#It's hard to prevent repeats sometimes lol sorry

[rainingstarz55]

Sneak Peak Scene: Eden confronts Raziel.

Raziel: “You are avoiding me. Is there a reason for your actions? Perhaps something you are keeping a secret? You know you can always share it with me”. 

Eden: “Is that what you are attempting to imply? That I am hiding something from you on purpose?” 

Raziel: “It is the only logical reason I could think of as to why you seem to shift into avoiding me. Afterall, wasn’t I the one who ensured…”. 

Eden: “Don’t even go there Raz! You know I do not like revisiting the past.” 

Raziel: “Very well...then answer my question. Why are you avoiding me?” 

Eden: “Because you are becoming just like him”. 

Raziel: “…..”. 

Eden: “Samael”. 

Raziel: “Elaborate…”. 

Eden: “Haniel…”. 

Razel: “What about her?” 

Eden: “I know what you did to her, and it’s cruel.” 

Raziel: “You misunderstand, she wasn’t living up to her expectations. She was failing the role of which was given to her. I was ordered to fix the issue and that is exactly what I did”. 

Eden: “Fix? You call torturing someone fixing?” 

Raziel: “What else would you have suggested I do? Let her continue to ruin herself? Let her mope, whine and complain like a....” 

Eden: "A mortal?"

Raziel: ......"She should've understood that Angelic beings like us must not allow our emotions to disrupt our duties. I did what was needed to be done. Otherwise how else could I have possibly solve the issue?"

Eden: “How about actually listening too her and figuring out how…heaven could have helped make things easier for her?” 

Raziel: “I’m afraid that it is entirely impossible. If anything, you are suggesting that the entire cosmos should change because of one, insignificant angel?” 

Eden: “That is not what I mean. I just think there could’ve been another way around this that didn’t require hurting someone”. 

Raziel: “Sometimes we must inflict pain onto those who are deemed unfit or incompetent, as a means of preventing a repeat of what happened in the past”. 

Eden: “I understand ever since the war things have changed and that we must be careful. I know things have been tough for everyone. But I believe Haniel never meant to cause any issues. I do believe she generally wanted to make things work and tried hard.” 

Raziel: “Then she should’ve tried harder…it doesn’t matter now, what is done is done. The problem has been fixed”. 

Eden: “You’re unbelievable. And I thought your brother was the only cruel one. Seems I’ve been proved wrong”.

Raziel: "If you have nothing else of importance to discuss, then I suggest we end this conversation. You may still be half a mortal, but you are also a guardian. I suggest you do not make the same mistake".

----------------

omgosh, what a diiiiiiiiiiick Raz is! Lol.

I began writing some scenes for a story and wrote this scene of my OC, Eden. Really need to draw her, lol. But yeah, she's pissed at Raz for what he did to Haniel. Poor thing. Or course Raz isn't going to care much....not that he ever did, but still Eden isn't just going to let it go so easily.

Anyway, hope you like the scene, sorry if my writing is crap. Let me know what you think.

[benjaminthewolf]

Leon (Resident Evil) Lol

Yo, sorry I forgot to post something yesterday, test prep is fucking me hard right now. Anyway take this trade story I wrote sometime last week while in a panicked time crunch rush. Take the result as it is.

****

Leon was most certainly not the first protagonist character in Fandom City to be in this situation, and unless the literal universe itself was set to implode in on itself tomorrow, there was absolutely no way he would be the last.

A couple of overhead street lights occasionally sputtered and flashed in order to illuminate the path through the moonless night as Leon’s shoes clopped with considerable heaviness in each step. Heaving along a significantly over-burdening and downright nerve-stammering inner turmoil which softly simmered in jittering fury beneath the veil of the poor man’s exterior, Leon stomped with a detectable sense of physical laboriousness in his movement across the urban Fandom City streets. Shakily taking in and out each breath of contemplation of his trauma, Leon bit aggressively down on his lip and gave an audible, yet internal fume of pure rage.

Even for a man who had gone through as much shit as he had, this so inscrutable, animosity-laced sight was in actuality, rather unusual for Leon to be in, as normally, despite the absolutely fucked up experiences he had gone through, he was known by all his friends and acquaintances to be quite amenable and cheery. To see such a man in so poignant of a fuming, pent up, boiling anger, then, could mean only a few things. And one would only need to view the situation through the literal two eyes of Leon’s face in order to pin on a specific answer.

“Rammmmmmooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn……” Leon breathily droned out through clenched teeth.

“....erm…yes. That’s my name. What about it?” the snarky antagonist to Leon cockily responded with a flair.

And then, just like that, Leon boiled over.

****

“MRRRNGHHHHH!” Ramon attempted to screech out in terror whilst Leon clasped his hands over his mouth. Leon had moved the situation over to a nearby alley by this point, and had merely been awaiting for his nemesis to wake back up.

“Ohhhhhhh….is this gonna be fun or WHAT?” Leon positively spat out onto the writing man beneath him. “THIS time, I’m gonna get my FUCKING recompence! You. Are gonna PAY for EVERY SINGLE FUCKING THING YOU HAVE done to me!”

Leon swiftly moved his hands to Ramon’s sides in order to properly grab ahold of his arms and prevent him from retaliating, leaving Ramon once again able to speak. Leon didn’t really care anymore whether he screeched out for help, as in this part of Fandom City nobody really cared if someone was dying in the first place.

“YOU really have some fucking NERVE showing up in this part of the city at night!” Leon continued on with his tirade. “What, were you just fucking ASKING for this to happen or some shit? Are you really that much of a duncehead or were you just so fucking full of shit that you actually thought you would get out scott-free?”

Still instinctively writing between Leon’s aggressive, grasping hands, Ramon gagged and choked a while, in order to get his windpipe reset and able to speak once again.

“Well I didn’t have any clue you’d be here!” he desperately attempted to rationalize to Leon. “And what are you even planning on doing to me, anyway? None of it’ll make what’s happened to you in the past just magically disappear from reality-”

“SAY THAT AGAIN, MOTHERFUCKER!” Leon instantly snarled out to Ramon’s statement whilst ruthlessly slamming his chest into the pavement. “SAY IT AGAIN!”

All Leon got in response was a light, constricted, pained wheeze out of air as Ramon’s battered body positively spasmed from the sudden shock.

Heaving out a controlled sigh, Leon finally spoke up again. “Now…here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to shut up, you are going to take everything in and let it soak up into your brain cells, and lastly, you are NOT, I repeat, NOT, going to resist it, at all! In any way, shape, form, or whatever you can imagine! Nothing! AND! If you DON’T feel like following these rules, then I’ll do a nice little thing called RIPPING YOUR NUTS OF WITH MY TEETH, DO YOU HEAR?”

Ramon could only stay silent.

“Good. Seems you do have capacity for basic fucking comprehension after all!” Leon quipped out to his trapped enemy. “And now…here I go.”

With an inane, cathartic grin on his face that lead nicely into the unveiling of his pink, slimy maw, Leon casually lowered himself to the ground where Ramon lay, and promptly slid his tongue across his despondent rival’s cheek, trailing a warm, sticky layer of saliva with a shuddering, heated heave of his breath.

Leon could most definitely detect it upon his drooling buds, and subsequently moved in for another sample. Yes, he knew that taste quite well. Raw, undistilled, pure fear. Something so rare and delectable that it took a considerable amount of self-control not to shove it all into his mouth all at once and let it flow down into his taste buds up to his brain. Yet Leon also knew that it wouldn’t be doing him any good to delay the inevitable for any longer, even if it played well onto his rival’s shattered mind, and therefore resigned himself at last to stretch his jaws as wide as he could in order to violently shove Ramon’s head deep inside.

Now that he had the man’s head and neck within his jaws, Leon was free to stroke his tongue up and down the man’s face, positively slathering both of his cheeks as well as his hair with his sticky saliva. Positively soaking up the taste in full, Leon eventually maneuvered the man’s head back towards his pharynx region.

Opening up the gaping gullet just as wide as it possibly could manage to go, Leon maintained a firm grasp upon the arms of the man he so loathed as he inched his face forwards and towards the wide drop. With poor Ramon’s hair brustling up against Leon’s uvula, Leon on the outside knew that he now only needed to tilt his head back just slightly further, and then allow gravity to do the rest. Proceeding to accomplish just that, Leon would stall for no longer.

Squelching Ramon’s head through his upper esophageal sphincter, a nice, round, and sizable bulge formed inside of Leon’s throat as the midsection of the poor man became inserted into the maw as a result. Leon allowed a little drool to trickle on down and to the alley floor as he swallowed once more with a pleased shudder. Ramon on the inside could feel the tight walls squeezing in before releasing as he now suddenly realized that he could sense Leon’s wildly thumping, ectatic heart.

Finally, Leon swallowed for the third, and final needed time, before casually plopping himself up against the wall of the alley, now merely waiting for the inevitable filling of his growling stomach.

Ramon, meanwhile, was just simply far too clocked out to be able to do or say anything. Instead, he merely remained still and obeyed what each squelching seemed to tell him was currently his destiny at Leon’s hands.

Eventually, Ramon reached the lower esophageal sphincter. The subsequent shoving forth of his head was what told Leon on the outside that the bulging was just about to happen.

A utterly cathartic sensation of bliss practically shot its way up the man’s spine as his stomach bulged outwards in order to house Ramon’s form. An audible deep goopy gurgle ran through the empty alley as Leon lay both hands upon the rumbling, rotund, shifting gut.

Ramon, now cradled against the hot, slimy, slick walls of Leon’s stomach, was waist deep in the liquids sloshing around. Due to being so far removed from reality for the moment, Ramon was still subconsciously able to sense that for whatever reason, Leon had decided not to digest him for now. Perhaps this was to further instill the sensation of terror, maybe he wanted to make sure he knew where Ramon was for quite a while. Maybe it was a combination, or maybe it was something else. Who knew? Certainly not Ramon.

Thus, as Leon calmly patted and rubbed over his stomach , he loosely allowed his dripping tongue to loll floppily out of his mouth. There was only one singular thing bouncing through the utterly euphoria-high-driven mind of the man in that moment. One, simple, single thought. That thought being, of course:

“Fuck Ramon.” and nothing else.

[nerdkiller]

Bachelor, Haruspex, Nocturnal, Booha, Herb Bride, Marble Nest, Broken Heart (sorry), and Shmowder for the Pathologic ask game

Bachelor; thoughts on the Utopians?

I think they're super fascinating as an example of the avant garde also being... regressive? They are a fascinating contradiction. Both lawgivers and lawbreakers, both tyrannical and lovers of freedom, a financier who throws in his lot with the anarchists, persecuted for their art while also killing others for it, planting one's stake in a cult of sacrificing one's life for a better outcome while refusing to die for it, killing oneself for eternal life... it's interesting how much they have in common with the Humbles' philosophy, only their own self-belief prevents them from fully converting.

Haruspex; thoughts on the Kin?

I like them better in Classic. Also it's hard to separate how much we know and love of them from gross stereotypes.

Nocturnal; least favourite character?

You know... None of the Bound, I think, but I don't care about the Rat Prophet. Now that I think about it, it always felt kind of extra for me? When I met him as the Changeling I was expecting more. So maybe the emotion I feel is just disappointment.

Booha; favourite voiceline?

I listen to Khan's voicelines on repeat sometimes

It's hard to pick but "What should a man do once his guts have turned to rags?" strikes me as thought-provoking right now... It's fascinating how some characters' voicelines will indicate varying levels of awareness that they're a toy, and here Khan is, saying this...

Herb Bride; favourite song from the soundtrack?

From Classic, I really enjoy Boiny Main (Abattoir theme) but also Bad Grief's Warehouse theme... From Pathologic 2, I like Childhood Grave/The Nutshell Theme. It really matched the tone of conciliation, loss, but also love that I imagine Khan must've felt, and Artemy must've felt in that first conversation with him after the House of Death quest.

Marble Nest; Tragedians or Executors?

Executors... The Tragedians were kind of annoying to deal with in both games.

Broken Heart; favourite Stamatin?

Why sorry? I think it depends on the characters around them... Peter is interesting because of how much he does not reciprocate Andrey's affections for him, either because they feel like a burden or because of his depression and suicidal tendencies making him avoidant. Peter's weird, toxic relationship with Grace is also profoundly interesting to me, as you well know.

Shmowder; what items would you trade for?

Besides the obvious? In Classic, always bullets and bandages, of course. But guns were more trouble than they were worth in Pathologic 2, so I often found myself trading for thread or other materials to fix my clothing, and stuff like that was pretty rare to find in garbage cans, and the women of the town are pretty shrewd lol

Thanks for asking, as always <3<3<3<3

[screenshotsofsteven]

[gentrychild]

Suspected Traitor Izuku Ideas

Note: Sorry this ended up being super long! I just really love the idea and wanted to put in some ideas of what I think could happen. It was all too long to fit into a couple asks, and I figured you would prefer a submission than 7+ asks in a row. These are also just some fun ideas I was thinking of for the au I thought you might enjoy lol

- - - -

Izuku gets interrogated and at first goes along with the questions. He doesn’t realize why he is there at first, until they ask more and more questions showing they suspect him for something. After the second or third question about his relation to the LOV he pieces it together. They think he’s a villain.

And instead of having a confused smile or nervous laugh, his eyes widen and he whispers “you think I’m the traitor.” It wasn’t hard for him to figure it out, after all he spent so much time analyzing and trying to deduct things quickly from situations where he barely was given any information, and they practically threw the answer in his face. He was probably one of the few students who was fully aware that there was a traitor from looking at the previous attacks.

He starts to shut down after realizing this, and when people start yelling or slamming things out of anger (because no one was actually going to get physical, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the room was off limits) he unconsciously reverts back to his old habits from when he was quirkless.

This can include, but is not limited to:

- A smaller frame to protect vitals and give less room to be hit

- A quite and passive voice to try appeasing their anger

- Distracting himself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical stuff. Mentally keeping track over where everyone is, what they are doing, and how much of a threat they are to him

- Looking for any and all possible exits, even the ones that would result in him being hurt on his way out, just in case things get worse (and he fears that they may hurt him worse than before. In a world full of quirks, it’s easy for someone worked up to forget how easily they can kill someone, and Izuku probably has experienced more than once a situation that became life or death because a middle schooler was too worked up to process how much damage they were about to do)

- Eyes downcast due to fearing that eye contact would seem like he’s defying them or trying to irritate them in purpose (thanks Bakugou for that one)

- Holding back sudden movements or flinching, when going to the point of possibly hurting himself on purpose to prevent him from acting out.

- Holding his breath every time someone moves, but forcing his body to relax/tense up in case they attack him. When your body tenses up, it can absorb him impact, but can also cause other things like knives or needles to hurt more when they cut/go through the skin. So when there is someone who has a weapon visible (probably a means of intimidation) he quickly figures out which way will hurt less and forces himself to go through with that because of the constant thought of ‘just in case’

- Forcing himself not to cry or break down. That’s what some bullies want, but sometimes it also makes them even more upset. It gives them fuel, and always ends bad for the victim.

The teachers and others accusing him of being the traitor takes these signs as him lying or trying to hide the truth, those who don’t think it’s because he’s lying see the 'experience with interrogations’ aka trauma reactions and think he was trained by the villains to act this way. No one thinks about the fact that some of the reactions are clearly not helpful with interrogations and that the villains would train him to do the opposite (ex: stay calm and keep eye contact. You don’t have anything to hide and looking away makes it seem like you do).

The only two people who know his past refuse to acknowledge or bring it up.

All might doesn’t because he can’t risk the consequences of OFA getting out, but also because he only has a vague idea because of when he was shoeless himself.

Bakugou refuses to acknowledge the signs and the relapsing to his habits from middle school.

No one else realizes the cause, and as a result they accidentally reopen the trauma that Izuku hadn’t healed from. No, he had taken it and stuffed it into a box to avoid acknowledging that he was hurt. So he never talked to anyone about it, and as a result it just festered in his mind. His intrusive thoughts from all the victim-blaming he went through never went away (because let’s be honest, gaslighting and victim-blaming are things he probably went through as a result of the bullying. He couldn’t help being quirkless, but the bullies will latch onto anything and everything they can. And because they wanted to prevent themselves from having anything marked, if they made him think it was his fault then they felt it lowered the chances of them being reported)

During the pause of interrogation when they are having Tsukachi enter and he’s about to come in, he almost send himself into a dissociative/depressive episode because of his thoughts. He forces it back when the doors click open, thinking 'no, it’s just like before. No matter how much it hurts, wait until you’re safe. You’re not safe here, they will use it against you, so you have to wait until you’re alone and safe to finally break down.’

As a result, none of the adults fully realize how broken he is after the trap/interrogation is over. But its only a glimpse that they see, and nothing more. Because Izuku’s learned that weakness = vulnerable = targeted and hurt.

And now that he knows almost all his friends- no, his classmates were involved he knows he can’t break down anywhere near them. He can’t go over and let them know how broken he is or he thinks they’ll turn against him even more.

Someone brings up the 'logical’ aespect of the interrogation and their suspicions before he leaves and Izuku’s thoughts use that and forces it against him. 'It was only logical. Everyone was convinced you were going to hurt them, that you were evil. Of course they had to do it.’ He repeats it like a mantra in his head. 'It’s only logical, they did what they had to, and it’s almost over. You’re almost done, it was just the logical thing to do.’

And why is it this that he repeats this, instead of being angry or upset?

The victim-blaming.

His own intrusive thoughts were fuelled by the victim-blaming, and because it was what hurt the most, it was also what he was most accustomed to.

But when he finally gets back to the dorms, to the 'safety’ of his room, he knows he can’t break down. Not yet. After all, if they went through all that trouble because they thought he was the traitor, who’s to say they didn’t do more? His resurfaced paranoia/anxiety from the trauma makes him search his room for hidden cameras and microphones, desperate for at least one safe-space.

He finds nothing, thank god, but then he keeps pushing back his breakdown in search of exits, ways to avoid the most dangerous people or most likely to turn on him, ways to get by unseen and to avoid any situations that would be like Middle school. He stays up making notes and maps of the school and how to best protect himself because 'You’re already used to this. Shouldn’t have expected anything different. Stupid, idiotic, Deku. You put off finding the saferoutes because you thought it would be better to try playing nice. Look where that got you, now you have to stay up and make up the months of ignoring the inevitable.’

