good enough, Aaron. I’m too broken and I can’t hide it anymore. I’ve tried to be happy for you because you deserve that! I don’t know what you see in me, I don’t know what you ever saw in me in the first place, maybe I just somehow managed to fool you into liking someone that I’m really not and you’re just too kind to leave me”.

“Honey” his voice is now a bit more stern, but not harsh. “Take a deep breath for me, please”

‘Of course he’s polite, even when I’d deserve to be shouted at’ you think, but do what he asks you to. You take a deep breath in and sigh it out.

His arms squeeze you briefly as he praises you “Good job. Once more”. You feel him breathing deeper underneath you and you decide not to fight him and do as he asks you to. “Well done, sweetheart. Alright, listen to me” he starts and you start crying again, panic settling in your chest. “I. Love. You” he whispers between soft kisses to your forehead and hair. “You’re not broken. Life is hard. Life is so damn hard sometimes and you have every right to feel overwhelmed or sad or upset or whatever it is that you feel. It doesn’t make you a bad person”

“But you’d deserve so much better” you try to argue, but it falls flat.

“That’s not true. And even if it was, I want you. I choose you, and I’d do it every single day, over anyone else. Always. Even on days like these, when you feel like the world’s too much. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, with you” he reassures, and a part of you knows it. Always have known, but a big part of you doesn’t comprehend it. “And I know you’ve been feeling down, even when you try your best to keep smiling. You don’t have to hide it from me or anyone else. I didn’t say anything, but I probably should have. And before you say anything, no, it has nothing to do with profiling. I know my wife. Just like the way you know me, better than I probably know myself” he tries to smile a little, making his tone a little softer.

Somewhere, you get the energy to look up to him, meeting his beautiful brown eyes. You can hear his steady heartbeat and the way his arms feel around you makes your breathing just a tiny bit better.

“I wish I knew how to take your pain away. I’m sorry I can’t. But what I can promise is that you will never, ever have to deal with it alone. I can’t make them disappear, but I’m going to try my damn hardest to make it a little less heavy and help you carry it”. He reaches for the soft blanket next to the bed and wraps it around you both. He then continues to rub your back and give you more time to calm down.

“You’re too patient with me” you whisper to his chest, but make no other effort to protest his love for you.

“Didn’t quite hear you, honey” he says, asking for you to repeat. Instead, you fall quiet.

Neither of you are sure how much time passes between words being said. Aaron keeps thinking how glad he is that he came home the moment he did. He’s trying to think of ways to help, but all he can come up with at the moment is to just hold you close. Have you in his arms, help protect you from the ‘depression fairy’ as you’ve called your negative thoughts. You’re just trying your best to stay grounded and just breathe. Today, only something as simple as breathing feels like a chore.

“Have you eaten today?” Aaron asks finally after an eternity of the two of you just laying in bed. You shake your head slightly, food has been the furthest thing from your mind all day. “I’ll be right back” he kisses your forehead once more before getting up.

About 10 minutes later, he returns to the bedroom with a small bowl and a plate. He hands them to you as he’s climbing back to bed with you and under the blanket. He leans his back to the headboard and helps you do the same. As you get up, he praises you once more, planting a kiss on your temple. “That’s my girl. Good job sweetie” You notice that the corner of your lip rises just a tiny bit, which feels strange.

Your gaze drops to the plate on your hands. Grilled cheese sandwich. It looks delicious and it’s the perfect comfort food, but you’re not sure if you can keep anything down at the moment. Aaron speaks as if he could read your mind “Just a little bit. Even if it’s a bite or two, it’s better than nothing. I also brought some apples, if it’s easier to eat something fresh” he points to the bowl, takes a slice and bites it. He puts the tv on, as he knows it helps to distract you a little bit.

“Thank you” you lean your head on his shoulder and pick up one of the triangle cut sandwiches. You’re able to eat one of the triangles and two apple slices before you reach your limit. “I can’t have any more” you tell him, passing him the plate.

“That’s alright. I’m proud of you”

You sit up a tiny bit longer with him, resting your head on the man’s shoulder. Aaron eats the other half of the sandwich and rest of the apple. After he’s done, both of you lay back down and he pulls you close. The safety from his presence, warmth of the blanket and the exhaustion from all the emotions is tiring you out and you feel your eyes closing, no matter how hard you try to keep them open.

“Aaron?” you speak so soft, you’re not sure if the sound comes out. But as the man answers to you, you continue “please don’t leave me”.

Another kiss is being planted to your head and he hums “I’m not going to go anywhere, honey. I’m right here with you. Try to get some rest. It’s been a long day”. Just seconds after you drift off to sleep in the safety of his arms.

Fairytales lie by telling you that one single person is going to make you happy for the rest of your life and you will never be sad again. Fairytales lie by telling you that one single person is going to fix you and make you whole again. Fairytales lie by telling you that being in a relationship is going to take away everything bad from your life.

But maybe after all, no one can do that for you. You will have to work through your own battles, no matter if the monster was someone else or just your own brain. But having someone with you, help you and encourage you, it can make the journey just a little bit easier. Maybe they aren’t going to take all the pain and sickness away, and magically make life perfect. Maybe they aren’t destined to fix you, but love you and every ‘broken piece’ of you, and most importantly, help you love yourself again.

Taglist: @ssahotchsbitch @mayasreadingnook @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @ssamorganhotchner @kajjaka @wheelsupkels ( mention or message me if you want to be added)

[sacredsorceress]

Say Yes || Bucky Barnes

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

summary: after receiving your brother’s blessing, bucky barnes finally finds the courage to ask you a very important question 

a/n: another addition to the bucky barnes x rogers!reader collection- reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

1941

Feeling the cool breeze of the spring day surrounding you, you began to grow annoyed as Bucky stopped short, slipping his hand out of yours to wipe them on his pants for the fifth time that afternoon.

Wrapping your cardigan, tighter around you, you sighed.

“Is everything alright, Buck?” You asked.

“What?” He asked, squinting up at you, brushing his hands on his bottoms. “Yeah, yeah, doll. Everything’s fine. It’s just hot today.”

Watching as another cool gust of wind swept through his hair, you eyed him warily.

Bucky has been acting strange in the past two weeks since the night your brother, Steve, had discovered your relationship leading to a punch being thrown and shouting that you were sure woke the neighbors. However, your brother had assured you after coming back inside from speaking to his best friend alone that everything was fine and that they had worked out their differences. 

He promised you that you had nothing to worry about.

If that was the case, you couldn't understand why Bucky was acting so... odd. You had known Bucky since before you could even remember and although he was your brother’s best friend, you had always been able to read him like a book. You couldn’t place a single reason why he had been behaving so anxiously the past few weeks or why he had suddenly become so nervous spending time alone with you.

“Did... did Steve say something to you?” You found the courage to ask your partner.

“Huh?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I told you, doll. Steve and I talked it all out.”

When you said nothing else, keeping your arms crossed and only turning your head to the side to instead watch the couple having a picnic on the grass nearby, Bucky began to grow nervous that he messed up.

“Why?”

Facing your partner once again, you threw your hands in the air with a groan.

“I don’t know, Buck!” You exclaimed. “You’ve just been acting so weird. Just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong!”

Bucky swore he could feel the color drain from his face.

He didn’t think you had noticed his newfound behavior- or at least hoped you hadn’t.

Ever since he had asked Steve for your hand in marriage two weeks ago and he said yes, Bucky had been nervously searching for the perfect moment. He had known he wanted to marry you since one month into your relationship (and knew you were it for him even earlier than that), so he had expected to be overjoyed and relieved upon finally receiving your brother’s permission, but instead it had only made the reality that you could say no to him even more real. 

He hadn’t even thought of that possibility until the opportunity to ask you was finally in his hands.

He wanted more than anything to finally be married to you- he knew he couldn’t wait much longer- but he wanted the proposal to be perfect for you nonetheless.