He doesn’t sleep that night, and when it becomes time for class he still hadn’t given himself time to break down. So he returns, but doesn’t pretend to be friends with any of his classmates anymore. He uses the ways he maps, brings out old tactics, just with the hope of making it through the day without being hurt or breaking down.

Lunch comes, but he doesn’t eat. He goes to the roof, finds an elevated area with no cameras and where people are unlikely to see him and sits down. It takes a moment, just a mere second of sitting there alone before he breaks.

He cries and let’s his regret and anger wash over him. All the feelings he had been pushing back finally breaking free and coming loose. He doesn’t eat, he never got the time, and right as he is starting to realize how badly hurt he really is, the bell rings signalling he needed to get to class. So he forces himself up, pushed all his emotions away, and tries to clean himself up in the bathroom.

He ends up in a dissociative state the rest of the way back to class, and when the others ask why he’s acting different or 'weird’, he doesn’t respond. He barely registers anything the rest of the day and when teachers try calling on him, hoping for some kind of reaction, they get nothing. He doesn’t process that he’s being talked to and just sits there dissociating in a desperate attempt of forcing himself not to break down again.

When classes end, the others try talking to him but eventually give up. He slowly realizes after everyone left that he was alone and he picks up his stuff and walks to the dorms on autopilot. He gets to his room and shut the door, and finally let’s himself finish the breakdown from on the roof. This time, though, he finally lets himself cry over everything. The entire past of abuse and neglect from his peers and adult figures in his life (minus his mom), the suicide-baiting, the victim-blaming, the bullying, accusations and mistrust, all of it. And he finally fully, truly breaks.

- - - -

[im-frickin-trying-okay]

Hey there, i have maybe an odd fic request for you, or just headcanon if it doesn't grab you that much.

Y/N is a witch/wiccan and offers too help shoto with his hand crusher curse, but after an intimate little ritual he thinks they/she accidentally cast a love spell on him or maybe the spell backfired. Turns out he just has a crush and is being a big dork about it.

Sorry this took so long! It might not be the most accurate, but hopefully it turned out okay. Also, I sorta mixed it with a coffee shop au but that's more as a tool than a plot point lol

Hand Crusher's Crush

I hope I did this justice :) I feel like I'm a bit better at descriptions than dialogue. Also, I did a bunch of research, but if anything's super inaccurate, please let me know!

A knock on your door caught your attention. You didn't tend to get visitors, as sometimes the world felt too 'peopley' for your taste. It's not like you weren't open to them, you just didn't have a lot of friends. Opening the door, you found yourself face-to-face with a striking young man. His hair fell slightly over his eyes, with red and white split down the middle.

"Um, hello," you said, not sure about this curious stranger. He cleared his throat quietly.

"Hello. I'm Shoto from UA," he said. He seemed quite serious, but it came across as a bit awkward. "Shoto Todoroki," he added. "I heard you have a special kind of healing quirk."

"Well, technically no, but I like to think I do," you reply simply. Your quirk is called Vibes. You can visualize, manipulate, and use certain energies. Once you got control of it, and did a little research on how to collect the intentions and energies, you changed your lifestyle. "Are you hurt or sick?"

"Well, no, it's not that I'm hurt. It's that I... I hurt people," he said, remorse bleeding into his voice. He glanced down at his hands, before looking back up at you. "I don't want to hurt people anymore."

For a split second, you wondered if there was some sort of killer at your doorstep, but instead of turning him away, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Hurt people, how?"

"Whenever I'm around, people hurt their hands," he said, completely serious, and a bit regretful. "It's like I'm the hand crusher or something." You blinked at him. Hand crusher? Well, at least he's not a serial killer. "I think I'm cursed, and I heard that maybe you could help with that."

"Ohh, a curse, huh? Well, I suppose I could try," you said, opening the door a bit wider.

He walked in, and was immediately hit with the scent of lemons. Looking around your living room, he noticed some things that he wasn't quite familiar with. He narrowly avoided the small black tourmaline towers on either side of the door, and felt his gaze land on the shadowy shelf on which there were three different jars of water. His eyes were drawn in all different directions by all the different things. Crystals on the shelves, tiny jars by the windows, and enough candles to set the house on fire.

"So," you said, gesturing around. "Uh, welcome, I guess. Come on over here." You gestured over to a small table with a few chairs around it. He sat down across from you, not seeming sure of what to do. "Let's start off easy. Who's hands have you been crushing?"

He sighed at the question. "A couple of my classmates', at least. I'm not sure if I've hurt anyone else." He took a bit to explain the situations, and how as far as he could tell, he was the only thing that tied the events together. It sounded a little bit like a coincidence, but then again, it was probably possible, right? And he would know better than you about what happened.

"Well, okay. I can probably help you," you said, still pondering over the stories he'd just told. "How good are you at cracking eggs?"

After an egg test, you found that he wasn't cursed per say, but there was definitely a lot of negativity surrounding him, and it was definitely weighing on him.

"Well... I'm not sure if it has to do with the crushing-of-hands, but there's some stuff I can help with," you said simply. He nodded, fully trusting.

You walked across the room and grabbed a few things. Selenite, rosemary... You counted off the things you needed in your head, before going back to your seat. You explained your plan to him. Cleanse and banish negative energy, and you'd be giving him a selenite crystal. It wasn't a problem, since you already had a lot.

"Will the crystal help stop me from hurting people?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"It's possible," you said simply. "If someone decided to punch a wall while you were in the room, their hand would be crushed, but it's not your fault."

"But wouldn't I have-?"

"Hey, hey, listen," you said gently, putting your hand over his. You could feel his doubt, but you wanted to reassure him. "It wouldn't be your fault. If it still feels that way, maybe try not to identify as The Hand-Crusher. That might be part of why these things occur so often." He frowned slightly, before nodding. He came to you for help, so it wouldn't be right of him to turn it down. "The crystal will basically just help keep your energy clear."

"My... Energy," he repeated, trying to remember if the first hand-crushing incident happened before or after Kaminari convinced him to try a Monster. "Is it bad?" he asked nervously.

"It's not bad, it's more of the things crowding around and onto it." After attempting to explain it, and getting a confirmation of his understanding, you began.

Rosemary smoke began to fill the room, but because of your quirk, it didn't look like smoke. Instead, a soft white light flowed through the space. Shoto watched in what seemed like awe as the room began to glow. Placing the rosemary bundle in a bowl, you continued on.

You clapped your hands, and golden sparks shimmered around them. Shooting your hands up, the sparks flew, before landing in a circle around you, like a dome of glitter. Shoto couldn't seem to pick where he wanted to look. The room seemed completely different now.

What would've normally been a smoky room and a bunch of stones turned into a beautiful light show, a light filled world with the two of you at its core. Something about the way his eyes sparkled made you feel a vague satisfaction. It made you glad to know that he wasn't bored or anything of that sort. He didn't seem to be a very smiley person, but he was clearly enjoying this.

Once all was said and done, and the lights began to fade, his eyes remained trained on you. "How was that?" You asked. "How're you feeling?"

He blinked out of his reverie. "Actually, much better," he said, seemingly surprised. "Thank you," he added.

"Happy to help," you replied, completely genuine.

"How could I repay you?" He asked, already reaching for whatever was in his pocket. It didn't take a genius to figure out he intended to use money, and really, you were financially comfortable. Your YouTube channel was decent, and considering that working at a coffee shop meant constantly being around coffee and tea, you didn't mind it. Besides, you didn't feel like you did as much as you probably did.

"Oh, no no," you said. "It's okay. You can repay me by trying to tune out negative people in your life," you said matter-of-factly. "It'll probably help delay any bad-vibes buildup." He hummed, nodding, but it wasn't hard to tell that he already had his mind on a specific someone.

"I know who I need to keep away from."

• • •

Over the next few weeks, Shoto was aware of the way that his mood had been lifted. He hadn't realized that he was feeling bad until he started feeling better. He was also vaguely aware that Midoriya hadn't broken his arms recently. It really worked! He felt glad that the curse was gone, as long as whatever else may have been wrong.

Then it began. He would occasionally think of you, think of what happened, and look back with a feeling of gratitude. When he held the selenite and felt his mood and thoughts balance out, he thought back to when you gave it to him. He couldn't help but think that you truly were magic.

After a while though, he noticed something changing. He'd look back on the same events, but instead of gratitude, he felt nothing but longing. He wanted to see the way the room lit up, he wanted to see your face, he wanted to hear your voice, he wanted you to hold his hand again... These new thoughts were more frequent, and you were always on his mind now! You were stuck in his head, and now he found himself missing this perfect stranger, always wishing to be in your presence. At first he couldn't identify these feelings, but then... Oh no.

You must've accidentally hit him with a love spell or something! He'd only seen you once, so that had to be the explanation, right? He'd have to go to you so you could fix it! Or was that the spell talking? Could it just be that he wanted to see you again? Maybe he just wanted to hear your explanations, to see the way you smiled if he said something that sounded like a joke but really wasn't, to see the way that your eyes lit up when you used your quirk, and oh, those eyes- No, bad Shoto, focus.

Things were complicated to say the least. It actually made him happy to think about you, and considering that the crystal didn't do anything to take away the feelings, he wasn't overly worried about the love spell's effects. However, over time, he realized how problematic it could be. Spacing out in the middle of an English lesson just to think of you was probably the most common reoccurrence. It wasn't like he didn't know the topic, but it was confusing to be asked a question and not even know what was being discussed.

He wasn't used to losing focus like this. Occasionally it would happen, but everyone's mind wanders. This felt different. You'd populate his mind, even narrate his thoughts, and he wasn't sure how to prevent it.

He had to put a stop to this. He tucked the selenite into his jacket pocket, and went to go get some tea. Yes, tea. Contrary to popular belief, he could still enjoy the stuff. Right now, he just wanted to pick some up before going to see you. Hopefully it would help get his thoughts in order, and calm him down. He walked into the shop and stared at the ceiling for a good thirty seconds before getting in line. He pondered if he should go talk to you directly about the love spell. Should he imply it? Did he want to fix it? It was hard to tell. He didn't dislike it, but the things that it caused weren't the best. He thought this over until he got to the front of the line.

"Hello, welcome to- Shoto?" came a familiar voice. His gaze snapped up to meet yours, and his heart jumped into his throat. The incessant fluttering in his stomach and chest made it hard to string words into a sentence. "Wow! Didn't expect to see you here," you said, pleasantly surprised.

"Hello," he blurted out, a mix of embarrassment and confusion swirling around in his head. He tried to come up with something more articulate, but was suddenly drawing a sudden blank. "Spell worked," he said, before immediately feeling like that was an understatement.

"Oh, well that's good," you said with a smile. You glanced up at the clock. "I'm off in like, 20 minutes if you wanna talk, but for now, how can I help you?" you asked. He blinked, before firing off the order he only remembered because he'd said several times before.

A bit later, he sat at his own table, a small one in the corner, and thought. He thought about how his mind was clouded with everything about you. He thought about how he finally got to see you after so long. He thought about how he'd only seen you once before. He thought about this love spell, and how he didn't exactly dislike it. He thought about how you might react when he told you. He thought about how it would be better to go into this slowly, and how- "Shoto!"

He popped his head up, before running over to grab his drink. He forced an awkward smile, which kinda looked like a grimace, before heading back to his seat, lost in thought once again. He didn't want to scare you off, of course, but did he even know you well enough to bring up this topic? He could say that he loved you right then and there, but he didn't even know your birthday! He barely noticed the time passing until you sat in the chair across from him.

"Hey," you said, smiling. "So, how've you been?" you asked. His mind went completely blank and he had no memory of what language it was that he spoke. His heart pounded in his ears. I can't do this, not yet- Idiot, that's what you're here for! Well, that and tea. Dammit- Say something! Once he wrangled his thoughts together, he tried his best to respond.

"I-I've been good. Well? Well. Grammar. Um, how about you?" he managed, the tips of his ears already bright red. He was embarrassed by the lack of his usual composure.

"I've been decent," you replied shrugging. "Thinking about you," you added. He choked on his drink, his face turning bright red.

"What?" he asked, trying not to seem flustered. This spell was getting troublesome.

"Y'know, just how you've been doing and stuff. So, you said that the stuff we did worked?" you asked. He nodded. "That's great!"

"Y-yeah," he said, frowning slightly. "Question. Er, is it possible for me to lo- No, is it possible to accidentally cast a love spell?" His heart was pounding.

"What? Not that I'm aware of, no. Why, did something happen?" you asked, slightly confused. Those things have to be intentional, don't they?

"Ah. Can they be a result of a spell backfiring?" Shoto asked, trying to think of what else could've caused it.

"I mean, I guess that would probably depend on the spell, but even then, I don't think so," you said, now a bit concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Me?" he asked incredulously. "Of course I'm alright," he said. If a spell didn't cause this, then what did? He tried to run through the possibilities. Should he tell?

"Hey, look at me," you said. He did as you said, meeting your eyes. "If you think something happened, you can tell me."

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "I'm fine." The warm and fluttery feeling didn't give him time to think before he said his next words. "I just thought it might be a spell, since I'm falling in love as we speak."

About five seconds of complete silence followed. In those five seconds, a lot happened. Shoto could've sworn his heart stopped, but the blood rushing to his face proved otherwise. You seemed to be in a state of shock, not able to respond. Your heart thudded in a he's cute, yeah, but how did this even happen kind of way.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

"Are you for real?" you asked at the same time. Your head was spinning. What's happening right now?!

"What? I'm right in front of you," he said. When you laughed, he took a moment to reconsider. "Ah, right. Well, yes, I am, but I didn't mean to say it like that." The nervous buzzing in his head was one of the strongest emotions he'd felt in the past who-knows-how-long. "I thought it might be a spell or side-effect, since I don't know you all that well."

Holy shit, he's completely serious.

The situation would've been concerning if it weren't so funny. You found yourself laughing, and trying desperately not to in order to not hurt his feelings, but oh my gods, he really thought this was a spell?! He seemed bewildered, and that just made it funnier.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you said, gasping for air, "You thought I cast a love spell?"

"Unintentionally," he added, as if that made it better. "I don't think you would have done that without telling me first." His face was still red, but he seemed calmer.

"Well- You're- you're right about that part," you managed through the laughter. "I can confirm for you that I didn't cast a love spell," you said, just barely able to sound calm.

"I see," he said, not meeting your eyes. The second-hand embarrassment was a lot. He stayed quiet, not sure what to say.

"Shoto?" you called, once you managed to calm down.

"Hm?" came his wordless reply, his mind clearly somewhere else.

"That was adorable," you said, simply stating your thoughts out loud. He's so painfully genuine all the time that it's hard to not to think so.

"Wh-what?" he said, as light embers flew from his red hair. Or rather, the red part of his hair.

"I mean, it was!" you said, before suddenly backtracking. "Not in a weird way, it just is, y'know?"

After stumbling through awkward conversation for three minutes or so, Shoto asked a question. The question almost killed you.

"If I'm not under a love spell, then what is this?" he asked. You choked, really not understanding how you'd have to explain this.

"You... Is it possible that the, er, feelings developed naturally?" You asked, trying to phrase it as professionally as possible.

"Don't you have to know someone for a long time for that?" he asked in response.

"N-not necessarily," you said, trying to decipher if he was still being serious. "One interaction can be enough, and as of now, we've had two," you added. He seemed thoughtful for a moment.

"Alright, then I suppose that makes sense," he said, nodding. After a beat of silence, you laughed.

"Well. Uh. If your concern was too few interactions, we could always just talk more, if you want," you offered, head still swirling with the awkwardness of all this.

"I'd like that," he replied, the blush never leaving.

• • •

It had been five months now, and Shoto could now say for absolute sure that there was no love spell involved. The two of you were much closer, and he liked getting to call himself your boyfriend. He enjoyed getting to know you, and was surprised at how much better he knew himself. He was still a dork, and still a bit fast to jump to conclusions, but that's just who he is. However, you did help him change, and it was in the best way possible. You showed him how to change his definition of love into something healthy, and he couldn't be more grateful.

From the day you met, you lit up his life in more ways than one.

Could anyone blame him for loving you?

[stubbychaos]

To Be Alone With You

Chapter 4 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: While your Mandalorian continues to work hard to gain your trust as well as your heart, he decides to take you somewhere else just as beautiful as the cave. In return for his act of kindness, you think it’s your turn to give him a present of his own.

Rating: T for the usual stuff! Nothing smutty, just some unresolved sexual tension.

Word Count: 9,000 (I’m so sorry omg, this is literally 99% fluff and then one line at the end that indicates an actual plot coming on, lord help me, I have a problem.)

Warnings: Again, there really aren’t any in this chapter. There are little hints of abuse and growing up in a toxic environment, but nothing too descriptive. Also there’s a tiny bit of sexual tension every now and then (if you squint), but mostly fluff and hurt/comfort.

A/N: It only took until the end of the fourth chapter to finally get to the plot jfc lol. Thank you all for reading and the continuous support and kind words! I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours? You’re always thinking and never talking, little nurse.”

You jump a little at the sound of your blue Mandalorian’s deep baritone, blinking owlishly when you realize that your companion has been talking for quite some time now, though you’d been too consumed by your frantic thoughts to register what he was saying. You find it happening more often lately, especially when you’re sitting so close to the heavy-infantry warrior; your thoughts move at a pace that you simply cannot handle and you loathe that you’re suddenly overthinking everything in regards to the strange, intimate relationship you’ve formed with him.

Per usual, he seems as calm and collected as ever, making you even more flustered when his bold nature shines through and overpowers his bashful tone. The little touches and flirty comments seem to come so naturally to him, while you struggle to return the playful sentiments, usually answering him in the form of a shy smile or flushed cheeks that you’re certain he must see through his black visor. It seems to only spur him on more and you think he must realize what he does to you--how he makes you feel.

“I’m just thinking about...” You cringe a little, because what are you going to say to him? 

Sorry, I’m just thinking about you and how much I long for your touch? That I would let you play with my hair every night for the rest of my days if you wished for it? Sorry that I’ve never felt more at home than when you hold me?

It all sounds so foolish and ridiculous and you know you can’t say any of it out loud.

“I-It’s nothing,” You answer lamely, nervously tightening the cape he had let you borrow around your torso; the material was heavier than you’d expected and the comforting weight of it had surprised you when he draped it around your shoulders after a particularly cold gust of wind had left you shivering earlier. Even though the thick material had easily warmed you up from the inside out--along with the sweet gesture--the Mandalorian hadn’t hesitated to wrap a massive arm around your shoulders and pull you closer into his side.

“I’m just daydreaming, I suppose.”

Your blue Mandalorian sighs a little, easily catching your bluff and not seeming all too thrilled that you’re struggling with your emotions, “Saviin’ika...”

You reluctantly look up at your companion, though you focus on the chin of his helmet, rather than where you think his eyes are, “I’m just thinking about the last few days; I’m not... I’m not used to this. I’m not used to people actually...” You quickly look away from him when you feel your eyes burn and your chest heave a little, “I’m just surprised you keep coming back for me--thought you would have left by now.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, realizing how pathetic the words sound as you speak them in a breathy, shaky whisper and a trembling bottom lip.

A hooked index finger tenderly taps just underneath your chin to bring your gaze further up his visor and the softness in his usually gruff voice definitely doesn’t fall on deaf ears, “Your companionship isn’t tiresome or a burden to me. I... I enjoy spending time with you more than you could imagine. I hope one day you can truly believe that.”

You smile feebly and force a tiny, meek nod, reminding yourself that nobody has stuck around this long and that your Mandalorian must not be jesting or patronizing you in any way shape or form.

Another week has passed since he first brought you to the cave and much to your utter astonishment and delight, the Mandalorian had made it a mission to visit you every day since, whether it be to simply walk you to your abode or to take you to the cave so you can relax your feet in the hot springs. After the second time when he takes you to the cave and asks if he can take out your braids again, you think he must genuinely look forward to your company, rather simply resigning to tolerate it. 

The thought of him enjoying something so simple as taking out your braids leaves you breathless and you can’t help but to despise him because nobody should have this kind of impact on your heart by simply stroking your hair.

It still doesn’t completely rid the self-deprecating thoughts from clawing at the back of your mind, tearing open deep wounds that leave you feeling raw and vulnerable. You feel far too exposed to the fearless warrior and oftentimes find yourself closing in on yourself to prevent him from getting inside your mind.

Today, however, your thoughts are relatively calm and you chalk it up to a surprisingly short and uneventful shift at the infirmary, a rare occurrence that leaves you feeling unusually content and energized. Deciding to make the most of the extra energy, you had made your way to the marketplace to get more ration bars and look at the prices on fresh fruit, though you had been slightly disappointed to find the usual vendor had been sold out of their stock. 

Feeling only slightly dejected, you had made your way back to the infirmary where you thought the Mandalorian might be waiting for you in his usual spot and you hadn’t even realized your disappointment from earlier had immediately disappeared upon spotting the familiar glimmer of moonlight beaming down on a dark blue helmet.

You don’t even realize he has that effect on you.

He had been waiting for you and you wondered if there were nights where he arrived at the infirmary hours before the end of your shift and he simply doesn’t mind the long wait. 

Though he had been a little confused and surprised that you had gotten out of work earlier than usual, you think it must have put him in a better mood as well, noting that your smile actually met your eyes for once. After greeting you with a gentle headbutt of his Beskar-clad forehead against your bare one--something you assumed was a typical Mandalorian greeting they did with everyone--your companion had seemed content to guide you away from the village and far away from your broken home.

Noting that the night sky was incredibly clear and the full moon seemed brighter and larger than usual, he had chosen to take you to a region of the barren lands where flora grew and ponds had somehow naturally formed over time. It’s located in a rocky crater on a steep cliff side, but tame waterfalls of all shapes and sizes surround the two of you and you don’t think you’ve ever seen so much water in all of your years of living on the bleak planet. 

You wonder how the Mandalorian seems to know of all these beautiful spots on a planet like Nevarro, though you’re certain previous years experience of traveling so much and providing for his tribe would give him a pretty decent mental map of the area surrounding his home.

Instead of asking, you had simply resigned to letting the Mandalorian guide you to a cozy spot, gathering a decent-sized log that you two could sit up against and you had watched with curious eyes as he easily set a small fire within the span of a few seconds.

You’re utterly content to curl against his side and watch the stars and moon that make for a lovely setting, along with the sound of the Mandalorian’s sweet baritone that speaks of his time spent traveling through the cosmos and different planets he’s visited in the past. You stare up at him with awe shimmering fiercely in your eyes when he describes the white ball of ice that’s Hoth, or how unbearably hot and deadly the Tatooine deserts had taken a toll on even him.

Then he speaks of mountain-sized trees and flowers even more massive than him and...

Maker, you hang onto every single word he uses to describe the planet of Felucia and how even he had been surprised by how vibrant and flourishing every living organism had been.

"Saviin'ika."

You don’t know what the syrupy-sweet word means in his sacred language, but you know it’s some sort of nickname he’s deemed you worthy of and your cheeks feel unbearably flushed every single time he utters it. You sometimes find yourself repeating it quietly when you’re alone, thinking the foreign word sounds prettier rolling off the tip of his tongue and through his crackly modulator.

But tonight...

"Mesh'la... Mesh’la... Mesh’la"

He seems to only utter the pretty word during intimate moments when he's comforting you or when you reluctantly confess your fears and secrets to him, but tonight… well, he says the word four times within the span of an hour and it certainly has you feeling curious as to what he could possibly be calling you. He mostly breathes out the word in the form of a sigh when he chances a cursory glance down at your wide-eyed features as he describes different flowers and plants, as though he’s just as infatuated with you as you are by his whimsical stories.

“Maybe one day I will have the chance to take you there, mesh’la.”

The way he says it so naturally, as though he’s replacing your other nickname with a new one has you feeling achingly curious, like a moth to a flame, though you trust the Mandalorian not to burn you. You think your more affected by the way he breathes out the foreign word in such an adoring tone than the thought of seeing such a wondrous sight of flowers towering over the massive warrior.

Normally you don’t care much of what others think of you, but something about the fondness and devotion that he somehow manages to convey through a modulated voice and a two-syllable word has your mind racing at what he could possibly be implying.

A large fingertip suddenly grazes the purple and blue flowers you had strategically placed in the thick braid wrapped around your crown the previous morning and you find it hard to focus on the constellations that shimmer and flicker vividly in the night sky, your attention fixed solely on the Mandalorian that sits impossibly close at your side. You can smell his clean, spicy scent that subtly seeps through the cracks of his thick blue armor and you think that Mandalorians in general must have good hygiene, what with how much they must sweat underneath all of that armor. It’s an attractive trait that not many men seem to be capable of--or rather, are simply too lazy to take care of themselves--and you wonder if the comforting scent will linger on your own clothes after being wrapped up in his cape for so long.

“You’re quiet tonight,” He observes with a hum, still seeming entranced by your elegant braids that are a little frizzy from the short flight earlier, “Is something wrong, mesh’la?”

You hesitate a little, but you trust him enough to know he will not make fun of you, “I want to know more about Mandalorian culture, but I do not want to offend you or your people.”

He cocks his head as he continues to smooth unruly baby hairs from your forehead, “What is it you want to know? You already know about our helmets, so I’m certain nothing you ask could offend me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and shiver when you feel the blunt tips of his nails lightly scratch around where your braid tugs at your scalp, "Is your language sacred? Are outsiders not allowed to learn it?"

His hand hesitates against your tender scalp and you wonder what’s running through his mind as you force yourself to avoid his intense gaze, though you find yourself drawn to it at the same time. You wonder if he’s regarding your beloved flowers with admiration or curiosity, though something tells you that it’s both as he idly plucks a pretty violet from its unlikely home in your thick braid. You find it impressive that such a fearless warrior can possess such tenderness towards something as delicate as a little flower and you suddenly wish it was your cheek or your neck he was caressing, rather than one of your beloved violets.

"Others are allowed to learn it," He finally answers as he observes the vibrant flower closely, "There are even books written in the language. Why do you ask?"

You let out a little huff as he gently twirls the stem of the flower between the rough pads of his thumb and index finger; you can tell he’s purposely ignoring your pointed gaze, "You call me all these names in your language, but I have no idea what they mean. You are not insulting me, are you, Mandalorian?"

"I would never dream of insulting you, little nurse," He grunts, sounding a little bashful as he most likely tries to think of all the ways he can dance around this topic, "Saviin'ika means violet. I only call you that because of the flowers you always put in your hair."

Something about the terseness of his voice makes you think there's more to it, but you shyly drop your tone and your head when you speak up again, barely peering up at him through your lashes, "And mesh'la? You’ve been calling me that since the night you first brought me to the cave."

He freezes, still staring down at the flower he stole from your braid and you can't stop yourself from grinning like a sly loth cat when you realize you've caught the Mandalorian red-handed. When he stubbornly refuses to give you an answer, you decide to take matters into your own hands and force yourself to stop smiling at this new discovery, not wanting him to feel embarrassed over something you think to be sweet.

"Please, look at me," You murmur and he is quick to obey, his visor landing either on your flushed face or the slight shift in your throat as you swallow thickly, "I-Is it a compliment?"

"It…" He clears his throat a little and you remain impossibly patient as the Mandalorian collects his thoughts, "It is what I think of when I see you, or what you must think when you look up at the stars."

You think of all the words you would typically use to describe the sky on a clear night like this one and can't possibly fathom someone seeing you the same way. You can’t imagine him looking at you and seeing supernovas and the vibrant swirls of galaxies in your own eyes; you find it hard to believe that anyone could perceive you as ethereal or fascinating. The Mandalorian must be jesting with you, trying to make you feel better about how hard you are on yourself, though you’ve never known him to be a liar.

Could someone truly believe you to be celestial like the stars that beckon you and cause an achy, longing feeling in your chest at night?

You shake your head a little, "Please do not make fun of me, Mandalorian. I could take it from anyone else, but not from you."

"I would never," He repeats, his voice dropping lower and more gruff, though you hear something more desperate in his tone, "I would never lie when I tell you how pretty I think you are and I would break the bones of anyone who would think it funny to insult you."

“You cannot solve everything with violence, silly man.”

He scoffs, forgetting entirely about the flower he’d robbed you of, “For you? sure I can.”

You move your hand to tuck a stray curl behind the curve of your ear, cheeks burning something fierce as he dutifully envelopes your hand in his much larger one, using the other to assume the task of taming your long hair and finishing it off by placing the flower he’d borrowed behind your ear. A soft exhale deflates your chest when you feel the rough pad of his index finger grazing the shell of your cartilage and you find yourself focusing on the geometric shape in the center of his cuirass instead. Your hand falls out of his and you tuck it next to your other between your thighs in a feeble attempt to keep the warm and from wringing together in a nervous fashion.

"You said that word means what I think when I look up at the stars, but what if I find the stars or these waterfalls to be more than pretty or beautiful? What if I could not think of a word to properly describe what I feel when I see the sky on a night like this one? Or how the moonlight looks when it reflects off your visor and armor?"

His fingers swiftly move to the bottom of your earlobe and you think he must be amused by how hot the flesh is there, no doubt burning his own rough skin. You may have caused him to grow slightly flustered, but he certainly has you beat in this lovely competition where you think there would not be any losers, only two blushing souls that don’t know how to properly display their feelings. If your last comment about the moonlight affected him at all, he certainly doesn’t let it show in his strong, steady hands or his deep baritone.

“Then I guess Mandalorians need a better word to describe someone or something that is more than beautiful--for what you see when you look at the stars and when I look at you. Perhaps someone should make revisions to the language and use you as inspiration to come up with something more fitting, mesh’la.”

You’re not sure why the emotionless gaze of his shiny visor makes you feel intoxicated and lightheaded, but you find yourself growing flushed whenever the Mandalorian lowers his helmet and cocks it to the side to get a better look at your face. He huffs out a small chuckle when you press your palms to your burning cheeks and you’re sure that your heart is about to leap right out of your chest and straight into your Mandalorian’s warm palm. You’re certain you would trust him not to crush it in a tight fist, especially after witnessing the utter caution he had displayed to not accidentally rip the petals or bruise the stem of something that he was well aware of that was so precious to you.

You think that perhaps the Mandalorian already holds your heart in his hand and while the startling thought should absolutely terrify you, it fills you with a tender warmth.

As if it’s not enough that you feel like you’re about to combust, the Mandalorian seals the deal as he gently pries your hands from your cheeks and replaces them with his own; the stark contrast in size and warmth makes you feel as though you’ve stolen his jetpack and are floating high in the night sky. He urges you to tilt your head to the side and upwards to peer up at his emotionless visor and you shiver when one of his hands slowly slides down the side of your exposed neck. Something about the way the moonlight and glittering stars that hang high above you and how it emphasizes the dull color of his blue-gray armor has you squirming around a little bit.

"Is your skin always this warm, or is it because of what I said?"

If you weren't so flustered, you would have laughed at the question; you are certain he is being sly and cocky with you and you pray that you won’t spontaneously combust into flames, "Don't tease me, Mandalorian, you know what you're doing to me. I think you’ve known since that night you carried me home and played with my hair."

You hate that your voice comes out as a shaky sigh--a dreamy little noise that has the blue warrior grunting and bringing your face closer to him. It seems to be something he absolutely adores, having you this close to him and you think it must be something he takes advantage of because he hasn’t experienced it before. You wonder how often he has the chance to take off his thick leather gloves to feel the warmth of another and selfishly, you hope that you are the only one he’s touched like this in a while.

"Do I? I don't think I know what I do to you, would you care to explain, mesh'la?" Judging by his light tone, you think he must be grinning underneath that blue bucket and when you anxiously bring your lower lip between your teeth, he’s swift to untuck it with the rough pad of his thumb, "Or should I keep teasing you? I can play with your hair again, if that’s what you really want?”

Your cheeks puff out against his palms and you squirm a little, though he keeps you firmly in place, still stroking the valley just underneath your lip, "You can do whatever you wish, Mandalorian, I would prefer to not see the weight of your ego crush you though."

A loud laugh drifts past his crackly modulator and you think the sound is lovelier than the loud waterfalls that surround the two of you, "I am pretty strong, I think I could handle the weight."

You shake your head at the confidence he exudes, though your cheeks still burn as you banter playfully with him and let him continue to tenderly hold you head however he pleases, “Men like you are all bark and no bite.”

“I can assure you that my bite is just as strong as my bark, mesh’la--or would you prefer to feel it firsthand?”

“Kriff,” You roll your eyes at him and though you try your hardest to appear exasperated with him, you can’t stop the smile that stretches your lips, “You’re insufferable when you get this cocky.”

“Something makes me think you like it,” His voice drops into a cool, deep rasp and you’re extremely aware of the way his thumb dips to the hollow of your throat before skimming along your collarbone, lightly pushing his cape out of the way, “You would tell me to stop if you were ever uncomfortable, wouldn’t you?”

You quickly steel your nerves as he continues to explore your shoulders the skin exposed just above the collar of your dress, “I mean, I haven’t stabbed you yet with the vibroblade you gave me, so I would say you’re good so far, Mandalorian.”

Risking a curious glance up at your aloof companion, your cheeks and earlobes instantly feel like burning coals when you realize his visor is pointed directly at your face and though you would never wish to intentionally disrespect his creed, you yearn to know how his eyes look whenever he decides to gaze upon you. Are his eyes just as expressive as he insists yours are? Do the corners crinkle whenever he laughs or smiles at your silly antics or when you sass him? Do they shimmer with sadness or shame whenever he discovers a new bruise, cut, or scar on your abused skin?

You think of dark eyes, glimmering ferociously with wrath and pain, rather than pity, because you refuse to believe the Mandalorian pities you.

You ponder all these questions deeply as you stare into the abyss of his visor, though you think the way the moonlight reflects off of it is just as lovely of a sight that you’re certain his eyes are. Though you long to see him all hours of the day, you think that the subtle glow of the moonlight bathing his dull blue armor in a soft, pearlescent shimmer makes for a better, more comfortable setting, rather than bleak gray skies that make the world around you so dreary. 

A soft sigh leaves you and your chest deflates when his thumb grazes your brow; he almost seems fixated on a certain spot as he continues to stroke the soft little hairs at the end of the tail.

"You have a little scar here,” He observes with a small hum and he sounds thoughtful as his thumb ventures downwards to your cheekbone; you’re afraid that if you move in the slightest, he’ll pull his hand away, so you stay perfectly still as he traces the map of your face like he’s the best explorer in the galaxy.

“I got it as a child,” You inform him, lips twitching into a tiny smile when his thumb skims past the bridge of your nose, tickling the tip a little, “We used to have a tree in our backyard that I would always climb even though my mother told me not to. She was always so worried about me getting hurt, but you know how children are--they never listen and always go against their parents’ wishes. I loved climbing that tree though. It always made me feel like I was on top of the world and could do anything.”

You must have a fond or wistful expression etched on your face, because the Mandalorian breathes out a funny noise when you continue with your story, “I don’t remember how old I was, maybe seven or eight? But I had climbed as high as I could in that tree--higher than ever before--and I was so proud of myself. I remember how pretty the sunset looked from that high up and how the stars seemed a little closer, just like right now on top of this cliff. It was so peaceful and then--” Your cheeks nearly hurt from how much you’re smiling, because even though you had gotten hurt at the time, looking back on it now, it’s more amusing than anything, “A bird landed right next to me and scared me half to death.”

You’re not sure how it’s possible to feel judgment from an emotionless mask, but the Mandalorian manages to exude such energy as he shakes his helmet a little, “You… You fell out of a tree?”

“Yup,” You giggle a little when he continues to shake his head, “Face first into a rock. My parents were so upset with me and I remember forcing myself not to cry when my mother stitched up the wound because I didn’t want her to point out that I had been hurt because I disobeyed them.”

“Did you climb the tree after that?”

The nostalgia suddenly leaves you feeling a little melancholic and you shift your attention down to your hands that are tucked politely between your thighs. You hope he doesn’t sense your sadness, though you think he must, what with the way the pressure against your jaw line lightens and how he tenderly grazes a thumb to the corner of your lips.

“My father cut it down the next day.”

His fingers twitch against your flushed skin and though you know it upsets him whenever you mention anything having to do with your father and how you are nothing more than a prisoner in a world so bleak and unforgiving, you find solace and comfort in confessing your fears and sad thoughts to the Mandalorian. You’ve never owned the luxury of being able to openly display your vulnerability in front of another, but with him, you feel as though you can bare your soul and perhaps one day, the rest of your scars etched in your skin and your heart.

“Then maybe one day, I will cut him down as well.”

His terse words sound like a promise and you feel a little sick at how the thought of your father’s demise fills you with hope.

“He is my father,” You remind both the Mandalorian and yourself, still refusing to meet his Beskar gaze, “He is family.”