“Nothing’s wrong, Y/n.” He said. “You’re just seein’ things.”

As soon as the last comment had slipped from his mouth, he knew he messed up. When you raised your eyebrows at him, your tongue in your cheek, he took his hands out of his pockets and reached them out for you.

“Okay, I didn’t mean that.” Bucky said, trying to ease you.

“Yeah?” You asked. “Then what’s in your pocket, Buck?”

“Nothing’s in my pocket, doll.” He chuckled nervously. “Why don’t we keep walk-”

Before he could even finish what he was saying, you strode over to him, moving to shove your hand into his left pocket. Catching your wrist, he attempted to lightly shove you away.

“If there’s nothing in there,” You said. “then you wouldn’t mind me checking.”

Still holding your wrist with a tight grip in his hand, he scoffed.

“And what? Give everyone the wrong idea?” He said, tilting his head towards the couple on the picnic blanket on the grass. “Those people are right there.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Don’t give me that excuse, Barnes.” You lowered your voice. “Don’t act like you didn't just make out with me behind that tree ten minutes ago. Who do you think you're foolin’?”

Just when he was about to open his mouth again, you took advantage of him being distracted and shoved your hand into his pocket. As quick as he scrambled to swat you away, your hand had already wrapped around the cool metal and pulled it out of his pocket.

Opening your hand, your eyes met the familiar ring sitting in your palms. The smirk that had been on your face dropped.

Looking up at your boyfriend, your eyes went wide.

“Is this...” You began at a loss of words. “Is this your mom’s ring?”

You had noticed months ago that his mother's ring finger was bare when the two of you had went and visited her for lunch one day. While setting the table for her- Bucky in the other room fixing the lock on her door- you caught sight of the lack of her engagement ring when she set the forks beside you.

“You missing your ring, Mrs. Barnes?” You asked, nodding your head towards her hand.

As soon as you had asked, her hand shot away from the table as she laughed nervously.

“Oh that old thing?” She asked, moving around the table. “It um... my fingers were all swollen the other day so I slipped it off. I must’ve forgotten to put it back on.”

About to open your mouth to say more, finding her behavior strange, you stopped short when you felt Bucky’s hand rest on your back.

“You know, Ma,” He said, gently rubbing circles on your back. “Next time your lock breaks- tell me first thing. Last thing you need is some burglar coming in here. What were you two chit-chatting about in here anyway?”

Glancing up at Bucky, you watched as he stole a piece of bread from the table, taking a bite out of it.

“I was just saying that I didn’t see your mom’s ring on her finger.”

Choking on the food in his mouth, Bucky began coughing.

Unbeknownst to you, your partner had asked his mother for her engagement ring only a month after officially going steady with you. He honestly didn’t even have to ask. As soon as he had showed up at her apartment and confessed to his mother that he was finally dating the Rogers girl, she had practically shoved the ring in his hand herself.

She had always thought fondly of you (along with every other member of the Barnes family) and had been waiting eagerly for this day to come, knowing some day her son would come to his senses and settle down his best friend’s sister.

When Bucky received the heirloom, he had made his mother promise that she wouldn’t say a thing, keeping it a surprise until the fateful day where he made you his.

He should have known, however, that at the end of the day a part of you was always gonna be Steve’s punk little sister who didn't know when to keep her nose out of his business.

Shaking his head wildly, Bucky glared at his mother.

“You should really keep that thing on your finger.” He said, finally clearing his throat and turning towards his mother. “Don’t wanna lose that, Ma.”

Swatting her son and taking the slice of bread from his hands, she smiled knowingly.

“Don’t worry, James. It’s right where it belongs.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, I uh...” He said. “I asked her for it a few months ago.”

At his confession, you began to feel your heart beat faster in your chest.

He had asked his mother for her engagement ring.

He had asker her months ago and it was sitting in his pocket now.