“No, mesh’la,” He drops his helmet and you shiver from the cold press of metal against your forehead; his hand drops to your waist and lightly squeezes it, “He is a monster that deserves to feel shame for what he’s done to his own blood. I would make him suffer, just as you have your entire life because of him. I would make him feel your pain.”

You close your eyes as the metal warms underneath your skin and you hesitantly bring a hand up to touch his blue cheek, “I would not ask you of that, Mandalorian--to do such a thing.”

He grunts and pulls you in a little closer, “Why’s that?”

“Because I do not want to believe you are capable of doing what he has done to me.”

His hand instantly freezes on your cheek upon hearing your quiet sentiment and you fear that you've said something bad or offensive, though you think it's not that. Perhaps having such a notorious reputation of his people being brutes or savages has him believing it to be true, though you don't think being ruthless or fearless should automatically equate to being recognized as a cruel human being.

You’ve seen his kindness firsthand and you’re certain that his anger and need for vengeance comes from a good place in his soft heart.

With a sad smile, you carefully sling your legs over one of his padded thighs and fold yourself closer against his side, shivering a little when a cold breeze wafts past the two of you; he’s dutiful to tug his cape tighter around you and you think you could stay like that for however long the Maker will let you live. 

His fingers are splayed wide against your side, his thumb rubbing haphazard shapes against your bruised ribs, though the pressure is deliberately light and more of a tickle than anything else. You turn your head until it's situated comfortably between the inside of his bicep and his cuirass, just above where you hope his heart is beating just as frantically as yours.

"I would feel ashamed for you to see me that way," You swear you hear his natural voice underneath the lip of his helmet and you shudder when his hand lazily slides to the base of your spine, "But if I ever saw him and he… if he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me," Goosebumps rise on your covered arms and you're not sure if it's from his promise or the way his fingers drag tortuously slow up your back, "I understand you do not wish for more violence and I respect that, but I do not know how much longer I could let this go on."

You let out a deep exhale when his hand promptly lands on your hip and gives it a firm squeeze, "You worry far too much for me, Mandalorian."

"I do not worry nearly enough for you, saviin'ika," He sighs when you move your head to peer up at him through the thick abundance of your lashes, "If I did, he would have been a dead man that day you stitched me up and he talked to you that way. I would burn that whole fucking village to the ground if… if you were taken away from me. I would do anything for you.”

“I--” You feel speechless at how raw he’s being with you, confessing what you think is a fear that he’s veiled with a threatening promise, “You haven’t known me that long and you…?”

His free hand moves to the hollow at the base of your throat and your breath hitches when he feels your erratic pulse thrumming underneath his rough fingertips, “I know your heart, mesh’la--I knew what kind of person you were from the moment you offered me that salve and didn’t expect anything in return. I know that…” He makes a funny noise upon noticing the way you shiver when he slowly drags his hand up the column of your neck, “I know that I think about you more than I think about anyone else and that every time I try to sleep, all I can think of is your smile and those flowers you always put in your braids. Sometimes I swear I can smell them in your hair, but I must be imagining it for my own selfish purposes--it’s too sweet of a scent.”

When you speak, it’s a breathy whisper that barely reaches the bottom of his shiny visor, fogging it up a little, “Mandalorian…”

“You were scared of me that night--after you stitched me up and I followed you out of the infirmary,” He remembers and even though it was only over a month ago, you feel as though you’ve know him for far longer; that night feels like it took place lifetimes ago, “Before I told you that I wanted to walk you home, you thought I was going to hurt you and I never cared about scaring others before, but you--”

You struggle to blink away the tears in your eyes as he spills his heart out to you, something that you’re certain can’t be an easy feat when he’s spent so much of his life covered in metal that disguises what he’s truly feeling, but you remain silent as he continues.

“I made you cry and I didn’t like it, that I made you feel that way when I could tell it was something you were used to feeling so much--that kind of fear and dread,” He sighs, a grave sounding noise, and shakes his helmet at the memory, as if it’s something that constantly haunts him, “I don’t want you to feel sad when you’re with me; I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I want you to feel safe and... and cared for.”

“The only reason I feared you at first is because I was a naive fool that chose to listen to the rumors about your people,” You remind him, not happy with how distraught he sounds as he recalls your unfortunate first meeting and how badly you he had caused you such fear with his mere presence, “I knew what kind of man you were the moment you gave me your vibroblade to protect myself with.”

He steadily holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head backwards so you’re forced to look directly into his visor where you think his eyes fondly peer down at you, “And what kind of man is that, little nurse?”

You are very much aware of the close proximity between you two, your legs still draped over his thigh and his heavy arm wrapped firmly around your waist to prevent you from escaping, though you think you would never attempt such a feat.

Not when he’s warming you from the inside out.

“An honorable man who’s deathly loyal to the ones he cares for and deems worthy of his affections.”

He thoughtfully gazes at you for a few moments, thumb steadily swiping and exploring the soft angles and valleys of your jaw line, “Do you think I deem you worthy of my affections?”

“I am not sure if I would deserve something so precious,” You admit in a breathy whisper, “But maybe someday I will allow myself to believe myself worthy of such a thing.”

He grunts and shakes his helm, “You are worth so much more, mesh’la, so much more.”

He sounds like he’s being genuine and utterly serious, so you give him a shy smile and nod a little, not trusting your voice at the moment.

You think he must not experience skin contact often, what with the way his rough fingers always trace your cheeks or jaw line when you two are alone, but you find that you don't mind his curious hands one bit and you think him to be endearing. Any time his bare fingers graze your skin, you think it to be similar to a child’s curiosity, as though he’s experiencing something astounding for the first time ever and you pray that he never tires of the sensation, especially when you crave it so badly.

Maker, do you crave the rough warmth of his fingers against any part of you.

“For a big grouchy Mandalorian, you’re not too terrible with words.”

You're sitting so close to him that you hear an amused snort from underneath his helmet and your smirk instantly turns into a grin when he retorts with a tug of your earlobe, though it's not enough to cause any discomfort. After getting to know him a little better in the last week, you find it endearing that the Mandalorian seems more confident when it comes to touching you, no longer treating you like some sort of fragile ornament. When he occasionally touches your neck, his fingers are no longer a ghost of a touch, and as though it’s instinct to constantly comfort you, he uses a firmer pressure to melt the knots and aches away, rather than hesitant, light touches he had been giving you during your first few initial meetings.

Now, he seems to constantly seek close contact, whether he’s wearing gloves or not, and you certainly won’t deny him such a small request.

It’s not like you absolutely crave it--a comforting squeeze of your nape or the way he holds you close when he's using his jetpack and carrying you to the cave. You think of the way he barely nudges you with his shoulder or when he playfully tugs your earlobe whenever you jest around with him, or how determined his hands are when they map out the slopes and valleys of your face and neck. 

Then there's the way he always touches your hair so fondly--always with a bare hand and you think that perhaps he's afraid that his gloves are too dirty and he's afraid of somehow soiling your usually unruly mane. Perhaps he just prefers to feel the soft locks against his skin and it's because of that presumption alone that you find yourself carefully combing out the knots in your hair more often, though you think it wouldn't matter to the warrior if your hair was a tangled mess all the time.

It's definitely not something you constantly daydream about when you find yourself miserable at work, or when you're unable to give into exhaustion at the end of the day. At first, you attempt to not think about the heavy-infantry warrior and the effect his mere presence has on you, but at some point about halfway through the week, you decided to simply give up and allow yourself a small semblance of hope and warmth.

"You have to be at the infirmary soon," He eventually sighs when the sun begins to barely rise over the horizon and you swear you hear guilt laced within his deep baritone; you hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, "I didn't mean to keep you up all night, saviin’ika. You could have been sleeping instead."

You smile fondly at the Mandalorian and tightly squeeze his hand, "I haven't been sleeping all that well lately, so I would much prefer to spend my time with you, rather than tossing and turning in my bed all night. Besides, it's been a while since I've seen the sunrise."

“Nevarro’s sunrises and sunsets aren’t that exciting or something to look forward to.”

You huff, "All sunrises are exciting, Mandalorian."

He hums and pulls you closer into an affectionate embrace; you think that without all the armor, it would be far easier to melt against him and stay trapped within the safety of his arms forever. You find that the times he chooses to hold you close is the only time you forget about your broken home and the two souls that haunt it--one full of despair and longing and the other filled with violence and rage. 

You think of the Mandalorian, someone who comes from a tribe of fearless warriors that are astonishingly loyal to one another, and you understand why the nature of your situation upsets him so much. The little ones, foundling or blood, are the key to the Mandalorian existence and are all cherished and respected amongst all the adults, so of course any of his people would be horrified at the thought of intentionally hurting a child.

It’s for that reason that you constantly remind your Mandalorian that you are not a child, but an adult that has no control over their situation.

That being said, you selfishly allow yourself to think of a better life whenever he holds you or caresses your cheeks and hair--a life where you are far away from Nevarro and all of the cruel people that cause it to fester so terribly. You greedily think of a life with your blue Mandalorian on one of the many beautiful planets that he had previously described to you in great detail and it nearly forces tears into your eyes.

Only when your chest aches is when you remind yourself that it’s a foolish dream--a childish one that most likely won’t ever come to fruition.

You’re not sure how long the Mandalorian will choose to brighten up your bleak days, though having him here with you in this moment is enough to give you hope. He's already shown you that not everything on this planet is terrible and perhaps your future isn't as set in stone as you initially thought.

"I should take you back," He sounds disgruntled as the sun starts to turn the dark blue sky into shades of dull pinks and oranges, though there's a thin layer of fog that distorts what would have been a lovely view, "That way you can at least get a little sleep before work."

"You're one to talk," You petulantly argue, though he seems to know you well enough to understand you're being lighthearted with him, "I'm starting to think you don't ever sleep."

He scoffs a little and playfully squeezes your hip, "I nap sometimes.”

You frown as you reluctantly pull yourself away from the warmth of his embrace, already feeling colder as you slowly stand and try to shake the pins and needles from your feet. Holding out a hand for the Mandalorian to take, you grunt a little as you struggle to help him up, though he ends up doing most of the work, no doubt amused by your dramatic noises. You think the armor must add at least over twenty pounds and that’s not even including his heavy weapons and equipment, which must weigh twice as much.

You take one last look at the sunrise and the beautiful waterfalls as the Mandalorian straps his jetpack to his back; even though the waterfalls aren't nearly as massive about the ones you've read about in books, you think them to be no less breathtaking. 

It's far more beautiful than anything your own mind could hope to conjure and as you observe the way the lengthy streams of water that cascades wildly off the edge of the slightly larger cliff twenty or so feet behind you and your companion, you wish you could burn the image into your mind for the rest of your days.

"Mesh'la," The Mandalorian's soft baritone pulls you from your wistful thoughts and you turn to him with a small smile, tucking his cape around your head in a protective manner so your flowers won’t get lost mid-flight, "You ready?"

"Yes, thank you for taking me here," Your smile grows when he offers you a hand that is now unfortunately clad in leather once again, his weapons and equipment all in place as well, “Perhaps we can come back someday.”

He easily tugs you into an embrace that is only slightly awkward because of the Beskar shell that protects him from a world that seems to despise his kind. Without the armor, you think that he’d give the most comforting hugs, what with his massive stature and big arms, though you’re willing to take what you can get from him.

“I would bring you back here or to the cave any night you wish.”

You huff and firmly wrap your arms around his neck as he takes off without giving you any warning, a small squeak leaving you and you’re certain he’s amused by the way his shoulders shake a little. His other hand comes up to the back of your head to keep his cape in place and you think he must be as protective of your flowers--if not more--than you are.

“Any night? Those are dangerous words, Mandalorian.”

He chuckles a little and rolls his helmet to the side when your fingers unconsciously dig into his nape, just underneath the lip of his helmet where fabric is bunched up, “You could ask me to take you to the cave every single night and I would happily do it if it meant I got to hold you like this all the time.”

You’re grateful that you can hide your flushed face against the crook of his neck, though you decide to muster up enough courage in an attempt to cause a reaction from him, “You don’t need the jetpack in order to hold me like this.”

His metal cheek bumps a little against your bare one as he struggles to get a good look at the bashful expression etched on your face and you shyly shift in his arms so you can lift your head and peer at him. You imagine a man flustered underneath all that armor, smiling so large that his cheeks hurt or perhaps his skin burning just as hotly as yours had earlier when he had been hellbent on making you accept your beauty and worth. 

You wonder if the Mandalorian would be as open and flirty with you if his heart was buried so deep underneath layers or padding and Beskar, where he was easily able to conceal his fears or insecurities and you think it must be easy for him.

“Yeah?” The Mandalorian interrupts your thoughts when he lightly nudges the hollow of his blue cheek against yours again, though it somehow seems much more tender this time, as if he’s calmed himself, “And what if I want more? I can be a selfish man sometimes, saviin’ika.”

You conceal your smile against the lighter blue patch in the hollowed metal, trying your hardest not to giggle like a child with a crush on someone that you know you can’t have. The gritty nature of his low baritone makes something warm expand in the pit of your stomach and you know it’s no longer because of the weightless feeling of flying high in the sky with your Mandalorian, but rather the promise of his words.

You think he sounds just as longing as you feel for something you convinced yourself long ago that you were undeserving of and you wonder if he’s dreamed about this as long as you have.

“Then perhaps that makes two of us,” You whisper, continuing when you hear him grunt a little, “I know you think me to selfless and pure, but I have wants and dreams as well, Mandalorian.”

He doesn’t say anything at the small drop in your tone, but the way he squeezes your hip tells you everything you need to know as he expertly makes his way back to the village that is barely starting to come alive in the early hours. He lands on the outskirts of the village, taking great care to make sure you don’t collapse, as your legs always feel so numb and wobbly after he carries you, and dread courses through your veins when you eventually see the infirmary in the distance.

“Saviin’ika,” The blue warrior gently grabs your wrists, keeping you from taking another step forward, though his grip is light and tender, leather thumbs grazing the insides of your wrists, “I cannot go any further, but I had a really nice night. I... I want to keep seeing you.”

You cock your head at how he suddenly sounds a little tense and shy, but you give him a small smile and nod a little; the moment feels a tiny bit awkward, like two souls that don’t know how to properly say goodbye after such a lovely date, “I had a nice night as well. I expect you to keep that promise of taking me to the cave or the waterfalls whenever I wish, Mandalorian.”

He chuckles at your playful, yet demanding tone, reluctantly accepting the cape that you briefly thought about stealing from him just so you wouldn’t forget his scent, “Of course, mesh’la. I would not be able to deny you anything at this point, I think, nor would I want to.”

“You spoil me,” You blush, sheepishly turning your gaze away from him, “Yet I do nothing for you.”

He scoffs, shaking his helm at you and he sounds exasperated when he speaks, “You give me far more than you know. I... I’ll see you later?”

The cockiness in his deep baritone is gone and suddenly replaced with something more bashful and endearing, almost as though he’s intimidated by you.

“I’ll be here, as usual.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I would never lie to you,” You answer with a fond grin, watching as the warrior turns to take his leave; in your usual fashion, you’re quick to stop him, a playful expression etched along your features, “Mandalorian, wait!”

He faces you once more and his body seems to straighten up a little when he sees you plucking sapphire and violet wildflowers from your braids with the same grace he’d display upon fighting an enemy. 

The blue Mandalorian cocks his head to the side, no doubt confused as you bundle the pretty flowers together before making your way over to him with a nervous energy surrounding you. You pray to the Maker that he doesn’t perceive you as ridiculous or childish as you grab his hand and pull it towards you with purpose and excitement. He gives absolutely no struggle when you flip the appendage over and unfurl his fingers from the loose fist he seems to constantly have them hooked into when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“What are you--?”

His voice almost sounds panicked as you place the tiny bouquet in his palm and push it back towards him with a huge grin stretched across your lips, cheeks burning as he shifts his attention multiple times from the flowers to you. It’s such a simple gesture, but you can tell it’s thrown the normally unbothered Mandalorian completely off his axis and you find him utterly endearing as he shakes his head and attempts to give them back to you.

“These are your flowers, saviin’ika. I would not take something so precious from you.”

“I have so many in my office and at home, Mandalorian,” You gently push his hand away once more and step a little closer to him, never removing your hand from his, “Besides, it is the least I can do for all you have done for me--always taking me away from the village and being so kind to me. The blue flowers are Lobelias and they have healing properties for respiratory ailments, should anything happen to anyone in your tribe and you are not able to bring them to me. The violets are good for soothing salves and are very anti-inflammatory; I’m sure they would be helpful for bruising or swelling. 

He stares intensely at you and shakes his helmet a little, “You don’t have to... are you sure?”

“I know you said it is your duty to provide for your tribe and it seems as though you are lacking nurses and medical supplies; it would be an honor if you accepted my flowers, though I fear it is not as effective as bacta,” You grow a little shy when he remains deathly silent and you fear that you’ve offended him somehow, “Besides, you said earlier that sometimes you think you can sometimes smell them from under your helmet, so now you can find out for yourself when you are alone and able to take your helmet off.”

His tone is one you’ve never heard and it has you reaching up to touch his blue cheek as he speaks in a strained tone, foregoing all nicknames he’s bestowed upon you to utter your real name, though you think you much prefer how fond he sounds when he calls you ‘saviin’ika’.

“I think I would much prefer to smell them while they’re still in your hair.”

You think he’s just trying to cover up the shift in his attitude with a flirty comment and his personality must be rubbing off on you, because you are quick and coy to reply.

“Then perhaps one day you will.”

“Th-Thank you,” His baritone is a coarse rasp and you beam at him a little brighter because you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so grateful for something so simple; he lowers his helm and firmly presses his forehead to yours, though he keeps it there for several longing moments, a leather palm cupping your nape to keep you in place, “I will tell the others what you did--that you wished to help us. I think they would appreciate knowing that there are others that care.”

“I am glad. I cannot imagine being hated just for the armor you wear or your reputation,” You murmur, dropping your hand and watching as he gingerly tucks the bundle of flowers into the large pouch attached to his hip, taking great caution so he doesn’t crush the petals; your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as he pulls out tiny daggers and other belongings from the pouch so they won’t bring any harm to his newest, most fragile possessions, “The nodes are attached to flowers as well, so if you wish to plant them, they will be easy to re-grow.”

He huffs out a small chuckle, “Our kind are forced to live in sewers. We don’t get any sunlight underground, little nurse. Besides, I am not nearly as talented of a gardener as you.”

“They would grow just as well with artificial light, Mandalorian, and they are extremely easy to take care of,” You say, matter-of-factly, with a sly smile and quirked brows as he cocks his helmet to closely regard you, “Though I would not mind giving you more, regardless of what you do with the ones I have given you.”

“That would… it would be nice,” He admits quietly and you grin at your companion, earning you an exasperated shake of the helmet from him, “You are far too kind."

“After everything you have done for me--the hope and happiness you have filled me with--it is the least I can do. I would give you every flower I’ve ever grown if you asked.”

He hesitates as he reaches back into the pouch to retrieve one of your many beloved violets, stepping closer to tuck it securely behind the cartilage of your ear with great care, “It would be unfair and cruel to leave you with not a single flower in your hair, mesh’la. I would not allow anyone to rob you of your only possessions, especially not myself.”

You’re beaming up at him like a love-struck fool and he must be distracted as much as you are, because neither one of you sense the furious gaze that’s fixated on the two of you from down the street.

He leaves you with his usual parting words, “Take care of yourself, little nurse.”

“You as well, Mandalorian.”

Despite your promise, the Mandalorian does not see you later that night.

Saviin’ika= Little violet

Mesh’la= Beautiful

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach​ @macabrefaerie​ @acynicalcat​

For the love of God, if I missed anyone, please send me an angry message and I will quickly add you :( I have a notebook where I keep track of everything, but I’m still terrified I’m going to forget someone and I absolutely do not want that bc I love you all so much <3

Anyways, I know this chapter was literally 99% fluff/hurt/comfort with a freaking cliffhanger (I am so sorry) But I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The support and love you all have given me so far has been so encouraging and I’ve been having so much fun writing this soft ass story!!

[dahlia-coccinea]

You have said that you thought that “some critics overstate the concept of childhood in the story” and that Catherine and Heathcliff are not eternal children. What do you think about the concept of “childhood” in Wuthering Heights? In many ways this is a novel that is so preoccupied with childhood and attachments made in childhood, despite the main characters not being children for most of the book. Is there a distinction to be made between the actual depiction of the childhood of the main characters and the nostalgic conception of their childhood they later have?

I have read a review of the book that said that 5-year-old Hareton’s interaction with Nelly in Chapter 11 is unrealistic and reveals that Emily Bronte didn’t really know children unlike Anne Bronte who worked as a governess. I personally think that she was talented in depicting childhood rivalries, friendships and woes, Chapter 7 of Wuthering Heights is the proof of that.

This is a pretty big topic so I think I’m just going to ramble and explore the topic and see where it leads so I apologize in advance if this is unreadable hah. 

For reference, this stems from this conversation, in which I mentioned how Catherine and her daughter both proudly view themselves as mature women and you mentioned how easy it is to forget that Catherine does try to take on difficult, grownup, responsibilities in planning how removing Heathcliff and herself from Hindley's dysfunctional household. 

As I said I do think the concept of childhood has a big impact on the story and it is easy to remember moments such as Catherine’s utterance of how she wishes she was a girl again, and her appearance as a child ghost feels not without significant meaning. Many critics have fixated on this and have led them to make a few assumptions. There have been connections made with Freudian child psychology, pathology, and narcissism, or sometimes is developed into theories around Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship and them having a twin soul in part because of their childhood bond and likeness. Still, I think these narratives give too much weight to the symbolism of childhood in the novel by not mentioning the moments that Catherine and Heathcliff display a grown-up understanding of things, or have wishes and desires that aren’t infantile or nostalgic. 

Catherine is typically the character associated with childhood and childishness. Catherine’s anxiety about her choice between Edgar and Heathcliff is partially associated with her distress at life beyond her childhood and while that could be pathological as some critics state, including Marielle Seichepine in her essay Childhood and Innocence in Wuthering Heights. She argued this shows her narcissism and demonstrates Freud’s ideas on the "perversity of the infant.” I’ve written a long post about why I disagree with her here, so to save time I won’t repeat all of that. 

Another reason why I think Catherine is sometimes viewed this way is because she dies at 19, which many people today consider to practically be a child. For all of Heathcliff’s longing to return to happier memories during his youth, or returning to their old shared bed, or being spurred to commit revenge against Hindley for disrupting his childhood and trajectory in life, he is still an adult during much of the novel so it seems he is saved from some of this speculation and psychoanalysis. Which may or may not be right. I think a problem with a lot of these theories is that they seem to forget that Emily never knew of Freud, as he was born some 8 years after her death. While an interesting lens to read the book through and I’m glad there are essays on it, I think Catherine’s situation says much more about spiritually, society, and the human experience and is not an overt psychoanalytical case study (I feel like it sounds like I hate Freud, I really don’t lol I just think he’s over/incorrectly used a lot). 

Also, like many other proposed narratives, the theories that conclude they both wish to return to their childhood often assume Heathcliff doesn't care about the world or education, that they just want to be dirty children running around the moors forever, etc. All while ignoring that by their teens they both aren't ignorant of how the world works, or injustice of it, and also how they both view the other as the person they would like to marry and to escape from the home that is no longer welcoming to them. J. Hillis Miller, and a few other critics I can’t remember, fall into this trap. Miller’s take was something about their boundaries being blurred by their shared spaces, and childhood, and that all their later struggles are to claim that shared space again. While he believes they are strongly platonic, others make similar suggestions, like their mystical union is reminiscent of a "primordial androgynous being.” I’ve mentioned part of this argument before, but I didn’t mention how it is common that these arguments overstate the importance of childhood and Catherine’s and Heathcliff’s supposed fixation on it. (This is all a lot of ground to cover so sorry if this is hard to follow.)

Now there are few reasons I think childhood is important in the book, and I think can be representative of a number of things. One of the reasons WH is so interesting is because so many metaphors and symbols can be explored in multiple ways. Understood in a very simplistic and broad way it does nicely lend to the imagery of wildness, freedom, and being in a natural rather than materialistic state. It also speaks more plainly of the angst most people feel when surrendering childhood freedoms to adult responsibility and of being introduced into a world that is unfair and tragic. I’ve also thought their moving from childhood to adulthood with their coinciding loss and separation, feels similar to awakening to a vast existential dread that causes the loss of meaning and proceeds to force the characters into chaos. 

I think it is also important to the plot that Catherine and Heathcliff's relationship begins early on - it makes more sense that they are unable to view their past, present, or future, without the other since they’re in each other’s earliest memories. It also helps prevent a more cliche "love at first sight" plot and leaves less room to believe it is based on anything superficial.

Something that I find interesting is it seems to be somewhat contested as to how to reconcile the fact their childhood isn’t particularly happy yet they seem to desire to return to it. I don’t remember reading anyone who tries to really tackle this. Catherine and Heathcliff have only a brief time after Hindley leaves and Mr. Earnshaw is still alive that their lives are relatively peaceful. But I don’t think anyone could consider even that part of their childhood as ideal, nor do they specifically mention that time, apart from in Catherine’s diary when she says her father was back because Hindley is a terrible substitute. 

I certainly don’t see the story as an ode to childhood as I've seen some critics suggest. Partially because Cathy and Hareton are able to grow up and live the life that Catherine and Heathcliff would have wanted, and also because of how telling it is that Catherine is trapped as a child ghost until she’s reunited with Heathcliff. If the book was an ode to childhood the shepherd boy should have seen two children on the moors and not Heathcliff and "a woman."

You mention how some have accused Emily of not understanding children - I think that’s kind of a funny claim. I think her writing, despite the poeticism, is concerned with humanity and in that way is relatable and the emotions very intelligible - still the characters' actions and language could never be mistaken as striving for hyper-realism. Also, she grew up with siblings and knew family friends, and servants who had children so I don’t think the way little Hareton or whoever, is written has to do with her not understanding children. I don’t think any of the sisters were maternal, so perhaps that changes their writing or what others would expect from them. 

[plutoswrath]

This is an uncomfortable aspect to ask about (and I’ve sent in many lol) but this is personal for me and I understand this aspect essentially from just living it... but need further understanding. My North Node is in Aquarius on my 7/8 house cusp (it manifests as BOTH I use to think it had to be one or the other, but BOTH occur simultaneously) I also have the asteroid Dejanira conjunct NN on the 8 house side. Basically what I’ve experienced is I always have healthy relationships (7H) (I also have Saturn in 7) but at the same time will have a toxic relationship (8H) occurring as well. This has gone on thru my life - parents were split and relationship w Dad was not healthy, and I’ve repeated this pattern w friendships in school and so on... My husband whom I’ve been w since 2009 had a best friend who’s entirely “narcissistic” but I’m soooo irresistibly drawn to him and my North Node is on his Ascendant exactly conjunct my Dejanira, also my moon is conjunct his moon/Lilith conjunction in his 8H (my 4H) (but literally ALL of our planets are conjunct it’s so insane and sickens me - we’re over a year apart) we were essentially a trio of besties and nothing ever happened between me and my husband’s former best friend but the feelings were there for both of us and he went kinda nuts (honestly so did I - I’m in therapy lol) and we stopped being friends in 2018 ... so I’m also best friends w this same guys sister (they don’t get along and she had actually reached out to me a few times and this past summer her and I reconnected) and now she’s getting married soon and I can FEEL HIM AGAIN (after finally getting over him!) and I’m entirely terrified of this dynamic replaying but it’s on my North Node and he’s so manipulative but can draw people in and is so deceiving and I’m afraid he’ll rope my husband or even me in even tho I know better bc I literally am a moth to a flame w him and I lose all control. The Dejanira thing is a pattern tho bc after we stopped being his friend in 2018 I had a female best friend who I became very close w and she literally got physically abusive w me in January this year and now her and I are taking time apart and I feel thrusted back to the past now. (He actually introduced me to this girl and blamed her on “stealing?” me - actually most of my friends I know thru him and I actually feel like I replaced him for all these people which is weird when you think about the fact that all of mine and his planets are conjunct). I’m SO SORRY this is long and hasn’t been a direct question - Can you give me insight into my own Aquarius North Node being on my 7/8H cusp w Dejanira? I felt like the back story would help/was needed, I’m so sorry it’s a lot. It’s just so hard bc I genuinely care about this asshole too (our moons are conjunct! in 8H/4H lol). Can you tell me about my North Node/Deja being on his Ascendant too? Are him and I bound together? How does him being the Ascendant make him feel when contacting my North Node and Deja? Any info you can offer like even in general with what I shared, and is this like a curse that I can break? Will it just continue on throughout my life? THANK YOU 🤍🤍🤍

Hello! I’m sorry but I’ll take the opportunity now to adress something important here. This is nothing personal against OP, but rather a well meant, general advice:

Over the years that I’ve been on here and studied astrology, sometimes I get messages of people telling me about very personal, negative experiences and they try to trace it back to their birth chart and particular placements/aspects, tell me about the personal conclusions they drew out of their experiences or ask for advice on how to counterattack certain negative energies, etc. And I get it, I do think astrology can be a wonderful tool to try to get to understand you, your life and your potential better and I actually embrace and appreciate people being open and vulnerable with their experiences.  Often times though, I get messages of people telling me about very concerning and precarious situations, including straight up abuse and emotional manipulation and just down right trauma in the making, but finishing the message with questions like ‘Is it because I’m a Scorpio?’ or ‘What placements make me do that or cause that to happen?’. These messages are not just concerning by itself, especially when minors send me them, but it really rises the qestion, if astrology is the right thing to look into for a solution for your circumstances now? I especially don’t want to confuse newbies and young people with the illusion of astrology as an answer to all of your problems, because when you deal with precarious situations like abuse or something similar, I think astrology also bears the danger  to get lost in it’s interpretation of seemingly possible outcomes, and thus can lead to more harm and maybe prevent people from getting help or taking actual, physical action. Because after all, not every manifestation of the parts of ones birth chart, but also synastry don’t have to manifest. There are a lot of external forces influencing your life that have nothing to do with your birth chart, which can, and can’t trigger various areas of your chart. I think abuse and trauma shouldn’t be justified by ones own birth chart placements. With that I’m not denying the negative aspects about astrology, and the ability to explain life by it, but I think if people are in dangerous and traumatizing situations it’s not good to feed even further into false believes by telling people that they themself can be the root of the abuse. And this is not me denying the actual negative parts of astrology (because yes, planets such as Pluto and Saturn or asteroids like Chiron do point to hurt, negativity and trauma), but this is simply me saying that even by a simple message I can usually tell and feel when people can take the astrological advice and answer or if someone gets confused and the astrological knowledge can feed even more into the negativity and hinder them from healing and seeking help.  I’m not only concerned for the people at the other side of the screen, but as the person offering astrological help and guidance I think it’s also my resonsibility to decide when to share that info or not. Astrology and other divine practices can improve your life and help you, but please know that they should be used wisely, always. 

To you OP: First, I apologize that I answer just now, but I was torn on how to answer and adress my concern. Dejanira on the NN can indicate an individual that is meant to outgrow pain live for healing, there’s also a possibility to influence others positively with their experience. Especially if the 8th house is involved the experiences one might  And with Dejanira conjunct his Ascendant he might see you as an improvement to have around in his life, and thus he could even form an obsession with you.  But in all honesty, if he’s truly a narcissist, cut him out of your life once and for all, or the cycle will repeat. I hope you will be able to leave all of these people behind and can live your life with healthy, supportive people. I wish you all the best and apologize again that I just answered now. 

[gunloyal]

kinda dumb but heres my mlp headcanons!

you can read my garbled text below! sorry its so repetitive lol i kinda rushed it!

HI i'm not the first one to do this (duh) but i wanted to do my own! some info abt the ponies; Theyre all different types of ponies sent from different parts of the pony...earth? To this magic school so they can become the defenders of equestria and stuff! The series surrounds them becoming friends while going thru character arcs and stuff. The villains are all the same but are being sent out by one being or something so the final villain/season revolves around testing the truth of their friendship!! Also they like......live there so theyre all like stranger roomates! also theyre all modeled a little differently so none of them look the same Twilight Sparkle -shes still a unicorn(at first) -shes very hipster and standoffish at first. -She has a really bad memory regarding things from the past, but easily remembers things from the present onward (this is important for her character arc) -she wears her hair up most of the time in a messy bun/ponytail, but sometimes she lets it down -guess what guyz!! she cant see at all lol so yeah..she finally gets the glasses she deserves (if ur wondering yeah she had big dorky glasses as a kid) character arc -shes princess luna!! thats why she has such a bad memory from the past. Princess celestia made this entire school a thing because she wanted to give her sister a redo since twilight messed up so bad in the past and she thinks giving her a chance to experience friendship will help prevent repeating the past. -cus of this i gave her a new cutiemark bc her old one doesnt represent that moon princess vibe! -also she has a really big horn since shes royalty! This also gives her a reason to become an alicorn once she finds out shes princess luna. AND IT EXPLAINS HER NAME FDHJSKF (shes the last to get her character arc) Rarity -shes still very prissy and loves fashion but loves to dress her friends up -her hair moves really pretty in water bc shes a MERPONY! heck yea -she has a mole under her eye -she hav hooves on land and a tail in water (like h2o just add water vibes) character arc -shes originally very standoffish and doesnt want to accept spending time with different species of ponies, but when her sister (Sweetie belle who is also a merpony) becomes friends with a pegasus(scootaloo) and an earthpony (apple bloom) she learns to be more accepting and earns the generosity element (Shes the second to have a character arc) Fluttershy -shes a flutterpony! so she is very very teeny -her hair is a lot longer and covers one eye (until her character arc) -she's super meek and has a very big head and ears and really skinny legs! very cute aah character arc -She used to be really scared of everything until she gets in an intimidating situation with like a dragon or something and then she realizes she has the power to talk to animals in both a strict but loving way. She learns to stop being as meek and rarity makes her a little hair clip so she can get her hair out of her face and........boys..........get this.......she has heterochromia. (shes the third to have a character arc and this starts her love for animals and gets her the kindness element!!) Apple Jack -shes a regular ol earthpony :~P -she wears a handkerchief in her hair instead of a hat bc hats are hard to draw and i think she looks cuter in this lol. -freckles..........everywhere -she wears her hair in a bunch of different ways!! country girl i love eeyouuuu -she doesnt speak a lot in the beginning :/ shes kinda standoffish and she has a very lovely country accent and i love her (also she has clydesdale hooves hehe) character arc -applejack deserves a good arc and they keep focusing on her stupid parents............I WANNA SEE MY GIRL GO THRU TROUBLE!! okay get ready -she is very scared of being tomboyish bc she doesnt want to be made fun of by her friends so she hides her tomboyish nature and how STRONG she is bc/ she doesnt want to seem boyish. she forces herself to act really girly but a situation occurs or something and she is forced to show her strength and come clean to the others. she is really scared but because she tells them the truth she gets the element of honesty and the others are like "were glad u told us because youre our friend and u shouldnt have to hide anything from us!" yeah anyways i love her and from that point on she is more tomboyish but still girly! (shes the fifth to get her character arc) Rainbow Dash -shes still a pegasus! -i love her so much but people think she's annoying and always make her buff and calm but i did the OPPOSITE i made her SUPER PUNY and SUPER FAST and MORE ANNOYING because i LOVE HER!!! -she fluff up like a bird when she's upset! -because she's smaller she has bigger ears and wings >:] -shes very conceited (At first) and bosses people around (even tho shes so puny) character arc -she's a really selfish character before hand but then everyone gets into some sort of danger and she risks herself just to save them!! bc of this she gets the loyalty element and cares a lot more about everyone else afterwards and is still annoying but is able to stop herself from being so selfish! (shes the fourth to get her character arc!) Pinkie Pie -shes a crystal pony! -when she first is introduced she forces herself to be regal and in her crystal form -she cant let herself laugh around the other ponies bc she doesnt want them to see her as silly/not good enough/not serious -she has a really 80s spunky vibe and wears roller skates -yeah she still has that twitch thing but instead of it being her tail its her little hair curl coming from the top of her head -gummy is a croc she finds and decides to keep (after her arc) character arc -in like the second episode or something, a curse is placed on the characters where they all look different, but pinkie isnt affected, and after seeing everyone laughing and struggling with the temporary defects, she starts laughing and reverts from a crystal pony to her normal state and her hairs all poofy and its real cute and shit.........she gets the element of laughter and everyones like "whyd u hide ur happiness?" and she says she didnt wanna get judged and god.......its jsust real nice (shes the first one to get an arc) anywayz this took a long time to write for no reason and its just SO MUCH if u actually read this i love u!!! this was inspired a lot by jenny nicholson's next gen ideas!!!! 100% creds to her for the inspo<3 i changed a lot of things but i still based some ideas from her!