Before you could say anything else, Bucky gently took the ring from your hand and held it between his index and thumb, moving down onto his knee in front of you. Stepping back to take in the sight of him, you opened your mouth in awe, trying to find something to say, but he shook his head.

“I know you love to talk, but just let me say what I gotta say, okay?”

“Hey!” You exclaimed at his playful insult.

“I’m just messin’ with you, doll.” He chuckled before clearing his throat. “So, uh... God this is hard. I practiced this hundreds of times too, I swear, but I’ve known you for so long I don’t know what to say, ya know? You’re just a part of me. I’ve known you for almost my entire life and I remember you just being Steve’s little sister and getting so annoyed because you would just come in there and want to do whatever we were doing, but if that little punk of a ten year-old Bucky saw me now he’d kick my ass because I hate it when you’re not there. I can’t remember a day when I didn’t know who you were and I don’t want to ever go a day without you by my side ever again.”

Not being able to help the beaming smile on your face, you were so overwhelmed with pure joy listening to Bucky rambling on. Squeezing his hand tightly, you laughed along with what he was saying, completely and utterly in bliss knowing what was coming next.

“I would say more, but you know I’m gonna smother you every day you’re with me anyway.” Bucky laughed thinking of the future, looking up at you. “So, will you-”

“Yes.”

“Jeez, can you let a guy finish?” He groaned teasingly, throwing you a bright smile. “What I was asking was... will you marry me?”

Staring down at the man that was about to become your fiancé, you memorized the way the sun shone down on him, highlighting his features and how his blue eyes seemed brighter than ever. Gazing at the smile on his face you knew it was rooted in the pure love and happiness you both shared.

You couldn’t help but think of the Bucky you knew ten, five and even one year ago and how every moment between the two of you was leading up to the rest of your lives. You didn’t know if you had ever believed in soulmates before your relationship grew into something more, but it felt silly to think now that you two were anything but destined to be together. 

You had a feeling you’d find him even if there was a world between you.

How lucky were you to have him right next to you this whole time?

Bending down to your own knees, tucking your skirt underneath them, you cupped your lover’s face in your hands and met his lips with yours. You laughed into the kiss as you felt his arms wrap tightly around you, nearly making you fall over as he pulled you closer into his embrace.

When you finally separated from his lips, the smile rose on his face once again as he brought the ring between the two of you.

“I don’t know if I can take this, Buck.” You whispered, glancing from the ring to his face. “It’s your mom’s.”

“Listen doll,” He said, taking your left hand in his, slowly slipping the ring onto your finger. “I’m the oldest. This ring was bound to be mine when I was born and when I met you... it was bound to be yours too.”

Smiling up at your fiancé, you showed off your hand, newly adorned with his family’s engagement ring. Sometimes Bucky questioned if he was a sentimental man, but seeing you there with that ring around your finger he knew without a doubt that he was.

“You like it?” He asked.

“It fits like a charm.” You smiled.

“Well,” Bucky said taking your hand in his and kissing it softly. “My mom always said it was meant for you. I guess she was right.”

Smiling at the mention of his mother who you had no doubt would be overjoyed at the mention of your engagement, you pressed one last kiss to Bucky’s cheek before standing to your feet, pulling him up with you.

“Ya know,” You said lacing fingers with your fiancé’s. “I’m glad you asked. I was starting to get scared you were getting sick of me.”

“The only sick I am for you, doll, is lovesick.”

You didn’t know what the future had in store for you, but in that moment you allowed yourself to bask in the pure bliss of being joined with the man at your side. No matter what the future held, you felt confident that you would be able to face it with your partner- the man you were sure you were destined to go through it all with.

“Y/n Barnes does have a nice ring to it.” You told him giddily, strolling on the path by his side. “Don’t you think?”

He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t had to rewrite letters because he accidentally wrote his last name after your first or that he didn’t turn red when his mother called you her daughter-in-law when you weren't there. Hearing the name fall from your lips for the first time undeniably made his heart skip a beat in his chest as he squeezed your hand tighter, playing with the ring on your finger.

“You know it, doll.”