[twoidiotwriters1]

Pure Blood 29 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

A/N:  I'll put this here and go slowly  *sorry for the delay, lol *

also,I cast Josh Brolin as Ares.

Words: 2,666

Masterlist:

Chapter 28: Chapter 30

“You’ll see them in a moment,” says a woman towards our parents and then returns to her desk.

My father takes out his pocket watch, grunts and puts it away.

"I have a meeting, this cannot be prolonged…”

"Easy, honey,” my mother reassures him.

“It's common for that man to be late, Ares," Orion complains.

As adults keep talking Sirius and I are very close to panicking. We're both sitting in a couple of chairs a bit away from them. His hand holds mine as if it were his only salvation.

"What can we do now?" He says hoarsely.

"Cry?"

"Don't think that works."

My mind’s completely blank. We can’t run away, we can’t use magic, none of our friends are here to help us, not even our siblings.

"This can't end like this, Sirius,” I say with a lump in my throat.

The boy sighs and shakes his long hair with his free hand. "I don’t know…”

“Persephone," we both jumped at Walburga's voice. "Come with me…”

I turn to Sirius, but he follows his mother with his jaw clenched. I get up slowly and follow what, I suppose, will be my mother-in-law.

“I just wanted to talk to you before the ceremony,” She says coldly. “I'm aware of the behavior of both of you, but I also know that my son, since he entered school, has been unleashed against us. I can no longer expect something extraordinary from him, his only salvation is this union,” She sighs as if her own son were an unnecessary burden. “But with you it’s different, most of us have been forced into marriage right after school,” Her features relax a little." It's not easy, but you've at least had the privilege of having met your fiancé before.”

"Mrs. Black, I-I can't do it, it's not because of Sirius, they just can't tell us who to be with and when to get married, it's not fair. I'm sorry you went through that, but that doesn't mean that I should do too."

Any sign of empathy is gone from her face.

“You have a responsibility to your family, in a few minutes you’ll have it to the Black family. I won’t allow you to break with the traditions.”

“But–"

“No. No one will listen to you. Better get used to not having an opinion anymore, now you’ll only worry about your husband and your future family. If we are lucky, our family will be more accepted and you’ll be the face of that support.”

"What do you mean?"

"You'll know. Oh and another advice,” She says pointing to me. “You better stay away from any Mudblood, I don't want to hear another rumor about your disgusting friends, Toujours Pur, fille.”

Before I can answer, a rumble is heard inside the office where Avery should be. Walburga meets with my parents.

"Fuck!" yells a manly voice from within the office.

The secretary looks nervously at the door, gets up, reaches out to take the doorknob, but the door opens with a bang and a red-haired man comes out of the room.

I move a little closer to see better. His features are hard, cold eyes, large nose, and has a huge scar at the end of his eyebrow. His chest swells,  looks around and from my place I can see his jaw clench when he sees us.

"About time, Avery!" My father complains approaching the redhead "What happened in there?"

Avery doesn't answer him. For a few seconds everything is silent, until he smiles coldly.

"It's none of your business,” He licks his lips and looks down to see my father. “Ares."

If I had little hope of getting out of this before, now I'm sure we can't do it, not with someone like Avery around. My father wants to reply, but Walburga steps forward and faces the redhead.

"No time for this,” she says. “We have a wedding to plan.”

Now Avery stares at Mrs. Black, who’s waiting for her to move from the door frame. The man seems to hesitate, but he decides to step aside and lets us pass,  when Sirius enters, he closes the door. I'm not surprised to see a dingy office with everything neatly arranged, this just gives me the creeps.

Avery glides past each person along the way until he reaches the other side of the desk, sits in a reclining chair, and watches us intently. My father and Orion walk through the office, our mothers sit in the chairs in front of the desk, Sirius and I stay near the door.

"And well?" says Avery.

"Stop playing games, you know very well why we’re here," My father barks.

“Honey," my mother scolds him.

Walburga clears her throat, drawing attention.

"We sent you the papers to start the process. The marriage between my eldest son and the youngest daughter of the Singhs must be approved immediately as soon as they both finish their studies. You know very well that, by then, things will be agitated, so we must hasten the commitment. We want the union between the two families.”

Avery listens carefully, clasping his hands.

"You all tell me this because…"

The adults look at him again, confused.

"I don't understand what's going on," Sirius whispers to me.

"This is some kind of joke?" Orion asks.

"Of course not," Avery answers.

“Are you okay?" My mother asks.

Avery sinisterly and nods.

"Better than never,” He shifts in the chair.

My father tries to control himself, his face begins to turn red.

"Do you think that if we run away now they’ll notice?" Sirius adds.

“I'm afraid to breathe, Sirius. I don't think this is the moment…”

"And well?" My father barks. "Will you?"

Avery watches him.

"Do what, exactly?"

My mother knows what can happen now, so she gets up and stops her husband.

"The commitment,” says Orion. "You must officiate.”

My father turns away from his wife and walks towards us. I take Sirius's hand in reflex, but the man turns to the redhead.

"Oh, so these two want to get married so soon?" He says, mockingly looking at us.

"Actually-" Sirius starts, but his mother cuts him off.

“Yes."

"But they’re truly young,” He replies.

"It doesn’t matter.”

My parents quickly lose their patience.

"I'll tell you something," Avery gets up from the chair. “I'm not interested in your private life, but I’ve seen this many times–”

"What do you mean?"

He smiles.

"Parents always believe they’re right when it comes to their children, but money is often the biggest concern,” He rolls his eyes. "And from what I see, this is a bit of that situation.”

"I'm very close to breaking your face,” threatens Ares.

Avery takes out his wand and smiles.

"Yes, that also happens.”

"We don't want problems, we only come for the wedding,” my mother tries to fix things without success.

"You come to me, threaten me, yell at me… the only thing you’re achieving is to bother me.”

“Avery…”

“I’m not going to officiate this circus. Even an idiot can see that you’re just a group of useless people trying to gain power. I'll tell my colleagues not to bother to officiate their engagement, you’re not worth it. I don’t give status to such rats,” He waves his hand and sit back on his chair.

"What?" Sirius and I say at the same time.

The door opens again and two men in suits enter the room.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"Guide these families to the exit.”

“You can't do this! You don't know what we can do to you, Avery!” shouts Walburga.

"Oh, believe me. I know. And I’m not scared in the least.” Answers the redhead.

Security escorts us to a wide corridor, before reaching the exit doors.

"I can't believe it, I've never felt so humiliated. Who does he think he is?” My mother, Walburga, and Orion are talking, my father walks away to calm down, and I move closer to Sirius.

"What the fuck happened?"

"I have no idea.”

I thought he’d be on my parents' side, after all, he’s always been friends with them, at what point did he change his mind?

"Is it a joke or something?" Sirius asks. "I don't like it when I'm the victim of a prank…”

"You two!" shouts Walburga. “You did something to prevent the wedding. What did you do!? You’ve ruined our reputation!”

“That’s not it, Walburga. They were with us at all times, it’s not possible,”adds Orion. “There must be something… someone is sabotaging our name…”

The woman crosses her arms and goes back to arguing with her husband.

"Now what do we do?" asks my mother.

"The wedding is canceled,” says Ares dryly.

"What?"

My father stares at me and for the first time. His eyes turn cold. There’s no anger, nothing... absolutely nothing.

"The wedding is canceled,” He repeats. "I want them home as soon as possible,” he says before disapparating.

Walburga is scandalized again.

"Will there be no wedding?" I ask in shock.

"There will be no wedding.” Sirius repeats.

For a few seconds nobody says anything, but then it’s as if we realize everything at the same time.

"NO WAY!"

I let out a cry of excitement. We’re both smiling and celebrating the great achievement that by divine grace was made.

"Enough!" Walburga interrupts and takes Sirius by the arm. "I'm not going to let you humiliate us even more.”

She doesn't even let us say goodbye, and together with Orion they disapparate, leaving me alone with my mother. I turn to see her and my heart skips when I see tears wetting her cheeks.

“Mum…”

She raises a hand.

"Let's go.”

***

The days spent in my house were quite gloomy and lonely.

Since the ‘accident’ everything has been very strange, but nothing like I have been through until now.

My father lives it in his office all day. He does not have breakfast, lunch or dinner with us. The house elf or my mother take food to his office, at night he returns to his room, sometimes I hear my mother yelling at him, I know she ends up crying or sleeping in another room.

The only thing my father did is put a spell on the house: I can't open any windows or the front door. I’ve not been able to send any letter or sign of life to my friends, not even Jenna, any letter that comes to me is burned.

Juno blames me for everything, that's not new, but now they just ignore me, they don't take me into account at all. The silence is different, and the tension is palpable. Although at first I thought that everything would be better, now I feel that at any moment something might explode.

 I don't know what the next step is, I don't know what happened to Avery to make him refuse my parents’ petition, I don't know what happened to Sirius or his family, I don't know what's going on outside. Everything’s confusing, but I have to get up every morning. A routine that is slowly killing me.

The only thing that’s comforting is being able to return to Hogwarts for my last year.

***

Just a few days before going back to school, my mother takes us to Diagon Alley to buy what we need. Something strange, but later I found out that some rumors were spreading among the other families and my mother had to stand up and make up some excuse to silence others.

We're outside a book store, my mother talks to other women and clarifies the situation. Truth be told, I don't understand, but I don't think I can do anything.

The daughters of those women talk to Juno, completely ignoring me, until one of them looks at me, and raises an eyebrow when my eyes connect with hers.

"How would someone in their right mind waste a golden opportunity like marrying a Black?"

I clench my teeth, avoiding any problems.

"Especially Sirius. I don't care if he's younger than me. I would gladly be his wife,” that makes them laugh and I feel my blood boil.

"At least he’s single now…”

He's not!

"Oh dear Amelia, I’m glad to see you!” A man's voice interrupts both conversations. My mother smiles at him tightly.

"Alphard, good to see you too,” She tries to hide the annoyance of seeing another Black.

“Do you mind if I take Persephone for a moment?”

I frown at the request.

"Sure, dear. After all we are almost family.”

That confuses me more.

Alphard smiles, apologizes to the other women, and guides me to a small, almost empty restaurant. We both sat at a far table.

When I can finally see him better, I notice dark circles under his eyes, it is as if he’d aged in a short time.

“Don't say anything, girl. Stop looking at me as if you were in front of a ghost,” He doesn't say it as a scolding, he tries to smile.

"What happened?"

He shakes his head.

“That’s not important now, I don’t think we have much time. Your friends have told me that they have not received any letters from you.”

"I can't leave the house, and I’m not allowed to write.”

“Yes, I assumed as much, it doesn't matter. You must know the truth of what happened to Avery.”

"How can you know? You weren't there.”

He frowned.

“Actually… I was,” He laughs a little.

"What?"

He hushes me nervously.

"We don't have time for this!” He sighs. "While you guys were planning to turn Avery into a cake–”

"James idea,” I roll my eyes.

"Your friend Remus and I came up with something better: He contacted me and soon we made a polyjuice potion and replaced Avery to cancel everything."

“Wha- How?” I ask in disbelief.

"Many details, but I was in charge of watching Avery's every movement, everything, on the day of the meeting, I barely succeeded, your parents and my sister decided to do it at the last minute, I had to act fast.”

"You were the one who made the noise… you were Avery.”

"Yeah, believe it or not, people don’t enjoy getting knocked out for someone else to take their place. Remus idea, Lily Evans made the potion.”

"What? How come I didn't find out? Who else knew?"

"Don’t give me that face, it was quite obvious that we would not tell you,” He rolls his eyes. "The three of us agreed that it would be a bad idea, anything could go wrong if someone else knew about it, this was a very sensitive issue that could bring a lot of problems and I didn't want any of you to get hurt. Also, your parents and my sister had you more closely watched than you think.”

"Alphard I-I don't know what to say, it's a lot to process…”

"I know, honey," He says, returning to his usual sweet tone.

My eyes fill with tears, I see him again.

“But why do you look like this? Does it have to do with what you did to Avery? Are you in trouble?"

He smiles and leans in, stroking my cheek gently.

“Don't worry about me, my girl. I'll be fine.”

I know there are more things he doesn't want to tell me, but I can't push him either. He sighs again.

"I have to go, love. But first,” He gets up. “If you have any chance to contact Sirius…” He licked his lips. “Do it, he's fine now, but I think you both need each other more than ever,” He smiles sadly. "You don't know how happy it makes me know that you’re together. I’m sure that you’ll be happy despite what is to come.”

I want to ask him a lot of things, but before I can say anything, he leans in, kisses my forehead, and leaves the restaurant.

Taglist:

If your username is like this, it's because Tumblr hasn't let me tag you :(

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107      @thagreenmoon @madmaiden2890    @ren-ela   @avipshamitra   @auroraawrites @findzelda  @lizlil @siriusmuch   @chloe-geoghegan1 @reverse-hxlland  @may-rapp @the-specific-oceans @eveft

@xkonpinkx    @yunloyal

@littledeadgirlwalking​

@bloodorangemoonlight

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Writer’s Review Tag

tagged by @muse-of-nightmares to do a tag she came up with, which is pretty awesome. Honestly I’ve been toying with doing something similar. 

Rules: Post two snippets of your writing. The first should be one of the oldest examples of your work that you can find (the older the better!), and the other has to be an excerpt from something more recent. Compare the two side by side to see the difference between what your writing looks like now and how it did then.

tagging @galadrieljones @lechatrouge673 @idrelle-miocovani @thevikingwoman @ma-sulevin  

onto exposing myself 

Originally I was just going to share the first chapter of my first fic in fandom, but I can offer you even older original fiction.I thought most of this story got lost in my last computer (RIP) but I found some pieces on my flash drive. A lot of it is horrifying but some of it is just mediocre. Here’s a snippet from what 18 year old me thought was going to be a part of the next great American novel (featuring 2 characters from England. Rowan is an actor and Ophelie is a writer who wrote a play Rowan starred in. though at this point Ophelie is still writing it. Also they were childhood lovers till he packed up and left for America, how Wuthering Heights of Rowan. Also, this takes place during WWII.)

           And then, she thought she could take it no longer. “Why did you leave me?” She asked in a breathless murmur. “Why did you ever want to leave me?”

           “What?” He said, but he heard her. Oh, he heard her, he was only stalling so he could think of a response.              

           “Why did you leave me? I loved you Rowan Hartley. I would have given everything for you. And you left me. I can still feel the pain after these years. I can still remember waking up and trying to find you, then realizing you weren’t there.”

           “Ophelie, I didn’t do it to hurt you. I didn’t do it because I didn’t love you. I wish you knew how much I did.”

“All evidence is toward the contrary.”

“I did it because I wasn’t worthy for you!”

           She could feel the fresh tears. “No. You were afraid of what you were feeling. That’s why you left. You didn’t know what would happen if you would have stayed, so you left me.

           “Maybe I left you because I started to wonder what would happen if I stayed. Maybe you would have changed your mind again and decided you didn’t really love me.”

           She bit the inside of her mouth so hard she tasted blood. “I wouldn’t have changed my mind again. Ever. I wrote you a letter Rowan, you never got it, but I wrote a letter. For all intents and purposes I was pledging myself to you, and asking for you to have me again. But you never got it.”  

           “That’s your answer to everything is it? To write it out? And if you loved me so much, then why didn’t you find me?” He demanded. “You knew where I was going. You could have tried to find me if you loved me so much.” 

(cut plot related dialogue for brevity)

“Let’s forget about the past. Let’s just work together to make something wonderful. And when it is I promise I will bring you from backstage and tell everyone in the audience, and all of the critics how you were the one that wrote this,” Rowan said.

           She nodded, after a while. “Alright.” She murmured. “I’m sorry I brought…that up.”

           “It’s alright.” He said, his hands still on her. “Do you think we can forget this ever happened, and forget about the past?”

           “I don’t think I can forget the past.” She admitted.

           In her eyes, there were tears. He wanted to wipe them away.

           “I don’t think I can either.” He admitted as well. “I don’t think there has ever been a day that passed were I didn’t think of you.” And then he kissed her on the cheek.

           It was only supposed to be a gentle sign of friendship, it was only to set them at ease again, so they could work. But Rowan was lying to himself. As soon as his lips touched her cheek she could hold it no longer. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed.  

And here’s something from this August, my DA modern AU. Light spoilers but after fake dating for a bit so Cullen could have a plus one for his family reunion, he asked her to marry him so he could protect her under the Inquisition. (long story, it’s just relevant she said yes and now they’re talking about their wedding and their plans after.)

“Would you like to indulge in… after wedding activities?”

She looked at him with a mixture of bemusement and pure joy, if that was even possible. Then she laughed and laughed, grabbing and linking their arms together.

“I thought my sexual attraction was obvious.,” she said, still chuckling.

“It is?”

She laughed again and reminded him about the two times they danced, and every little touch she initiated with him. He put the pieces together, along with the fact that she did say yes to his question of marriage, along with the fact that yes, she wasn’t afraid of touching him, and then je supposed he was one of the stupidest men in Thedas.

“I like verbal confirmation,” he defended.

“Do you want me?”

The question burned. He had been so concerned with her, caught up in the “standard” of what wedding nights and honeymoons usual entailed that he didn’t think of what he wanted.

But he realized it was never a question. She unlocked something in him, set a spark that was now a fire. He wanted.

“Every time I see you, every time we touch,” he told her, “I feel…”

She waited. He saw his want as a fire, but could not bring that fire to a spark. He settled on “interesting.”

“Interesting?” She repeated, mildly amused. “Cullen.”

“I want to discover every little piece of you,” he said, damn it all if it was too much. “I want you in my arms…all the time, except sometimes we have clothes on but most of the times we don’t…”

Want continued to burn. He never really felt it like his before. He had small instances of infatuation in his time, the only notable one being Neria when he still lived in the Circle at Kinloch. He imagined himself taking her to a field of flowers, holding her hand and kissing her. Boyish fantasies, but ones that were his. Yes, sometimes he thought lewder things, but the shame of it all—she was one of his charges—prevented any daydreams from growing wilder.

His daydreamed wildly about Lydia. He was on fire at night when she stirred next to him, and he imagined what she would feel like sans clothes with bodies pressed together, imagined what she would taste like, and what she would say if he kissed her everywhere. He touched himself previously of course, though he hadn’t since he was home, but if there ever was a time where he wanted…

He didn’t. He waited, leaving himself cold at night, though still burning. It was torture.

Well. Judging by her conversation, he wasn’t going to have to wait for long.

“I wonder when you’ll kiss me,” Lydia muttered, and Cullen sensed her fire, burning brightly as his.

“You know,” he saw fit to point out, “you can just as easily kiss me.”

“True enough.”

He waited. He fully expected it then, but she indulged him with only the briefest of kisses against the corner of his mouth, but not his quite mouth. He tried not to completely sink into the earth, too defeated. The feeling of her lips however, though too brief, was divine.

“Today,” she said, a delicate and smooth finger caressing the line of his jaw, “you’ve satisfied me by saying you want us together naked, eventually anyway. I can wait.”

She kissed his cheek before propping him up so his mother could see his new battle scar.

Analysis: It’s the theatre in me, I like to tell stories through dialogue. In fact, I remember starting my red dead fic with the intent of improving my storytelling without so much of it, as I really wanted to focus on description. (Another story because there’s still a lot of dialogue in that fic, lol.) But I picked these two dialogues to talk about together because I have since learned dialogue scenes should be a gradual unraveling. It’s more apparent in the second scene, where the build is gradual. there’s also description and thoughts mixed in more tactfully, with the first scene escalating with no build. And sometimes that happens in real life, but I feel the dialogue isn’t as natural. I think though it is important to mention that the first scene is a drama while the second is more romantic comedy, which even veers to the screwball romantic comedy territory. 

let’s not even get started on much better my smut is now.

[cordonia]

Ethan + MC: “Kill Us”: I Do P2

Summary: Two days confined in his apartment, two days to decide if they should be together. Time is almost up and Dr. Valentine can’t leave until she has an answer. 

Inspired by Kill Us by Jessie Reyez

“I know nobody gets outta love alive We either break up when we're young Or we say goodbye when we die For a moment at least I know You were mine and it was beautiful”

Warnings: Angst, sexual content (I kept it short, nothing worse than a diamond scene and completely skippable, just scroll a little lol!) 

Word Count: 3444

“No more apologies, I don’t want to waste more time together.” 

She’d agreed instantly, so tired of the sadness that came with every apology they uttered to each other. They could focus on brighter, more important things. Other things could wait, at first. 

They’d been alone for two days, hiding away in Ethan’s apartment like students skipping classes and afraid to be caught. She had the time off, however she doubted Ethan had had a two day weekend in a very long time. How he managed to spend this much time with her was unknown, she was afraid asking would change his mind. 

Without being said, there was a promise that existed between them. When Valentine left late that night, they would decide the fate of their relationship and wouldn’t argue or upset themselves again. 

There hadn’t been much discussion so far; mostly sleeping in, arguing over the news and talking until either of them got frustrated enough to steal a kiss. Valentine could have done it on repeat forever, unable to find a reason why she would ever want to leave. 

She’d learned long ago that it was never that easy, but it stopped her from daydreaming. It had been a long time since she had dazed off in someone’s arms and dreamt about anything happy. This was far from wanting to escape, but too close to a fantasy feeling that felt too good. 

The evening came quite quickly, and Valentine felt herself counting down the hours until Ethan would need to sleep and ask her to leave. They both had to work the next day, and neither of them knew what their state of mind would be like. The countdown of time was heavy, she felt weighed down to the couch. 

Her head laid his lap, his fingers twirling through her hair absentmindedly. She was wearing one of his shirts, not point in getting dressed until she had to leave. She curled her bare legs into herself and closed her eyes. 

“How many people have you ever loved?” She didn’t know if she wanted to know the answer, but she had a habit of asking those kinds of questions. 

He had to think about it, but when he finally had an answer it was more complicated than it was in his head. 

“There are so many forms of love, and it feels strange to categorize it. I haven’t been in many long term relationships. Everything in-between them was a fleeting experience. Positive or negative, it didn’t always have to matter.” 

“I don’t want the in-between anymore, I’m so tired. I want the passion and ecstasy and I’m sick of it being temporary.” She sounded a bit flustered, but she suddenly felt sick thinking of being described as a fleeting experience to him. It wasn’t like that, never was, but what if he one day finally forgot how much he loved her?  

“What if I’m not the ecstasy?” He tried not to show any emotion in his voice but she still sat up. She adjusted to face him, her legs folding under her, and she sat back on her feet. It gave her the slight height to be eye level with him. 

It was difficult to find a scenario in which she fell out of love with him. A small part of her knew that she had never been in a real relationship with him, that being the first problem. Then there was the matter of their careers, they would complicate so many decisions in their life together. 

“I think I just want whatever you are then,” she confided. But that didn’t stop her brain from delving into a more detailed look at their options. 

If they were to have a family, one of them would need to put their career on pause for a little while. What if Ethan didn’t picture himself ever staying home long enough to raise a family? What if she didn’t? Before him it seemed unlikely she really wanted a family. When she looked at him then, she hated the concept of him one day passing without leaving someone behind who knew his love and all of the wonderful memories he had to offer. She knew it was biological, all bodies, all genders often felt that pull. She had hoped to be among those who were a little bit different. Lucky, she supposed. 

But that was impulse, and whether or not it would last was not guaranteed. Next week she could change her mind, not everyone was built for parenting. They could do so many amazing together with the rest of their lives. Endless possibilities, even with their careers. That scared her as well though. 

Who was she supposed to be? 

“I spent an exceptional amount time forcing you out of my mind,” he admitted. He was holding her hand in his, studying the small scars and lines that made it entirely hers. “I don’t know how successful I was.”

“Did you want to be?” 

“I’ve learned a lot about pain tolerance and it’s never been strong when it comes to you. I don’t want to be in pain.” His eyes darkened, and she held her breath, trying to avoid a reaction. 

She wanted to cry, to tell him she knew what it felt like, but also that she was sorry. But they had sworn against apologies, and they were running out of time. 

“We need to talk about what could keep us apart, Ethan.” 

He looked away from her, catching their reflection in the TV across the room. She couldn’t tell if he was preparing himself for a difficult conversation or if he was arguing with his thoughts. 

“Just say it aloud, no matter what the other person says. We say what we’re afraid of and we talk to talk it through. Promise?” 

He nodded thoughtfully and she gave him a moment to think about what he was going to say. She already had hers at the front of her mind, waiting to spill out like she were preparing to plead guilty. There was few times when being truly vulnerable with Ethan had a happy ending. They’d really had no happy ending at all, but she tried not to look at it that way. 

“What are you afraid of?” she asked gently, her fingers reaching out to graze his cheek. He exhaled slowly and briefly closed his eyes before speaking. 

“You just got out of a relationship that you were secretly waiting to fall apart. How long until I’m so blinded by how much I love you that I miss you resenting me?”

He tried not to sound impassioned, but it was clear this was a recurring fear, one that held a tight grip on his thoughts. It made it that much harder for her to speak the truth in her head, knowing it wasn’t going to comfort him. 

She just had to say it and deal with the consequences. 

“What if it isn’t supposed to be so difficult? I worry that if we keep forcing ourselves together, we’re going to wake up in ten years and wonder what made us try so hard.” She suppressed a sob as soon as she had begun speaking, she hated the way her words sounded out loud. She hated playing what if with her own life. With his. 

Her lashes were already heavy with tears but she refused to distract from their discussion. “I can’t picture myself ever falling out of love with you. I’m just so scared I don’t know myself like I used to. I might be the kind of person who hurts people.” 

Ethan reached out to her, pulling her towards his chest where he held onto her tightly. She could think of nothing worse than going back to her apartment without the comfort of his arms. The idea felt like a betrayal to her own emotions, but she couldn’t be irrational. She had been independent for so long, even in a relationship, and she knew she would survive anything. 

It just never felt that way. 

“You save people, you help them mend. You’re more than someone else’s pain.” He sounded almost desperate for her to hear what he was saying, but she had seen the repercussions of her decisions in the past few years. 

“Why fight for me now, when so much has changed? What makes you think I’m worth it?” 

She pulled back from his embrace and waited for him to answer her. His face changed from sympathetic and understanding, emotions they practiced habitually in their work. Suddenly he was more determined, faced with the entanglement of his own feelings and rationale. 

“I used to love all of the details I knew about you that nobody else knew. I loved everything from your passion for people to the way you drew patterns across my back when we laid in bed. I have discovered in the past 48 hours that I love everything I have yet to discover about you, and I want to know all of it. When I picture you in the future, I see you doing every single thing you love. You’re never going to need me for that, I know this as a fact.”

She wondered if anyone was ever going to believe in her like that, if she deserved it at all. But Ethan was never the person to shy away from the brutal truth, not when it came to what he loved most; medicine. She couldn’t see anything concrete in her future, it all felt so distant. There was no denying she was already getting older, but their field put them in unusual circumstances sometimes. Nothing was ever linear, there was no track to follow. 

“I don’t have to need you, to want you this badly.” The underlying sensuality in her tone was unintentional, but that did nothing to prevent his heartbeat from quickening against the palm she had pressed against his chest. 

“I don’t believe you.” Was that a dare? She got off the couch, noticing the flash of confusion of Ethan’s face as she had pulled away. 

She faced him, leaning into him for a kiss before climbing into his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. She kissed him again, slightly deeper, and he responded by shifting lower into the couch, pulling her closer to him. It was like a reflex to grind her hips into his lap and moan at the heat between them. His hands found the small of her back and she knew she would never get enough of his touch on her skin.  

He pressed his lips against her jaw, moving down her neck and sucking gently at her throat. She felt his teeth part against the tender area and just before he could do anymore damage, she pulled back. She couldn’t show up to work with a scarf in May. 

“Ethan?” 

“Yes?”

He looked unfocused, rubbing her thighs and looking from her eyes to her lips. Some of the buttons of the shirt she wore had come undone, his shirt, and when he noticed, his fingers twitched against her thighs. He wanted to touch her, he had touched her many times in the past hours. 

“I’m never going to need you,” she mumbled against his lips, applying more pressure to their kiss and letting her teeth graze his lower lip. His body seemed to hum in response but there was a space between their hips that he wanted to close. She had a different idea. 

“I’m never,” she purred smoothly, pulling a hand away from him and slipping between her skin and the thin material of her underwear, “going to need you.” 

Ethan reached for her hips, gripping them so tightly that her head fell back in response to the pain. She pushed two fingers into herself, hyper aware of how attentively he watched her face change with every curl of her fingers. 

“But do you want me?” 

She nodded, a small smile on her lips as she let him kiss her again. She removed her hand from between legs and Ethan grabbed her wrist, pulling her fingers to his lips. She held her breath, eyes locked with his as his mouth enveloped the two fingers she had used to pleasure herself. His tongue seared her finger tips and she pushed them further into his mouth, amused by how his body remained completely still. 

“I want you, Ethan,” she said aloud. He lifted her up from his lap, turning his body and laying her against the couch. His whole body pressed against hers, the pressure nothing like the fear of time that had weighed her down earlier. 

He unbuttoned his pants, removing the physical barrier between him and then her underwear was tossed far enough that she would struggle to find them later. What Ethan could do with his hips soon left her legs shaking so fiercely that he had to hold them still. The couch was the last place they hadn’t had sex that weekend, and they weren’t going to leave it until they knew its strength was properly tested. She hoped it was as expensive as it looked. 

The feeling of him inside of her was a convincing reason alone to never leave his place. But nothing could last forever, and eventually the time came that she had to leave so he could find some rest before work in the morning. 

They were both dressed, back on the couch, laying on their sides. Her back was pressed against the front of his body, his arm holding her waist to him. She could have fallen asleep like that. 

“I don’t want to leave,” she said quietly, hating the way it sounded out loud let alone in her head. It sounded like she was pleading for him to ask her to stay, but she wasn’t delusional. 

She hated being an adult. If their lives had been different and she could have gone to college with him, she would have convinced him to take off a week just to memorize the lines of her thighs. But that’s not how doctors spent their time, instead they chose to heal, cut and study. And they loved it. 

Valentine wasn’t sure everyone could have multiple great loves, and medicine was first for them both. Could they be lucky enough to have each other as well? Not much in her life gave her the hope to believe that. She wanted the last two days to be proof of something, she just didn’t know what. 

Would the passion last? Would they wind up hating each other one day? There was no formula or calculation that gave them those answers. 

“I never want to hold you back,” he began. “I’m terrified of disappointing you.” He held her tighter, burying his face in her hair and breathing her in. 

“I feel so stupid,” she cried, “I wanted a sign, a spark of something to tell me we wouldn’t hurt each other again. I wanted to know if we deserved this.” 

“Some love isn’t this complicated” he assured her. “You still have time, even if it feels like it’s running out. You don’t need me.”

“I wish I did.” 

His words didn’t mean the same thing as they had before, not when they suddenly meant goodbye. She wanted to need him so that they could not leave each other, an unbreakable promise, a vow. To need him so badly that her body couldn’t walk out the door like there was a force stronger than love keeping her inside. She wished magic existed, to tie him to her and contain the overflow of absolute ecstasy that felt wasted when they were apart. 

Ethan was a realist, and she was of sound mind, maybe even practical. She did not believe in magic and invisible forces in door frames. But she did believe that as Ethan Ramsey broke her heart on an overpriced couch, the power of loss and despair was not mutual with having a grasp on reality. 

She felt like a ghost, gathering everything she had with her in the apartment so solemnly that Ethan could barely look at her. There used to be a time where she would leave his apartment feeling like the sun shone entirely for her, always in her favour. Having Ethan in her life felt like a small miracle that most of her coworkers searched for every single day in medicine. 

The quicker she left, the sooner she could cry in a way that Ethan would only hurt seeing. She needed to get it out of her body, every ounce of sadness that overtook her. She couldn’t bring it to work, it was dangerous and there was no time for it. 

She had to adapt and move on, just like she had before. But maybe better that time around. She chose this, after all. 

He hugged her by the door, squeezing her tightly until her body was almost numb. When he let her go she swore she felt like half a person, ripped from someone meant to be sown to her side. It didn’t feel right, but she let him open the door anyways. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Valentine. I’ll see you around.” He clenched his teeth, his cheeks hollowing out against the tension in his mouth. He stared into her eyes even as the door began to slowly close, and neither one of them could look away. 

Her legs had no more strength to offer, she could feel her knees buckle and she couldn’t linger any longer. She finally turned away and the door shut with a click, leaving her utterly alone in a bland, sanitized hallway. Her feet carried her to the elevator but her cheeks were already wet with tears. 

The tears started as a trickle and then streamed freely down her face until she could taste them on her lips. 

The chime of the elevator rang through her entire body like a physical force, halting her thoughts with a trance-like effect. She felt the weight of her purse in her hand become incredibly heavy, pulling her to the floor. The elevator doors opened, revealing a completely empty lobby, so quiet that the silence sounded off like static. 

She felt paralyzed, swaying slightly as she demanded her body to take a step out into the lobby. She could make it home by midnight and get a few hours of sleep before she was on call. A home where nobody knew what she had gained and lost in two nights. Then back to a hospital where her sorrow was the most minuscule example of suffering and loss. It was meaningless, all of it, because as soon as she left the building, everything that had tied her to Ethan Ramsey was reduced to memories. 

There was no proof they had loved each other so intensely, no one to tell their story. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to end, she thought to herself. They had searched for serendipity in the past, a sign they were meant to be along. But then the elevator chimed again, and the moment the doors began to close her back inside; her phone rang.

With shaking hands she lifted the phone to her ear and watched the lobby become a sliver between two doors. 

“I can’t watch you leave again,” he said quietly through the phone, desperation clear in his voice. 

“I can’t keep doing this, Ethan.” She wiped her eyes and tried to steady her hand, worried she was about to drop the phone. “It hurts more every single time.” 

“I’d rather wake up to you in ten years knowing I tried too hard than waking up alone knowing I never tried at all. I don’t need a sign, I just need to fight for you, for once. Do you think you could let me fight for you?” 

Her head was spinning, she swayed to the left and quickly put out a hand to the wall to steady herself. She took a deep breath and turned around, facing a mirror in which her appearance stared her down. 

She looked exhausted, her face swollen from crying and her hair a disaster from their intimacy on the couch. Her whole body vibrated with the intensity of her feelings and she was face to face with the misery in her entire demeanour. Was she doing this to herself? 

She took a deep breath and turned back, pushing a button and sighing in defeat. She couldn’t be the one inflicting her own pain anymore, she wouldn’t. What did she really have to lose anymore? 

“I do, Ethan. I’ll let you fight for me this time.”

Note: Some of this sounds so ridiculous but the sad part is this is how dramatic so many encounters with my ex used to be like. Just the level of intensity and the weight of walking away with no certainty. Yesterday I noticed that the last silver chain bracelet my ex gave me to wasn’t on my wrist anymore. I’m extremely sentimental and it hasn’t come off my wrist in three years until now. I can’t believe it’s gone? You can probably tell how tired I am. I also didn’t save this twice, and had to rewrite really long parts so this took forever to finish. This isn’t my best work but... oh well. 

Tagging: @ethandaddyramsey @binny1985 @openheart12 @bellcat2010 @edith-eggs1 @missmiimiie @queenofspades6 @schnitzelbutterfingers @longneckramsey @queencarb @kaavyaethanramsey @ethxnrxmsey @jooous @blazerina @choices-lurker @itsgoingnuts @lilyvalentine @aworldoffandoms @choices-love-affair @nooruleman @mkamra2355 @whimsicalreader 

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

(I didn’t tag you until the end but I’m gonna our the tag up here anyway @megatraven)

Blessed was how he felt the moment Zeus agreed to his pleas. He pleaded to Zeus that he could let MC live her life out and then let him find Hera.

He threw out so many favors, spent so many nights up wondering what to do, and panicking just so he could save her. He couldn’t lose her, he just couldn’t. It wasn’t just because he loved her. He always remembered his friendship and bond with his loves mother, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if he let her down again. So, he did everything he could and eventually it worked. He noticed Zeus look of anger but tiredness from hearing Hades repeat himself. However, Hades didn’t care. As long as he had MC alive, he was okay.

But he knew that time would come. She didn’t become a goddess, so she wouldn’t live forever, and he knew it. He knew her clock was ticking everytime he woke up and saw her smiling at him. However, he ignored it. He enjoyed everytime he saw her smile, everytime she laughed, everytime he saw her sleep and just breathe, everytime he saw her eyes glow everytime she was happy, the way freckles framed her face and body as it she was a goddess, and the way their were lines on her cheeks when she smiled so hard.

Zeus wasn’t fond of her, but he eventually grew okay with her presence. Poseidon was like he was during the whole marriage problems. He was supportive and cared for MC and Hades. Obviously, everyone felt tense because of her, but Aphrodite and Hades would give people the death glare if they dared to harm her or say anything about her. MC continued to live on the surface and Hades joined her. They would switch back and forth, but it was what they were good with. Hades would do anything for her and she would do anything for him. That was obvious during the whole marriage problems.

Depsite all the sad things, MC gave birth to a child named Osiris. He was a Demi-god but Hades and MC loved him all the same. Osiris’s birth made Hades the happiest god there ever was, but also brought a pang of sadness in his heart when he saw MC holding their child, rocking him when he was fussy and making funny faces at him to calm him down. It hurt because he knew Osiris would live longer than his own mother. He knew he would have to watch his mother become weaker and weaker while his father stayed the same all the years. It hurt, but he and MC both avoided those thoughts and raised Osiris with the most love and protection.

But over time her hair became grayer, even if she dyed it to prevent people from noticing it, it would show sometimes. Her face became a little more wrinkly over time, and eventually she didn’t want to show her face on Olympus anymore. She didn’t want people to see her growing old while everyone looked perfect and so young. Hades supported her and let her deal with it how she wanted it, but she was still so beautiful in his eyes. She was still his personal goddess, she was still the most beautiful woman in his eyes. He cared for her and so did Osiris through her years. And he knew it was against his own rules, but he didn’t let Death take her yet. He ignored the way the Underworld was calling her. He prevented it, he and Osiris just couldn’t let go yet. He felt a little bit guilty because of it, but it’s like he said all those years ago...

Gods are selfish...

But one day he woke up and saw MC beside him, but he felt it. The calling was too strong, her soul was barely hanging on. She woke up and smiled at him, but it was pained. He knows she can feel it too. He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes in that moment. The sun was shining through the windows, onto her hair making it glow that even angels were envious of. He knew he couldn’t keep her here any longer, she was in pain from her body slowly shutting down. Death was inevitable and he knew it.

“I love you, don’t forget that,” she whispered to him as she scooted closer to him. He nodded and looked in her eyes as she wiped the tears off his face. “Don’t cry. I’ll see you soon. And tell Osiris that I’m sorry and that I love him with my whole heart,” she whispered to him as well, her voice slowly getting softer. She was rushing her words out. “Tell Alex and Aphrodite that I’ll miss them as well,” she said her voice going so soft he had to almost quit breathing to hear her. He nodded and promised her he’d do everything she told him to do, and it was true.

He smiled at her and stroked her cheek and tried to comfort her during her last moments. “But hey, tell your mom I said hi,” he whispered out to her, his voice wrecked with sadness unexplainable. She let out a laugh that ended with a coughing pit. “I will. I’m excited to see her,” she whispered to him. He knew she didn’t want to die, but she couldn’t help that feeling of wanting to see her mother. He kissed her forehead and held her hand tightly. She kissed him on his lips one last time, before she closed her eyes and he felt her soul leave her body and enter the Underworld. He held her close, resting her forehead on his shoulder and cried as he stroked his hands through her hair, as if she was still there.

He gave her a hero burial, and this time he did cry. He couldn’t hold it back. He buried her right next to her mother, the way she’d want it to be. Aphrodite and Alex cried, and she wasn’t the only mortal buried there. Her brother, Josh, was buried there as well. Now, the family was reunited and he hoped they were at peace.

Almost the next month after her death, here he was, standing in the Underworld, getting ready to draw on his powers and call to her soul. He knew he was breaking his rules, he knew he was doing something so selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He missed the love of his life and he needed to see her. He needed to see her smile, he needed to hear her voice and the way she would say, “hey, its okay.” He closed his eyes and called upon his powers. Before he could even open his eyes, he heard her. “Hey, sweetie.” He opened his eyes and saw her, the 25 year old he fell in love with. He didn’t care what age he saw of her, he was just happy to see her.

“MC...” he whispered out. She smiled at him and he saw tears fall down her cheeks. He stepped forward and reached his hand out to try and caress her cheek. It hurt him when his hand went right through her cheek. However, he placed it hovering near her cheek and she leaned into it as if she could feel it, as if she could feel the warmth of his hand touching her cold cheek. “I miss you. I miss you so much,” he told her with his voice being a struggle to even get out. She nodded as well and sniffled. “I miss you, too. But I’m always there, don’t forget that. Me, my mom, and Josh are always there watching over you and everyone we love,” her voice eventually got interrupted by her sobs.

She was happy, but she was also sad. Happy because she could see her love look at her like she was his world and hear his voice comfort her. But was sad because she knew she wouldn’t be able to hear it for a long time. “I’ll see you soon, I promise. We’ll all see you again,” she told him, wiping her eyes to stop the tears. She then did the same thing he did. She reached out with her hand to try and dry his tears, but it didn’t work. He wiped his eyes for her and he smiled at her one more time, before he heard a voice call out, “MC?” It was the voice of one of his best friends. More tears almost fell from his eyes, but he refused. “I have to go,” she said with a sadness so obvious. He nodded and leaned in to kiss her forehead, but not actually touch her since he would pass right through her, but he couldn’t help but try for his and her sake.

“But if you ever do this again, can I see Osiris?” She wanted to see Alex as well, but she didn’t push it. She knew he was already risking everything by doing this. He nodded with a sad smile. “He misses you just as much as I do.” She smiled once more, already knowing he did. “Mom hopes to meet him one day.” Hades looked her in the eye and promise her that she would. He’d make sure of it. He’d make sure that her mom, Josh, and herself would be all together again one day. After a few more minutes of catching up, that voice called out again and he had to let MC join her family once more.

It was difficult for him, but he brought Osiris to her and it was so emotional all over again. Osiris and his wife and children were so sad and emotional to see their grandmother and great grandmother that they they miss so much. However, they knew it would be the last time they would see her for a long time, but they were okay with that. They’d all wait as long as it took to see her and her mom and her brother all again.

It took around 20 long years of loneliness and pain for Hades to wake up one day and feel MCs mom soul come back. He knew it was hers by the ways his own soul felt a bit lighter, but not the way MCs would make him feel. He immediately told Aphrodite, Alex, Osiris, and his children. He was in tears the whole time, so happy to see his best friend again and to know that his love and her brother were on their way soon.

For the first time in a long time, his soul felt truly bright and he felt so happy every morning he woke up. He woke up with a smile because he knew her see we again one day, and he was perfectly fine with waiting. She was the love of his life and he’d wait as long as it took for her, and there was no doubt about it.

SO @megatraven I LITERALLY HAD TO TAKE LIKE 5 CRYING BREAKS BC THIS HURT SO MUCH, BUT I THINK ITS GOOD?? It’s really long and I’m not on my laptop (almost never am on tumblr on my laptop) so I can’t do the “read more” thing so I hope you read it all so I can sleep getting feed back and know if you cried like I cried >:). But yeah I hope you and everyone else enjoyed crying with me lol. I finally have Hades angst and not just Alex angst wowh I’m proud of myself lol. But yh bye unless you reblog with a response enensn

[inspired-by-the-music]

Sorry (Onew)

Genre: fluff, restaurant high jinks (lol)

Word Count: 954

Note: This ties in with my other SHINee drabbles, most notably Anniversary (Minho). So maybe check that out after you read this :)

You had fallen out of the habit of dating, electing to instead focus on advancing your career. Once you earned that long-awaited promotion— just another thing marked off your list of goals— you wondered what harm could be in just one date. 

So you casually asked your most trusted friends if they knew anybody worth meeting. And almost immediately, over a cup of coffee in a local cafe, your friend gushed, “I know the perfect person.” Then, perhaps sensing your anxiety, she hummed comfortingly, “Don’t worry— it’s one of Minho’s friends!”

“Oh no!” You groaned somewhat jokingly at the mention of her boyfriend, who you had known for far too long. “Now I’m really worried!”

She swatted at you playfully, unable to restrain her giggle. “Yeah, I admit Minho can be a piece of work sometimes.” When you eyed her challengingly, she admitted with a sigh, “Okay, he’s a handful most of the time. But Jinki isn’t like that. He’s really, really nice.”

“A double really?” You inquired. Your friend always called someone ‘really, really nice’ when she was concealing some kind of flaw. 

“Yeah,” she said confidently. But as she scrolled through her phone for a picture of him, she admitted, “I mean, he’s a little accident prone. . .” She trailed off as she held her phone out to you. 

Of all flaws, being clumsy wasn’t the worst. So as you accepted the phone, you defended the man you hadn’t even met yet. “He can’t be that bad.” And as you looked through the pictures, you acknowledged, “He’s cute—”

“And nice,” your friend reminded once more. You returned her phone, and she said, “Look, Y/N, nice people are hard to find. Anyway, I’ll tell Minho to give Jinki your number, alright?”

“Sure,” you consented with a shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You spent the next week texting Jinki at every opportunity. What started as a bored venture into dating somehow evolved into a heart fluttering adventure. It was as if you were holding your breath between every interaction, so when Jinki asked to take you on an official date, you may have reacted with an overly enthusiastic yes, contrary to the popular tactic of playing hard to get. 

He met you at your apartment with a broad smile and offered his arm as he escorted you toward the setting sun. “I’ve heard so many things about this place,” he said when you asked where you were going.

“I’m sure it will be lovely,” you assured. But you hadn’t expected to be led to a five star restaurant. 

And when you glanced at Jinki’s wide eyed, slack jawed expression, you reasoned that he must have been surprised too. He only reluctantly approached the hostess’ podium when you nudged him forward, and you could have sworn that when asked for a name, Jinki whispered, “Choi Minho.”

But you were too overwhelmed to question what you heard. You and Jinki both, although well dressed, clearly did not meet the standard of this restaurant. You knew it— but so did everyone else, staff and fellow patrons alike, judging by their unbroken stares as you followed the hostess to the table.

Thankfully, this didn’t distract Jinki from acting like a perfect gentleman. So as you slipped into a conversation, you easily forgot about the critical stares of strangers. Until the first incident, that is. 

Apparently the waister tipped over Jinki’s foot, and he unceremoniously toppled over, spilling drinks all over the table and your white blouse. The ensuing chaos turned heads, of course, but you only cared about Jinki’s thousand apologies. 

“Hey— It’s okay.” You laughed as you assessed the damage to your shirt; thankfully, you had worn an undershirt. “It’s just water.”

But that didn’t prevent him from racing over to your side of the table to offer his jacket to conceal your stained shirt. On his way, he stepped clumsily over the waiter, who had crouched onto the floor to pick up the cups. The waiter glared at Jinki as if his life had been threatened, and you had to stifle your laughter. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jinki repeated as he draped the jacket around your shoulders.

“My apologies.” The waiter stood and spoke through gritted teeth. “Let me sit you at a different table.” And once you finished the walk of shame to a corner where, you’re sure the waiter hoped, you would attract less glares, he promised to return with new drinks. 

You tried to interest Jinki in a new conversation, but the blush seemed to have permanently settled on his cheeks. 

As you finished your meal, Jinki repeated, “I’m sorry I turned this into such a disaster.” And before you could argue that you were actually enjoying his company, he continued, “Let me just get the check—” and he raised his hand to call for the waiter.

But in the process, he hit the waiter in the face full force. The loud SMACK once again led stares to your table; the waiter appeared to be holding his breath and Jinki, now a brilliant crimson, couldn’t even will himself to look at the waiter.

And you knew you shouldn’t laugh. The cutting silence that overcame the entire restaurant made that evident, but you couldn’t help it. Suddenly, you were overcome by a laughter that seized your entire body. Before you could hide your face against the table cloth, you were sure you saw Jinki smile shyly at your reaction. 

“Please,” the waiter begged as he pressed the bill on the table, “never come back, Mr. Choi.”

And the realization that Jinki had stolen Minho’s reservation made you laugh even harder, but you would be sure to apologize to your friend later.

[prorevenge]

A social media marketing agency fires me while being sick without any notice or explanation.

I worked for a social media marketing company. I'd been there almost a year and hadn't used any of my 14 paid days off. I was the only contract worker, but I didn't complain. The money was ok, paid the bills, and my degree was not in business.

It's Saturday. I got from a whole day of running errands, it was raining and nasty, I was wet and cold, I felt sick. I emailed to my team and HR that I'm feeling sick and will be updating them. I felt it's important because there was a big pitch the whole agency was bending over. On Sunday, I felt it in my bones. I wrote another email. I didn't want anyone else to get sick before the pitch. Monday morning I was pouring gallons of shit water from my ass. I threw up twice, couldn't eat, couldn't swallow even water, couldn't sleep, couldn't move, no health insurance. I sent another email on Monday saying I feel worse, sent what I was able to finish to my manager and the team and wished luck with the pitch.

It was strange that this time I didn't get any, "get better," "sorry to hear that," etc. I was so sick I wasn't thinking too deeply about it though and decided to mindlessly binge on Netflix. Tuesday morning, I'm asking if all looks bueno. No response. I'm texting to my manager because this wasn't normal. No response. Then, I couldn't log in to my email. I got locked out from my work email. Doesn't take a genius to notice that something wacky has been going on. I got all my shit from Dropbox and whatever accounts I had on an external hard drive. I started making peace with the thought that I'm being fired. I just didn't know what for.

The next morning I see an email from HR with the subject "Effective Immediately" and saying, "Due to your repeated absences and your abuse of the paid time off, it was decided to terminate your employment." That's it. No further instructions, nothing. I tried to call my manager, but he didn't answer. He texted me later that day to give the address where my belongings should be delivered. I was still sick on Thursday. On Monday I got an email asking to sign it and send back. No instruction if I should do it by mail or email, just a lot of words reminding me what was in my contract: confidentiality blah blah blah, non-compete clauses blah blah blah, company's intellectual property blah blah blah. It looked like it was copied from an online template. I asked HR to send me a copy of my contract as everything was on my company's laptop. The contract was worded the way that working or even contacting with their clients could put me in legal trouble.

I got another job almost 2 months later. With maxed out credit cards and a $3K loan, I felt little helpless. They treated me like a piece of trash. After winning the pitch the agency has been bragging on social media about how amazing and millennial they are. On the company's social accounts they were trying hard to turn every little thing into a huge win. For me, every day was harder because the new job sucked, I felt excluded and didn't feel I'm the part of the culture. So, I've been checking the old agency's social media like a maniac. It got so bad I had to delete the Facebook app from my phone and install some chrome extensions to prevent me from visiting their social media. I stopped going to the gym, was eating unhealthy, broke up with a girl who actually liked me over a stupid argument, was stressed, and felt like a loser.

One day they posted a blog with so much praise for themselves... I cringed. While scrolling through everything people were saying, I realized that their pride blinded them to anything but positive feedback.

After 3 months since I got fired, my bank offered me skip a pay or something like that for 2 next months and I used the $700 to buy as many fake likes, follows, views, etc., as it was possible. From 2K they went to almost 50K followers on Facebook. They were getting 300-500 likes on their Instagram posts, their Twitter also jumped high from only 200 followers. After a week the $700 got me, I decided to go full in for another week and added $500 to the revenge budget. I was more selective, knew more, had better sites for cheaper, I was posting comments everywhere praising the agency, I even created a fake site which was "featuring" the best social media campaigns and ads. I created fake 2 months worth of content in the form of "awards," "special features," and fake polls, and then featured this agency on the front page. Every comment was retweeted, shared, commented back, thanked. It seemed they enjoy the ride a lot. From 1-2 post a week before I got fired they jumped to 2-3 posts a day on every platform. They were so full of themselves they thought they got all of this with their hard work.

2014-2015 was the golden era of Facebook and social media for this type of activities. After over 2 weeks of the hype, suddenly, one of their most cocky posts of theirs got 0 likes. Null. These fools were so caught up in the chase of their 'hard-earned' success, they didn't even check who likes their shit, who follows them. Those were bot accounts, all of them probably in India, cheap as hell, from some scammy sites you don't want to associate your business or name with, or even your IP. The agency had almost 120K followers on Facebook at some point. Going from less than 2K followers to 120K, imagine how the engagement went down. All their organic posts were non-existent. The whole agency looked like idiots because it was apparent from the outside it's all weird and that the hype's fake.

They were trying to get that hype back they started writing useless blogs like more pointless and worthless content would fix anything. Their headlines were screaming "clickbait," their posts and the volume of images they were posting looked desperate. One day... Oops, their FB is "not available." They got blocked! Since there were hundreds of thousands of the same cases in review (blocked accounts for similar schemes, etc.) and they had $0 ad spend on that page, they would wait months to get their account back. They had to create a new FB page, a new Instagram account, and after they shared again the link with their "we're honored to be featured..." I replaced the URL to link to another business in San Francisco lol and removed their entry from the front page. I wasn't even aware at the time, but after these 2 weeks of imverybadass behaviour they lost a few crucial employees. I heard a rumor they left the agency in the mid-project and someone inexperienced, with no fucking clue and their own projects had to finish it. It had to be a shit show. The client refused to pay and eventually they lost every single client they had on a regular yearly contract. From 25 employees, in less than 1 year, they went to 9! I don't think they realize even now the ratios of likes to comments was suspicious. 2K likes on a photo post with only a single comment saying "Amazing!", posted by Rakesh Johnson from nowhere, with the profile pic of an anime character...? You need to be a true-born idiot to buy that, and they were "an agency."

They still have fewer FB followers than they started with before firing me. They gave up on Twitter. Instagram is also bad, no engagement, no regular posts. Overall, $1,200 bought me back my self-esteem, which I consider money wisely spent.

As of today, I've been talking to that girl I screwed up with and things are looking promising. I'm making more than my previous manager (according to Glassdoor), and he is still with the same company, not having any client on any sort of retainer fee. Only small projects, zero social media activity, almost a dead company, with no talent wanting to work there, and a bad reputation in the area Imagine, a social media marketing company gets kick out from Facebook... laughable. Bunch of egocentric people who got the taste of their own bitter piss. Sometimes I really want to add another nail in the coffin, but I'm a better man now. I moved on and don't consider them worthy of my time. This post is my final goodbye to this issue.

TL/DR: A social media marketing agency fired me for being sick. Got their ass kicked by their own ego and have been recovering ever since.

(source) (story by PierceJames)